Dear Readers,

The beginning of this story is under reconstruction. When you read a chapter that has nothing at all to do with what you have just read, please keep in mind that is the previous version of the story and I am redoing it as quickly as I can. I apologize for the inconvenience. I am not trying to confuse you! Later on, after chapter 35, things mostly fit together with the revised chapters of the story.

This is Chapter 33, revised.

Thank you and enjoy!

DragonRider2000

Morning… sunrise was one of the most beautiful things anyone alive could see.

Vanira Dacoryn had seen many sunrises, and she planned on seeing many more. She smiled to herself as she heard Roran muttering something to Eragon behind her. The elf knew they were getting frustrated with her, and her seeming satisfaction about it made her unbearable to them. She held too many secrets; flaunted her mysterious-ness.

Of course it had not always been so. There had been a time when everyone understood her, and liked her. Elves and men had not had to put up with the wall she had built to shield herself. Those had been glorious days…

The chestnut haired elf patted her horse's neck while staring out across the grassy plains, her far-seeing frosty eyes catching treetops many miles away.

Those treetops were their destination, and they must reach them as fast as they could. Even when they had asked her why they must push on with such haste, she could not answer. She didn't really know herself.

"I've been thinking, and we are heading straight towards Dauth." Eragon had ridden up beside her. "Why Dauth, Vanira?"

Across her vision a sight that was not grassy plains appeared. It was of a forest… of a trail that led through the forest to a clearing where a woman, clad in white with copper hair stood before a dark form. A sword was in her hand.

"Vanira? Are you alright?" Eragon inquired, and Vanira looked calmly over at him.

"Yes, I am alright. Why Dauth? We will see."

"We're supposed to follow you blindly?" He asked, slightly outraged.

"You have been so far." Vanira replied quietly, and Eragon nodded stiffly and drew his horse back.

Vanira wondered about the vision. It had not been the first time she had seen the woman in white. But there was never anything to identify her or tell Vanira why she was so important. Curiosity surpassed all caution, and Vanira closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

It was time to prevail against her own weakness and fear. She could no longer afford to run and hide.

"Arya… Do you feel that?" Eragon's voice was like a whisper in her ear.

Vanira was miles away.

Eragon looked over at Arya, who coolly returned his gaze.

"I do." She said simply, and then looked ahead. Stunned, Eragon looked down, trying to wrap his head around the immense feeling pulling at him. Only four times in his life had he felt such an overwhelming feeling. Bonding with Saphira, the Menoa Tree, his first encounter with the Eldunari, and…

His eyes strayed up to Vanira. Her horse was still walking straight ahead and with purpose, but Vanira was sitting tall and regal… he couldn't see her expression, so he tried to ride up to her again, but he was stopped by Arya's hand on his shoulder. At his questioning look she merely shook her head.

Arya had only seen and felt Vanira open herself to the vast ability she possessed two times in 10 years. Raw power emanated from her, sending energy every which way.

Another vast presence entered Eragon's mind and Saphira's voice was filled with wonder.

Vanira Dacoryn is unlike any creature we have encountered… or ever will again. I feel so alive with the energy flowing across our link, Eragon!

Saphira, do you know what is happening?

I do not. Nothing like this we have ever seen.

Eragon looked back at Arya, and this time he was going to get an answer. But she beat him to the first word.

"Last time this happened she did not emotionally recover for a month." Arya turned her head to look into his eyes, and at her expression Eragon couldn't help but feel how fragile the situation was… whatever the situation was.

What in the world is going on… He thought, and he was worried.

Snow lay upon the ground. The sky was a dreary grey that cast shadows across the glittering white surfaces. Four figures stood in the snowy wonderland, their swords drawn but held in casual waiting stances.

One was a man; tall, handsome, dark haired, with black eyes swirled with bright gold. His expression was one of content, and there was not a hint of worry in his features.

The woman to his left was slightly shorter than him, and her eyes matched the color of the sky and contrasted with her black hair. She was leaning slightly into the man, and she too was content. Both were dressed in black with silver lined cloaks.

