The gusts of wind kept ruffling Eragon's hair, the rebellious strings irritating his eyes, blanketing his vision. For the past few moments, the chilling winds from the west swept dirt laden gusts at him, forcing him to constantly clear his vision by brushing his dust filled hair aside. In the open plains, his body was naked, almost as vulnerable as his mind.
Thought after thought, worries and different plans converged in savage rapids, molding the foundation of his mind with their power. What was once a basic mind clad in morality, patched with different teachings about life and covered in a thick layer of instructions that taught one how to live from one day to another now turned into a real library lined with more books that the shelves could support. Eragon had a difficult time filtering each thought or possible solution through his untrained mind. He was never good at giving pompous advices or dealing with something that required acumen, not brawn. The battle was easy: kill or be killed, strike before the opponent had time to recuperate, avoid as many injuries as you can. But in front of the cascading thoughts, Eragon was tiny, helpless, unable to recuperate. It was a different battle, and the outcome would not be deadly, but the importance of wining was present.
Eragon liked to think that she knew Saphira intimately. As partners of mind and soul, there should be no boundaries between their minds. If so, then why was he having a hard time accepting her subtle disagreement? The whole land depended on their success, and failure was not an option. Eragon understood that. Saphira did too. Then why would she postpone the inevitable and accept a winding, darkening path which was more uncertain than fate itself? Even if she would find a possible mate by a miracle of chance, Galbatorix would capture them and the hatchling and seal Alagaesia's fate forever.
"No", Eragon said under his breath, his hands gripping the edges of the tunic. "I can't let that happening."
Blood flushed through his cheeks, adding color to the wan, bony face of the exhausted Rider. His brown eyes looked piercingly at the color torn sky above and his fists clenched.
"No," he said with a firm, determined voice. "We'll find the Rock of Kuthian and end Galbatorix's reign of chaos. If our happiness is a victory's tribute, then so be it."
Nuances of pink and orange rippled on the edge of the horizon where the incandescent sun began its ascension. The laden dew grass moistened Eragon's tan leather boots, the soggy texture acquiring the nuance of deer excrement. Eragon smiled when he looked at them and make the connection. In the woods, this was a hunter's method to track animals, and it was a pretty efficient one too.
After a tedious trek back to the makeshift camp, Eragon was surprised to find everyone almost ready for departure and disappointed, almost a bit angry that neither Angela nor Arya betrayed any clue that they might want to eat before the flight. From afar, Arya glanced at him with vivid emerald eyes and smiled uncertainly before she turned towards Saphira to strap the remaining saddle bags.
"Don't be so sulky and limp," Angela said compassionately, covering the remaining distance in several strides. "You make the morning look ugly, and when the nature is ugly it rains, and when it rains, mushrooms sprout, which is great, but now I can't pick them, and when it rains, Solembum's fur becomes soggy, and Solembum does not like his beautiful coat damp."
Eragon nodded with an obvious lack of interest and did not even bother following Angela's enthusiastic gesticulation, her arms pointing at a myriad of things and her expression ever changing as if she was a very experienced story teller explaining to someone a much too captivating part of her life.
"I'm sure you don't like your clothes wet, Eragon," she giggled and hit him in the arm slightly, running towards Saphira.
At least she has a good day, Eragon thought bitterly and followed Angela. Eragon acknowledged Saphira with a hearty, genuine smile and prepared to climb onto her back when a sapphire wing buffeted, blocking his way.
Little one, that was pathetic, she gently chided and lowered her head to meet him. Feeling his defenses shattered, Eragon snorted and hugged her snout, allowing their bond to melt his worries and solidify most of the positive aspects. He was not alone anymore, and for that, he was grateful.
The harmonious sound of a steady beating of wings was usually music to Eragon's ears, the thrilling flapping overwhelming him with the absolute sense of freedom. In the air, he was no longer a mere human fettered by the fundamental rules that created this world. He defied them. With Saphira, he was a being of the sky as much as she was.
What was once bliss now became a monotonous bare, as if a once powerful magic has dissipated, leaving only shades of grey behind. Saphira's wings effortlessly hit the air, her mind and body engaged in a fight with a puny yet persistent force. It was a simple and irritating sound that embedded itself in Eragon's ears and repeat, then again, until its dull repetition summoned a state of lethargy. Eragon was already under its macabre influence, his head hung limply above his chest, eyelids threatening to blank her drousy emerald eyes. She too was caught in the same timeless dimension of lethargy.
Eragon wanted to fight against it and tell her something, but it never came. Only Angela seemed to resist it; her eccentric, mindless nature was much too peculiar to be contained. Ecstatic as a child, she smiled and pointed up and below, whispering something to Solembum. The curled werecat was calm and docile, yet his eyes sparkled with mysterious intelligence.
Something is bothering you. Eragon quailed and shifted in the saddle uneasily when Saphira suddenly shattered the unnerving silence.
Many things bother me, he said, trying to keep a low profile. He did not feel quite prepared to bring the night's discussion back to life and tell her just how much some simple thoughts could turn his mind into minced meat. When his mind was too busy to reply, the growl of his stomach had taken the opportunity to do so.
