Author's Note: Hey all. I've gotten some reviews where you guys were a bit upset at Eragon (and perhaps me) about what happened in the last chapter. DON'T BE, please. I had a reason for that. I needed that to happen for a discussion they're going to have below. There IS a reason he's acting Out of Character. I did that, like, on purpose. So read it, and forgive Eragon. Actually, it was kinda Rune's fault. She's the queen of mixed messages.
Oh, and as for Súndavar, his 'dead before' thing was just something my guy-friend said that reminded me of Súndavar. It was kinda a joke, one of those things guys kinda blurt out and then all their friends laugh.
Oh! And did I actually call it the Well of Souls? Ike! My bad! Vault of Souls. Eck, sorry. So much on my mind. Hearts, Kittie
"Eragon?"
Eragon looked up. Rune smiled hesitantly at him. "Uhm, can we talk?"
He shrugged.
She sat down next to him, in the shade of the oak. Neither spoke for a moment. Rune refused to meet Eragon's eyes.
"Listen," she began, staring at the ground. "I'm sorry, for getting mad at you."
He shrugged again.
"I overreacted. I'm worried about Súndavar, and, well, I'm worried about you too."
He looked at her quietly. "Why me?"
"Because…because…I don't know. It seems like everything we stood for is falling apart," she said softly. "Before…we've grown up, Eragon."
"I know. I'm sorry about your innocence, you know. I didn't mean to—"
She blinked, her mouth open. "Eragon, I'm not talking about that," she said. "It was my choice as much as yours. I could have told you no, and I didn't. We both have to live with that. But I'm thinking that we should honestly examine ourselves, and what we want. It seems as though our group is falling apart, and I have a feeling it's my fault."
"You aren't the easiest person to travel with," he admitted. "But it's why we love you."
"We?"
"All of us. Súndavar, me, Shay, Vanir. We're family, now."
Rune nodded. "It's different for Vanir and Shay," she said. "They're…well, in elf customs, they're an accepted couple. Mates, or whatever. But with you and me, and me and Súndavar, it's not like that."
"I know."
"May I ask something?"
Eragon nodded. "Of course. I owe you that much."
"Do you feel guilty?"
He bit his lip. "Yes. We shouldn't have done what we did. Whatever that was."
She nodded. "I do too. If things were different, maybe we would end up together. But the way it is, we have a job to do. You have your duty as a Rider, and I should really start acting more like the Princess I'm supposed to be."
He laughed. "Rune, you do act like a princess. Not proper, maybe, but you're strong hearted, and outgoing, and you care about others. If it came to it, I'd make you queen in a second."
"Not a chance," Rune said with a shake of her head. "My father stole the throne. I don't want a thief's crown."
"See? Answered like a true princess. Prideful, dutiful, and committed to what's right."
She laughed and pushed him. "Besides," she said. "I'm not just a princess."
"Of course not," Eragon said.
Rune shook her head. "I mean I'm your weapon," she said. "We both know that's what I am."
Eragon looked at her, startled. "What?" he whispered.
"The weapon the werecat spoke of," Rune said softly. "The weapon you would find under the Menoa Tree."
"What makes you think that's what you are?" Eragon asked uneasily.
"Because," Rune answered. "I slept beneath the tree, Eragon. And only when all seemed lost did I wake up. You found my soul there. Plus…"
"What?"
"Galbatorix is my father," Rune said with a shrug. "Wouldn't he be suceptable to his own flesh and blood? What if I'm his weakness?"
"He hates you, Rune," Eragon told her. "He ordered Lily to kill you."
Rune met his eyes with a slight frown. "Perhaps. But there's good in everyone."
"How could you say that?" Eragon cried. "He caused the downfall of the Riders! He killed people we both care about, Rune! He's evil."
"Does that make me evil? I share his blood."
"Blood doesn't matter," Eragon grumbled. "I just can't believe you would think that there is good in him."
"Eragon, he might say the same about you."
Eragon's eyes flashed at her. "Rune, what's gotten into you?"
"I've been thinking, Eragon. I've been thinking a lot. And I've thought of a plan."
Eragon turned away. "I don't want to hear it. You're talking like you mean to convert Galbatorix to our side! Rune, it's foolish. You don't have your woman's blood right now, do you? Because that can make girls act strangely. Shay screams and throws things. Perhaps you go crazy."
"No, I don't," Rune told him flatly. "And don't call me crazy. I don't mean to convert my father. That is, I fear, impossible."
"Finally, some sense."
Eragon suddenly found himself shaking. This whole scene…it reminded him of Saphira. He and Saphira would bicker like this sometimes, fighting more for the heck of it than any possible gain. It strengthened their bond, Saphira once told him.
