Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Sorry for the late upload, I kind of rewrote Garrow's parts here. Erk.

Chapter 50: Across Oceans and Plains

The water seemed to glitter black as it churned and heaved beneath the Dragon Wing,mist flying up in frothy white sprays as the vessel cut its way through the ocean. The wind howled angrily as they worked their way south. Garrow began to curse it as his stomach heaved in time with the sea. He retched over the edge of the ship, but only bile came up.

Why exactly was his stomach so angry with him? It never gave him that attitude in a barge.

Maybe the storm was the problem. Not even Uthar's seasoned sailors could keep their whisky down so easily. As the ship lurched, struck sideways by a wave, water drenched Garrow and the deck, draining as the ship began to sway.

Clumsily wiping away water from his face with half-frozen fingers, Garrow let out a sigh. Hopefully the storm would throw off their pursuers – three black-sailed sloops that followed them sicne they reached the Iron Cliffs. The enemies were faster than the fully-loaded Dragon Wing, and were able to come close enough for the two forces to exchange a volley of arrows. It seemed like one of the sloops carried a magician because the arrows were eerily accurate. Many parts of the ship were seriously damaged.

The Empire probably didn't care about capturing him alive anymore. They just wanted to stop him from reaching Surda and the Varden at all cost. Garrow feared that he might not even die at the Empire's hands. Just this storm could be enough to kill him and also take the villagers along.

The storm broke two days later, the dawn casting a faint green light. Three black sails were visible to the north, and Beirland could be seen to the southwest, clouds gathered around the mountain that took up most of the island. The moment that the sea calmed, Garrow met with Uthar and Jeod to talk about repairs. Apparently they stood no chance of outsailing the sloops if they did not get the mast fixed. That of course brought another problem, since they did not have a ship carpenter.

Against ships holding magicians, staying to fight was not a good idea. The nearest lands would be Beirland and Nia, which wouldn't really be of help and would most likely just turn them into easy prey for the Forsworn or the enemy sloops.

Jeod pointed to a spot on the map with a frown. "We could try the Boar's Eye."

For the first time ever, Garrow saw Uthar turn white. "No, Master Jeod, I'd rather not risk it… not on my life. Facing the sloops an' dying in the open sea would be better than that. The accursed place consumed twice as many ships as Galbatorix has in his entire fleet."

"But I have also read that the passage itself is perfectly safe at high and low tide."

Uther nodded reluctantly. "That is true, but the Eye itself is so wide. You need precise timing to cross it without ruining your vessel. With the sloops right on our tail, that would be quite a feat for us, if we can do it at all."

"But it is possible," Garrow said. "You both as much as imply it."

Jeod nodded eagerly, appreciating the support. "It is possible. If we could time it right, then the sloops would either be wrecked or forced to circumvent Nia, which would give us time to find a hiding place along Beirland or even press forward before they could catch up."

Uthar scowled. "Those ifs of yours would bring us to our doom, Longshanks."

After a bit more arguing between the two men, Garrow finally asked, "But may I asked, what exactly is this Boar's eye?"

"It is the all-devouring maw of the ocean," Uthar said dramatically.

Jeod shook his head. "It is merely a whirlpool. The tidal currents that collide between Beirland and Nia forms it, so it rotates north to west in high tide, and north to east during low tide."

"But that seems simple enough," Garrow argued.

"If it was a regular whirlpool, yes," Jeod said. "But its size is the problem. Its center is about a league in diameter, and its arms anywhere from ten to fifteen miles across. Many ships have been sunk to the floor of the ocean and crushed by the rocks beneath the Eye. Their remnants can be found on the beaches of the two islands."

"So that means no one will expect us to take that route," Garrow pondered. So many possibilities were laid in front of him, but he feared that they could be dangerous. "Is it even possible for us to cross the Eye? You make it sound so fearsome."

"Only a fool would," grunted Uthar.

Jeod stared at the sailor with his deep eyes. "Just answer his question, man. We are no blasted seamen. Can we cross the eye?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Only a madman would even consider it!"

Garrow slammed his ax on the table, embedding its sharp blade in its wood. "Maybe I am a madman," he said, staring at the sailor with as much intensity as he could muster. "We've done so many mad things, things that people deemed impossible, just to get to this point. We will do more mad things if that is what it takes to survive and make it to Surda and the Varden!"

"I know that, Deftblade," Uthar said quietly. "But If we wait for the Eye to subside, the sloops may easily catch up to us, or they could be close enough to also pass through it. Besides, if the wind falters then we'll get caught in the current. We won't be able to free ourselves."

Garrow narrowed his eyes. "But are you willing to attempt it as captain? No one else can command the ship in your place."

