Alright, you guys, here's the next chapter. It's quite long, but it has everything in it: answers to the question that were risen in the previous chapter, ExA, and more of Angela. Oh yea, we're not done with her yet.
Anyway, on with the chapter and happy reading! You will most likely not get another update this year, so Merry Christmas and a happy new year.
There were many questions and worries which plagued Eragon's mind, but none was as shredding as the one related to Arya and her condition. Until now, he had never seen a spell caster being able to deflect spells, and the strange words which Tenga used to power what seemed a destructive spell could just not leave his mind. Although they sounded like a string of sounds to him, a sinister curiosity gripped Eragon, one which could only be quenched by Angela, who seemed to know more than what she allowed others to believe.
Slowly, he shuffled on his weakened legs next to Arya, lying down next to her. Curls of vapor ruffled the tuft which covered her nose ever so slightly, her even breath drawing a part of his worries with each exhale.
With great caution, he probed at her mind gently to try and wake her up by breaking the spell with his own. However, even if there was no barrier to block him off, it seemed that none of his efforts were paid off, and the previously faltered worries returned to him, only amplified. Eragon felt powerless and weak when he was put in front with something that was a mystery even for him, the only inheritor of Oromis's knowledge.
The only thing he could do was wait and mince his mind with the multiple questions that tormented him. But even such simple action came harder than misfortune itself, when his thoughts ran rampant across the vast emptiness which resembled the current state of his mind. Whatever Angela did, it completely disrupted his inner balance, his usually powerful and disciplined mind, throwing him into a state of utter powerlessness and confusion.
If that wasn't bad enough, a sudden headache almost crippled Eragon due to its intensity. He tried to scream in pain as he fell on his side, his teeth gritting against one another as he fought the terrible pain which seemed to have no end.
After an intense and excruciating moment, the pain released its vile grip, allowing him to regain his rhythmic breath. His temples still pounded and perspiration coated his torso, but at least he was in full control of his body once again.
Eragon simply lay down, trying to recover from the shock he just experienced. What just happened? Was it an aftermath of Tenga's spell, or was it because of Angela's miraculous intervention? He did not know, or simply couldn't find the answer. The only certain information he possessed was the eerie feeling he felt when Angela said something, right after Tenga had cast the spell, but even that clue had its share of mystery and uncertainty to it.
The sound of footsteps coming from the stairs roused Eragon from his reverie. With great difficulty, he got onto his legs, his face acquiring a wry expression as he groaned loudly.
"We have no time to sleep dear," Angela's voice came from the direction of the spiral stair. Not surprisingly, she shortly unveiled her presence. For a moment, Eragon thought that she would at least be pleased to acquire the tome she spoke so highly about, but the displeasure on her face, along with her furrowed brow told him otherwise.
"Earthroots and darkcap funguses!" she exclaimed worriedly as she shot towards Eragon, surprising him with her speed. "Why are you looking so lifeless?" Her agitated eyes scanned every part of his face briefly while her foot tapped the floor slightly.
"I….I…," Eragon mumbled, unable to form a string of coherent words. Angela raised an eyebrow quizzically.
"You explain me," he said on a serious voice, regaining his composure. "What did Tenga do? What did you just do? What sort of spell was that?" Without his consent, his voice picked up in volume, turning into some sort of shout at the end. He had no idea why he felt the need to express his troubles like an avalanche, but Angela was not quite sympathetic to his predicament as her eyes widened with shock.
"Too loud!" she complained, moving away from him. "Too much, and too loud!"
"I apologize," Eragon cut in, trying to make amends. "I don't know what came over me."
Angela softened her look, a sigh escaping her, "You poor little fungus. I think I know what you need." With a fast move, she reached towards a pouch she picked from one of Saphira's saddle bags and rummaged through it until her hand revealed a water skin.
"Sprout vigorously," she smiled, extending an arm. Eragon looked at her with bewilderment.
"I'm not thirsty."
"I insist," Angela said firmly.
"I want answers, not water!" Eragon retorted, allowing his feelings to rule over him once again. This time, Angela seemed to pardon him, no sign betraying her hostility at his out of place reaction.
"So tense and serious," she mumbled, shuffling towards Arya's sleeping form. She slowly crouched besides her, moving a hand across her raven hair. She did that several times, yet no reaction came from the sleeping elf.
Feeling a bit nervous due to her casual nature, he asked, "Will you wake her up?"
"You couldn't?" Angela replied with a question, turning her head towards him.