The woman to the far left was Vanira. Her hair was its normal chestnut, and her frosty eyes were alive with happiness. Her posture was no longer cocky and mysterious, but relaxed, as if she was in the company of good friends. She was clad in forest green and brown, with a grey cloak over her shoulders. There was not a trace of her hardships in her features. Arya had said before that those hardships followed her like a shadow; no longer.

The last woman was the same copper haired woman in white; except she was no longer dressed in white but clad in black and green, and she looked strong and healthy. She stood tall and elegant, a smile lighting up her face and green eyes. Her copper hair was draped over her shoulders, and she looked like a queen.

It was a group of friends that Vanira saw… something that would likely come to pass.

Behind the four friends a huge, dark mass looked, hidden in darkness except for two glowing points of light. Eyes.

It was eerie, seeing the four friends so unaware of the danger behind them.

But then the eyes blinked and the dark mass took shape, and Vanira looked in awe at the magnificent green dragon. Its head was poised above the copper haired woman, and it gazed at her with no animosity.

A silver circlet adorned the copper haired woman's head, and on the black haired woman's left hand was an elegant ring of peculiar design that sparkled seemingly of its own accord.

The scene meant something… but what, exactly?

The picture faded, and Vanira found herself watching as a specter from the tower of a castle. The structure was magnificent and very old…

Vanira shivered. She was in Uru'baen.

Her vantage point offered her a good view of a large courtyard, beautifully kept and in the center of the castle. The walls were high, and at intervals soldiers patrolled them, tower to tower.

But there was only one figure on the wall at the moment, and she was leaning on the wall that faced the city and the lands beyond, a look of longing in her eyes.

She was tall and poised, dressed in a courtly black dress with a silver scarf around her neck. Her black tresses fell to her middle back in elegant waves, and Vanira could see that her eyes were green. She bore an uncanny resemblance to the copper haired woman… but then, Vanira was looking for it.

The woman sighed, and then stiffened, turning her head towards the courtyard. She turned fully and leaned against the courtyard side wall, and looked down.

There were only two people in the courtyard, a young man and a young woman. They had stopped in the center of the courtyard by the large fountain and they seemed to be arguing.

The young man was dressed in black pants and boots and a white shirt and he carried no weapon. His hair was dark, but Vanira could not tell much more about his features.

The young woman, who seemed to be on the lower end of the argument, was wearing a stunning purple and silver embroidered gown, and she had medium length copper hair that was half drawn up. She was extremely pale. Almost ghost-like.

The woman in black looked on with a sour expression on her face. Then the girl below said something that made the young man take a step back, and the woman looked stunned. Then the young man spoke angrily and threw his hands up in the air, turned and walked away.

The girl reached out as if to stop him, and then lowered her arm and her head. Then she slowly turned and walked away in the opposite direction the young man had. Suddenly she stopped and looked up at the woman on the wall, but because of the angle of the sun it was impossible for her to see who it was. She started walking again and then disappeared under the balcony and into the castle.

The woman lowered her head and slapped her hand angrily against the wall. Then she slid into a sitting position with her back against the stone and she put her head in her hands.

Something was very wrong, that much was obvious.

Again the scene slipped away, and Vanira found herself in a fire-lit clearing surrounded by familiar faces… and unfamiliar faces.

The young man and the young woman from the previous scene were there, standing close together. Something was different between them, as if there was no reason to argue. Another thing that was different was that the girl was tan and her copper hair was shorter. Vanira could now see that her eyes were green… she was a younger, slightly different vision of the copper haired woman Vanira had seen so many times.

Sisters, maybe?

By them stood a blond haired, brown eyed woman who was staring worriedly at three figures by the fire. Her posture was rather haughty. Vanira had never seen her before.

On the other side of the fire stood Eragon and Roran, both with their arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the fire…

Arya was kneeling beside the still figure of the copper haired woman, her head bowed in concentration, and she was holding the other woman's hand in her own. It was clear to Vanira that the woman was dying. She was pale and gaunt, her hair dull and darkened by sweat, and across her skin were little black lines crisscrossed like her veins.

