Update: 3/12/15: After working in vain to try to start the next chapter (which sadly means that I will most likely be unable to have another chapter done before April), I decided to reread this chapter and get a better feeling for how it should flow into the next. After reading it, I was a little angry with myself, as I feel that there were things I could've done better. I've made some minor changes, though there is nothing story changing, just an extension of Eragon and Nasuada's conversation and some other fixes here and there. In addition to these changes, I'll likely be re-examining the first chapter and making similar additions and changes. Also, please never hesitate to share your opinion on my work, be it good or bad. Any criticism is welcome, from issues with the plot to spelling mistakes; feel free to let me know of anything that should be fixed. I probably won't change the plot, just because you don't like it, but it's always nice to hear other opinions. -SW
Update: 3/14/15: Few more minor changes in this and the previous chapter. For anyone who might be interested, the 3rd chapter is coming along decently, and I might be able to get it up tomorrow evening or early Monday morning. Happy Pi Day -SW
Chapter 2: A Return, Long Awaited
Saphira's constant wingbeats lulled Eragon, and he had to shake himself occasionally to keep from dozing off. As the cold, early autumn air blew past them, he shivered and pulled his heavy travelling cloak tighter around his body, relying on it for warmth. For the better part of a week they had flown constantly, only stopping occasionally for Eragon to relieve himself and draw water for them. On the second evening after their departure, Glaedr declared a halt, to allow Saphira to sleep for a few hours. Eragon ate and slept in the saddle, and he and the Eldunarí supplemented Saphira's prodigious strength with their own, allowing her to carry on well past her own considerable physical limits. The land flashed by underneath, slowly changing from rippling ridges, to rolling hills, to the great, flat plain that bounded Alagaësia along its eastern edge, as they followed Du Gata Vrangr, the broad, twisting river that began as the Edda at Eldor lake, and meandered for hundreds of leagues until it reached Du Adurnya Arget.
On the evening of the fifth night since their departure, faint lights appeared on the horizon, nestled at the meeting of the Edda River and Az Ragni. As Eragon beheld them, his eyes grew moist, remembering the last time that he had been here. It was here that he had left behind his home, his friends, family and loved ones.
The wind blew gently across the deck of the Talíta as he stood at the rail. Saphira circled overhead, and he could feel her sadness radiate through their link. The cluster of lights that marked the eastern-most extent of Alagaësia had almost completely faded. Eragon was at peace with his decision to leave, but it didn't make it any easier. He could be content, knowing he had done his duty, but happiness would remain elusive.
'Little one, I miss them too,' Saphira spoke mournfully,' but we have to leave, and they could not come. Our duty is too important to ignore.'
'I know,' he agreed, 'but it doesn't make leaving any easier.'
Saphira radiated feelings of her love for him, and for a moment he smiled, but it did little to lighten his mood, and despite her reassurance, he could sense her own feelings of sorrow and loss. They flew on in silence for a while, slowly making their way back to the others as the last rays of the sun slipped below the horizon. He thought back to all of his friends and family that he was leaving behind. Orik, his foster-brother and Roran, who was more a brother to him than any other, Nasuada, who had fought so hard and given so much to bring the Empire to its knees and Angela, always so cryptic, but more helpful than he have ever imagined her to be. So many people who he would likely never see again. And then as always, he thought of her, of their last moments before they had been pulled apart, each sworn to their respective duties, he to rebuild the Riders, and she to lead her people. A tear gathered at the corner of his eye. He hastily flicked it away, before returning his focus to the fading lights of civilization.
'Eragon?' Saphira's voice gently intruded on his troubled thoughts. 'I've been thinking about this prophecy that you are so worried about.' He could feel her hesitation, and gently reassured her. 'What...what if this isn't the last time we'll be leaving? The prophecy wasn't specific in any way. Could it be that this isn't the last time you'll leave Alagaësia? If you choose to believe the prophecy to be immutable, I see no reason that we could not return eventually, whether it be tomorrow or a thousand years from now. All that is certain is that one day we will leave forever. That day need not be this one.'
Eragon sat speechless for a moment, lost in thought. 'I…I never thought of it like that,' he eventually responded. A smile slowly spread across his face, and warmth through his body, before he spoke again. 'I swear to you, one day we shall return. Not tomorrow, not a year from now, but one day we shall.'
He shook himself out of his reverie, and smiled and wiped away the moisture from his eyes. At last, he murmured to Saphira, we have returned.
