It is not far.
Bursting into another dash, Eragon went around the mountain, its size and untamed slopes too treacherous to climb. Arya's consciousness shone like a dim beacon—the only one—that could guide him to her and hopefully, Saphira.
"Saphira, wake up!" Eragon coughed, his desperate need of air overwhelming his fears.
"Please wake up…" Even from a few feet away, Saphira's consciousness was beyond Eragon's ability to sense.
A low growl rumbled from Saphira's throat, followed by the mental touch and the voice which Eragon desperately wanted to hear.
Little one, Saphira said, pushing her snout affectionately into Eragon's chest.
Eragon almost lost the balance his trembling legs provided, but the voice of his partner-of-mind-and-soul was enough to abolish even the most debilitating of weaknesses.
"I will pay for my weakness," Eragon bawled. "I will heal you."
Saphira growled faintly, I am used to pain, little one, and my body will heal over time, whether you intervene or not.
Eragon was struck by Saphira's resolve. Was she willing to spare him of the energy he would use at the cost of her own comfort, or were her injuries as insignificant as she said they were?
Don't be stubborn in such a moment, Saphira, Eragon said, taking a few steps back. Healing you will not cost me anything unless—
His train of thought was suddenly cut off when Saphira moved one of her front paws, moving the whole length of her bulk to get closer to him.
Like before, she wanted to touch him with her snout, but Eragon quickly moved past her neck, denying her affection.
You are not being honest with me, he smirked as he kneeled before her paw to inspect it more closely. Two of the three claws which her lengthy fingers ended with were bended awkwardly. Small amounts of blood coated the base of the claws, covering the scales which protected even the unharmed ones.
Without wasting any time, Eragon spoke the words that healed the damage almost in an instant.
You'll have to do better to convince me next time, Eragon said, running his hand against her paw to make sure that everything was healed
I spoke the truth, little one, Saphira said, curling her neck. That wound would have healed by itself after a few days.
Well, Eragon said as he got up. I prefer not to hear any more of these truths until I will see these unimportant injuries with my own eyes.
Snarling, Saphira took advantage of Eragon's lack of attention to push him to the ground. Now you are stubborn, she said, bringing her snout closer to his face. Arya is the one who healed most of my injuries after the sky bested me, so you better save the little energy that still springs beneath that tough skin of yours.
I won't, Eragon rolled, escaping her field of vision. Combining both his agility and his keen eyesight, Eragon circled Saphira's body, looking for any injuries while evading her pitiful attempts to make him reconsider. Although Saphira's words calmed him a little bit, Eragon was horrified to notice the amount of scrapes, punctures and bloody patches that stained Saphira's scales. Her wings were slashed in numerous places, dying the membrane of her wings with streaks of red. Numerous gashes were still oozing blood, the scales of her hide too weak to protect the soft flesh that cowered behind their protection. What was worst, however, was the spread of these injuries. They were so many and covered such a wide area of her body to the point where they overwhelmed Eragon with their number. No part of Saphira's body remained untouched, except for her head and a good portion of her neck.
Eventually, Saphira stopped her playful attempts and extended her snout towards Eragon, seeking comfort. The look in her sparkling sapphire eyes and the affection she showed him almost brought Eragon on the verge of crying.
Why, Saphira? He said, embracing the warmth of her snout. Why do you want to suffer like that when I can rid you of this burden?
Because I know better than you, she calmly replied. Scratches such as these ones bother a dragon for only a couple of days before they fully heal.
No, Eragon shook his head. No…I cannot sit idly when I can do something about it.
Saphira tried to reason with him, but Eragon would not have it. Dismissing any of her attempts to convince him otherwise with short answers, Eragon moved towards her side, where two disturbing injuries were located—one in the midsection of her wing, and one at the base of her tail.
Without waiting for Saphira, Eragon slowly pulled her wing down, anticipating resistance. However, there was none. Complying with his wishes, Saphira slowly lowered her wing, blanketing the human with its velvety membrane.
Placing his hand over the bone that was positioned in a slightly weird angle, Eragon spoke the healing words yet again.
Saphira released a short growl, but that was all the trouble she had to endure for a bone that could have impaired her ability to fly.
