Dreams

Eragon howled as he felt Zar'roc slash Oromis from shoulder to hip. He felt a strange force gathered inside him, he released it pushing Thorn and Murtagh away from them. Eragon tucked his wings against his side and dove towards Gil'ead and Islanzadí's spellcasters. He could feel his consciousness slipping away; with all his effort he poured strength into Oromis's body. Glaedr... release me, do not mourn me.

Eragon woke from his waking dreams in a start. He wondered if he would ever be free of this nightmare, then he wondered if it wasn't his nightmare but Glaedr's. He looked over to the saddle bags were the ancient dragon's eldunarí sat. Glaedr still hadn't spoken to Eragon or Saphira, they hadn't pushed him; they could scarcely imagine the pain he must be in. Perhaps, thought Eragon ,he is reaching out in his sleep without even knowing it.

"Master?" Eragon went to near the bags.

There was no reply.

Careful.

Eragon turned to look at Saphira. Without saying anything further she nodded in the direction of Vanir. Eragon cursed his own recklessness, he trusted Vanir with his life but the secret of the eldunarí wasn't to be shared with anyone else unless it was absolutely necessary. Glaerdr himself had stressed the importance of it saying that for the sake of the few dragons who remained eldunarí's are their power must not become common knowledge

As if he had felt Eragon's gaze Vanir's eyes opened. He noticed Eragon watching him and shot him a questioning look.

"Good morning," Eragon said, "I was just wondering when you were going to be up," he lied thankful that they were not speaking in the ancient language.

"Well I'm up now, so when are we leaving?" Vanir asked eagerly.

Eragon laughed as he watched Vanir leap up and start packing. Vanir had taken to flying a lot better than Orik had.

"No breakfast?"

"We can have breakfast in the air," he through a bag at Eragon's chest, "Come on! Pack!"

The bland landscape passed by in a blur. The desert sand continued as far as Eragon could see. In the distance he thought he could see the mountain tops of their target Du fells Nángoröth however they wouldn't reach them until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. While they were flying Eragon transferred some of his energy into the Belt of Beloth the Wise. Saphira was humming happily below him; she was thrilled to be flying with Eragon in the Hadarac Desert again.

"This is amazing I wish Lita could see me now," Vanir said.

Eragon turned around, Vanir was looking around smiling.

"Who is Lita?"

"My sister"

"Sister?" with a start Eragon realised just how little he knew about the elf's life.

"Yeah she is only a few years younger than me, she lives in Osilon so you wouldn't have met her, but she loves the old dragon rider stories, she would be so jealous of me," Vanir laughed.

"How old are you?"

"I've never told you? I'm only just older than Arya, one hundred and twenty."

"Why does she live in Osilon?"

"That's where we were born. My whole family lives there."

"Your whole family?" It seemed odd to Eragon to hear Vanir talking about a family, he had never really seemed particularly close to anyone.

"Well Lita, my mother and my grandparents. My father died."

"I'm sorry. When did you leave Osilon?"

"Twenty four years ago," Vanir's usual cheerful air had vanished, his thoughts seemed a hundred miles away.

"Why?"

Vanir hesitated before he answered, "My mother thought it would be for the best, perhaps she was right".

Vanir was clearly going to say no more. Eragon was startled by his sudden change in mood, he had never seen him look so upset and vulnerable.

"What about your family?" Vanir asked.

"I grew up in Caravahall," Eragon looked around to see if Vanir recognised the name, he seemed to. "I lived with my uncle Garrow, he was my mother's brother, and my cousin Roran," Eragon said.

"What of your parents, are they..."

"They're both dead," Eragon said shortly.

"I'm sorry, did you know them?"

"My mother no, she left Caravahall just after she gave birth to me, but it's ok, I know she had her reasons." Eragon was careful not to say too much, his mother Selena had been Morzan's Black Hand. He wasn't ashamed of her but he didn't want people to know that he was related to Murtagh. Nasuada had thought that if people were to know it could undermine their faith in him. He wasn't sure if Vanir would recognise Selena's name, few knew her as anything other than the Black Hand but he didn't want to take the chance. "My father I knew but not as a father. I only found out the name of my father three days before Feinster," he turned to watch Vanir's reaction, "my father was Brom".

Vanir's mouth dropped open, his eyes darted around Eragon's face searching for any features he had inherited. Eragon smiled that was the first thing everyone seemed to do.

"Oh yeah, I can kind of see a resemblance, but then who was your mother? Brom was undercover in Morzan's castle about the time you were born; he must have met your mother there?"

Eragon's blood went cold, not even Brom's old friend Jeod had made that connection.

"I don't know."

"Why did you hesitate?"

"I didn't."

"Why did you hesitate?" Vanir asked again this time in the ancient language.

Eragon try to say he didn't but the words caught in his mouth as the ancient language prevented him from lying, "I don't want to talk about it".

"If your uncle was her brother than you must know who she was," Vanir continued pestering him.

Underneath them Saphira bucked violently, causing Vanir to grab Eragon tightly around the middle, he said, he didn't want to talk about it.