Yes, she replied wearily, and our enemies shall rue the day that they thought that our home would fall so easily to them.
Eragon felt her weariness, and concern flashed through him. How had he been lost so deeply in his memories that he hadn't even felt his partner's exhaustion? He mentally rebuked himself for being so distracted. Saphira! Why didn't you say how tired you were? He admonished her. Even you need to rest. Getting to Ilirea faster will be for naught if you are too drained to fight.
Not yet little one, she replied stubbornly. We still have a long way to go, and every mile counts.
Eragon grudgingly accepted, knowing that arguing with the stubborn dragon would prove to be fruitless. Without another word, Saphira increased her pace, rising above a low lying cloud bank to obscure their presence from the town passing by below. As much as Eragon wished to reassure Orik, Nasuada and Arya that he was coming as fast as he could, he didn't want the invaders to learn of his presence until the last possible moment, and he and Saphira had decided that it would be best to avoid any towns or cities that they might pass, to avoid having word of their coming precede them. The Eldunarí had agreed with their assessment, knowing that the invaders would likely have little experience in dealing with a dragon like Saphira, or a spell caster as powerful as Eragon.
Through the night Saphira pushed on, driving them further west with each powerful stroke of her wings. The flat plains soon gave way to the sandy wastes of the Hadarac Desert. Eragon drifted into his waking dreams, catching what rest he could, when he could. Only as the sun began to rise behind them did Saphira slow her pace, allowing herself to sink toward the rolling dunes that spread out beneath them like a sea of dust. Eragon roused himself as he felt the change in her pace. To the northeast he could just make out the faint outlines of Du Fells Nángoröth, and he was startled at how far they had come during the night. She lightly touched down in the slack between two large dunes, throwing up a large cloud of sand as she dropped to the ground and Eragon was forced to pull his cloak across his face to shield himself from the flying grit. He quickly muttered a spell, and the cloud of dust dissipated, leaving the air clear. Eragon nimbly dismounted, and using magic quickly excavated a ditch and drew water from the ground to fill it. Saphira snaked her head over, and took a long draught, before turning around and tiredly settling herself into the warm sand. Through their link, Eragon could feel her fade into sleep almost immediately upon closing her eyes, and he resolved to speak to her about her carelessness regarding her own wellbeing before they set off again.
Eragon quickly drank his fill, but before he let the water subside he scryed Roran. He equally shocked and relieved as his cousin appeared in the water. Relieved because he was still living, but shocked by how he had aged. His face was heavily lined, and his hair and beard streaked liberally with grey. Eragon of course knew that many years had passed since he last saw Roran, but living among other immortals made it difficult to see that the rest of the world continued to be ravaged by time, while he was frozen in place. Despite his obvious advancing age, he still was built powerfully, and hadn't become soft and fat. Shaking his head to clear away the stray thoughts, he refocused his attention on the scene before him. Roran appeared to be sitting and speaking with someone but Eragon could neither see his location, nor those whom he addressed.
After a few moments he allowed his cousin's image to fade, and allowed it to be replaced by Orik's. The dwarf king was seated in his throne room, with several of the grimstborithn arrayed before him, as well as several indistinct figures that Eragon had clearly never seen before. They appeared to be in an animated discussion, but from what Eragon could make out, it seemed like a good sign that so many clan leaders were gathered together in Tronjheim. If nothing else, it meant that the dwarves were gathering and could soon answer the call to war. He allowed Orik to fade, and called up Nasuada. As with Roran, he was shocked by how aged she appeared, though glad that she was still among the living. Her face was deeply lined, and her hair entirely gray. She sat on one side a large desk in her study, which had remained mostly unchanged since Eragon last saw it. However, unlike before, she was no longer alone; King Orrin had a seat next to hers.
Many years past, Blödhgarm had brought word that the High Queen of the Broddring Kingdom and the King of Surda were to be married, formally uniting the two halves of Alagaësia as they had not been since the Fall. As with the others, despite the early hour, they appeared to be addressing one or more people, though many of the figures were indistinct, though there were several that appeared that Eragon didn't recognize. He noticed a woman with dark hair who he didn't recognize, as well as a handful of nobles who were discussing something with the royal couple. He had obviously been introduced to them at some point in the past, but some of them were young enough that they had likely been only children when Eragon had last seen them. It was probable that their fathers had brought them to see the great Rider when he had ranged across the Empire, breaking the oaths that many had been forced to swear. Seeing nothing else that he could gain from continuing to view the meeting, he let the image fade. Finally, Eragon scryed Arya but, as he expected, the water darkened and no image appeared; her wards prevented anyone from viewing her in this manner. He unhappily sighed and allowed his spells to fade, letting the water return to its normal color and sink into the parched ground.
