Chapter 11:

Business

Eragon trudged out of the tent, feeling light-headed. His head swam with questions, accusations, and guilt. Thoughts zoomed through his head, each more incriminating than the last. Murtagh is stronger because of me. I don't know if we have a chance anymore. As these thoughts haunted him Saphira tried to subdue his feeling of blame.

Stop ruminating over things that have happened. Look to the future and leave yourself alone. We are all at fault. Also, stop brooding over last night. It's nothing to be worried about until it comes to pass. Still feeling a bit down, Eragon walked to the meal tents. He had arranged to meet Arya and talk to her about how to steal Galbatorix's hoard of Eldunari. It would be excruciatingly tough, because Galbatorix probably had them booby trapped and guarded.

He loped into the tent and sat down in the far corner. Eragon could hear Saphira pawing around, trying a spot to lie down on outside the tent, and then the steady rasp of grass being uprooted. She snaked her head into the tent from underneath.

Eragon allowed himself a small smile and then looked back to the door to see Arya open the flap, look around the tent, and then see him. She dodged through the crowd gracefully, and then sat herself down across from him. She held her head up with her fists, looking at him. As she leaned in a little closer, Eragon caught a whiff of her. She smelled like crushed pine needles and wild flowers, as always.

She smiled a little, a faint glint in her eyes. She abruptly sat up straight with a stature that could put any beautiful woman to shame. She mumbled to herself incoherently, words lost in the chorus of voices. She spoke after a handful of minutes.

"No one will be able to listen now." Even though she had blocked their conversation from any unwanted listeners, she still whispered. "Over the past few days I have been thinking about ways to infiltrate Galbatorix's castle. I have come up with little, and I have many flaws in my already lacking plan."

"Let's hear it." As she explained it to him, he formulated smaller plans to fill in the flaws she had told him about. Once she was done, he explained his part of the plan. Once he was done, she made a few small changes, but otherwise approved. They talked for a few more minutes, and when she told him she had to go somewhere, he left for Roran's tent.

He got there in roughly six minutes, and when he arrived he asked if he could enter. It was Katrina who answered the door and invited him in. Her belly was slightly larger than before, round and plump. Roran sat on the edge of their cot, sharpening the blade on the back of his hammer. He looked over to see who had entered and grinned when he saw it was Eragon. They entered into a rough embrace, and when Roran let go, Katrina gave him a small hug, too.

"So, how goes it?" Roran asked. "I haven't been able to talk to you since you left for the dwarf country."

"I fare well, as does Saphira. Both of us are healthy. And how are the two of you?" This time Katrina answered.

Roran hasn't been sent on a mission for a week, which is good. I am doing well also. The," she faltered a little, "baby is healthy as well."

"Come sit. I want to hear of all that happened to you while you were gone." Should I? He began his narrative with his trip to Tronjheim, and of the attack. He told him of the vote and of the clever way Orik banished Az Sweldn Rak Anhuin. He then talked of his trip to Du Weldenvarden and his finding thence. He recounted the tale of how he tried to get the brightsteel and succeeded. He then discussed the forging of his blade. After he had told him of the tale, he talked about his teachers and what they did, who they were, and how he had come to be fond of them. That wasn't the right word. They were his father figures. The only ones he really got to know. He loved them and as he began to think about them, tears welled up in his eyes and soon spilled over. Before he knew it, he was crying, again mourning the loss of Oromis and Glaedr, his teachers, and once he stopped, he quickly finished his tale. They stared at him consolingly, trying to express their feelings of sorrow and their condolences to him. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and looked up. He smiled slightly, still mourning his masters' deaths.

"Now, tell me what you were doing after I left." Roran chuckled lightly, though his eyes betrayed his mirth.

"Ah, what a tale. Well, as you know, I was getting ready to leave for my next mission when you departed." Eragon nodded. "We were trying to destroy a militia that had been sent out into the countryside to ransack the villages that resided in the grasslands. We estimated their numbers at two-hundred to around two-fifty. We happened upon tracks that placed their numbers closer to seven-hundred. We were dismayed by the discovery, nevertheless, we continued on.

We happened upon them as they ended their raid of a small poor town. We had a fantastic plan, I would attack from the east, Sand from the west, and Edric would charge straight in. The plan went horribly wrong."

"Were they men that did not feel pain?" Eragon was a little reluctant to listen to the rest; Roran's voice and countenance were growing downcast, his eyes were glistening.

"No, they were men that had been outfitted with the newest, most advanced weaponry. We were dead from the start. I strayed from the plan, which, let me tell you, would have angered Edric almost to the point of murder.

"Anyway, I put archers on the roof to take out the soldiers with crossbows. We killed many and then built a funnel out of the bodies and a wagon so that only two or three could enter at a time. They all came towards us, and we fought. We fought madly, for our homes, our families, and for our lives.

"We managed to kill them all. I alone killed one-hundred and ninety-three soldiers."

"You…you really killed almost two-hundred on your own? That shall be sung and told by bards for centuries to come!"

"Yes…." Roran soon finished the rest of his story, by the end Eragon was gaping. Eragon was astounded by the things that had befallen Roran since he left.

Hello, little one. Eragon jumped, he had forgotten about Saphira. He had grown so accustomed to their mental link that he didn't notice it as much.

Hello. Where are you?

Right outside the tent; I just finished cleaning my scales and dozing. I haven't been paying much attention to your conversation.

When did you wake up?

Right after Roran's story was finished. Eragon looked up to see Roran and Katrina conversing in low voices. He decided it would be a good time to excuse himself.

"I've got to go and take care of some issues that require my attention. I'll try and come by as often as I possibly can." They turned suddenly and began arguing. Please stay, they said, or a little while longer, won't you? He objected to their insistences and slipped out of the tent.

Saphira cocked her head when she saw him but said nothing. She followed along, occasionally snorting, and nudged him a few times to ask him questions.

I don't know, Saphira. Just give me some time, today was really mixed up.

Hello, everyone. I know this one took way longer than I said and I am 1000 times sorry. I'm gonna stop giving absolute times and try and tell everyone around what time I might be done. I'm gonna give you guys a preview of the next chapter. Just a paragraph or two, but it'll be good. Oh, and this time I promise that the next chapter will be great! Sorry that this one made no sense. Don't give up hope! So, yeah, here's the preview.

A flash of red, a streak of blue; the world flashed by in a mosaic of whirling colors. Eragon heard Saphira roar below, then he saw a blast of light from his left. "Skolir nosu fra Brisingr!" He was a little too late. A raging inferno enveloped his face and leg. The burning was unbearable, and he was undyingly grateful to all the gods for the relief when it came.

He healed himself quickly, and then drew Brisingr. He swung it experimentally, smiling at it how light it was. He looked to the east to see Thorn turn towards them. The red beast barreled through the air and straightened just in time for Murtagh to swing. Eragon parried, and with that single blow, he knew it would be as hard to beat him as it was on the Burning Plains. He cursed, thinking, I'm gonna need everything I've got.

Well, thanks guys. Until the next chapter.

Eragon