Chapter 9

More travelling. More moving. More burdens and pain. Elva groaned. She had stayed with the Varden and she was going to until Galbatorix was overthrown at which point she would be forgotten. She would live in some lonely unvisited corner of the land where no person would find her and she could grow in her inhuman way until she died, or if she died.

She had figured Eragon had ignored her advice, or actually the spirits. Elva grinned. She admired them. They were amazing, floaty creatures, like living stars. Purple. It was purple. She had noticed Eragon's sceptic looks in her direction. They were not always sceptic. Sometimes they were full of fear or anger.

The pain inside him had shrank. He was preoccupied with something. He talked little, at least verbally, he ate little and most of all he slept little. His cousin was worried. Why does he care? Elva asked herself. Eragon had not visited him in weeks, maybe months.

Roran had come to her in the morning.

"I saw you leave Eragon's tent" He had said accusingly. She had looked at him once from under her longer growing fringe but other whilst had lacked reaction which angered the man. "What did you tell him, why is he so…so…"

"distracted?" She had helped. Roran nodded. "I'm not sure, I thought that was usual…he did that while blessing a child once…being distracted, apparently she had to suffer a horrible burden, although, it might just have been the lack of knowledge,"

Roran viewed the girl from toe to eye, where he stopped and looked at his shoes. "Why do you hold a grudge against him? He did what he could!"

Elva had let out a twinkling little girls laugh then. "I hold nothing!" she had cried "I carry nothing but the clothes on my back!"

At which point Angela had interrupted by acting outraged "Carry nothing but the clothes on your back young girl? Well then you won't mind the slightest when you help me carry my belongings" and loading a pile of oddly shaped objects into her arms, so high that Elva could not look over it.

That brought her there, carrying a pan and a book trotting beside an overloaded old horse.

~O~

"It is unusual for a dream to be so…intense" Angela commented after Eragon had finished. "Are you saying you could not hear Saphira even though you are bonded…"

Eragon nodded starting to regret the decision to give in to Saphira's plan. Her arguments had been very persuasive and truthful, but now that the moment had passed…

He could feel Elva's perforating stare at the back of his neck and Angela's secrecy of her knowledge itching under his skin. Eragon pretended to swot a fly away.

"I wonder…" Angela began.

You wonder often and a lot and I sometimes wish you didn't, Eragon thought to himself.

Caution, little one, he heard in return. Somewhere above the clouds, Saphira was circling.

"I would have to discuss it with some of your elf protectors, Eragon" Angela said, eyeing Blodgharm and the his other elves, Eragon had asked to stand a further away. He had no doubt the elves could still hear them, but it was better than nothing.

Without further word Angela trundled to the blue furred elf and started discussing.

"You don't believe me do you" he heard the awful voice murmur from behind. He pretended he did not hear, but Elva just chortled.

He heard the voices again. Stupid boy, stupid boy, stupid boy.

Eragon concentrated back onto reality. He noticed Blodgharms worried looks. Angela's wide eyes and twitching mouth and he realised he preferred to listen to his seemingly schizophrenic head. Was he insane?

…..

They had set up camp at sun down. Eragon was sitting against Saphira thinking about what Angela had said and that was; nothing. Silence was a horrible thing. It could mean any emotion; anger, misery, joy, or worry…

Eragon had done nothing wrong, so it definitely was not anger, misery could easily be crossed out and it was unquestionably not joy. That left worry. Worry could be, as Eragon had witnessed many times before, very ruthless, especially if other people start worrying about you.

Eragon viewed the opening to his 'room' miserably, turned over and thought to Saphira, I am sleeping here tonight. Saphira had not answered, but put her wing over him.

~O~

Forced imagery. That was impossible. Not impossible, just very, very tiring, Arya corrected herself. Dreams like Eragon's could only be from a very powerful spellcaster. Angela's theory was that Eragon was receiving messages, or threats through his dreams. It was possible, with the help of the other 11, Blodgharm had proved that it was possible to place an image inside another person's mind while their mind was unshielded. What the person's imagination formed around that image was not possible to control but usually collected feelings that the pictures awoke. Surreal or dark images could for example lead one to believe that all was lost and that one's nearest is dead. They could also bring back information the 'victim' had apparently forgotten.

Unshielded? Eragon's mind was rarely entirely unshielded. Even in his sleep his mind was impenetrable. How then…?