Having already slept, Eragon stripped off his cloak and tunic and began to work through the Rigmar, loosening his muscles after spending days unable to properly stretch. Despite the approach of winter and the shade that the dune provided, the air still grew hot very quickly, and Eragon was rapidly coated in sweat from his exertions, though his breathing remained even. After years of practice and dedication, Eragon had become as flexible and graceful in his movements as any elf could hope to be.
He passed the remaining hours checking his gear to ensure that everything was in its proper place and would be ready when he needed it, as well as discussing what he knew of the invaders with the Eldunarí. Their combined store of wisdom and learning was enormous, and he found that every time he spoke with them, regardless of the topic, he would come away from the conversation a little more knowledgeable than he had been beforehand.
As the sun reached its zenith overhead, Saphira stirred. Good morning little one, she greeted him, as she opened her jaws in a massive, toothy yawn. He chuckled and walked over to her, gathering his discarded cloak off the ground. Hardly morning anymore, he said, grinning broadly, but it's good to see you well rested and clear headed. You worried me yesterday, he gently chastised her, growing somber. I know you're worried about Roran and Nasuada and Orik–
And Arya.
And Arya, he agreed, but that doesn't mean you can ignore your own welfare. As he spoke he could see her stiffen, but he kept speaking and laid his hand on her, ignoring her growing indignation. If you're tired, please, unbend your pride and take a break. You are more precious to me than anything. At his words, her body relaxed and he could feel her hum in response to his words. Promise me Saphira. I don't want you to be hurt because you were exhausted.
She hesitated, but he waited patiently, knowing how difficult it was for her to admit any weakness, even to him, who she trusted more than any other. I promise that I won't overexert myself in the future, unless it is absolutely necessary, she finally replied, and he knew that was as good as he was going to get from her. Her vanity wouldn't allow for any greater display of weakness.
Thank you Saphira. Now then, are you ready? He asked, donning his cloak and deftly climbing her leg and situating himself in her saddle. She spread her vast wings, and after shaking the sand off them, she sprang into the air. With a handful of powerful wingbeats she rose above the desert and quickly caught a thermal updraft off the hot ground.
The ground flew by as Saphira resumed her steady pace. Within an hour the sand began to give way to the scrubland that signaled the edge of the vast desert, and shortly after that the Ramr River became visible to the north-west.
We've made good time, Eragon observed, noting the position of the sun. Do you think you could put off returning for a while longer? I think it would benefit us if we turned south and assessed our foe.
Saphira readily agreed, and turned southward after Eragon cast a spell to render them invisible. They had travelled for little more than two hours when Saphira sighted the vanguard of the invaders army. Eragon joined his mind with hers so that he could see with her superior eyes. What he startled him. Below them was spread a vast force, stretching for many leagues, with a vanguard of several thousand leading the bulk of the army by more than a dozen miles.
There are so many! He exclaimed. And this is just a part of their entire force. How can we possibly defeat them all? And how have they managed to move so quickly? It took the Varden months to march from Surda to Ilirea, and here they are less than a week away.
They have never before faced an enraged dragon, Saphira responded zealously. I will tear them all apart myself if I need to.
Eragon smiled at her bravado, but shook his head. We would slay many, you and I, but even we do not have the strength to defeat so large a force. And look at those! He exclaimed suddenly as he glimpsed what appeared to be several dragons flying around the army. As Saphira shifted her attention to the flying creatures, he could more easily make out their details. They appeared similar to dragons, though they were much smaller and slimmer, and lacked forelegs. Saphira snorted at his alarm. Those tiny lizards pose as much a threat to me as a rabbit would to you, she scoffed.
Do not be so overconfident young one, Glaedr cautioned, his vast mind brushing against theirs. You may be greater than any one of them, but they outnumber you dozens of times over. They would pull you out of the sky through sheer weight.
Saphira sniffed at his remark, and Eragon slipped out of her consciousness, content that he had seen enough.
Come, we must warn Nasuada of their proximity. We might be able to prepare for a siege, and I doubt that these invaders will be prepared to sit beneath the walls of Ilirea while two dragons constantly harass them.
