Yeah here's another chapter. This one discusses the depth of Eragon's pain and rage. Also I managed to slip in a little ExA even if it is mainly their continued 'argument' sort off. Hope you enjoy and please point out any errors: I didn't proof read this. I have this unique and weird style of combining tenses and persons, so no it isn't a mistake, I do it on purpose.

"They say Hip-Hop just destroy tell em' look at me boy." From Lupe Fiasco.

"Eragon... Eragon."

The voice was somewhat familiar, somewhat foreign; it had no place in Eragon's dreams. Curiosity compelled Eragon's eyes to flicker open: Narrowed slits of emerald scrutinized his face, between a gulf of whispers. Arya was quick to put distance between the two as if Eragon was disease ridden. The detached mask shrouding her from the world.

Pushing himself to his feet and stretching Eragon allowed his thoughts to wander; last night's events slowly yielding their secrets. Grief, sharp as a knife pierced his heart.

Roran

Yet in spite of his cousins almost certain demise, the crushing hopelessness of days gone was starting to lift, replaced by a new determination, one he had not experienced since his changing. Victory was assured; Galbatorix had not long left upon this earth.

For all your dark power, you cannot hope to defeat me now Galbatorix. You will fall even if I must fall with you.

"No he will not," Saphira whispered; her tone one of reassurance. He did not need it.

The dragoness was curled into the side of a large oak; its leafless branches swaying and dancing to the winds tune. Even as he watched a small twig snapped from its parent branch and struck the Sapphire dragon's skull, his elven hearing faintly devouring the soft thud.

"We must be on our way; it would be a miracle for us to reach the Elves before they forsake Gil'ead, we shall probably reach them on their travels."

Arya's intervention jolted Eragon; he had almost forgotten the elf's presence.

Turning to watch her Eragon could not help but feel resentful. It was she, she who brought word of his cousin's death; she was the cause of his pain, just as she had been in the past, just as she would continue to cause him pain in the future. His anger must have shown for the she-elf recoiled slightly, her back foot striking the charred logs behind her. Shock and confusion, for once, clear on her face.

Grim satisfaction filled Eragon.

Nothing more than unwanted baggage, our journey would be much swifter without her.

An urge to wrap his hands around her puny little throat and tighten washed over Eragon.

Almost instantly shock and disgust wormed their way into Eragon. Doubt over his character, over his being resonated through his being. Something had changed... perhaps by too large of a margin.

I cannot allow this creature to taint me further.

Reaching out with a shaking arm before he could stop himself, Eragon spoke in a soothing voice, "I beg for your forgiveness princess, times are hard," she nodded at this, drawing somewhat closer to Eragon, "You are, of course, right," he finished.

Arya's cool impassiveness returned with each spoken word, until control once again lay with her.

"Yes, prepare yourself; I shall gather our supplies."

Waving his hand dismissively, Eragon murmured, "Go ahead."

Arya's eyes hardened and for a moment Eragon prepared for her retribution. It never came. Turning in one graceful motion she set about gathering their meagre belongings.

"You must watch your tongue, lest it dig you into an early grave little one."

Despite her wording the tone of their delivery was no doubt playful.

"I think Arya needs to pay heed as much as I."

(Time Lapse)

It was not much longer before they were ready. Saphira angled her triangular head skywards and spread her translucent wings. One mighty buffet launched them upwards' the usual giddy sensation smouldering deep within Eragon's stomach. Another wave of Saphira's muscular wings caused both riders to pitch forward; Arya tightened her arms around Eragon, an action that would have once sent shivers racing up his spine only served to agitate him now. Their rate of incline reduced steadily till they reached the required altitude; their abode of the night before but a speck amidst the bustling tree tops and rolling hills.

The peace of their flight drew a silence from the three companions, a silence which Eragon supported whole-heartedly. It allowed him time to think, to recollect from recent events, to plan his future and that of Alagaesia. They would win: he did not know how but his sub-conscious assured him of victory; an assurance only amplified by the deep seated rage. A rage so potent mountains would cower before it; they would pay, both of them. His billowing emotions caused him to tighten his left hand around Brisingr's polished pommel; he fought to master his breathing. Murtagh would beg Eragon to kill him at the end of their little reunion and Galbatorix... Galbatorix, the very name set his heart racing, faster than even Arya's touch had been capable of.

Oh Galbatorix, no pain is too great. I will teach you the meaning of pain; ingrain it within your skin.

Disjointed images of horrific tortures and punishments wafted through Eragon's mind. A screaming Murtagh being lowered into a pot of bubbling oil; the flesh of his feet burning away, the enticing aroma of scorched flesh wafting the plain black room of his imagination. The red rider's screams intensified as the oil swept higher, its course inevitable as it enveloped Murtagh's manhood, igniting the tender tissue. A screech of inhumane nature escaped Murtagh's lips.

Music to my ears, Eragon thought smiling to himself in amusement.

Images of Galbatorix soon drowned out Murtagh's pitiful moans. Eragon watched in content as the king had the skin of his face slowly peeled away, as the now bare meat of his face was turned upwards, as granulated crystals of salt showered down from above, covering his exposed flesh with vicious stings. A silent scream built to a crescendo as Eragon shivered in unadulterated delight.

He was interrupted just as he was about to move back to Murtagh's fate when a soft honeyed and tanned hand softly shook his shoulders.

ARYA, DAMN YOU!

"Eragon," she whispered hesitantly, concern lacing her tongue.

"What?" he whispered in response, terse, annoyed at the interruption. A near fanatical need to take the woman by her shoulders and throw her from Saphira's back gripped Eragon. As it was he was barely able to contain his desire. No, he corrected himself the creature's desire.

The elf paused before replying. Studying his face with soulful eyes; Eragon felt uncomfortable beneath her gaze, it felt as if his secrets were oozing out of him. Secrets that should stay his until his abject undoing.

She would pay one day. Dearly.

"I worry for you Shur'tugal, you were shaking a while back; you almost fell off in fact. What is wrong?"

As expected her voice was guarded and displayed no outwards bursts of the worry she claimed to feel.

Lies

As it was Eragon almost laughed at her question.

"What is wrong? What a delightful question," He remarked to Saphira.

"Eragon..." she warned, beseechingly, "Do not offend Arya, she is trying to help."

Bowing in the elven show of fealty Eragon made to 'reassure' the little princess, "Worry not I was just having a dream... a delicious dream... ambrosial if truth be told."

"What of?"

"Nothing and everything," he replied mysteriously.

She cocked her head to the sight, the fiery light of the sun engulfing her feature in rapturous display.

Lighting struck Eragon dumb and for the first time in days Eragon wondered at her unnatural beauty.

So what do you lot think? The Chap is quite short I know. But I tried to get more detail and emotion into it. I might rewrite the earlier chapters, depends how it all goes. Please feel free to Review and share your opinion: what's good, what's bad etc. Thanks for Reading.