"I don't know why," Eragon sighed. "But I'm sure you can."
"What makes you say that?"
Her endless questions poured like droplets of water in a rainy day, where the elements annoy everyone through their persistence and power. Eragon felt no different right now, only that he could actually put an end to this troublesome storm of questions.
"I heard you," he replied with conviction. "When Tenga used the engulfing nightmares spell, you were not affected by it, and…" he trailed off, unsure of how to put it exactly into words. "You abolished its effects on me somehow."
Angela smiled, "Ah, that was nothing, really."
Eragon was not quite convinced by her tone, especially when she said it like it was something everyone could do.
"Those words were foreign to me."
"You were just dizzy, that's all," she said hastily, switching her gaze back at Arya. Eragon couldn't help but feel that she was hiding something. With determination, he pressed on for answers.
"Actually, I wasn't…" he paused, trying to reminisce that peculiar feeling he felt at that moment.
"I felt invigorated, powerful, and for a brief moment, I had the impression I could feel…," he suddenly stopped, searching for the word that simply evaded him at the moment.
"Much…"he concluded with uncertainty.
Angela got up from her lower position, turning around to face Eragon. Her expression darkened a little, having lost its mirth, and her hazel eyes sparkled with a strange glint.
"You and I are much alike," she said, beckoning him to follow her as she headed towards a small, round table where several wooden chairs were placed randomly. "Curiosity may sometimes urge you to do something irrational, and the regret always comes at a later time," she chuckled, sitting her slender body on one of the round and not very comfortable chair.
Smiling politely, Eragon sat at the opposite part of the table, shifting his bulk until he was pleased with his position. There was much he wanted to ask her, but was too timid to force her unveil parts of the past. Instead, he decided to solve the most pressing problem. But first, he had to understand what exactly she meant with the previous remark.
"I don't really understand how that is related to my previous question."
"It really isn't," Angela said quickly. "It was just an observation."
"I see…" Eragon responded, a bit nervous because of the fact that she always avoided his most important concerns.
"But I still want to know what spell that was."
Angela's half smile immediately vanished. "It was just a dull, boring spell meant to help you," she said hurriedly, her fingers tapping the wooden table lightly. "Paying attention to all the details makes you more boring than those Varden guards."
She seemed quite agitated by his persistence, and her voice kind of betrayed her reluctance to talk about this subject. That could only mean that she indeed did something extraordinary, and letting her go away with it was not something Eragon intended.
"Details or not, I had no knowledge of this spell," Eragon's voice faded while he tried to further emphasize her point, but Angela cut him straight away.
"Because you cannot know everything dear!" The tapping of her fingers increased in volume as her eyes scanned him with skepticism. "Was that geezer who trained you such an incredibly dull person?"
"I believe…he wasn't," Eragon added, trying his best not to offend the weird herbalist. Even if he got used to her different nature, he couldn't tolerate any insult against Oromis, no matter who was the one to say it.
"Then why are you insisting so much?"
"Because I want to know the spell!" Eragon barked. Blood rushed towards his face as he began losing his temper, despite his best efforts to keep the beast caged.
"I'm afraid you can't," Angela said sympathetically, staring at him innocently. "I don't have the patience to help you, my dear boy."
"I understand…" Eragon bowed his head in defeat, quitting his attempts to get it out from her. "But you still haven't told me what sort of words were those."
Angela drew her head back slightly when Eragon fixed his unwavering stare on her. There was sharpness in his gaze, sharper than Brisingr itself.
"He was just an old man. He forgot some words, that's all," she said indifferently, lifting her body off the chair. "Lets check on Arya, shall we?" Her smile and merry attitude returned as soon as she left the table, but Eragon was still churning like a volcano inside.
"I don't believe you!" He cut in harshly. "There was something about those words, something that I cannot understand."
"Oh, but you don't have to believe me," Angela replied without even turning around.
Barzhul! Eragon cursed mentally. Try as he might to press Angela for answers, his efforts would prove futile as long as the herbalist had no intent in sharing this information with him. Walking lifelessly towards Angela, he stared blankly at Arya, who had yet to wake up from her enchanted sleep.
Angela muttered something silently to herself, but Eragon didn't even bother deciphering the meaning of her words. He was disappointed because of his weakness, he felt lonely and not understood by anyone, but the most pressing feeling was guilt. He felt guilty for his weakness, for his inability to protect Arya and to defeat Tenga. If it wasn't for Angela, there is no telling what might have happened.
