"Why, Arya?" Eragon repeated. His voice shook with anger, distrust, and worry.
"It's better for them this way." Arya finally said. "It's either this, or face my wrath later. These men ought to thank you, Eragon, for if it had been me, I would not have given them a chance to negotiate."
"Arya?" Eragon had never seen Arya this way before. A tingle of uneasiness crept up his spine. "Tell me!"
Arya shook his hands off of her shoulders in an oddly gruff way. "These men are what they are and will stay what they are: dead. They are rapists and slavers. But when they are dead, what difference would that make?"
"Rapists and slavers?"
"Eragon," Arya continued, "You only browsed the minds of those men in order to find the spellcaster. I, however, skimmed the minds of the women. They have all been mistreated. They are subjected to this treatment every single day. Their numbers started at one hundred. Due to childbirth and miscarriage, they have dwindled to their current numbers. These men deserved to die much more horrid deaths."
Eragon was speechless. Since when did Arya care so much about the well being of human women outside of the Varden? Since when had Arya took it upon herself to kill those she deemed unworthy of life?
The rest of the ride was silent and uncomfortable. Even Saphira did not comment. It was Arya who broke the brittle silence.
"Fine. I will tell you." Arya's voice sounded sad, worn, and… a little different? Eragon had not noticed before.
"There is no obligation for you to inform me of why you did away with those men."
"Yes," Arya hesitated, "but I want to. Like you, Eragon, I have had my fortune read as well. I didn't kill those men because they were sadistic criminals. I killed them because I had no choice. Frelavae, the elf who read my fortune, said, "The Lone One left lone on sands of a sandy plain will rise to keep the black King black. The Lone one left lone on sands of a sandy plain shall be mauled by the flames of a flaming sword. The Lone one left lone on sands of a sandy plain will strive lest you win the race to the elf city."
"So you mean… somebody we leave behind, injured by Brisingr, will help Galbatorix greatly unless we get to Ellesmera first?" Eragon confirmed.
Arya nodded. "However, listen to the rest. This man will travel atop a shining steed, his mistresses at both sides. This man will only die by the hand of the one who holds his heart."
Eragon frowned, deep in thought. "Holds his heart?"
"The one he loves," explained Arya. "Any of those men could have been him. He could have been a plain soldier, or one of those men on the horses. There is also the possibility that he was not part of that group. Either way, he must be a formidable swordsman or magician. View critically, Eragon, it is better to be overcautious than not cautious enough."
"I can't possibly remember everyone I've injured with my sword, though."
"It has to be anyone we meet on the Hadrac Desert."
"But we can't just kill everyone with a slight chance of being him. That would be murdering too many innocent people!"
"Is a life for the demise of the Black King Galbatorix not a sacrifice noble enough?"
"You are not Arya."
Arya turned to Eragon. "What do you mean?"
Eragon paused for a moment, reaching towards the Akvthghae's mind.
Akvthghae-elda. Is this the Arya who was with us when you appeared in Trianna's hands?
The answer was mocking. Could you not tell? Of course not! Arya was not Arya halfway through her guard shift. You and Saphira were dreaming pleasant dreams, while Arya was bound by powerful magic and thrown into a pit.
Why! Eragon could barely contain his fury. Why were Saphira and I not informed of this!?
I wanted to see what would happen. Arya will not die, take my word for that.
Eragon was only slightly reassured at Akvthghae's words. He knew that the old dragon would not wish for her death when she was such an important factor in getting to Ellesmera.
"Well," said the fake-Arya, "I can see you have no idea what you are talking about. Perhaps you should rest."
"Yes." Eragon agreed. "Saphira, let's land." Then, Eragon conveyed what he had just discovered to Saphira, who showed little surprise. I thought she felt different. It must be one powerful illusion or trick to make us believe this imposter was Arya!
Saphira was still several feet off of the ground when Eragon jumped off. He shook his limbs out a little to make them less stiff. Then, the fake Arya dismounted and smiled at Eragon.
"Shall I take first guard?" She asked.
"Yes." Eragon replied. "On guard!"
He drew his sword, and let it flash in the light of the blazing noon sun. They had not flown very far, so the sands and the winds of the Hadrac desert were still relatively mild.
"Are you ready?"
The fake Arya took a couple sips from a bottle. Then, her face began to melt back to it's original shape—a shape that Eragon was now very familiar with.
(To be continued in "Chapter Four: Bound")