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Chapter Two: A Crushed Flower

As the wind died down, the storm of leaves settled to the ground. Entire groves of redwoods had been uprooted, and the remaining trees were scored with scratches from the flying debris. A powerful storm like this was almost unheard of, and many of the elves privately thought that it was a sign of the decay of the forest caused by the fall of the Riders. Regardless if the storm was natural or an omen, the damaged suffered was already being repaired, both by the elves and the forest itself. Birdsong once again rang through the branches, filling the air with a sense of serenity.

Despite initial impressions, however, there was an undertone of panic. Elves were walking the trails again, but with a sense of urgency. Their eyes scanned quickly among the trees and branches, but they were still able to pick out every detail, from the smallest knot in the tree to the quickly moving animals of the forest. The animals themselves moved quickly from treetops and the undergrowth. Their behavior was odd too. Instead of fleeing away from the atmosphere of nervous tension, they seem to be part of it. Everything that was happening pointed to one thing. Something was missing, and everyone and everything in the forest looking for it.

Saphira glided close to the ground, like a giant bird of prey. Several times, her wings brushed the treetops, and once she had nearly crashed into the Menoa tree. Now she landed in the loft, her nostrils flaring. Pins of pain shot through her muscles every time she moved, and as she settled down, they cramped down of her like vices. She couldn't feel her wings, and her head spun, but her mind still focused one thing: the loss of her Rider. 'Two and half days' She lamented, 'where is he?' While Saphira pondered fruitlessly, another mind touched hers.

'Bjartkular?

Saphira sighed. Her mind was fading, but she managed to focus her thoughts. 'Yes, Emerald Eyes?'

'Have you seen Eragon?"

'No, any news?'

There was a deep sigh from the elven princess. 'Nothing. We have combed the city, and an area of about a league around it. It's like he just vanished into thin air.'

'Please…tell me…if…' Saphira's mind unfocused from the lack of food, water, and rest and she fell into a deep, uneasy sleep. Sensing Saphira's exhaustion, the elven princess withdrew from her mind.

"Arya Drottning?"

Arya opened her eyes to see one of her attendants waiting patiently at her side. "Yes, Lassiel?"

Lassiel bowed her head before answering, "Are you well? You seemed to fall into a daze. Perhaps my Lady should rest…"

Arya raised her hand irritably. "I am well." Lassiel bowed her head again. "Please inform my mother that Bjarkular is resting, and has seen no sign of her Rider." Lassiel, sensing the dismissal, drew back and disappeared into the foliage. Alone now, Arya sighed. She was very closed to start tearing her hair out. While she remained her stoic face, her mind was racing, and nothing she did made it slow down, let alone stop the spinning in her head. Nearly three days, and no sign of that blasted Rider! After his little stunt in the royal gardens, she had spent the rest of the day in her room, trying to regain her composure. It hadn't helped that her mother had summoned her after only 10 minutes after the incident. And to talk about Eragon, of all things! For over three hours, she had to answer questions about his health, the amount of time he was putting into his studies, how was his mental state, had any attacks occurred recently? The polite interrogation had dragged on until her mind felt tired from the strain of answering every little detail she had observed. In the end, her mother told her to keep visiting him and to report back to her. By the time she had returned from the long, awkward meeting, she had fallen onto her bed, her head aching, and hoped for sleep to claim her and end this horrible day.

'And it didn't end,' she thought with frustration. After only four hours of sleep, she had been politely hauled out her bed, handed her leather tunic, and told to assemble for an emergency meeting outside the place. As she bleary strode along the corridors lined with designs woven with vines, a small blossom brushed against her face. She caught it, and as she walked towards the entrance, cast a disinterested glance down at it. She stopped in her tracks, and examined it more carefully. It was a Black Morning Glory. She frowned, and glanced back at the gardens. Petals and stray flowers littered the ground, but she knew that her grove, the only keepsake of her companion Faolin, was sheltered from all of the elements by a powerful magical barrier. How had this one been blown off, and now that she thought of it, right into her path? Was this an omen? As she pondered, the flower slipped from her hands and, picked up by the breeze, danced its way through the forest.

