Chapter 15

Blodgharm stood blinking in the middle of the opening overwhelmed by a feeling he had never felt before and hoped never to experience again. He felt helpless. Alone and confused in the middle. Should he get Elva or go after Eragon? Eragon of course! But he could not stand the thought of leaving a helpless child out in an oncoming winter.

He probed around and was shocked at what he found. She had not…

Blodgharm sprang into action. Without hesitation he ran in the direction Eragon and Saphira had flown…and ARYA! Blodgharm cursed the girls incompetence. What was she doing running away like that, leaving him behind all alone with a child who had ran off and become the living death of this land.

~O~

Eragon was still puzzled and Saphira seemed to be letting him figure things out for himself, or she was angry with Arya and annoyed that he had thrown her onto Saphira's back. Eragon steadied his thoughts. Arya and Blodgharm had betrayed him. No, Arya and Blodgharm had refused to share information, important information which he had the right to know- but that was not right either. They promised not to share that information, why did his anger suddenly seem irrational when he thought about it that way. This was Nasuada's doing! She had made them swear to not tell him. Then again Arya and Blodgharm could have refused. Then again, knowing Nasuada she probably had very good arguments to keep them on her side. Then again perhaps Nasuada was only doing such because she thought she was protecteing him. Then again she…Then again…Then…

The list would not stop. JUST BE QUIET! His head cried. The thoughts continued. Circles within circles. Nasuada's secrecy, her secret meeting. The way Elva had been so sweet to him, and then so willing to hand out the information. Arya and Blodgharm speaking into the mirror before they picked them up. Elva muttering to Arya the last night.

Eragon was holding onto the spike in front of him so tightly that his cuts started bleeding again.

"Here," Arya said, gently lifting his hand and putting it into her lap, unwrapping the make-shift bandages and healing them with a single word. Eragon sighed. He could have done that. Why had he not?

He was aware of Arya inspecting his face.

"You're confused," she commented. Her voice was different. Higher, less icy…a little scared perhaps, nervous?

And more! Saphira growled into both Eragon's and Arya's mind.

Arya looked at her hands. What do you want to know? She asked in his mind.

Do you still not love me? He thought to himself. Arya caught his eye, and he realised, going red, that she had heard that. Arya looked down at the tiny trees and the rising sun. Now that the question was out, he thought he might as well burrow a little deeper. Well? He was met with shields.

Eragon turned forwards and let out a smile. She wasn't sure.

~O~

Nasuada looked into the mirror in disbelief, once again. Had she seen that correctly? Had she really seen the two elves disappear into thin air, leaving nothing visible but a shrivelled brown leaf and a startled worm? Sometime during the night the mirror had stopped working completely, for in the morning, as Nasuada checked once again in worry, what she had caused, the screen was black.

She was not sure what to think, but what she felt was, well, guilt.

She watched in dismay as the soldiers slowly equipped their aching bodies for battle. The largest battle the Varden had ever fought, and hopefully the last one they ever needed to. The Varden was big now. At least double the size it had been when her father had been leading. Why was she not proud? Why was her heart edged with dread and worry, exactly at the moment the Varden needed her confidence and words to get through this? Nasuada turned and gazed at the gleaming armour propped onto a pole in her tent. It was beautiful piece of work. Entirely out of silver metal that shone unbelievably bright. The tunic she was going to wear was a blue colour. Saphira.

Nasuada wanted to throw herself into her cot and cry. She could not, though, she had to be strong for her people. She pulled the costume over her head solemnly. A young girl tied it at its sides. She strode through the tent town to a podium around which many people had already surrounded.

She took a deep breath and stepped up. "My dear people…" Why was her voice so shaky? She coughed. "My dear people, today we are making history as well as a future. A history of great deeds and people, heroes who were willing to die for what they believed in, martyrs. A future for all our children, because people, if we do not fight now, there will be no future, there won't be any children, there will be slaves, never dying, ever suffering SLAVES! We must fight for our future…" Nasuada continued talking and gradually the faces of her worried people changed. They grew more determined, worried about Nasuada's predicament.

She met eyes with Roran. He was worried. Why was he worried? Had Nasuada scared him that much? She glimpsed Katrina's rounding belly. No, it was something else, then Roran looked up at the sky and it was clear what he meant. Thorn.

~O~

He had caught her off-guard. Why had he asked, well, thought that? Why had he forgotten to pull it behind his shields before letting it slip out? Why, o why, o why?

They had not said anything since. Although Arya could imagine the conversation going on between Saphira and Eragon. Maybe they were not discussing her, and instead discussing what they were going to do when they got to Galbatorix castle. However, when she asked Eragon took a long time to answer. They had definitely not been planning.

Jeod gave Nasuada a ma, did he not, she did not possibly show it to you? Eragon tried meekly. He did not have a plan. Arya rolled her eyes. Had she actually been expecting ERAGON, Eragon Bromson, the boy who found something dangerous in a field of bunnies, to have a PLAN? Surprisingly the answer was yes.

I've one better, I have the map. She replied eventually, letting Eragon feel her distaste of his spontaneous manner.

Eragon nodded, okay, Jeod drew the tunnels and where the spies presume the chambers to be, my plan is based mainly on them.

Arya now was silent because she was surprised. Do you mean you have a plan?

Eragon scratched the back of his neck. Not exactly, it depends on certain things to be happening at certain times. A mix between chance, luck, fate and the slightest hint of thought.

Arya could not help but smile just the slightest. Some of that gullible, clumsy farm yard boy was still within him, making him just the slightest bit sweeter. Arya cautioned herself, there will be a bitter after taste. She reckoned, continuing her food-based metaphor.