"Are ghosts bothering you?" Eragon was suddenly ripped from his musing by a voice he was now well accustomed with.
"I was just…"he trailed off, as if he even lost the willingness to explain himself.
"You are so pale and sore inside, my dear," Angela said and hugged him unexpectedly. Eragon had no idea how to react to her strange, apparently friendly gesture, so he merely stood as stiff as a statue.
A groan suddenly pierced the eerie silence. With the corner of his eyes, Eragon could see Arya's body moving as she tried to push herself up, her groggy eyes blinking rapidly.
"Sprout like a healthy mushroom after the rain," said Angela, releasing Eragon from her arms and headed towards the spiral staircase.
Eragon immediately rushed to Arya's side, helping her maintain her balance as she tried to get up unsteadily.
"What happened?" she asked on a low voice, still trying to comprehend where she was.
"It was Tenga," Eragon whispered while he allowed her to coil her arm around his neck to support her weight. "He cast a spell on you."
Arya looked at him with a confused stare, "How haven't I noticed it then?" Then, her eyes settled on one of the small chairs situated at the same table Eragon sat earlier.
"Oh…" Eragon sighed, helping her walk the entire length of the corridor created between the bookshelves.
"Thank you," she whispered faintly as she rested her body on the wooden chair, brushing her eyes sleepily.
Eragon tried to force a polite smile, but the corners of his mouth didn't stretch to their full length.
"It was a spell, Eragon," she said with a tint of anger, almost regretting that it was her who fell like a helpless prey beneath the spell's effect. "A simple spell that defeated me."
"It wasn't like that…"
"How, why did I not notice it?" Arya interrupted as if Eragon's words did not even reach her ears. Her emerald eyes unsurely drifted towards a stray book tossed into a dark corner.
"Is it because I am weak?" Her stare immediately fixed on Eragon, "Have I become so powerless since…" she suddenly stopped, digging her head inside the confines of her palms.
"You are not weak, Arya," Eragon said reassuringly, extending a hand towards her in a friendly gesture. "You are strong, and Tenga merely caught you unaware."
Arya looked at him, then at his hand for a very short moment before she pushed herself up from the seat, her body swaying unsteadily. With great speed, Eragon worriedly rushed to her side, but Arya stopped him with conviction.
"I'm not as helpless as you think!" she said on a higher voice, the harshness present in her melodious voice altering its once frivolous nature. "Do you really see me as one of those fragile humans that are in constant need of help?"
"No, I'm not, but..."
"Then what is it? By all means, say it!" She said bitterly, looking at Tenga with antipathy like he was a long time enemy to her.
"I can't let you fight this war alone, or anything else for that matter," Eragon replied on a steadfast voice, funneling what he felt for Arya in his words, "You are not alone anymore, and by my word as a Rider and friend, I promise that I will abolish the dark veil of misery and prevent pain from further corrupting you."
"Misery, Eragon…" Arya paused, looking into his eyes with a resolute and cold stare, "was my only company since father died, and it further coiled around me with vile tentacles, drawing what little remained of my happiness with the death of someone who mattered to me."
Eragon felt a wave of pity crushing against his mind, and each drop of sparkling water turned to deadly venom as it splattered through his mind, his memories and his feelings. As much as it pained him to see Arya in her current state, she herself denied him of the opportunity to show her, no, prove her that his friendship was the foundation on which she could sprout new and happier feelings.
"Happiness… it's like a hazy memory for me," Arya mumbled, her left hand clenching around a scroll she picked from the floor. "I realized that time does not wait for us to discover the ephemeral beauty in this life, and that's why I had to rely on the prominent misery."
The scroll creased under her grip and fell from her hand like a leaf in the autumn, when life had all but been sucked from it. "Pain and misery taught me how to survive. They made me strong as my blade clashed relentlessly against the one of my kin and magic surged through my mind and was carried by my words with great expertise."
"Arya, you…"
"…I allowed the passion for improvement to become my way of life, desperately trying to mask everything that threatened to destroy me."
Arya looked towards the seat absently, as if it was something she longed for. After slowly shuffling towards the seat, she dropped down and sighed loudly. Eragon shortly followed her, and no protests came.
"Yet I never felt complete, and I knew I couldn't. Lying to myself could not possibly fill that gap, as it mostly covered it with a superficial layer of delusion."