Without further urging, Saphira quickly turned and redoubled her pace. After the army faded into the distance Eragon let the spell rendering them invisible fade. They made better time heading north, due to a slight tailwind that Saphira found after flying high enough. After an hour of flying a faint smudge appeared on the horizon, which slowly resolved itself into the glittering spires of Ilirea, standing beneath their sheltering escarpment. As they drew closer to Ilirea, Eragon's sharp eyes could make out movement around the fortified city. Camps had sprung up around the walls, no doubt harboring refugees, as well as soldiers drawn from regions of the country that had not yet been besieged. Eragon looked around for Fírnen, who would herald the presence of Arya, but he couldn't see the emerald dragon. Saphira let loose an earthshattering roar and a pennant of cerulean fire, causing Eragon to wince as the bellow assaulted his sensitive ears.
I don't see Fírnen, he observed, shaking his head to clear his ringing ears. They must still be travelling, though I would've expected the elves to make better time if they had already left Du Weldenvarden when Blödhgarm spoke to Arya.
As they neared the ground, he could hear shouts of fear and panic, and it occurred to him that in the past thirty years dragons would've been a relatively rare sight, and Saphira wouldn't be recognizable to the majority of the populace anymore. The people milling in the square before the citadel scattered as Saphira flapped her vast wings to slow her descent. Her claws clicked on the flagstones as she landed and Eragon winced as he heard sharper cracks which indicated that some of the stones had fractured under Saphira's considerable weight. As he dismounted, he could see a crowd of people beginning to form in the streets that radiated away from the square, curiosity overcoming any fear they had. He reached up, and unbuckled his saddlebag and the heavy chest off of Saphira's saddle, setting them on the ground beside her. He stepped back as she shook herself as she was rid of the extra weight.
Wait here, he said to Saphira as he walked past her head. I doubt there is enough room for you inside. She snorted in reply, causing a cloud of smoke to engulf her face for a moment. As Eragon approached the main stairs of the manor in which Nasuada resided, the front doors pushed outward. Several guards streamed out followed by Nasuada herself. She stopped at the entranceway, stunned as she beheld Eragon and Saphira in the plaza. Eragon came to a halt at the base of the stairs and looked up at his old friend for a moment, before inclining his head respectfully. "Queen Nasuada," he said softly with a smile, "it does my heart good to see you well Your Majesty, though the circumstances which have prompted this meeting bring me grief." It took Nasuada a moment before she managed to compose herself to answer. "Lord Eragon Shadeslayer, it is indeed a joy to see you again," she spoke, inclining her head in return, a smile growing on her lined face, "as it is to see you Great Dragon." She stepped gracefully down the stairs, despite her advancing age, and walked over to Saphira, placing her hand on the dragon's snout.
It has been a long time Nasuada. If we had not been bound by our duty, we would not have remained away for so long.
"You have no need to explain yourself to me Saphira," she said, before turning to Eragon, "nor does your Rider. I, more than most, know that we all have our obligations, and they often bind us, despite the wishes of our hearts." As she spoke, her eyes saddened for a moment, and she seemed lost in thought. Eragon remembered her sadness when Murtagh and Thorn had departed, and knew that duty had separated them against their wishes, just as it had done to Eragon and Arya. She quickly shook her head and addressed them again, raising her voice so she could be more clearly heard by the commoners who lined the square. "Here I am prattling on about duty, when you two must be exhausted from your long journey. I am sorry that we cannot offer you better accommodations here Saphira, though if you wish, there is a dragon roost in the cliff face where you can rest."
No, daughter of Ajihad. I will wait here for my Rider.
"As you will," she acquiesced with a bow. "Lord Eragon, if you would accompany me inside so we may resume this discussion after you have refreshed yourself." She motioned for a pair of guards to gather Eragon's things and bring them, and Eragon suppressed a smile as they hesitantly approached Saphira's glittering bulk.
"As you say, Your Majesty," he replied. He fell in step beside her as they made their way up the stairs into the manor house. She led him down several halls until they arrived at her study. As he walked in, Eragon noticed that very little had changed since the last time he had stood in this room. "Nasuada–" he turned to face her as he heard the door close, but he was interrupted as she embraced him. He held her for a moment shocked by her open display of emotion, before she stepped back and looked at him, her eyes glistening. "It's been so long Eragon." Her voice had been reduced to a whisper and she had discarded her regal bearing. Seeing her sadness Eragon felt a pang of guilt, knowing that he was the cause of her current unhappiness. "I've waited to hear from you for so long, but–"
"I'm sorry that I never spoke to you, but it was for the best," he interrupted, putting his hand on her shoulder. "When we parted, we said our farewells, and while it was hard to leave, it would've been even more difficult to slowly watch you age and pass away through a mirror, unable to help you. I apologize if my selfishness hurt you, but I feel that it was necessary."