A crowd had formed at the palace's steps, and Arya shook herself out of her reverie, and joined her mother at the head of it. She glanced around, startled. Almost every elf in Ellesmera had gathered at the steps. Glaedr, and Oromis, Eragon's teachers, stood by her, looking grim. She tried to sharpen her mind as her mother spoke, but she still missed the majority of the speech. Only one thing stood out: Eragon was missing, and no one could find him.

Arya felt lightheaded, and she sat down at the base of the tree that held the Rider's loft. Like Saphira, she had been combing the forest nonstop for over two days. 'Where is he?' she thought with a hint of panic. Even though he had reopened old wounds, he still was a close friend. 'Eragon, you better be safe for…"

Her eyes flickered closed, and sleep claimed her. The Black Morning Glory blew passed her into a waiting hand, which slowly crushed it and left the remains at Arya's feet.

As two minds faded into sleep, another one started to awaken. Eragon stirred sluggishly, his eyes flickering open and shut. A small hand touched his shoulder. "Eragon?"

"Hm?" Eragon's eyes opened slowly. They were unfocused, so the forest around him was a blur.

"Wake up, Eragon."

"Saphira?" Eragon shook his head and reached out with his mind.

"No." There was a small giggle.

"Arya?" Eragon looked over his left shoulder, where the hand rested but there was no one there.

"No!" The voice rang his ear, irritated. Eragon flinched as the shout pounded on his skull like a hammer on an anvil. When he looked up again, he saw a white face framed with grey hair. The face was at eye level, so he guessed it belonged a child. The face pouted. "Don't you remember me?" Eragon focused his eyes. "You?"

"Yep!"

Eragon managed to stand up. He rubbed his eyes, and looked down. There she was! The little girl from yesterday! His bewilderment turned into concern. "Are you OK?" he asked worriedly. Her dress was torn into ribbons, and numerous cuts dotted her face and arms. The blood had dried, making her pale skin look like a white sheet stained with blood. He waved away her answer, "Never mind, we need to get you cleaned up." He glanced around, and smiled inwardly. They were right next to his loft. "Come with me, you need to get those cuts healed and…" He paused as her expression changed to panic.

"Someone's coming!" she whispered fearfully. She backed up, and started to fade into the undergrowth.

"Wait!" But she was gone.

Soft footsteps approached. As Eragon glanced over, a pair of elves walked quickly by, talking nervously.

"…been almost three days now."

"Master Oromis has tried every spell he knows, and the animals have not found…"

"Arya Drottning!" The footsteps stopped.

"Why is she out here, I thought…"

"Never mind that, we need to get her back to the palace."

Eragon listened as Arya was gently picked up and the footsteps moved away. Normally he would have gone with them to make sure that Arya was okay, but now, confusion rooted him in his spot. What was happening? When the pair of elves was out of earshot, the girl reappeared at his side. She was shivering, even though the sun's warm rays basked through the canopy.

"I'm scared," she whispered, "and tired." She yawned." Can I stay with you?"

Eragon looked back at her and immediately pushed his musings aside. Whatever was happening could wait. He nodded, and slowly ascended the steep stairs, gesturing her to follow. Several times he had to stop and catch his breath, and once he had lost his footing and nearly fell onto the forest floor. All the way up, the girl did her best to help him, despite her injuries. After an hour of walking, they managed to reach the door to his loft. She hurried through the door, and he stumbled through after her. She looked at the comfortable room with awe. When she saw Saphira, she froze in fear, her thin frame shaking. A hand went to her mouth, and she tore at her fingernails. Suddenly she ran behind Eragon, whimpering, with tears of fright in her eyes.

"She won't hurt you." Eragon said reassuringly as he turned around. The girl looked at him wide eyed. "Here" Eragon knelt down, and started to heal her. She watched in fascination as her torn skin knitted itself together. After he healed her, she yawned.

"There's a bath in the other room if you…" He started, but she had fallen into his arms, already asleep. He smiled gently, and placed the young girl between the sheets of his bed. As he started to move away, she gripped his arm and murmured, "I'm scared, will you sleep with me?"

He smiled and whispered, "Of course." With a groan, he lay down next to her, his body protesting at the sudden movement. She snuggled close to him, and he kissed her on the forehead. "Good night." With the little girl curled up happily in his arms, he fell into a dreamless sleep. As they relaxed into the blissful state of sleep, one of the girl's hands opened and a single petal fell out and drifted to the floor.