Glimmers of light subtly pierced the horizon, piercing the dark veil of the night which was coming to an end. Dawn had always been a symbol of renewal, where the dangerous and cold night would end and allow the animals who evaded the predators to live for another day. For him, however, it represented no escape, for it could not possibly alleviate his concerns.
Suddenly, Eragon got up with haste and broke into a sprint, running wherever his legs would take him. If lingering in one place failed to help him, then fatigue would surely numb his mind well enough as to prevent the thoughts from overwhelming him before Saphira would return.
While he ran through the open plain, he felt the sting of guilt prodding at his mind for breaking Angela's trust. She indeed crossed the limit, but in the end, she wasn't bearing any foul intentions. She had quickly forgiven him, but he had to do the same in his mind in order to be at peace with himself. After all, Angela had done something wrong, no matter her plight.
However, what never ceased to bother him was the way she shielded her mind. Not even Arya, Oromis or Glaedr could erect such powerful barriers. Galbatorix probably had a powerful defense, but he never tried to fight a losing battle, not when his enemy blatantly toyed with him. The realization of how weak he really was struck him hard, yet he quickly pushed that thought away like it was just a dried, forgotten parchment with a bad writing in it.
His stride lowered in speed as fatigue began claiming his limbs, yet his mind could not rest until Angela's mystery would be solved. How could she withstand his attack and not even flinch? Why could she so easily strip his defenses by just muttering a few words he had no knowledge of? Was she more powerful than a Rider? One's strength was determined not by sword proficiency, but by cunningness and quick thinking. Should she use the same spell on him, all his skills, his knowledge, would be rendered useless the moment she could easily end him with other quick spells. Although Eragon was right when he told her that the Riders had their own secrets, he now doubted his own claims when a being that could defeat a Rider like he was a mere soldier existed.
This thought alone further strengthened his resolution to find the Rock of Kuthian. A spark all forgotten since the defeat in Feinster reignited with dazzling flames, bolstering its vile flames until they threatened to incinerate a part of the teaching of Oromis related to the existence of certain negative emotions and thoughts that could corrupt one's mind. As much as Eragon tried to deny his instinct from taking over, he couldn't deny the need for power. He didn't want it, he needed it in order to defeat Galbatorix. That was what fate had decided for him, he never had a choice in it.
I will become stronger, not for my sake, but for the others, he thought with conviction, digging his feet hard in the soil, lifting a veil of dirt as his boots ravaged the superficial layer of the grassy soil. Instead of an elegant stop, however, Eragon's body tilted sideways, allowing gravity to work its way in bringing his downfall.
Tired, his heavy panting a testimony to his fatigued body, Eragon rolled on his back and looked towards sky melancholically, reminiscing the little and fragile moments of happiness that were too easily swayed by the horrors of the war.
A light breeze caressed his drenched body, and several birds passed by him, chirping joyfully while they chased one another. Thin clouds brazed the multicolored sky, making it look like a fairth made by an innocent and young elf whose untrained eye didn't catch the pink ripples on the horizon.
The recent exhaustion completely drained his already low reserves of energy, blocking his mind better than any mental shield could. After he wiped his brow to clear the drops of sweat that began slithering down his forehead, Eragon closed his eyes, allowing forgetfulness to offer him the much sought inner peace.
A strange object nudged Eragon in the arm, trying to push his bulk without much success. Ripped from his dreams by the sudden contact, he snapped his eyes open, using his other hand to defend himself against the invader of his privacy. A warm and smooth surface met his palm, and the hot puffs of air could only mean one thing.
After blinking several times to adjust his vision, he immediately realized why he had such a pleasant sleep and from where the warmness pictured vaguely in his dream came.
You are like a hatchling born during the cold-freezing-water-season, Saphira said, coiling her serpentine neck around his form, squeezing him slightly.
Eragon's face lightened in delight, a wide smile stretching across his face. Joy surged to him, as if a good old friend had returned from a forgotten trip and their reunion mended the scrapes of loneliness that allowed his happiness to seep through them, each drop heightening his longing and desperation for the only possible cure. And now, there she was, with her warm and caring voice and pristine, lustrous scales covering a mighty yet gentle being.
Saphira, you… Eragon tried to say something, but instead, he hugged her neck, leaning his face on his makeshift shelter.
You tried to crawl under my belly as if you were one of my kind.
Eragon was slightly overwhelmed by the intensity of her feelings. The love and affection she often displayed for him were something he cherished the most, for without Saphira, he alone couldn't exist as a complete being, for his inner harmony would be engulfed by a black void. This time, however, she surprised him in a pleasant way, and although they weren't split for more than a quarter of a day, Eragon still tried to question why Saphira suddenly became so affectionate towards him.