Nasuada shook her head, dismissing his justifications. "It is of no matter; there are greater concerns than my personal feelings. Tell me, where are the other Riders? Are they following you here, or did you send them to other cities?" Eragon shook his head. "Neither," he stated, earning a shocked look from Nasuada, and he hastened to explain himself. "They are not prepared for this. There are but a few who have the experience for a war such as this, and someone needed to remain behind to continue the younger ones' education. Several Eldunarí accompanied us, but we are all that will be coming." As he spoke Nasuada walked over to a chair and sank into it, her eyes closing.
"I suppose that I can hardly complain," she murmured after a moment. "You're here, and even without the Eldunarí you're most likely the strongest being in Alagaësia. In addition you were single handedly able to ensure our victory during the last war."
"That's–" Eragon began to protest, but Nasuada quickly cut him off.
"I might've led the Varden, but without you we would've been lost," she said, staring at her hands. "The people respected me because of my father, but your support was what truly solidified my hold on them. You and I both know that if you had decided to oppose me, the people would've supported you. Your presence was what won the war, not my leadership."
Silence fell between them for a minute, before Eragon spoke again. "I am sorry to be the one to bear more ill news, but before coming to the city, Saphira and I took it upon ourselves to pass over our enemies. They are a week, at most, away from the capital." At this news Nasuada's eyes snapped open in alarm. "So close? Those flying lizards of theirs have been overtaking our scouts, and I've been loath to send more men to their deaths. We've been fighting this war blindly. I fear that we will not be able to hold out against them for any extended period of time. There are simply too many people who have fled from the south to adequately house within the city."
"Fear not. Once Arya and Fírnen arrive, we will have two Riders. Together we will be able to burn the enemy camp and destroy their war machines before they can be used," Eragon reassured her. At his words Nasuada glanced at him, a puzzled look on her face. "Arya and Fírnen left the day before yesterday, along with the elves who rode with them."
"What?" Eragon asked, concerned. He began to pace back and forth, agitation clear in his posture. "Why would they leave? Have they given up on holding the capital?"
"No, Arya intended to circle around toward Dras-Leona, before turning back and attacking their vanguard from the west. She hoped to route their vanguard and capture one of their leaders," Nasuada replied matter-of-factly. Hearing this, Eragon's heart dropped, remembering the army as he had passed over it. Her plan would've been a sound one, had it not been for the sheer size of the army. "How large was their force?" Eragon whispered. Nasuada looked at him strangely before responding. "Roughly one hundred, all on horseback, excepting Arya and Fírnen of course." Hearing this, he realized that the elves were not expecting a force the size of that which they were going to encounter. They would be hard pressed to defeat the vanguard, and there was no way that they would be able to do so before reinforcements from the rest of the army arrived. Even Arya and Fírnen would be hard pressed, he realized, as he remembered Glaedr's words about the flying lizards.
"Nasuada, I need to go after them. Can you show me the route that they were going to take?" He asked, indicating the map lying on the desk. "Eragon, I doubt that one hundred elves and a Rider and her dragon could be in any–"
He cut her off and as he quickly explained their predicament, her eyes grew wide. She dashed over to the table and traced the route that they had taken, as well as where they had planned to set an ambush for the invaders, which allowed him to plot a rough course to try to intercept her. He quickly contacted Saphira, telling her to make herself ready, and then turned to leave the room, but Nasuada grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong hand. "Surely you do not intend to go after them wearing only that?" She questioned, indicating his travelling garb.
"Nay, not even I am that foolish. Where did your guards take my things?" She answered by grabbing his hand, and pulling him out of the room. She led him down a side corridor, and into a well-appointed room. On the floor lay his gear. He quickly shed his tunic and belt as he walked over to the chest and unlocked it with a spell. Lifting the lid, he glimpsed the contents, and smiled. He rummaged through and pulled out a thickly padded leather coat which he put on. Over that, he drew on a light hauberk of elfish mail. Armored boots covered his feet, and heavy greaves and cuisses protected his calves and thighs. A plated belt went around his waist, which held the hauberk closer to his body.