Eragon churned with sadness, especially when memories of his dreaded life came into mind. Garrow, Brom, Oromis and Glaedr. Their death greatly affected him, but Saphira had always taken the role of a friend everyone should have during difficult moments. For Arya, it was different. Loneliness gnawed her positive feelings over the time, and she solely relied on gut instinct to survive. Eragon knew it. She herself acknowledged it. But if he was a friend of hers, why couldn't he change her perspective?
A moment of eerie silence followed, during which Eragon felt more powerless than ever. The tip of his ears reddened as his eyes shyly and slowly drifted towards Arya, as if he was unworthy to gaze upon her beauty. Her perfect chin rested on top of her fist as she contemplated the recent events.
"I don't know…" she said faintly, almost to herself. "I thought I knew how my life will develop, because fate has made that choice for me. Yet now, everything I thought I knew was altered."
She then looked around the room, sighing, "This dilapidated outpost resembles how my mind is, Eragon. My once strong beliefs, the outer layer, now lay crumbled, while the interior is filled to the brink with doubts." Her emerald eyes then fixed on him, sending shivers across his body.
"Have you ever doubted a friendship, Eragon?"
Eragon's heart froze, pierced by a freezing icicle. Those words acted like an all too powerful magic that prevented him from breathing, draining life itself from his body. He was paralyzed and felt ill. A slight tremor began racking his body, despite his best efforts to conceal it.
"Have you put to doubt its fleeting moments of happiness, which might be snuffed out by this war at any given time?" At the end, she almost stuttered, something which immediately breathed life into Eragon once again. She was not rejecting him, nor was in her intention to break down his morale. Only now did he truly understand her previous comparison with Edur Ithindra, and without even allowing his mind to filter his emotions, he said.
"No, never."
Arya looked at him with renewed hope, her eyes almost begging him to put and end to her worries, to find what she has sought for ages.
"If we would let pain and past misery consume us, then why are we even living?" Eragon said with conviction, swaying all his previous doubts aside.
"You are a shade of your former self, Arya, and such worries will keep you in darkness, never allowing you to bask in the light which represents happiness." Eragon paused for a moment. Perspiration covered his body his hands were all sweaty. Still, he pressed on without allowing his emotions to stop him.
"You prefer the darkness because you are used to it, and although you desperately search to change your condition, you are afraid."
Arya stared at him intently, almost stunned by his words. Her breath was accelerated, but her face was still milk white, while his was probably red and hotter than bonfire. After rubbing his hands against his leggings to dry them a little, he got up on his shaking and unsure legs.
"While you may believe what you want," he said as he moved towards her, "I will try to be the light that guides you and the spell that can fix the dilapidated tower." Then, he extended a shaky hand towards her, a bridge that could allow her to make a change that could forever change her life.
Arya looked at his hand briefly, shock etched on her stunned expression. Every cell of Eragon's body tingled with apprehension, and this agonizing sensation only amplified when she looked into his eyes closely. During those moments, Eragon felt his body going numb and even standing up seemed difficult. For a split second, he wanted this misery to end and withdraw from the mesmerizing eye contact by retracting his arm, but then, a firm grip returned his mind to reality. It was the same warm and reassuring grip of the same smooth hand he knew.
Time seemed to stop, and everything seemed surreal as Arya lifted her body and whispered, "Thank you, Eragon." Her hand released his own, ending the magical moment which has little explanation in words. He did not know how to react, or maybe it was his slow mind, or numb body, that refused to cooperate. But even in his bewildered state, he could see Arya approaching more than ever, her lithe body making contact with his own as her arms wrapped around his torso.
"Thank you for being here for me."
Eragon was stiff as a tree in her warm embrace. He wanted to pat her on the back reassuringly, to return the kind words with the same honey laced voice she used, but none of that happened before Arya withdrew from the contact. Only then could Eragon exhale and process what just happened, but a high pitched voice made him shudder violently.
"I can't find my tome," Angela complained, heading towards one of the two bookshelves in the room. Vellums, scrolls and tomes fell from their sanctuary, swiped away by her agitated hands which desperately clang to a tome for a minute, only to abandon it shortly after. Arya slowly backed away and sat on the chair, a hand placed on her brow.
Angela suddenly turned around, her face contorted with displeasure. "You know why I cannot find it?" Eragon shrugged.
"Because I cannot see it," she said quickly, mumbling something under her breath. From behind a fallen pile of tomes came a light growl as Solembum headed towards Angela slowly. The agitated herbalist kneeled and looked at him intently for a second before a laughter escaped her mouth.