Resisting an urge to throw up, Eragon clutched his stomach and began rocking back and forth, moaning to himself.
Rune blinked. "Eragon? What is wrong?"
"It's…nothing…"
She touched his shoulder in an almost sisterly way. "Eragon, you are sad."
"No I'm not."
She closed her eyes and he felt her mind probing his. He tried to lock her out, but the little piece of her that would always be there wouldn't let him.
"Yes you are…" she murmured, frowning as she rifled through his memories. "Eragon, where is Saphira? I can't feel your connection."
She opened her eyes and withdrew. Her sorrel-leaf orbs stared at him concernedly.
He looked away. There was a long silence, but the worried sister-love in Rune's eyes kept it from being uncomfortable. She waited quietly for an answer.
"I never told you," he said finally.
"Told me what?"
He sighed. "It was so sudden," he whispered. "That's why I…"
"Why what?"
"Why I wanted to get closer to you," he explained. "Why I made the first move in the glade, and why I kissed you earlier. I wanted to distract myself."
"Eragon, what's going on?"
"I can't feel Saphira anymore, Rune," he admitted. "You can't feel a connection because there isn't one."
Rune gasped quietly, before hugging him. "I'm so sorry."
He let her hug him for what seemed like an eternity. Her cheek pressed against his.
"I'm sorry," she repeated in his ear. "I shouldn't have gotten mad. I didn't know. You must be hurting so much." She began to cry.
"I should have told you," Eragon apologized. "I shouldn't have tried to distract myself with you, just because Súndavar wasn't there to get mad. I'm sorry too."
She shook her head. "Don't be. You were hurting. It's my fault for getting mad. I just added to it." She paused. "You could have talked to me, you know. I would have done everything I could to make you feel better."
"I was wrong through."
"Maybe. But we all make mistakes, especially when we're bleeding inside. How long, Eragon?"
"Since before Cladi died," he told her softly.
"What do you think happened to her?" Rune asked, leaving Saphira's name unsaid.
Eragon pulled away from her. "That's just it, Rune…"
"What?" He hesitated, adverting his eyes. "Eragon, tell me," she ordered.
"She cut our connection," Eragon said. His eyes got glassy, and for a moment he looked lost, as if he couldn't understand why his closest friend would do such a thing. He looked at his hands. "One minute I could feel her, and the next she was gone. She's not dead, Rune. Just gone. She broke our connection on purpose."
A tear slipped down his cheek, and Rune wiped it away with her fingertips. "Eragon, Saphira loves you. She must have had a good reason."
"That doesn't make it feel better!" he cried, yelling. Rune looked startled. He realized he had screamed at her and let his head drop to his hands. "I'm sorry. I just…"
Rune wrapped an arm around his shoulder and squeezed. "It's okay," she said with a gentle smile. She put her head on his shoulder. "Maybe…do you think we could make each other a promise?"
Eragon looked at her. "Rune, I can't—"
"It's just a little promise."
He finally nodded. "I'll try."
"How about we promise each other that from now on, we're friends? I care about you, Eragon. I want to help you, but distracting you isn't the right way to do it. It's going to hurt, being without Saphira. But you can get through it, until we find her. I'll help, if I can. And so will Vanir, and Shay when we find her. We love you. Like you said, we're a family."
He looked at the ground, then back into her wide green eyes. "Alright. I can promise that."
Rune smiled back and hugged him tightly, wiping away tears. "Come on. It's getting dark."
He stood up and helped her to her feet.
"Eragon?"
"Yes?"
Rune's lips curled into another gentle smile. "I feel better now. Thank you."
"Thank you too."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Matrix? May I ask you something?
The older dragon shook her head, rousing herself from sleep. She uncurled like a cat, before turning to look at Saphira.
You may ask, dracling.
Saphira looked at the ground, then back at where Slate was curled, sleeping. The stars in the heavens shone brighter than they ever had before.
Have you ever mated? The blue female blurted.
Matrix blinked, which – for her – was the equivalent of an open-mouthed stare. She cocked her head regally. Perhaps, she said. Is that your only question, or is my sense of intuition correct in assuming this will lead to a rather long conversation?
Saphira looked at Slate again, and Matrix got her answer.
Come, Saphira-vira. We shall talk in a more suitable place, and I shall reveal the answers you seek.
Matrix took off, launching herself into the air with her legs before snapping open her wings and beating them. Saphira followed quietly into the air.
When they were both airborne, Saphira turned to Matrix.
Not here.
Then where—
There.
Saphira followed Matrix's pointing nose with her eyes. Her mouth dropped open.
It was once called by a name this language has no words for, Matrix said.