Saphira glared at him and hissed, angling her body downwards. Arya immediately started and let out a short, high pitched scream and Solembum growled and spat while Angela dug her hands on the saddle, squeezing the leather texture for dear life.
You can't. I won't let you…
I know my predicament! Eragon yelled in her mind. But there is no food here. Not for some of us. [/i]
Eragon, I've seen skeletons looking healthier, Saphira retorted. Would you put your life in danger for some absurd, old and irrational principle? We are predators, not prey.
I'm not, Eragon said uncertainly, looking back and forth at the other confused and apprehensive travelers. They were now in the middle of the plains, and even if Saphira was to land because of her indomitable resolution, it would only delay the promise of a hearty meal.
It's only a small sacrifice. I know what lack of food means. When Garrow… he suddenly stopped. In his state, even the mentioning of his name almost brought tears to his eyes. His image was still vivid in Eragon's mind, and his memories of the time spent as a farmer were as clear as they were back when his life had known no pain, or responsibility, or burden.
You're being obstinate, Saphira concluded, clearly unimpressed by the past. There is no preservation in avoiding your part in the life cycle, and no predator dies of hunger because remorse crept up in its mind.
Then I'm a fortunate one, seeing as…
I will gather them! Angela suddenly intervened, her voice merry and untroubled. Fruits, berries, nuts, mushrooms, all will make their way into my bag to help a Rider in distress.
Thank you, Eragon tried to say, but…
But there is no forest here, Angela remarked, looking below inquisitively. If you land, then I will have to gather some plants, and it will take almost an entire day.
No, Eragon and Saphira replied in unison, much to Angela's displeasure. She immediately returned to her previous activity, pointing over yonder and whispering to Solembum. Saphira too seemed convinced by the barren nature of this land and pulled up, gaining as much altitude as she could before she settled on a demanding soar across the vast plains.
Saphira still tried to convince Eragon to give up his ideals in favor of the much needed nourishment, but he was a tough nut to crack. After enduring more than just simple hunger, Eragon was not about to betray Oromis's teachings or obliterate his bond with the nature because of Saphira's persistence.
White, fluffy clouds sometimes obscured the sun which had almost completed its ascension. Stiff, with his limbs aching and the back too rigid to allow flexible moves, Eragon welcomed the break from the prolonged flight. Saphira landed in a small glen overshadowed by mighty tall trees. A small brook meandered not far away, and Arya was the first one to dash towards it like a duckling. Having spent more time than she wanted in the saddle and slept on parched plain soil, it was obvious that she felt dirty and constricted by unpleasant smells.
Unlikely as it sounded at first, Angela jumped from the saddle before Saphira even landed and shot towards the forest, her slender petite form lithely jumping over small bumps in the ground and disappeared into the forest faster than Eragon thought it is possible for one of her physique. Although he felt better after reconciling with his inner self, Eragon needed more than just a momentary peace and silence to get over it. He needed to talk to Saphira. It was a good moment. But duty comes before personal affairs, and the sapphire dragoness barely had time to land properly before she took off, scanning the area for possible prey that might replace the pitiful meal she had the previous night and scouting the area for more landmarks.
Arya was the first to return to the fallen tree log which Eragon used as a personal support. It was also the most prominent object in the area and served as a camp mark. Her soggy raven hair hung like ribbons of black silk on her neck, and the frail at aspect but strong in reality arms lost their mottled aspect as water washed down the dirt and blood from the previous battle. Garbed in a new tunic and leggings, Arya was fresh like a forest pine in the morning, reborn in a cleansed body.
After she unfurled the bundle of wet clothes and placed them on the fallen tree trunk to bask in the sun, she sat a small distance away from Eragon, looking at him quizzically, as if he was unsure whether to respect an invisible consent they shared or refuse to do so.
"I don't—I mean, I'm not that dirty," Eragon finally answered when Arya's eyes settled on his tunic. His innocent answer immediately brought a smile on Arya's face, her features even more beautiful as lines perfectly curved on her cheeks.
"The smell hints different." Eragon was stunned for a moment. If Arya could notice it from that distance, then the previous flights…her proximity to him while on Saphira's back…
It's downright embarrassing! Eragon thought and fled for the river in a heartbeat. As the water ran down, Eragon felt invigorated, powerful, and cold. The cool liquid sent tremors across his body every time he clenched his teeth and splashed another wave of freezing water on his upper body, repeating in his mind that the current one was going to be the last. Alas, the tunic was so stained and the blood so dried that his calculations could not be less accurate. Fortunately, there was still a spare tunic and leggings in one of the saddlebags, and Eragon did not even bother washing his previous clothes. The tattered tunic and the dingy leggings were abandoned in a bush as he made his way back to Arya.
When he returned, the first thing that came into his sight were two figures and a cat, and one of them, the elegant and majestic elf, was glaring at the scrawny, disheveled herbalist whose words, seemingly of praise, were only for Solembum. When Eragon noticed what the two small brown furred objects laying on the ground were, he frowned.
"It's Solembum who hunted them," Angela said, picking the two dead rabbits and showing them to Eragon. "He's a mighty hunter, just like Saphira."