Eragon, however, was not benefiting from the same luxury as Saphira did. By solely providing the energy from his already weakened body, he began to feel the effects of intense fatigue and dizziness; a dangerous combination for a spell caster who needed focus and mental agility. Dropping on his knees, the Rider crawled towards the end of Saphira's body.
I am very greatful for your assistance, little one, but you should stop before-
I won't stop, Eragon said, immune to the concerns that oozed from Saphira. There are other ways, and the plants will provide what I can no longer sustain.
Do as you wish, Saphira added, bringing her snout closer to his form while her tail curled around protectively.
"I…will," Eragon voiced out his thoughts before he planted a shaky arm on the ground for extra support. Then, he extended his mind towards his surroundings. It was just like before, only that what he needed to do now was to exert a little force on any living thing to gain its energy. It was a technique known by only a few, but used with much ease once the caster would become familiar with it.
Eragon fit into such category, but he preferred not to abuse this skill unless the need was dire or there was no other way. And now, he had no other sources of energy at his disposal. He was desperate, and it was because due to this desperation that he didn't care who or what had to give its life in order for Saphira to feel better.
After isolating the chosen energy sources, Eragon began to pull on their energy turn by turn. Creature or plant, it did not matter what it was as long as it paid its contribution.
But there was a problem.
Eragon's energy reserves were not bolstered. That meant that there was no contribution. It meant that there was an issue. It meant failure.
Raking the soil with his fingers, Eragon tried even harder, but it was useless. In the end, his efforts were pointless.
Frustration started to settle in as a response to his failure, a nuisance that would make this whole process harder than it already was.
Eragon sighed, but did not give up. Focusing his attention on a single insect, he attempted to pull the life force out of it. An unsuccessful attempt it was, same as before, but this time Eragon could finally see – or better, feel—the reason of his failure.
A strange layer of unknown energy was placed between the insect and his consciousness, preventing any kind of energy transfer between the two of them. It was a shield, a strange, impenetrable one that appeared to protect any life form, be it plant or animal.
Eragon fell on the ground. How could he come with answers when he couldn't help Saphira? How could he help Saphira if he couldn't find such answers?
Such dilemmas outsmarted an individual such as him.
I cannot… Eragon thought. I cannot drain them.. I am weak… far too weak… And there's blood… so much blood…
Then stop, Saphira growled. Why insisting on healing what will heal by itself?
Eragon's resolution did not bend even as Saphira tried her best to make him reconsider through words of persuasion and physical contact.
"Strength?" Eragon said faintly, just as Saphira pushed her snout through the gap below his armpit.. "I'm still strong enough to do this…"
An invigorating riptide of energy seeped into Eragon's being, energizing him with a much needed boost of fortitude.
Then, a short growl followed, a low, deep growl that did not express physical pain, as Eragon heard earlier.
Let that be the last one you heal, Eragon, Saphira said, nudging him in the ribs. If you don't stop now, we'll both pass into the void before you realize it.
Eragon lifted a shaky hand and stroke her snout. Head hanging low, he looked upon the marvelous dragoness that had her head placed on the ground beneath him. They way her scales were woven to both protect and decorate her intricate hide and the lustrous and caring sapphire eyes that looked into his were strikingly appealing, and only the thought of seeing those flawless scales covered in scrapes and wounds added more to his unfaltering determination
I can't bear to see you injured, not when it is in my power to heal you.
Placing his hands on the tough soil, Eragon moved closer to her tail. He was convinced that he could stand up to his beliefs, but a few words and a self-deceiving determination could not unearth secret sources of energy.
With a low groan escaping his throat Eragon collapsed on the ground, his muscles too weak to support his weight. I can't…
I am not that weak, Eragon. The sting of solitude is the only one that hurts the most. With the rest, I have become used to.
Eragon was yet again surprised when Saphira darted her snout towards him. She sought comfort into him, and even if Eragon was no dragon that could cuddle next to her and protect her body under a large, majestic wing, he could show that he was there for her in other ways.
And so, he placed her arms around her snout, gently stroking and scratching her scales. Saphira whimpered softly, basking in his gentle touch.
I cannot understand the pain you are going through as long as you don't allow me to help. I understand that this is something that may not concern me, but I want to do something, anything to ease your suffering.
This is not something you can help me with, little one, Saphira said. You look at it as an unnecessary weight, but it is not quite so. The urge to reproduce is something every dragon has experienced in its life ever since our species emerged into this world.