Uthar stared at the charts laid out before him, apparently pondering over the possibilities. He began to draw lines and tables of figures that Garrow could not understand. "I assure you, we are sailing to our doom. But very well. I will see us through."

Riding atop Askanir's back, the forest below looked likean endless sea of emerald. Birds flitted above the trees, shrieking and chirping in terror when they caught sight of the fearsome dragons, who flew low to the canopy to protect their passengers from the frigid air higher up.

A smile split Roran's face as he realized that he and Askanir can now fly together for a great amount of time. They didn't need to stop or wait for their companions. They truly were lords of the sky now, and the thought felt so amazing, Roran couldn't stop laughing as Askanir swooped with amazing agility, apparently trying to amuse him. He heard Orik yelling happily atop Saphira behind them, but his glee and the rushing wind drowned out the dwarf's voice.

Aside from talking, the dragons and their passengers exchanged riddles, though Roran was irritated by some of the riddles that Orik presented. Arya grinned and informed them that elven riddles were more confusing and admitted that she barely understood half of them. The dragons loved the riddles though. Apparently their race loved puzzles, and loved trying to unravel them even more.

I like riddles that involve household objects. I have not been in a house since I hatched, and learning more about them is interesting, admitted Askanir.

Staring at Eragon, who was almost unseated by Saphira, Roran snickered. Apparently not everyone appreciates them the way you do.

Hours passed that way, banter exchanged back and forth. Only Brom refused to join them, seated behind Murtagh. He kept his arms crossed, a surly frown etched on his face. He must have been contemplating the Varden's predicament.

By sunset, they reached the end of Du Weldenvarden, reaching the quiet fields that made up the border between the forest and the Hadarac Desert. They camped on the grass and Brom worked on their small fire. It was so easy to believe that they were the only people in the world.

After a quick discussion, the Riders decided to store some of their energy in the jewels adorning their swords. Askanir even lent his strength to aid the process. Even that meant that it would take quite a lot of days before the gem on Alksvadr's pommel and the twelve ones on his belt.

Tired, Roran fell into the deepest possible sleep, though he was still aware of his surroundings like he always was since the transformation.

They reached the Hadarac Desert the next morning, the searing heat feeling like a blow as warm winds rushed past them. The dragons kept their pace relentlessly, though, basking in the heat that made them feel alive.

Sunset was near when a cluster of mountains was visible to the east. Du Fells Nangoroth. Look, he told Askanir. That was where wild dragons mated, raised their young, and eventually died.

We will be visiting that someday, Askanir said wistfully. Maybe we could learn something. Anything.

The night in the desert was lonely beyond description. Though their group had each other, it did not ease the desolate feeling in the vast land.

A strong wind carried the dragons farther than they could have traveled alone on their third day. This sudden turn of fortune allowed them to fly out of the Hadarac Desert faster than they expected. At the edge of the waste, they encountered a group of horse-mounted nomads. They wore flowing robes and wore headscarves and turbans to ward off the heat. They shouted in alarm, shaking their weapons at the dragons.

Nasuada turned pink as she heard them. "I understood that," she said.

"I do hope you would mind translating," Arya muttered dryly.

The color on Nasuada's cheeks deepened. "I'd rather not. But do not fear, they will not attack. The Wandering Tribes are cowards where it matters."

The next day led them directly to Aberon, Surda's capital, following Nasuada's directions. Flying low and avoiding towns, it took the most of the day to reach the massive walled city that was most likely built with battling dragons behind. The massive plains would have made them easily visible, so they dismounted and changed into fresh clothing a bit far off.

I am assuming that you will be taking good care of yourself, Askanir warned. I seem to recall you little ones getting in trouble whenever we are parted from you.

Roran grinned. Brom and Orik are with us. We will be well. Besides, we are among allies.

There are many enemies that could hide among allies. Be swift, Askanir said, departing with the other dragons.

Entering Aberon was an easy feat once the gate guards recognized Brom. The stared at the Riders – who all looked decidedly elven – and one of them actually jumped once he saw Orik. The bluff where Borromeo Castle sat was quite visible even at the very entrance to the city.

People watched the newcomers with awestruck eyes. Everyone seemed to know Brom, but seeing eight people who looked like elves, and a fully armed dwarf seemed to amaze them even more than the legendary former Rider. No one came to disrupt their march to the castle, though.

"This is making me uncomfortable," Eragon muttered, quiet enough that only someone with an elf's hearing could hear him. "People should not stare too much."

"We do not look human anymore," Murtagh told him. "Of course they will stare. They probably don't even know that we do not look precisely like elves either. Besides, is Brom not legendary enough to earn the awe of so many people throughout Alagaesia?" He grinned.