Saphira looked out at what she saw before her. A giant mosaic of the Wind and Fire spread across a spectacular circular clearing. They had brilliant, elegant forms that couldn't be matched by dragons, elves, or humans, but looked as though they were made of their element. The Fire's limbs and face glowed red and yellow in the moonlight, looking magical. The Wind looked almost as if she would be scattered into a thousand breezes when touched, delicate, beautiful, and serene.
As close as I can say, Matrix continued, it is the Place of Love, Birth, Beginning, Mating, Bonding, Life, and Hatching. It was pieced together from the shed scales of greatest dragons of the past. Each scale was fitted in place with others of its color. No two are alike.
This is where the eggs were laid, Saphira breathed.
It is. This is where each dragonheart began its beating, all the time ago when our race was free as the Wind and fierce as the Fire. Each year before the eggs were laid, the males would join their breaths and flame for three days to warm the nest.
Saphira watched Matrix with rapt attention.
Then, vigil would come. The females would lay, and watch. Two days spent in a fast, singing dragonsongs. One day for the Wind, one for the Fire.
Matrix circled the Place of Love, beating her wings. When the eggs hatched, they would spend their first night with their nose pressed to the Motherstone. Then their dam and their sire would bear them in their claws and fly over the land, singing songs.
Matrix stopped talking, and silence settled. Saphira felt a deep sense of awe for her race's past.
Matrix?
Yes, Saphira?
May I spend a night with the Motherstone? Will you sing me the dragonsongs?
Matrix smiled kindly. I shan't sing you the songs you ask of, she declined. But the Motherstone welcomes all.
Saphira shivered in pleasure. Matrix?
Yes?
You didn't answer my other question. Have you ever mated?
Matrix looked sadly at the dragon-scale mosaic.
I have.
Did you have an egg, then?
Matrix met her eyes. Saphira, you must realize that not all eggs hatch. Some just…some just don't have a heartbeat.
Saphira touched her nose to the other dragon. I'm sorry.
It is how things are, Matrix said. My mate and I knew that it was a possibility.
Who was your mate?
Matrix shook her head. Such tales are dead, Saphira. I would prefer not to speak of him or our egg, if it is the same to you.
Saphira nodded quickly.
Good. Then come. The Motherstone calls you for your sleep, vira.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The boot nudged Shay in the stomach once, then again, harder. The young woman growled something in her sleep and curled into a ball.
"Hey? Lady?"
Another nudge.
"Hey, wake up!"
Shay opened her eyes, holding a hand up to shield them from the sun. After blinking several times, she looked at the form above her.
A little boy cocked his head at her, his golden blonde locks falling over his eyes. "You were sleeping," he said.
She got to her feet, shaking out her hair. The little boy gawked at her. She inspected her reflection on Leona Lake and gasped.
"Are you dead?" he asked.
"I sure do look it," she admitted. Her hair was snarly, her face skin pale. Her eyes had puffy red rims around them from crying, and half of her face was red from laying on it in the sand.
"Are you a fallen angel? My big sister says they're ugly, but I think they'd be pretty, but bruised. It would hurt to fall from Hope, wouldn't it? You would get bruises. Is that what happened to you?"
"No. I just fell asleep on a beach."
"Oh." The little boy looked disappointed. "Are you sure?"
"Fairly."
He sighed, and grabbed a stick to drag through the water. "Why aren't you at the race?" he asked. "Everyone else is."
"Why aren't you at the race?"
"Because I wanted to drag my stick in the water," he said. "But I found you. Are you a fallen angel?"
Shay sighed. "No."
"Sure? Because my sister says that—"
He continued talking, jabbering on about something Shay only half-heard. She stared out at the water absently.
"—And then Liv said that—"
Shay's mind wandered to Everett. What was he doing? Was he cooking lunch, like he always did when the sun was directly overhead? Or perhaps he had already eaten. Was he at the 'race'? What was the race anyways? A footrace?
"—And he was cutting and slashing and—"
Shay sighed. Her thoughts turned to Vanir. She hadn't seen him in forever, it seemed. Her body ached for the pleasures they shared in Lillendale. She thought about the way his arms felt when they tightened around her, thought of the face he made when he thought she was being a baby. Where was he? She wanted him here, with her, to hold her and tell her everything would be fine.
What of Rune? Where was the half-blood Princess now? Knowing Rune, Shay was fairly sure she'd be either entangled with Eragon – taking advantage of Súndavar's absence – or searching for her Rider-Shade friend.
"Listen, can you bring me to the race?"
Shay wasn't sure where the words had come from, but in a moment of reflection, she saw that if she had any chance of finding Rune and the others, it would lie there.
The boy shrugged. "I guess. Why?"
"Because I'm looking for some people, and they might be there."