I am alone in this, and I would prefer it to be so.
But there is nothing a Rider and his Dragon would not share, Eragon pressed on. Remember the teachings of Oromis and Glaedr—
I do remember, Eragon, said Saphira with a bit of spite in her mental voice, but I do not happen to agree with some of their teachings, nor the vision they had.
Even if the bond that binds us is stronger than any other, our species are too different for us to completely understand each other. Dragons will never deny a mate as two legs sometimes do over words and material needs.
A predator ends the life of others and sustain itself so it can reproduce when the time is appropriate. The ultimate goal of every species is to increase its numbers, and it's mainly because of the irresistible push that the instincts force upon them that they comply. You pink skins are the only ones that resist this rule, for no other creature can resist the raw impulses of such primary instincts.
Eragon was taken aback by Saphira's unyieldingness. Could dragons go as far as ignore reason completely? Could Saphira endanger herself by pursuing Thorn or Shruikan, one of the remaining males of her age?
No… there should be a spell or something that-
Eragon's suggestion was reduced to silence by the sight of barred teeth.
I would never agree with something so unnatural and vile. My instincts are not to be blamed that one of your own went mad and obliterated my entire species. If the Riders never existed, then there is not a single trace of doubt that I would have found a mate.
He will fall, Saphira, I promise you when—
I will not speak about this any further, little one. The seed of your intentions is pure and noble, but do not let it sprout into something different. This is not something we can go through together.
You are not one of my kind.
Eragon could only watch, his mind too petrified to think. Then, after a few moments of silence passed between the two bonded partners, Saphira settled her head on the ground, coiling her tail and serpentine neck protectively around her Rider.
Eragon did nothing. His body lay unmoving on the ground, twitching only when an uncontrollable shiver would move into a different part of his body, warming it with the use of a primitive, yet effective method. But he did not have to endure it for long.
The bulk of Saphira protected him against the chilling winds, and the slightly moist breath that rolled rhythmically out of her nostrils provided extra warmth.
With all the comfort and the warmth he was provided with, it was no wonder that Eragon was losing contact with the reality. His depleted body was in desperate need of rest and recovery, something made persistently clear by the lethargy that gripped Eragon out of a sudden.
He could barely keep his eyelids open, lest move a limb. And he would give in to the overpowering sensation of tiredness were it not for one single thought that kept him alert.
Arya…
Eragon groaned and rolled onto his belly. Placing an unsteady arm on the ground, he tried to get his uncooperative body to stand up until Saphira opened her eyes.
What are you doing, little one? She asked softly, bringing the injured wing that shielded him from the cold closer to his body. If it is warmth you seek, then I can easily provide it.
Eragon allowed his feelings of gratitude to travel across their bond as he was incapable of expressing them in another manner.
The cold is not of bother, Eragon said. Arya, I want to see how Arya is.
Saphira exhaled a mighty onrush of heated air, she is doing what you were about to do. Close your mind to any thought and rest, little one.
Eragon remained silent and watched how Saphira drowsily closed her eyes.
However, he was not going to follow her advice. Shaking his head in an attempt to refresh his weakened senses, Eragon began crawling towards a small gap between Saphira's wing and tail.
One palm at a time, Eragon advanced slowly, but not quite surely. Even when crawling he wobbled. His mind was first to betray a cruel adversary that would extract adj pleasure from those he bested, the ground began to harass him with spinning, unsteady motions meant to throw his weakened body off balance. Sight was no longer an ally, for spheres and flickers of light began to flicker in and out of existence, their erratic movements too quick to be followed.
But Eragon pressed on, despite the odds that allied themselves against him.
It was not certain how, or why Eragon found the willpower to keep going, but through sheer determination he managed to crawl under the wing that protected Saphira's other side and the elf that dwell under it.
Eragon blinked a few times, his eyes fixing on the familiar figure. He no longer remembered what the purpose behind his efforts was or what the shape in front of him was. What pressed him forward at this stage was an intense feeling of curiosity, like he wanted to confirm something that was lost amidst the haze of memory.
Resuming his exhausting efforts, Eragon crawled forward. Slow and clumsy, he kept advancing. He went past her feet, then past her torso, and, when he could finally look upon the face of the one he was so eager to reach, an overpowering blackness robbed Eragon of his awareness, and he collapsed without resisting it.