*I do not own the Inheritance Cycle…Also, monkeys.*

Antidote

Eragon raced through a maze of tents, eager to show Angela his finds. He came to a stop at a green tent where wisps of smoke curled out of a jagged hole at the top.

"You would think that these tents would have holes of their own, what with the wind coming from all sides." She mumbled, not even glancing up from her work to see who it was. "It's like Swiss cheese!"

Eragon's eyebrows came together in a frown. "Come again, Angela?"

She waved her hands in annoyance. "It's nothing you need to know, boy." She turned from her work, placing a hand on her hip. "Now, why have you come to bother me?"

"I'm sorry for being such a nuisance," Eragon muttered. In a louder voice he declared, "But I came here to see if you could examine this sword" He held up a blood-caked sword that was starting to rust. "I have found, upon closer inspection, specks of blue that I suspect to be a type of poison. And I knew you specialized in this kind of stuff, so I came straight to you."

Eragon looked at his feet in embarrassment, waiting for a reply

Angela turned around, getting a set of leather gloves and and picked off a portion. Then, with faint lines of worry etched into her face, she hollered, "Be gone! I need to do some research. I will send a messenger to fetch you once I am done." And with that, she turned back to her work.

Hours had passed, but Eragon didn't notice. All that mattered was the person he loved could be dying and he hadn't even thought of all the possibilities. She could have brain damage. She might not be able to walk again.

She might never wake up again.

Horror stuck Eragon at the god awful thought. Had he been so blinded by his love for her that he hadn't even reflected on what could possibly happen when-if she awoke? When had he become so selfish? He had forgotten. Forgotten the other half of his soul.

Saphiraaaa!

Alas, our grieving hero heard no answer. She must have gone hunting, he thought.

As he walked slowly back to the tent he had been sharing with Arya, Eragon could hear their pity-filled whispers …

"The poor boy, clinging onto hope like that."

But he didn't care; nothing would move him …

"Aye, he should let her go."

"Boys!"

Because he knew she would see the daylight again, even if it took a hundred years …

"Ouch, what was that for? It's not like he can hear us …"

He would wait.

As long last an agitated messenger came with a look of urgency that swirled in his dark grey eyes.

"Shadeslayer, come. Your presence is needed immediately." The bearer of the message looked no more than thirteen, though hardship was plain in his eyes.

"Very well, I know my way." Eragon was about to go to Angela's tent when he added, "You delivered your message well."

"Thank you, Shadeslayer, you flatter me." He said with a large grin plastered on his face.

"Yes, well, I had better be going."

The boy nodded his head tersely and stepped out of his path.

Like a bullet shot from a cannon, Eragon went racing to Angela's tent, a blur to any passerby's.

Not even winded, Eragon stepped into her tent, eyes locking onto a short figure hunched over a bulky book.

"Eragon, I thought you would never get here. Come, come. I have some something for you." She handed him a cup of steaming tea, a sweet earthly scent coming from it. He took a sip and was met by the most putrid taste that had ever met his mouth. It took all his will power not to immediately spit it out.

"Mind my asking, but what is this fowl concoction?" He questioned, a look of disgust on his face.

"Well it is an herbal relaxant that calms the nerves which will take effect in a few moments."

"What are you tal-" He instantly felt drowsy, and slumped into a chair that was conveniently behind him.

"Now the information I am about to tell you is a bit shocking. The poison on the sword is … Well, it's curable to say the least. I looked through a book of mine and found that it hasn't been used in hundreds of years. In fact, the actual plant went extinct nearly a century ago. It was called löfrudd wraíd, roughly translated into assassin's root. The extract from the root is most potent, though. Once inside the body, it makes the brain delirious, showing the one's worst fears and regrets. As the name suggests, assassins usually used the poison to kill their enemies efficiently and quickly."

Eragon's eyes widened in disbelief. "Wha-What are you saying then?"

Angela let out an exhausted sigh. "There's not much I can do for her." Eragon slumped in his chair, looking like a sad, pitiful puppy that was lost. "Don't give me that look, boy. I said there's not much I can do for her. You, on the other hand, can." This time, Eragon looked up in hope.

"But if the antidote is not delivered fast enough, Arya will die." Angela added in a serious tone.

"What are you waiting for then? You knew this yet you did not tell me in the beginning!" He yelled out in fury.

Angela's eyes narrowed. "There is no need to get angry, Eragon. I would be in an ample amount of trouble if I let the Queen's daughter die." She paused, making sure Eragon was listening. "To bring her out of her comatose, you will need to break into her mind, which, as you know, can be quite painful. You're going to have to be careful; one mistake can mean the instant death of both of you. What you do from there is up to you; how you decide to bring her back will be completely up to you."

As soon as Angela was done explaining Eragon jumped out of his seat and started for the flap of the tent when she called out a warning.

"Beware, Shadeslayer, her mind is fortified, poised to strike at all and any attackers. You may not be able to in …"

"I will bring her back." Other mutters were heard as he stepped out of her tent and bolted to his own where Arya was kept.

Before Eragon knew it, he was at his tent and by Arya's side in minutes.

Eragon felt a cautious poke at his conscious and realized it was Saphira. He opened his mind and let hers flood his.

Be careful, little one. Do not be rash. Your strength is little, and the day has reached its end. Rest today, and tomorrow your strength will be at full height, Saphira said softly.

And where have you been all this time, dear dragon of mine?

A poor attempt at rhyming, Eragon. He heard a snort from above along with the sound of flapping. You would have known if you had paid more attention.

Saphira landed with a thump and immediately curled into a tight ball. The remnants of the dying sun cast a glow upon her body, making it shimmer the only way a dragon's scales can.

I…I realize I have no excuse. He looked down while muttering, I have been so self-centered that I could not see what was around me. And for that…you have my sincerest apologies. I wouldn't trade you for anything because I love you too much for anything to happen to you.

Eragon looked up in hopes of forgiveness.

It will take a lot more than a few petty words to forgive you… Saphira smiled. But I think it will do this one time.

Eragon's smile rivaled Saphira's in radiance, but that couldn't have mattered more. He jumped towards her open neck and hugged her for all she was worth.

Little one … too… tight.

He loosened his grip immediately. Oops, I guess I still have to figure out my strength, eh Saphira?

Quite.

Eragon smiled again but it instantly turned into a frown. I still have to heal her, Saphira. I can't just sit around doing nothing.

You have been doing things. She ruffled Eragon's hair affectionately. We captured Dras Leona successfully and because of you casualties were lower and the amount of soldiers, higher.

Thank you, Saphira, I needed that. I love you, he added warmly.

I as well. Now get some sleep, you have a big day ahead of you.

*Keep on reading.*