"I think we didn't pay enough attention to the name of the tome," she said, beckoning Eragon to come closer to her. After looking at Arya with lack of interest for a brief moment, she got closer to Eragon, whispering. "Between you and me, I think this tome has a dwarven name."
"What does that mean?" Eragon asked quizzically.
"That it should belong to the dwarves, not Tenga."
Eragon scratched the back of his head with uncertainty, "Then why were you so certain that it was here?"
"Because many tomes have a name that starts with T!" Angela protested loudly, glaring at him. "There's Theldurin the Brave, Theldurin the Cook, Theldurin the Lost, it's like everyone uses the name of that dwarf just because he was the one who…" she suddenly stopped, smiling at Eragon briefly before she yelled.
"Arya, we're leaving!"
"Wait," Eragon intervened, grabbing her slender shoulder, "who was this Theldurin? Tell me!" Angela's eyes widened the moment he increased his voice, her face acquiring a frightful expression.
"You are so scary sometimes," she whimpered, jerking her body from his feeble grip.
"So scary and loud he is, my beloved," she whispered to Solembum, searching for the reassurance that might not possibly come from him. Shaking his head with doubt and dislike at her form that shortly disappeared behind the bookshelf, Eragon nodded at Arya, lifting off the confusion that gripped her for a moment when Angela rudely summoned her.
"We should also go," Eragon said curtly, looking towards the exit. "But before that, I will find out what Angela doesn't want to tell me." Bearing a most solemn expression and determined to unveil a part of the mystery related to Tenga and her, Eragon rushed to a bookshelf and helped himself with a musty tome that contained strange characters and drawings about certain tools, probably used my dwarves.
"What are you looking for?" asked Arya as she moved towards the other bookshelf in order to help him complete his search. An inward smile stretched across Eragon's face.
"Everything that can tell us about who Tenga is and what he knows," he said, pushing aside some ancient and ravaged scrolls. One tome spoke about the founding of the dwarven kingdom while another was strictly about the roots of the dwarven race in Alagaesia, or so Eragon suspected from the almost unintelligible writing.
"They're all about dwarves," Arya confirmed his suspicions as her eyes analyzed a tome before placing it back into its corresponding slot. "This is bizarre…"
Eragon's heart jolted in an instant. "What is it?" He asked hastily.
"Most of them are historical tomes, but none actually refers to the recent history," she said, turning page after page from a tome that seemed a new addition among the old ones due to its aspect. "I haven't seen any clan emblem on each of those tomes, and none talks about clans and leadership."
Why is Tenga highly interested in dwarves? Eragon mused, trying to piece the newly acquired information together. It made no sense to him, as he first thought that it was some sort of elven magic he had used moments before Angela prevented him from doing so.
"Eragon, this…" Arya suddenly paused, browsing more pages in order to comprehend the contents of the tome in a quick manner. "This is a very old dwarven language." She then proceeded to show him a strange array of runes which held no particular meaning for Eragon.
"While I can't understand everything it says, I suspect that it refers to the dawn of the dwarven race."
"There has to be something in there," Eragon said critically, as if time itself would end shortly.
"That may be," Arya interrupted from her action, putting the tome back, "but I cannot know for sure."
"Tenga was searching for something, but why does it relate to the dwarves?" Eragon looked at the impressive bookshelf that towered above his pitiful being. The sheer amount of tomes simply overwhelmed him, yet there were several that held an important clue to the odd words used by Tenga, or the nature of his search.
Arya's words summoned his awareness instantly, "dwarves are one of the ancient races. Their knowledge might surpass even ours."
"That I know, yet…" Eragon looked around the room, trying to satiate his unbound curiosity. The first thing that felt conspicuous to him was the staircase that led to the upper levels of the outpost. Suddenly, the memory of Angela climbing up to search for the tome entered his mind. Surely there were more important tomes up there, especially when Angela herself didn't bother with the lower level.
"Follow me," he beckoned Arya as he evaded the pile of tomes gathered at the corner of the bookshelf.
"What are you still doing here?" a voice full of indignation came from behind, stopping Eragon dead in his tracks. "Trying to prepare tea for when Tenga wakes up?"
"I was only…"
"I don't care!" Angela yelled without any restraints. "With Solembum gone, I will not be able to prevent him from turning you into something abnormal." A deep frown darkened her features, erasing any trace of her playful attitude. However, Eragon refused to move. While her words held some truth, he felt reluctant to abandon the only trace of information related to Tenga.
