They flew hard and fast as the night wore on. With every beat of Obsidian's colossal wings, Zar'roc's hilt dug painfully into Katharean's side. She could have moved it, but something inside of her stopped her.
I killed two men with this blade of Murtagh's, she thought dismally. In a strange way, the violent tattoo being beat into her skin by the sword handle she had wielded felt like penance for their deaths.
You did what you had to. Do not dwell on their deaths...We killed countless more on the battlefield, or had you forgotten? Obsidian asked, disturbed by her thoughts.
No, but that was different. She insisted
How so? They bore the same dark emblem of the hated King. He argued.
Yes, but the men we killed in battle expected death. They had time and reason enough to make their peace with the world.
No man under the rule of Empire can find peace. He said, with a low growl.
She sighed, shivering in the cold air above the clouds.
Perhaps you are right.
Pain that was not her own stabbed the muscles of her arms and made her shoulder-blades throb and twinge uncomfortably.
You are tired. The flight is too much for you after our months of slumber. Land and I can see to your pain.
With a grunt of accord, Obsidian tucked his wings into his sides and pulled into a steep dive towards the earth below.
Ah, what is that foul smell? He snorted, fanning his wings to slow their descent before he landed, clumsier than usual, on the hard, cracked ground.
These are the Burning Plains. She answered, surveying the malevolent-looking landscape. Many people have died in the eternal fires of this forsaken wasteland.
She slid easily from his back and he swivelled to face her.
Do what you will, but do not exhaust yourself. This new bulk of mine is a welcome change, but it is more difficult to manoeuvre than I anticipated. I don't fancy having to try and catch you if you were to fall asleep mid flight, and falling to your death is hardly a fitting end for a Rider. He snorted, nudging her with his snout. She smiled, catching his head in her hands before he could bump her again and tickled the patch of soft, leathery skin beneath his ear. He growled, affectionately, and shook his great head, knocking her hand away.
That tickles.
She laughed and threw her arms around his thick neck, and he nuzzled the top of her head.
Come now. Time is short, and the sun will be up before long. We would do well to make way lest Galbatorix himself comes after us.
Katharean nodded, releasing him before moving around to his left wing. She laid her hands across the leathery membrane, closing her eyes as she searched the chasms of her mind for the correct wording in the ancient language, letting them flow from her tongue. When she was finished, she ducked under his stomach and did the same for his other wing. An instant later, she felt Obsidian sigh with relief as his pain eased off.
Better? She asked when she had finished. He flapped his wings, experimentally at first, then with playful happiness, grinning wide and lashing his tail from side to side.
Much better. He confirmed with a lash of his long tail. You are becoming quite the spell-weaver.
Hardly. She muttered, casting her mind back to the ferocious display of complex magic she had witnessed by Eragon and Murtagh in Farthen Dur. But it will have to suffice for now.
He lowered into a crouch and she swung her leg over his bulk and settled herself into as comfortable a position as she could attain whilst riding bare-back. With the full force of his down-thrust wings, they took off once more with such a jolt that Katharean only managed to remain upright by clinging to the thick black spike in front of her.
Obsidian roared his delight as they set off again, marvelling in his new-found strength and speed as they chased the Jiet river south to Surda.
After a few more hours, the blackness of the night sky dissolved and dawn broke, casting everything a warm yellow with her brilliance.
Katharean. Obsidian nudged her weary mind.
Hmm? She asked, stirring from an uneasy sleep.
Good morning, little heart, and welcome to Surda.