"If half of the rumors about his exploits were true, he would truly be even more amazing than the grumpy man in front of us," Roran answered.

Katrina drinked in the sight with those lovely silver eyes of hers. Catching him staring, she stared back with a smile parting her full lips. The transformation may have changed her on the outside, but she was still the same Katrina that Roran grew up with. "So this is Aberon! It is ten times bigger than Teirm and Dras-Leona! Only the elves could match this in size…"

"Of course," Vanir said in that knowledgeable tone that sometimes was still irritating. "We simply had to adapt to our environment. Building something like this from scratch is quite a feat, especially for a race that is not so deeply entwined with magic."

Roran frowned as he began to widen the reaches of his mind, touching upon the minds of the people around him lightly. It was still quite a difficult feat, and only Eragon managed it without so much of an effort. He did not want to submerge himself too deeply, though, for fear of drowning in the city's emotions. Just doing what he did made him aware just how amazed people were – and how much they were speculating.

Eragon was rubbing his forehead. "The sheer amount of minds here are overwhelming," he whispered.

Murtagh stared at him like he was going mad. "Brother, there's no need to go deep into everyone's thoughts. Would you like to be pulled under? Swept under the current? Just be aware enough to know if someone is hostile, or potentially concealing something. You might not be able to function properly. You were most likely not listening to Master Ash."

A group of soldiers greeted them at the gates to the castle. They saluted Brom and sent curious glances toward the Riders and Orik. Brom grunted grumpily. When did he not do that, anyway? "My companions," he told them. "What are you waiting for? Is there no one left in the forsaken place to meet us?"

A young soldier – barely more than sixteen or seventeen – saluted and dashed off. A more senior soldier, with three silver plumes on his helm, saluted them. "Lord Brom," he said formally. "It is good to see you again."

"It is good to see you too, Captain Shavin," Brom said curtly. "May I ask what the situation is?"

"I would gladly tell you, my Lord, but Lord Dahwar would be better-suited to tell you."

Brom's eyes darkened. "So the situation is dire enough for Orrin to leave the safety of his castle walls? Though I wouldn't mind Dahwar. His good mind helps too."

"Aye, dire enough," Captain Shavin said. He turned to a soldier who looked even younger than the one who dashed off earlier. "Herrin, you better take Lord Brom and his companions to Lord Dahwar."

The boy called Herrin saluted. "Aye, Captain! Will do." He bowed deeply to Brom and the others. "Follow me, good Lords and Ladies."

"Lady," Katrina whispered with a small grin. "I think I like that."

Roran grinned back. "Noblewomen probably won't like that. You're prettier than all of them put together."

Katrina's grin widened. "You flatter me."

That left Roran with no words left to say. Why did Katrina not take him seriously? He was simply telling her the truth. She was too beautiful for words, anyway. She had always been so. The transformation had nothing to do with that.

Please stop thinking those thoughts, Askanir groaned. I hate having those dreams about her.

Speak for yourself. I had dreams about mating with Luneria. I want them burned off my mind.

They walked slowly in the passage that went through the layers of walls that defended Castle Borromeo, and into the main courtyard. A tall man with skin as dark as Nasuada's hurried out of the castle entrance, with eleven other men following him. Seven were soldiers, while four were dressed in rich clothing. His complexion sparked Roran's curiosity. Aside from Nasuada's family, this was the first man he met with that unusual skin tone.

"He is also a member of the Wandering Tribes," Nasuada said. "One who had also not grown up with them despite knowing their culture."

The man in question bowed. "Welcome, Lord Brom. Welcome, strangers. I am Dahwar, son of Kedar. I am King Orrin's seneschal and speak in his stead while he is off to war."

A grim look crossed Brom's face. He proceeded to introduce his companions. "So we truly are at war?"

Dahwar inclined his head sadly. He sent questioning looks toward Nasuada and even Aesyr, who he apparently knew. From what Roran could glean in the man's mind, he was having trouble reconciling their faces to the girls he knew. "I do beg your apologies. None of higher rank is present to greet the noblest guests that have ever graced Surda. King Orrin, Lord Melikir, and the Varden have long marched off the confront Galbatorix's army."

Nasuada stepped forward. "Lord Dahwar, it has been quite a while." She flicked locks of hair away from her face. "I know that Melikir is always prepared for even unlikely eventualities. Did he leave any sort of orders should we turn up here?"

"Of course, Lady Nasuada." Dahwar definitely paused before addressing her. He looked outright startled by her appearance. "He mentioned that should you be seeking his group, you must join them directly. We truly need your prowess if we are to prevail in this and all battles to come."

"They definitely will if, especially if the Forsworn come out of the open," Roran muttered darkly. He feared facing the Forsworn. He knew that he did not wield half of their power yet, but he wanted to face Enduriel again. The mad elf had so much to answer for.