With his attention focused on the staircase, he barely the fast approaching Angela who grabbed his hand firmly, attempting to drag him out.
"What are you doing?" Eragon protested, using his superior strength to release himself.
"Saving you," she said with determination, grabbing his hand once again. "Solembum was the one to put him into the enchanted sleep, and he can wake up at any given moment."
Having limited options, Eragon nodded in defeat at Angela, who smiled in delight at his submissive attitude.
"He can walk alone," Arya cut in, staring at Angela disapprovingly.
"His other hand is free, in case you haven't noticed," Angela chuckled.
"He's not a cat that you can toy around with." Eragon was slightly taken aback by her persistence and the unbending fortitude present in her voice, especially that she dared to almost insult this strange herbalist.
"He most certainly isn't," said Angela, releasing his hand with great speed. "But know that your rank, or his, holds no importance to me." With that, she made a quick turn around and pushed the door open, mumbling something to herself before an unpleasant creak masked her spontaneous displeasure.
"I'm not sure about her," Eragon muttered silently, staring at the door blankly. "She's something more than just a deranged herbalist, yet I cannot put my finger on it." A moment of silence followed, during which both of them seemed to contemplate on Angela's recent actions, Tenga's mysterious presence and most of all, Eragon felt strangely obsessed with finding the origins of Tenga's words.
"You cannot let her control you, Eragon," Arya interrupted his thoughts as she moved towards the door, placing a hand on it. "You are still a Rider, no matter what Angela believes, and I expect you no less of you."
"Yes…" he answered with half a mouth, reaching the door in two strides. "Yes you are right."
"Good," Arya said curtly, leaving the outpost without looking back. After glancing one last time at Tenga's sleeping form, Eragon gulped reassuringly and allowed the wooden door to slam against the hard rock, dust pouring from its ancient hinges.
While he truly meant what he said to Arya, Eragon had mixed feelings about Angela. His whole mind was a churning cauldron, and each stray thought that delved into it only amplified its unstable reaction. To him, Angela was more than the innocent herbalist, and after what he witnessed when they battled Tenga, he couldn't help but feel a pang of fear itching his conscience, a form of warning meant to open his mind at the possible repercussions should Angela decide to lose her patience.
Of course, Eragon tried not to dwell on such thoughts much, especially when he knew that mind often amplifies a certain worry to vast proportions. After all, his worries might had been very well directed at the strange words used by Tenga, not Angela. I'll just be nice to her, Eragon thought, smiling inwardly.
Eragon, where are you going? At first, he was slightly confused by Arya's sudden words that rang in his mind. Bewildered, he looked around until he could see her form in the distance with the corner of his eyes.
You are right, he said, smiling sheepishly when he realized that his legs were carrying him in the wrong direction, far more left than his intended path. By making use of his superior speed, he ran towards Arya in the span of a few seconds, berating himself mentally for his absent minded gesture.
Apparently amused by his dulled senses, Arya returned him a smile while her hands rubbed against one another because of the cold temperature of the night.
"And how did you decipher that old dwarfish language?" Eragon attempted to break this awkward moment using any means necessary.
Arya analyzed him for a second before she replied calmly, "My duties as an ambassador do not only include a lot of traveling." She then pointed up ahead, where the ground leveled off, marking the descent from atop of the hill. After Eragon nodded, she continued, "there are obligations, such as a basic knowledge of traditions, history, and even older languages."
"That's quite remarkable," said Eragon, impressed by the rigors of an apparently menial task.
"Yes, although I never actually expected that language to come in handy."
Eragon felt at peace at seeing her so relaxed. It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her mind, allowing her to finally escape the constant tense atmosphere that was always present around her.
A cold, piercing wind blew across the plains, bending the grass blades submissively under its might. Shuddering as the cold air drained the heat from his body, Eragon briefly looked back at the ruined tower before facing forward in the direction Saphira was resting. Eager to be reunited with his partner of mind and rest under the warm, comfortable shelter provided by her, Eragon broke into a fast stride, closely followed by Arya.
Long chapter! Yay! I hope it gets more reviews than usual. Why? Because it's long! Just kidding around, of course. The ending might be a little rough because it was my birthday and I didn't have enough time to do it right, but if it is that bad, I'll edit it tomorrow.( although most of you won't care anyway)
Ok so, there's a lot of things going on in here. I usually write a bit of what happens in the chapter here, but now, I'll leave you the honor of doing that. Tell me what you think and Merry Christmas!