Unsure of what to think just yet, Eragon settled next to Arya, opposite to Angela, who lay on the grass in front of her. As soon as Eragon's eyes fixed on the bag sitting next to Angela, a single question embedded in his mind.
"Of course, he's more agile than a dragon, his reflexes are sharper than Saphira's and he's not as prideful and self-important as she is." Eragon escaped a chuckle and Arya smiled wryly, but none of them dared contradict her. If Saphira was here, Angela would sorely regret her words.
"Feed, you bipedal goat," Angela said and threw the bag at Eragon's feet. There was a note of irritation in her voice, but Eragon cared more about the fruits than the gatherer, and his hands snaked on the fruits. He wolfed down the first one, which was in the verge of decay. It was quite disgusting, but hunger allowed no pretensions to taste. The others, however, were in a worse shape, and the rancid smell made Eragon's empty stomach lurch.
"This—this is…"
"This is what I could find, dear," Angela said calmly and moved around to pick several tried twigs which she placed in a pile, then used a spell to set them on fire.
Both Arya and Eragon looked at each other, puzzled by what this herbalist truly was. Maybe she was a sorceress like Trianna, or something more.
"Would you have washed if I hadn't told you?" Arya said with amusement. She was quite delighted that he was now clean, and when Eragon murmured something that was masked by Angela's shout when an ember jumped from the fire straight at her, Arya trudged closer to him. They were only at an arm's distance, and the smell of crushed pine needles allured Eragon's senses.
"If I didn't, then Saphira would have forced me to."
"What is it like?" Arya said. "What is it like to have a partner of mind and soul, to know what perfect understanding means, to live a double existence, with your world for yourself and its center present in your partner?"
Silence followed, and Eragon's mirth met a barrier. His bond wish Saphira was much too familiar to him, but explaining it to someone, even to Arya, was difficult.
"Is that what love is? It must be…" she trailed off, looking at the sky, at the trees, at the forest, and then into his eyes. "I thought I knew what it is. I was certain I grasped it once, but I have forgotten what it feels like."
"It feels…good," Eragon reassured her, still trying to find the right words to describe it.
"Eating this will make you feel even better," Angela said and turned around, showing the roasted skewered rabbit to Eragon.
His greedy eyes were mesmerized by its color, its textures, and the smell. The divine smell made his mouth water. Trying to break the temptation, Eragon shook his head and looked around for the other rabbit, which was now moving away. Solembum picked it into his mouth and retreated to a safe distance before he began gorging on it.
"We don't eat meat Angela," Arya said. "You ought to know that by now."
Eragon knew it. The thick barrier erected by his will, the wall that stood between him and the tasty morsel. Eragon borrowed this habit from the elves because it seemed right at that moment, when he trained with Oromis, but now, it was not only unfair, but illogical. Should he, as a predator, truly limit his functions to the ones of a prey simply because he tried to defy the nature's rules and follow the elves? Saphira's words rang clearly in his mind, an almost inevitable push. His eyes gleamed with ravenous hunger, and in an instant, he could not contain it any longer.
Before he even knew it, Eragon picked the rabbit from Angela's hand and wolfed it down despite Arya's strange look that resembled disappointment and Angela's smile of encouragement.
"That's more like it," she said and got up, striding towards Solembum who finished his meal too.
Arya had yet to recover from her surprise, and her gaze was now quite unnerving, when the rabbit was a pile of bones situated near Eragon's feet.
"I was hungry," Eragon finally admitted. He hoped that an honest excuse will get him through, but elves were quite vehement when it came to protect their tradition.
"I am hungry too, Eragon, but I'm not about to surrender to my instincts because of temptation."
"It's not like that," Eragon said sternly. "We are predators."
"We are what we choose to be," Arya said and lifted her body off the forest floor. "But predators are a part of this world as much as prey is. If there is a different way, is it necessary to act like a predator?"
"You are right, but I was born this way," Eragon added, but Arya did not fall for it. "It doesn't come that easy for me when Roran and Garrow relied on my hunting skills to survive." Eragon got up too, matching her powerful stare with his own. "It was a lifestyle for me."
"You already proved that you are capable of change," Arya said and prepared to head into the woods. Eragon tried to follow her, but just when they were about to leave the glen, the flapping of wings stopped them from continuing with their plans.
By the time Saphira landed, Angela was already near the fallen tree trunk with Eragon and Arya. After sharing her findings, the most significant being the lack of prey, Arya and Eragon buckled the saddle bags and assumed their usual positions in the saddle with Angela at the rear. It was going to be another long flight.
I think the title is pretty good for this chapter, because it represents an important part of it. Well, it's finally another Eragon chapter! many of you have been waiting for it, so here it is, hoping that you will enjoy it.
I know it's been quite a while since I last updated, but I promise to get back on track and post the updates faster. It's becoming a little harder now, with all that plot burdening me, but I'll do my best. I dunno what to say about this chapter... it's quite a contrast of quality and non quality. Some parts are iffy, some are good. I quite liked the second half of it though.
Also, I got a grand total of 1 review for the last chapter. I think most of you were burned out with MxT chapters, so if you are still alive, show me that you like Eragon chapters more.