At his instruction, Nasuada helped to fasten segmented faulds to his belt, to further protect his upper legs, while he pulled on the beautiful breastplate, which had been molded to fit tightly against his body and was covered with gorgeously wrought engravings. Rhunön's work was unparalleled by anything wrought by mortal hands, and despite the decorations, he knew that the armor was far more than just for show. Heavy pauldrons were affixed to his shoulders, and rerebraces and vambraces covered his arms from shoulder to wrist. He pulled on flexible gauntlets made partly from leather, partly from mail, and partly from thick plates, designed to both protect his hands from enemy attacks as well as his own if he was required to fight with his hands. Nasuada wordlessly handed him a thick, leather arming cap, which he fastened tightly over his head. He picked up his barbute helmet and studied it for a moment, admiring the wings that swept back from the temples and the stylized glyphs and dragons that were engraved along the edges, before fitting it snugly on his head. He looked down at himself, admiring the blue sheen of the masterfully crafted armor. Despite the many layers of metal, he could hardly tell that he wearing armor, so well was it crafted.
He reached back into the chest and drew out a deep blue, light cloak and fastened it to the pauldrons of the armor. Finally he turned and pulled the last item out of the chest. The heater shield was beautifully crafted, having the same hue, and being crafted from the same materials, as his sword, Brisingr. A twisting flame motif wound itself around the edges of the shield and a silhouette of a dragon in flight dominated the center. He admired the beautiful shield for a moment before slinging it over his back. As he was about to turn away, he noticed something else in the bottom of the chest, and as he moved aside the cloth layers that lined the container his breath hitched in his throat. Hidden at the bottom of the chest was a Rider's blade, one he was intimately familiar with, after having discovered it among the other swords in Galbatorix's collection. Undbitr gleamed as he ran his fingers over it, gently caressing the metal that had once been wielded by his father. He closed his eyes for a moment letting memories wash over him for a moment, before fluidly standing and closing the chest over the sword.
Properly attired for war, he turned to leave, but was again stopped by Nasuada's hand. "Eragon, please be careful," she implored. He looked down at her and smiled. "I am no longer the boy you once knew, Nasuada. Though my appearance has changed little, I have learned much over the years. I will not do anything foolish, unless it's absolutely necessary." With a wink he turned and quickly made his way outside, Nasuada hurrying to keep up with his fluid strides. As the guards opened the doors, he was greeted by a great cheer. Filling the plaza, though leaving a healthy space around Saphira, was a vast crowd, all of whom were staring at either him or Saphira. He stood speechless for a moment, before Nasuada nudged him.
"Acknowledge them," she whispered. "Many of them are refugees and we've been without hope since these invaders first set foot in Alagaësia. You are a Rider, a symbol of peace and justice. You've brought hope to people who were on the verge of giving up. Even more, you are the Rider who defeated Galbatorix and brought peace back to our land. You are a legend and a hero." Eragon shook his head mutely, trying to grasp what she was saying, but it was still difficult for him to think of himself in such a light. Pushing aside his misgivings, he took a deep breath; he smiled at the crowd and raised his hand. They redoubled their cheers as he rapidly made his way down the steps, but remained at a respectful distance allowing him to trot to Saphira unmolested.
He adroitly climbed her leg, his dexterity in no way diminished by the gleaming armor he wore.
Make haste, he urged. I fear that we may already be too late to stop the elves.
Without a word, Saphira stood, let loose a great roar, causing the crowd to shrink back momentarily, before bunching her massive leg muscles and leaping into the air. She rapidly rose above the city, and circled once, before turning south. Her muscles strained as she pushed herself faster and faster, racing to reach Arya and the elves before they were lost.
Despite her fantastic speed, it was still more than an hour before they reached the point where Arya had indicated that they were going to lie in wait. From their lofty position, Saphira saw movement several miles to the east and at Eragon's urging she pushed on. As they drew closer, he could see that a fierce battle was being waged. A small circle, the elves, was surrounded the enemy vanguard. Above the fight, he could clearly make out Fírnen struggling with a dozen flying lizards, while others harassed the small figure on his back. Even as he watched, one of the nimble creatures latched onto one of Fírnen's wings, and the emerald dragon began to tilt, spiraling toward the ground. Saphira needed no urging, and loosed an earsplitting roar, before diving into the fray.
There's chapter 2, and much faster than I expected. Despite have to rework the chapter several times, due to the story following paths that I didn't like, I still managed to get this chapter done faster than the last one. Next Monday I'm scheduled for surgery, and will be unable to sit at my computer for quite some time. I'll try to get another chapter out before then, but I won't make any promises. If I don't have chapter 3 up by Sunday, I'll do my best to finish it before April.