Eragon leaned against Saphira's foreleg, watching the few stray clouds that drifted towards the setting sun.
He felt tired and withered, almost like one of the herbs Angela spoke so highly of when the sun was still bright.
Can you remind me why we took her with us? Eragon thought not only to himself.
The dragon switched her gaze towards him, puffing a cloud of moisture that sparkled under the fiery bright rays.
She just came along, Saphira said, inhaling the cold evening air.
Eragon pulled his dirty tunic closer to his chest. Yes, I know, but it wasn't me who asked for her company.
Me neither, Saphira snorted. I do not like flying with more two-legs on my back.
Come on, Saphira, Eragon said, rubbing her scaled foreleg. We're not that much of a burden for a mighty dragon.
You would know better if you were one, Saphira said, her eyes sparkling with various sapphire hues as she gazed at the sun.
There would be a way. Eragon remembered when he saw the world through Saphira's eyes, but he quickly shook his head in denial. He did not want to experience everything Saphira felt or thought. There were certain thoughts she wanted to conceal, and Ergon knew better than violating her only sanctuary.
"Eragon."
Eragon looked behind. It was Arya.
"I want to talk to you."
Eragon was slightly distracted by her eyes, which stared kindly back at him.
"Yes, come here, he beckoned invitingly. "It's much warmer than…well, everywhere."
Arya briefly hesitated, but Saphira removed her doubts by lifting her wing.
"Thank you, Brightscales," Arya rubbed Saphira's snout, then disappeared under her closed wing.
"It is darker than I expected."
"You'll see warmth and protection once you spend more time here," Eragon replied.
"Probably," Arya's lips widened in a sincere smile. "It doesn't really matter if we can see each other."
Eragon waited for Arya to settle down before he spoke again.
"Warm, isn't it?" he chuckled when Arya inspected her surroundings with soft touches of her hand.
"It…is, but I did not come here to spoil myself." Arya became more serious. "The Varden should know about the reformation of the dwarven clans. And their knew king."
"We can scry someone who could spread the message."
"It is not impossible," Arya looked towards Eragon. "It requires little effort on our part, but the results wil be unpredictable and beyond our reach. There is no way to know how Nasuada will take this information, and if my people will believe it."
"But it's our word," Eragon said. "My word as a Rider."
Arya shook her head. "No. It's the word of a dwarf, and one that was not at the height of his senses." She frowned. "We only took claim of a drunk's advice."
"He seemed convincing enough, " Eragon said. "And did not stutter, nor mingle his words.
Arya gripped his hand, making Eragon shudder. IT was warmer than him, softer.
"I believe your words, Eragon. He might have not lied, but we cannot verify if what he said is the pure, unaltered truth."
Eragon looked at Arya, saying no other words. Her facial expression spoke for itself, anyway. Eragon learned to descipher the emotions encased in a mask of reflections and distortions. Or maybe it was Arya who let her stone-cold façade dull. Whatever it was, it did not matter in that moment because Eragon could feel the worry that crept inside her as his own.
"I have to go back to the Varden, to my people… I feel that I could help more than I do here."
"Finding a way to bring about the end of Galbatorix is the priority, and I need your knowledge and your support."
"You're thelast free Rider, Eragon. Oromis and Glaedr have granted you more knowledge than they did to any other elf while your skill with sword has beaten Murtagh once. I believe you are better prepared than you give yourself credit for."
"You forgot to mention that growing crops and working fields are two other talents I'll use against the tyrant," Eragon laughed.
"I would not know if you didn't tell me. That part of your life had remained behind along with your wold self," Arya said.
"It did," Eragon replied. Leaning further against the natural seat provided by Saphira's hind leg and muscular body. "But I don't trust only my opinion. Come here."
Arya glared at him. "Why?"
"Because you don't like the cold."
Arya was still glaring.
"And because I can't hear you well over Saphira's loud breathing."
Arya laughed. It happened so rarely that it seemed more like one of the many phantasms the mind is using to trick gullible fools. But the ethereal melody was not a false one.
"You're unfair to Saphira, and also wrong."
Eragon's hand increased its grip on the sapphire scales it grabbed. Could his gamble fail? Arya was among the ones who were persuaded the last.
"But I won't refuse you," she added with a smile. "Words travel the same, no matter the circumstances."
"It is not important on how they do it?" Asked Eragon.
"Not if you get the message," Arya said before leaning her weight into Eragon's inviting arms.
"At least let me explain you the rules of 'wheat and weeds," Eragon insisted.
"Not until we talk of what's important," Arya interrupted.
"This is important. It's the only game where cheating is the only way to win."
"Very astute, Eragon. We should invite Galbatorix and have a contest."
"I'd lose, and he'd definitely lose if Saphira plays. Cheating is harder than the game itself, and the only way to do it without being noticed is to undermine the rules, which are inexplicably and irrevocably absurd."
Arya turned her eyes to Eragon, seemingly interested in what she was hearing.
"What is the purpose of such game?"
Eragon smiled. "It separates the stuck-ups from the open minded."
"That is peculiar. I can't see why anyone would play it."
"I…don't know either," Eragon said. "A traveling merchant old me of it during the Baking Potatoes Roasted Tomatoes festival that took place Carvahall."