He shrugged again. "Okay. What's your name?"
"Shay. Yours?"
"Haven't got one," he said. "I'm a hunter. I live all by myself and hunt all my food. Everyone's scared of me."
"I'm sure. What about your sister?"
"Haven't got one."
Shay smiled. "You tell nice lies."
He grinned. "Really?" he reached for her hand. "You mean it?"
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Rune tried to slip the bit into Eridor's mouth, but he bucked, pawing at her with his hooves.
"Eridor, what's wrong?"
Ric looked at Rune. "Lass, are you sure I can't persuade you not to do this?"
Lenori bit her lip, frightened. "Rune, be careful."
Rune ignored both of them. "Come, Eridor. You know me," she whispered. "I want you as my own again. We have to win."
Eridor whinnied loudly and stomped a hoof on the ground.
Rune's brow furrowed as she reached out her mind to the horse, trying to calm him. He didn't respond.
Tawnyclaw hopped around on the fence nervously.
Rune thought desperately. Tawnyclaw, what's wrong with him?
The hawk was silent for a moment.
Horse says Princess change, he said. Not his Princess. Speak change.
Rune reached out to Eridor. Oh, why can't you see it's me?
What had changed? Nothing, as far as Rune could tell. Then it dawned on her.
"Thou Beauty," she whispered. "Thou dragonheart."
Eridor nickered.
"I need thee," she told him. "I need thee to let me ride upon thy back and win."
Eridor shook out his mane. Rune moved towards him. Standing on the fence, she mounted Eridor quietly. The horse pranced in a tight circle.
Ric blinked at her, stupefied.
Rune grinned and kicked Eridor in the side. He moved to the other side of the pen, before taking a running leap and clearing the fence easily. He reared triumphantly, Rune clinging to his back.
"I'll be sent to Torment and called a Liar," Ric gasped, "But I've never seen such a thing in my life."
Rune smiled. "Come on," she said. "We've got a race to win!"
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Súndavar held himself very still, breathing nervously.
Ieran touched his shoulder. "Calm down, Shadow," he said. "It won't hurt."
"That's what they always say," Súndavar muttered. He screamed as Ieran's mind shoved painfully into his own.
Ieran let the pain pass him, as he worked his way into Súndavar's consciousness.
"Rune's done this before," Súndavar gasped. "It never hurt this much!"
"I'm your father," Ieran growled, deep in concentration. "It always hurts less when a woman does it."
Súndavar shrieked in pain as Ieran touched his memories of cutting. His father drew back, startled.
"Sún…"
"Just get it over with!" the youth cried. "Lecture me later, father."
Ieran bit back his worry and dug back into Súndavar's mind.
"Open yourself to me, and this would be a lot easier!"
"Are you crazy? My mind would be open to anyone who wanted to root around in it!"
"Just do it!"
"No!" Súndavar cried through clenched teeth.
"Do it!"
"Not a chance!"
Ieran clenched his fists and latched onto Súndavar's most painful memory – hitting Rune. Súndavar screeched and dropped his defenses in agony and heartsickness. Ieran quickly ran through his son's mind, before withdrawing.
"You're clear. See how easy that was?"
Súndavar was shaking. "Easy for you, maybe." He stared at his hands, all the memories Ieran had rummaged through playing back painfully in his mind. For a moment he thought his scars were beginning to bleed, then the red blood disappeared. For a moment his hand stung, as if he had struck someone. Then the feeling was gone.
"Súndavar?"
"Yes, dad?"
"May I see your wrists?"
Súndavar sighed and held up his hand. The cutting marks made little parallel lines up and down his arm. But that wasn't what Ieran was looking at.
"Silver Hand," he said.
Súndavar stared at his hand in horror. His gedwëy ignasia shone.
"So you got it to hatch." Ieran didn't sound surprised.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Typical teenager," Ieran excused with a shrug. "but we can talk about what I found in you mind instead."
"Oh?"
"No spirits," he said. "But they've been there. They left marks all over your consciousness."
Súndavar looked at his hands with his red eyes. "So why am I changing?"
Ieran shook his head. "I'm not sure. It may be…"
"What?"
"It may be an internal change."
Súndavar's mouth dropped open. "You mean I'm doing this to myself?"
Ieran closed his eyes. "I'm not a Shade anymore, Súndavar. I rid myself of the spirits when Galbatorix nearly killed me. I don't know what is happening to you, but I'm going to try to find out."
"Why?" Súndavar asked. "You don't know me. You don't love me, and I don't love you. We're not really family, Ieran."
Ieran closed his eyes for a moment.
"I'm sorry you feel that way," he said softly. "But I'd like to get to know you. And I'll always love you."