A shame I'm not, Eragon teased, his hand moving across her scaled neck. Saphira exhaled loudly, the gust of hot air quickly dispersing in the form of vapors. She said nothing, but he could still realize that his words were not wise, for Saphira suppressed a part of her mirth while she erected some walls around a particular area of her mind which was reserved for personal thoughts he seldom had access to.
Eragon mentally berated himself for being reckless yet again, this time with the being he loved the most. Maybe it was the recent stress and worries that clouded his mind to this extent, but the harm had already been done, and the least he wanted was to allow Saphira to feel alone to her own troubles, just like it happened to him.
Saphira, I know I wronged you, and I apologize. It's just that… he paused, searching for the right words to describe his predicament. Although he felt reluctant in adding an extra burden on the mind of his partner of mind and soul, at the same time, he was aware that this was something he could never escape, not by himself.
I did so many wrong things…
Little one, you are bearing no guilt. I am well aware of the reality.
Saphira retracted her neck and used her legs to trudge her bulk across the grass until she was pleased with her position. Then, a blanketing wing fell on top of Eragon, shielding him from the cold morning air. At the mention of her last words, a drop of sadness slithered its way past her defenses, but Eragon's churning mind considered it to be its own, ignoring it completely.
I failed to defeat Galbatorix. Were it not for Arya, I would have lost my life… Eragon mused, allowing his thoughts to drift freely to Saphira, indirectly craving for the help and companionship during his troubled times.
I stupidly pushed you away, and now, Angela might bear enmity against me for invading her mind during a moment of sheer irresponsibility, he thought to himself, for guilt alone didn't allow him to make it known, not even to Saphira.
You are not an almighty being, Eragon, Saphira intervened, her voice sprinkled with a bit of indignation for his continuous self reproach. We can only learn from our mistakes, and when we will face the eggbreaker again, we will tear him apart.
Eragon smiled inwardly at her encouragement and tried to get up, but Saphira's snout protruded from under her wing, her sapphire eyes staring at him intently.
You are hiding something, and you know what that implies.
I'm not!Eragon said with conviction, trying to sound convincing, even if this battle had a single outcome.
Something tells me not to trust you, Saphira added mischievously, digging her snout into his chest hard enough to send him tumbling.
I've broken Angela's trust, he conceded, a sigh of regret escaping him. With it, he felt a part of his worries vanishing. Even if he felt reluctant to say it, his mind urged him to do it, and no matter how hard he tried to deny it, he wanted the same.
Saphira withdrew her head and hissed threateningly, baring her teeth.
But she had forgiven me, Eragon said with alacrity to escape the wrath of a dragoness. And she never felt offended in the first place…
Saphira's threatening snarl quickly turned into a docile display. Looking briefly at Eragon, the dragoness slowly settled her massive body on the ground.
Although he was a bit surprised by Saphira's sudden decision of not pursuing this topic further, he said nothing as he gazed into her eyes. The deep, sapphire colored eyes that he knew so well gleamed with a strange feeling, something that was as difficult to recognize as a drifting object amidst the swirling waters of the ocean.
However, he did not escape the consequences of his actions and, before he had the change to get up from his laying position, Saphira brought her snout forward, nuzzling his arm in a loving, yet rough way, you act worse than a snooping hatchling when I leave you alone, little one. No matter the circumstances, you are bound to make a mistake, just like a young dragon whose unrestrained sense of curiosity drags him into all kinds of dangerous situations.
Eragon tried to appreciate the affection displayed by his partner-of-mind-and-soul as best as he could, but the force which pressed his arm against his body and the constant rubbing motion was more painful than pleasant.
I…understand, Saphira… I will try not to- he managed to say before his thoughts were cut short, a cough escaping his throat when Saphira pressed her snout against his chest.
A moment after the sickly sound announced that something was amiss, Eragon felt the pressure vanish as Saphira lifted her head slightly, giving him more room. The warm gusts of air which rolled out of her nostrils ceased their delicate touch as she turned her head away, looking briefly into the distance before beginning to lick at one of her paws.
Eragon took this opportunity to reposition his body into a more comfortable position, snuggling closer to Saphira's ribs for extra warmth. Then, he placed his head on her large foreleg and turned on his back, facing the light blue membrane which did not allow even the tiniest specks of light to pass through.
I know I am not as wise as any of the ones we are traveling with, but I don't need the wisdom of an ancient dragon to see that something is troubling you.
The sound of Saphira's tongue brushing against her sapphire scales stopped briefly before it continued once again, is there any reason why should I be troubled by anything except the fact that you get in all kinds of troubles while I am away?
Eragon smiled wryly, losing the count about how many times he heard that from Saphira. Still, he did not let his mind wander astray as he quickly arranged his thoughts, I would not mind if that was indeed the cause of your worries, but it is not.
