Slate's wings ached. I have never flown so far, he half-complained to Saphira. The frigid temperatures didn't help, making his bones feel heavy and stiff.

It's the cold, Saphira assured him. Sun will rise soon, and we will sleep.

Slate sighed. Although he was now about the size of Saphira, he didn't have her endurance. The female dragon seemed able to fly to Uru'baen and back without tiring. Added to Slate's burden was the tugging in his heart, the lack of Súndavar. Saphira didn't seem to feel this either.

I've cut myself off from Eragon, she explained when he asked.

Slate stared at her, shocked. But…that's terrible! Saphira, why would you do that? It's betrayal!

No. I had to. He is bleeding, and I can do nothing for him. His pain would distract me, she said softly.

But how can you…how can you bear knowing that he is alone?

Saphira looked away. We are working in his best interest. That has to be enough.

They were silent. The sun was beginning to awaken the world, turning things the brilliant shades of fire. Wordlessly, they landed.

Slate thought about what Saphira had said. He couldn't imagine the pain she was going through. She was so strong, to keep going, even after she had severed her connection with her Rider. The lack of…unity with his soul…even being apart wasn't as bad as that. At least Slate could still feel Súndavar, even if they were distanced. He was still there, as the painful tugging exemplified.

Saphira blasted a sand dune with fire. Slate watched her, feeling sorry for the older dragon all the while.

The sand melted under Saphira's firestorm. She stopped blowing flames and examined her work. A shallow cave of dirty, impure glass had been formed in the side of the dune. She fanned it with her wings.

Where did you learn that trick? Slate asked.

Saphira blinked at him. I…It just came to me. I don't know.

It is ingenious.

He nuzzled her, and they curled around one another in the cave.

On the horizon, Slate saw the group of slavers, merely a speck against the sand.

We could fight them, he said. We could fight and win.

Saphira sighed softly, her scales rubbing Slate's. What would become of the other slaves? They would die, out here.

That is not our problem, Slate grumbled stubbornly.

Riders serve the people, Saphira reminded gently. We bide our time, Slate.

Eragon is dying. Does that not make you want to rescue him?

Rage burned in Saphira. Eragon means more to me than anything! She snapped. I am rescuing him. I'm rescuing him by not doing anything stupid.

Are you saying I'm stupid?

I'm saying you are acting like a dog, running after its master, she accused. Simply using force to retrieve our Riders and the others will only get us dead, if not by the Slavers than by Galbatorix. Don't be a fool. As far as we know, Galbatorix doesn't know about you and Súndavar. Word would get to him, you can be sure of that.

Slate pulled away from her, curling catlike in the farthest corner. He tucked in his tail, so as not to touch her. Saphira eyed him sadly, before doing the same.

Good light, Brightscales, he said bitterly.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"They are fay."

The words sent shivers up Hane's spine. The young man looked at Keorg nervously.

"Surely you're—"

Keorg's wine colored eyes flashed. "I am never mistaken. Whether it be by birth or blood or heart, they are fay. All of them."

Hane found himself unable to meet Keorg's eyes.

"Their aura is coated in magic, thick as the fogs of Leona Lake at dawn."

"I could sense nothing."

"You wouldn't," Keorg snorted. "You aren't…" he trailed off, leaving the word hanging in the air.

Hane wanted to curl into a ball and cry, like a child. Keorg was the only man who could so this to him. Be strong, he told himself. No mere man should be able to reduce him to a blubbering fool.

But I am not a mere man.

No! Hane cried in his mind. Stay out of my head! Please! He grasped at his ears as if to blot out the voice.

Keorg smiled at him seemingly unaware of his pain. Hane's single eye flickered over him for the thousandth time. The same wine colored eyes, auburn hair, strong face. The same tapered ears and powerful body.

"What does it mean?" he asked, quiet, afraid.

Keorg grinned evilly. "It means they are worth more."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Heal him."

Súndavar and Vanir looked up, startled.

Hane stood with an arrow in his bow. Cladi was behind him. She didn't look afraid. Not much could scare the girl, at this point.

"Unlock the younger one," Hane told her. She nodded, moving to unlock Súndavar's chains.

She swiftly retreated, trying to stand behind Hane again. He grabbed her arm and forced the arrow neatly against her stomach. "Heal your friend," he demanded again.

Cladi's eyes widened slightly. She threw a pleading look at Súndavar.

"With what do you want me to—"

"Magic."

Súndavar glared at him. Hane tightened his grip on Cladi, pressing the arrow harder. A small red spot formed on her tunic.

Súndavar gave in. With a few muttered words, Eragon's bleeding stopped. Súndavar collapsed with the effort.

Cladi thanked him silently, falling to his side as Hane released her.

"Bind him again."

Cladi obeyed without a word. Before Hane escorted her out, she caught Súndavar's eyes.

She is well, she mouthed.

Súndavar smiled. Rune! She was alright.

Thank you, he mouthed back. Tell her I love her.

Cladi nodded, before the bars were slammed shut behind her.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Keorg watched the raven haired boy heal the other, silent as a cat on the prowl.

"It has been too long, little Shadow," he said under his breath.

His eyes flew over the girl. Stubborn, foolish girl. She had taken far too long to break. But now…now she obeyed like a puppy. She would do anything to protect the baby she carried. Keorg's own child, he knew, although Hane had used her as well.

Keorg sighed in satisfaction as he watched the words the boy mouthed to her.

Tell her I love her.

Keorg smiled, that tight, joyless smile. His wine colored eyes glittered dangerously.

Without a word, the Shade walked away.