No! She cannot die! Vanira exclaimed but then she froze as she stared at the green dragon standing protectively by the dying woman's side. It was long and powerful, but only the size of an overgrown wolf, on its way to being the size of a small horse. Its intelligent eyes blazed as if it was thinking exactly what Vanira had.

The sight slipped away, as did her energy, and Vanira slumped forward, clinging to her saddle to keep from falling off.

Her mind was going in circles and her vision was fuzzy. That had taken more out of her than she'd expected…

They were going to find the copper haired woman she had seen so many times, but would they be too late? But then how had she seen those other two visions? Were those only possibilities, hinging on if they found the woman in time? She was the last rider.

Vanira admitted to herself that she was rather scared. What would happen to the world if the last rider died? And how had the green egg been stolen from Uru'baen, for that matter?

"Vanira?" A feminine voice broke through her hazy mind, and she pushed herself upright and looked over at Arya.

"Vanira, what happened?" The elf asked quietly. Vanira laughed to herself. As if Eragon couldn't hear soft spoken words.

To Arya's surprise, Vanira offered her a reassuring smile. "I have yet to figure that out, dear Arya."

With a glint in her eyes Arya asked,

"Will you tell me what it is when you do figure it out?"

Vanira laughed lightly. "It all depends on the gravity of the situation."

There was a long pause, in which time Arya cast a confused glance at Eragon. Vanira started her horse off at a faster pace, catching them off guard.

"You can at least enlighten us to why we are pushing on so fast. We are well ahead of Murtagh's army and the Varden should already know of them. Vanira, is something else wrong?" Eragon asked, trotting up beside her. The strange elf kept her gaze straight ahead and she answered truthfully,

"Yes, Eragon, something else is wrong but I have only the faintest idea of what it might be. To stop whatever it is we must push ahead. A very powerful woman is dying, and I am afraid we may meet with her group when it is already too late."

Eragon's blood seemed to chill. "Do you know this woman's name?"

Vanira shook her head. "I do not. All I have to identify her is that she has copper colored hair."

"How do you know that?" Roran asked, and Vanira looked sharply at him, her frosty eyes piercing through him.

"The answer to that question is before your eyes, Roran Stronghammer. You have only to open them and understand what you see. It is up to you to know what I mean. The same goes for you, Eragon Shadeslayer." Her tone was biting, cutting deep into their thoughts, and Vanira's horse transitioned into an easy canter before they could question her further.

As they all road in silence, Arya was brooding over what her kinswoman had said. It was unlike Vanira to come so close to saying what she'd seen, at least the Vanira of the past ten years. A mistake in judgment by a race that should have acted with more prudence and less rashness had cost Vanira her past, her best friend's memory, and…

Vanira had good reason to be wary of telling just anyone of her ability, or of using it. But Arya was of the mind that with age and experience come caution, and with the dark days ahead the world would need Vanira's ability.

What Arya failed to realize was that Vanira did not want her ability to be needed or relied upon. From the earliest time she had learned of her ability to see the future, Vanira had known that a glimpse must not be relied upon. Her ability was just that; an ability, not a tool. Used as the latter it was a weapon of destruction. This Vanira knew only too well.

But it was time to change. She had something to do, and Vanira had a pretty good idea of how she was going to do it.

Taya lay gasping on the ground, her chest heaving and colors dancing across her vision.

"Dang it!" She whispered, rolling over to stare into the dark 'sky'. She'd thought she had more energy than that… of course it was no easy feat to reach out and explain to someone through their mind that she only had three days to live, but she had been sure that she would be able to do it! And instead she hadn't managed to say anything of importance and had been tossed back into her prison smashed and battered.

Why?!

A shadow appeared overhead and it morphed into the figure of Morzan, who looked very satisfied.

Taya groaned, and rolled over again, her fingers digging into the ground. "You'd better have a good explanation for this." She growled, her voice muffled by the ground.