Saphira was quiet for a moment, tending to her paw before she let out a soft growl, you should not burden your thoughts with so many worries, little one. How can one fly peacefully if you don't release those weights?
The memory of the events that quickly succeeded ever since Galbatorix's arrival quickly flashed through Eragon's mind. He remembered the emotions that took hold of him, the anger and the helplessness he felt after the dark king bested him as easily as a common soldier. He remembered how he snapped at Saphira, the only being he could share his burden with, and how he unwillingly hurt her.
Coming with his mind back to the present, Eragon extended his hand and brushed it against the tough, smooth scales of Saphira's foreleg, I wish I could do that, Saphira, but it is impossible for me to be indifferent to the cause of your worries.
Saphira snorted, you're being silly again, Eragon. Unlike you, I did not spend my time with that two legged herbalist whose tongue is more annoying than those pointy- sticks-with-metal-tip the two-legged use to catch their prey that sometimes try to pierce my hide.
Eragon sighed, his fingers playing with one of Saphira's scales, maybe you are right, but ever since you came back you were more different, more… affectionate, Eragon said kindly, allowing his feelings to flow freely across the Rider's bond, and you also mentioned about hatchlings several times.
No answer except a low growl came from Saphira as she turned her attention to her other paw, which she began to lick with soft tongue strokes.
After a short while, she said with a slight feeling of indignation, you're thinking too deep, little one. Who else do you want me to compare you with? Thick-headed, pink skinned two legged hatchlings that cannot even move around properly?
I did not mean that, Eragon said apologetically, resuming the soft, up and down move of his hand against Saphira's foreleg, it's just that I could feel it and even see it in your eyes… he paused for a moment, trying to put his thoughts into words.
You desire not to be alone anymore… you desire hatchlings.
Saphira's tail curled around her body, its thin, yet muscular tip gently pressing against Eragon's side, I'm surprised that you managed to find out that easily, she said, growling softly as she turned her head around, looking briefly at Eragon, but it is best if you do not ponder upon this matter. As close as we may be to one another, you are still a human, and you cannot understand a great deal of things about a dragon's life. Every creature of this world, even those puny ants you found so fascinating, are born with a very important purpose: to reproduce, passing on their legacy to this land when they will be no more, she said with a bit of spite in her usual soft voice.
I'm trying my best, Saphira… and I know that you probably suffer because of the inability to have a mate. I know because I- he suddenly stopped, wanting not to mention anything about Arya in a moment like this, … I know that you felt like this just before we arrived in Elesmera.
Growling softly, Saphira placed her head on her left front paw, and nothing changed, despite your assuring words that I will find a dragon that I can call my mate.
A slight feeling of sorrow, like the passing of a small torrent of water, washed over Eragon. Although Saphira closed her mind from him as to keep her thoughts private, Eragon could only imagine her true feelings, knowing that the future of her race was a dire one.
She is right. Who am I to tell her reassuring words when I'm not in her predicament? I cannot truly understand her, not when our race flourishes while Thorn and Shruikan, the only mature dragons, are on the empire's side, not to mention that their minds are probably shattered due to the torture they have to endure with each passing day, Eragon thought within confines of his mind.
I will do my best to put an end to this war, and then-
Eragon was interrupted by the distinctive sound a dragon would make when it snarls, you are brave, Eragon, and your resolution did not falter despite the hardships that got in your way, but ending the war is not a mere achievement. I would like nothing more than to dig my claws into the eggbreaker's frail body and ravage him until his life slowly sweeps away, but we are not prepared…
Eragon frowned at Saphira's words, which lost any trace of her fierce self. Where are the conviction and the determination to kill the king? Does she also think that I am not capable of defeating Galbatorix?
Anger slowly seeped in Eragon's already tired mind as he thought more and more about what he would do, until the image of Galbatorix standing tall, sword in hand, appeared in his mind.
Then we will train and become powerful enough to match his skill! The Rock of Kuthian may very well hold the power that would allow us to defeat him, and that's our priority now, Eragon said, gently running his hand across Saphira's foreleg, I understand your pain, Saphira, but it will pass, just like the last time. After the end of the war, you could-
Saphira growled with indignation, a fierce growl which made Eragon's body jolt in response, you're looking too far ahead, Eragon. The fate of this land is more uncertain than the life of a helpless deer who struggles to live another day without meeting the deadly claws of a predator that would put an end to its struggles.
Suddenly, Saphira lifted her massive bulk, tucking her wings next to her body as she moved forward.
We should return to the others.
That we have, yet… Eragon thought, dreading the moment when he would have to face Angela once again. Before he could say something else, however, Saphira launched herself into the air and soared across the plains, leaving him but one option to make his way to their camp.