Author's Note: hey all. There was some problems with alerts, I guess…so for some of you this update is coming really late, and others It's coming early. Sorry about that and all. I wanted to say, someone asked me about Mistress Keladry, if I got her from Tamora Peirce. Although I got her name from the Protector of the Small series, she isn't the same Keladry as in those books. I just liked the name. Although she does share some traits with Kel, I don't mean to steal Peirce's character in any way. So I suppose this Author's note is a disclaimer, of sorts. Hearts, Kit-Kat

Matrix's scales glittered like wine in a crystal glass as the moon shone down on them. Her torn wings beat heavily at the air.

None of the dragons had spoken. The silence was full of questions. Finally, Saphira ventured a single sentence.

I am Brightscales.

Matrix didn't look at her. Be that thy name, or what thou be?

It is what I am.

Thou art wrong, said Matrix. But it matters not.

After that, Saphira was silent. The strange dragon didn't seem to mind.

Who is she? Saphira asked herself. Where did she come from?

Everyone had told her that she herself was the only female dragon. The last of her kind. The mother of a new race.

But Matrix must have been Shruikan's age, perhaps older.

And what had her words meant? Your blood marks you as Rider's mounts as clearly as your heart brands the hand of he that is bound to you.

The meaning proved illusive. Had Matrix meant she could tell that Slate and Saphira both had Riders? If so, how? By their blood?

But what about Matrix? She herself must have a Rider somewhere, mustn't she? Where was he? Why was she here, without him?

Had her Rider died in the fall? Was Matrix truly alone, forever?

Saphira saw the same questions reflecting in Slate's eyes.

Thou are far from those that complete thy souls, small ones, Matrix told them. It hurts thy hearts.

Our Riders need our help, Slate defended.

What of yourself? Saphira asked. What of your own Rider?

Matrix let out a low hiss of anger. Does thee smell Rider's blood on me? Does thee see a brand on my heart?

Saphira slowed, unsure what had angered the other dragon. I…I don't know.

I am free. No weakling flies on my back. I serve none as a beast of burden. Matrix's eyes burned.

I am sorry…

Saphira was shocked by her words. No Rider? Free? That meant…Matrix was a dragon. A true dragon. Not bound to any, elf or human.

You yourselves carry others like they have mastery over you, Matrix scowled. Have you forgotten what we are?

Slate blew a tendril of smoke out his nostrils. We are dragons.

Nay! Matrix cried. We are the children of fire and wind. We are dragons, yes. But so much more. Has instinct abandoned you so entirely that you do not know your own race?

Saphira and Slate shared a glance, slowing. Matrix kept flying.

If we are such disgraces, why did you seek us?

Matrix's eyes softened. You are blood of my blood. Rider's mounts or otherwise, my heart ached for company. I have been alone too long.

Where do you come from?

I began when fire and wind forgot they were enemies and made love to one another, she replied. The very same as you. Their essence sings in the hearts of us all.

They rested at daybreak. Slate and Saphira curled away from Matrix, together in the sand.

She is fierce, Slate said.

She is lonely, Saphira countered.

Slate snorted. You are saying as much because she is a female, like you. We must be wary, Brightscales.

Saphira licked him tenderly, realizing with a start that he was old enough to mate. She pushed the thought off. Slate, she can help us.

Maybe. But what is the price of her help?

I want to trust her. Slate, she is us. We are one and the same. Blood of her blood, remember?

I want to trust her as well. But that does not mean that I can. What if I got everything I wanted?

Normally you are the impulsive one, Saphira complained.

Slate licked her back on the nose. Saphira…

What can she do to us? She doesn't want to harm us, or she would have already. The Varden could use her help as well.

She doesn't seem to think highly of humans.

Saphira smiled. Maybe we can show her how good they are. Don't you think she would like Shay and Vanir and Rune?

Perhaps.

Please. Can't she just come with us?

Slate sighed. I don't know. You're older. Make the decision yourself.

Saphira licked his head like a mother grooming her child affectionately. Thank you, Slate. Come on, let's nest with her. It'll do her good.

Slate followed her begrudgingly.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Any news from Kel?"

Nasuada shook her head sadly. "Nothing."

Orrin saw the worries in her eyes. "I'm sure she's fine."

"What if Marcus Tabor realized her slaves aren't dying? What if he realized she's—"

Orrin sat down behind her, rubbing her shoulders with his strong hands. "Nasuada, please. The tub of lard couldn't realize something if you dropped it on his head. Besides, Bracken is there with her."

"If she's hurt, I'll never forgive myself."

"If she's hurt, it won't be your fault," Orrin assured. "It was your father's idea to put a spy in Marcus Tabor's household. Kel leaped at the chance, if I remember."

Nasuada called Keladry's image to mind. Although she was a few years older, they had grown up together. Kel was the daughter of Jörmundur, Ajihad's right hand man. Kel had always been ready to help Nasuada with her problems, like a big sister would. Though their skin was different colored, Kel had always said their hearts were the same.

Adventuresome Kel had jumped at the opportunity to do something for the Varden.

"I can't live in Jörmundur's shadow my whole life," she had told Nasuada as she headed out. "I want to see the world myself. Besides, we'll always be together where it counts, right coney?"

Nasuada had hugged her tightly around the waist. "It'll cost you your maidenship, nonnie. Please don't go."

Kel had just laughed. "My maidenship? A small price, don't you think? I'll be freeing countless who are sold for the very same reason. Come, coney. Let go. I must leave."

Nasuada sighed, bringing herself back from the memory.

"I hope she's alright," she said. "Hope be with her."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune shivered when Dras Leona came into sight. Just as the slavers had said, it was morning. The day dawned red and angry.

She laid her head on Eragon's shoulder, because Súndavar was still sleeping. He kissed her forehead.

"We'll be okay."

She snuggled against him, looking at the baby in her arms. "Eragon, what should I name him?"

"I don't know. Something strong, I suppose."

"Will you bless him, when you're free of your chains?"

Eragon remembered his mistake with Elva. He was much more experienced now, but he shook his head all the same. "No."

"Why?"

"I'm afraid I'll harm him."

Rune sighed and kissed the baby's brow. "Suppose I call him Freoh?"

"Death? Why would you call him that?"

Rune shrugged. "Because it's a strong name. Death chases all. None can escape it. It is a hunter and a master and creeping shadow."

"How poetic."

She looked at him, before burying her nose in the sweet, boyish smell of his neck. "I'm afraid, Eragon."

"Yes."

"How can they sleep, when we are so close to being—" she choked on the word sold and cried into his shoulder.

He tilted her face up to his and kissed her gently. "Rune, we'll be okay."

She closed her eyes. "I'm calling him Freoh."