"Of course. You're plan is hopeless; you are far too weak to accomplish anything. That you were able to even touch your sister's mind is astonishing, considering everything. But I wouldn't be surprised if your attempt shortens your life. What can you hope to gain by alerting them of your fast approaching death and making them frantic when they can do nothing?"

"It would be a lot easier if you… couldn't interfere with my mind." She didn't know why she said it, but it made sense in a way.

"It doesn't matter how it's done. You are never getting through this alive." Morzan spat, and he was about to lean down towards her when Taya gathered all the force she could muster and kicked out, catching his legs solidly and sending him toppling over. She slowly got to her feet and stared down at him defiantly.

"Until the moment I enter the void I will not stop fighting you and Galbatorix. If that doesn't penetrate your skull, nothing will. Your time is up. With the knowledge that I will overcome this poison and live to aid in Galbatorix's downfall, go back to the pit from whence you came and never enter this glade again!"

He stood, and his face contorted with rage and he made as if to retort, but Taya was finished with him.

"GO!" She commanded, yelling and pointed behind him. He stumbled backwards, shocked that her command had such an effect on him. He was fading. She was pushing him from the glade, how she didn't really know. She just wanted him gone.

"This is not over." He growled, but he was no longer a threat.

Taya's eyes flashed. "You're correct. This fight isn't over. But for you it is."

He was gone. Suddenly Taya gasped, a feeling of new energy nearly overwhelming her. She'd been right. The poison, in the shape of Morzan, had been taking energy from her little by little. But with Morzan gone, she got it back. She took a deep breath, and smiled in relief. Energy coursed through her, making her feel more alive than she had in… a while.

Now I can get somewhere. She thought wryly.

With much less effort than the last time, she reached out with her mind, drawn again to the thoughts of her sister. She needed to be subtle at first, to make sure Raya did not immediately jump to conclusions and make things worse. That was something Morzan had been right about. They would be frantic. The information had to be gradual.

Far apart we stand.

The rider studied the layout before him with an upraised eyebrow.

The sun was only recently in the sky, and the air was still slightly cool. It reminded him of a morning in Uru'baen after a storm had passed. If you had a mind to pay attention to such things, the morning was beautiful.

Why must the world separate us?

He was standing beside a large tree, concealed by its shadow, watching a lonely house that showed no immediate sign of life within. He heard a sound from behind him and suppressed a sigh. To his chagrin he had brought three rather unnecessary men to the scene and their blundering was painful. The other five soldiers he had brought were silent and well skilled, making the others look like worthless fools. The only reason he had brought them was as a precaution… and to make it look like he was not picking favorites.

The five other soldiers were Hljodhr Evarinya. Not only were they good soldiers, but Murtagh knew them personally… but they had their own quarrel with him.

One of them was a woman, but that didn't matter to him. She was excellent with a bow and rivaled many in the army. She could also be terrifying in person.

Then there was…

Murtagh looked around, trying to spot the man he was thinking about. But he was invisible, and that slightly worried him. Of all the Hljodhr Evarinya, Larton Zax was the one who worried him the most. He was the most likely to either slit Murtagh's throat or desert the army and join the Varden. Only his loyalty to the other Hljodhr Evarinya had kept him from doing either or both, Murtagh was certain of it.

The man who moved like a shadow had no liking for Murtagh… not anymore.

We follow the paths laid out before us.

He'd made mistakes. That was painfully obvious to him. He could not afford to make anymore. This side venture was to make sure he didn't. But he needed the man to be home… Murtagh needed answers, and the man who lived in this house built in the no man's land could give him those answers.

His eyes were drawn to the windows, as the blinds were suddenly drawn closed. Murtagh smiled ruefully. It was not a pleasant smile, but he didn't care.

He would wait a little while to make sure the man was not leaving, and then they would proceed. There was little room for any mistakes this time.

Far apart we stand.

Why must the world separate us?

We follow the paths laid out before us.

When our paths cross, our destinies will be decided.

To win is to live.

To lose is to die.

Who will prevail?