Vanir stared at him. "Even we might not be enough. They have a century's worth of knowledge, nay, more. We are but children compared to them."

"We have no time to waste in self-doubt," Brom reprimanded. "Nor for rest."

"Nevertheless, our hospitality is yours, Riders, Master Dwarf," Dahwar said. "Anything you need, you just have to ask."

Roran frowned. Did that mean that they can issue commands and expect them to be followed? Apparently so, as Nasuada took charge immediately. "If it pleases you, we need a week's worth of provisions or so. Avoid meat for my fellow Riders and I, if possible. We also need to refill our waterskins."

Amazingly, Dahwar did not show the slightest reaction to their avoidance of meat, and Orik added his requests for meat. Enough to feed the Riders for the week. With a snap of his fingers, Dahwar sent a pair of servants to collect the supplies. He regarded the Riders with a curious light in his amber eyes. That seemed to be quite common among his race. "May I assume that by your presence here, you have completed your training with the elves, esteemed Riders? And that the two eggs revealed by Selena Nightblade have hatched?"

"A Rider's training never ends so long as he or she lives," Roran told him quietly.

Dahwer seemed to hesitate before he spoke again. "Excuse my impertinence, great Riders, for I am far too ignorant of your ways. But are not at least six of you human? I was told that you were, and I have met you both before, Lady Nasuada and Lady Aesyr."

Orik nodded. "That they were. They were changed, and be glad for that. We might be in a far worse predicament if they were not."

"Enough dallying about. Where are the troops headed?" Brom demanded.

Dahwer bowed shallowly. "Last I heard, King Orrin and Lord Melikir are planning to intercept the Empire, which is advancing south along the Jiet River. They wish to confront the army when ti arrives. They could be anywhere between Cithri and the Jiet River. This is merely my humble opinion, but they are most likely to be in the Burning Plains."

"The Burning Plains," Brom pondered quietly.

"You know that place?" Aesyr demanded, a hint of fear in her voice.

"I have taught you all about that place. You must remember Du Vollar Eldrvarya. I discussed that to all of you a few days before we departed from Ellesmera."

Roran nodded thoughtfully. It was layered in peat and was along the eastern edge of the Jiet River, right where Surda's border intersected with it. It was one of the spots where the Riders battled the Forsworn. Apparently, the dragons burned the peats with their flames which burrowed underground. It smoldered within ever since, rendering the entire plains uninhabitable.

Will dragons battle dragons again in the fiery field?

After some more discussions between Brom and Dahwar, they thanked the king's seneschal and prepared to leave laden with supplies. Roran felt a spike of murderous rage in the vicinity. Eragon stepped forward. "Lord Dahwar, two grooms are arguing in the stables. I think one of them – Tathal, I think? – intends to commit murder. You can stop him if you immediately send men."

Surprised, Dahwar stared at him blankly. Even Orik and Brom stared at Eragon. It seemed like touching minds lightly still gave him a good idea of what people around him were thinking. "How do you know of this, Shadeslayer?" Dahwar asked.

"I am a Rider. My friends could have told you the same thing." Eragon exchanged grins with Roran and Murtagh.

They travelled even through the shadows of the night, as if by unspoken consent. They did not even stop to eat dinner, simply pulling out food from their packs and eating quietly. The hours fell away so quickly, and every trickle of minutes heightened Roran's sense of dread. A storm was brewing, and it wasn't the one that was going to get you wet with the rain. It was one that would soak a person in the blood of Alagaesia's sons and daughters.

If you must weep, then weep for the innocents who will lose their lives. Weep for those who will lose people they love, families torn apart by bloodshed. Askanir's sadness resonated through their bond.

When the sun began to rise, the dragons landed by a small lake for a short reprieve – and breakfast. Roran didn't think that he had much appetite, though. Nobody spared much words, not even Brom, who looked grim.

Once they took off once more, it was just a while before a low brown cloud could be seen over the horizon. It grew wider and wider as they neared it. By late morning, it covered the entire land, its fetid vapors emanating a foul smell. Finally, they have reached the Burning Plains.

I just wanted to do a mirroring thing between father and son, that's why we only have Roran and Garrow this chapter. But don't you just love Roran's adorable purple dragon?

I seriously can't wait for the Rider vs Forsworn battle ahead of us! It's coming soon, and I can also safely conclude that this story will most likely be wrapped up within roughly ten chapters.

Found myself reading The Gathering Storm from the Wheel of Time series, and I kind of felt sad. For some reason.

Did any of you watch the new Rurouni Kenshin movie? It gave me goosebumps! (The good kind, mind you)

Anyway, read and review, you guys!