"It's ancient then," Arya shifted in his arms. " And I don't want to waste time. It is already dark and we didn't speak of what I came here for."
"I apologize," Eragon said, sneaking a hand under Saphira's wing.
She's very good at guessing the time of day, Eragon thought as he caught a glimpse of The Lazy Flame—a star which was the last to be visible on the night sky. Slightly below, Saphira had her head rested on the short vegetation, her eyes closed to the beauties offered by the upcoming darkness.
A tinge of disappointment crept up Eragon's spine. Saphira usually remained vigilant until Eragon would fall asleep. He and Arya rested under her wing, but they completely ignored her presence. All the attention they offered was split between the two of them as they talked about the origins of the Beor Mountains, their past lives , what crafts were they good at and many other things of relevance. Variety was plenty, but attention was strangely missing.
Eragon was gently tugged by a grip on his shoulder.
"You want to walk?"
"That isn't a bad idea, Eragon responded. He itched to stretch his stiff legs, and Arya's opportunity came at a very good time.
We shouldn't have left her alone," Eragon said as he walked beside Arya.
"She was sleeping, Eragon. We have been disturbing her tranquility long enough."
"Or we didn't," Eragon said, still regretful of his obvious ignorance. "We can't know until we ask."
Arya moved closer to Eragon. Her arms were crossed near her chest, but they did little in warming her. She was lightly dressed for the climate of the Beor Mountains, where temperature often plunged at night.
Upon seeing her frame tremble, Eragon moved slocer and placed his hand around her waist while he warmed her with the proximity of his own body.
Arya looked at him with a grateful smile, but did not say anything until a couple of moments later.
"Do you think of the Varden, Eragon?" she asked.
Eragon was not prepared for such a question. "Well, yes," he said. "My thoughts often drift towards them, but mostly to Roran and his wife… and Nasuada."
"What about the rest of them? The men, the soldiers and those who are not close to you?"
"I try to keep them safe as I can, but I'm not very concerned about what will happen," Eragon said without too much conviction. "The sooner the king is dead, the sooner they can continue with their lives. Their normal lives," he empathized.
"My concerns are deeper than that," Arya admitted and leaned on Eragon's shoulder. "My mother died and a few others as well when Galbatorix attacked them."
Eragon's hand was caged by strong fingers. "What was the reason? What could he want?"
"He's taunting us," Eragon replied. "Many believed him to be the king who ruled from the darkness, afraid of the outside confrontations. He wants to prove the opposite. He wants to discourage the soldiers by instilling fear and bringing suffering to them."
"Killing normal soldiers is a display of power, but he did not kill mindlessly. He had the chance to finish all the rebellion, but he wasted it deliberately."
"Because we interfered," Eragon cut in.
"What are we to him, Eragon?" He could have killed you if he wanted, along with the inhabitants of Feinster."
Eragon shuddered. "Feinster still shelters men who are a part of the empire," he said enthusiastically, pleased of his discovery. "Maybe he has spies who does not want to kill, or he cares about his loyal subjects."
Eragon couldn't help but chuckle, despite the seriousness of the conversation. Galbatorix, the man who slayed the entire population of dragons and killed hundreds of Riders was now concerned about common men.
"What of my people? We were the first to oppose him, and have done that until now. His hatred must run deeper than what we saw… what my mother saw before…"
"You are powerful," Eragon said stubbornly. "The king could not stand against the combined might of all the elves."
"It's a slight possibility. If the elves joined the Riders, maybe he would have been defeated before killing them one by one. We would have saved so many…"
"Why didn't they do it?"
"I don't have the answer. My people rarely talk of the darkness past."
"I think I know why," Eragon shivered. The gusts of wind were getting more frequent, amplifying the chill of the night. "We should return to Saphir aad begin anew the next day. Looking behind will only awaken unnecessary sorrow."
Arya agreed, and both of them headed back where Saphira was sleeping, soon to join her in the realm of dreams.
The upcoming days came and ended much faster than the previous ones. The temporary rest provided Eragon and Arya with plenty of time and various distractions. Continuing their quest was still a priority, but that could not happen without a missing piece.
Something hit Eragon when he least expected it, and it was powerful enough to send him on the ground.
"Silly princess and dumb Rider. I foresaw that he would succeed. That makes him better and you lesser!" Angela began to shout and giggle, waving and moving her hands in very strange manners. She was out of control.
Eragon groaned, trying not to think of the pain. His ribs always hurt less when he did that.
Straining his eyes to the left, he could see the form of a cat carrying something in its mouth. Something large, square-shaped. A tome.
"… brought it to me where everyone failed, proving that paws are better than hands. Paws soft as Vernal's carpet carried him back to me…" Angela continued with her shouting.
"Is that—" Eragon began.
"The tome which you can't read, my dear," Angela said, turning towards Eragon. "To be so curious, your mind so inquisitive… truly a rare thing you are, my dear sack of potatoes. Ugly, heavy of mind and useless like weeds. Also disturbing."
Angela shuddered and ran towards the cluster of trees that surrounded the clearing. "Don't disturb my deciphering unless you bring cats with you!"