Chapter Seventy-Two: Parting Gifts

"Again."

Mariah swept her arm upward, clashing against the sword of Galbatorix himself in the dimming twilight. She twisted her blade and stepped backward as he took a massive swing towards her. Had she been slower he may have cleaved her in half. Dipping behind him, she thrusted Ancalë towards his face and sidestepped his counter. Behind her now, in the air was Andrar struggling just as mightily against Shruikan's horrific visage.

The king threw her to the ground with a heavy blow and she grunted, looking back up at him as his sword found the hollow of her throat. He moved the point slowly toward her shoulder. "Stand."

She did so, the tip digging into her skin and muscle as she moved. He stayed his blade so that it was stabbing through her until she returned to her feet fully. Galbatorix's face twitched with an expression of satisfaction and he sheathed his sword at his side. Making no move to heal the wound, she turned her gaze upward at the dueling dragons.

Shruikan bellowed loudly in Andrar's face causing him to flinch. The massive black dragon descended upon him, and they both tussled in the air, falling until they were too close to hitting the ground. Andrar wriggled from the beast's grasp and descended, taking a few steps as he landed before looking upward again. A giant paw batted towards his skyward face and talons found purchase on scales and muscles alike.

Andrar roared loudly, recoiling and shook his head, blood spraying across the courtyard. Satisfied, Shruikan returned to Galbatorix with heavy footfalls. Glancing at Mariah, the king nodded. "Make sure your dragon does not become blinded."

She rushed to him, dropping her sword. Andrar was thrashing his head, and nearly threw her across the courtyard. Ducking, she avoided his lashing tail and jumped up, grasping hold of one of the mighty horns jutting from his skull. She held on tightly while examining the gashes, healing what she could see quickly. The wounds glowed for half a moment before seaming back together. As the pain receded, Andrar lowered his head to the ground, panting. Her feet hit the stone; she braced herself and knelt down, examining the damage more fully. When her dragon blinked, she saw no injury done to his eye.

Relieved, she wiped away his bloody tears and hugged his snout, kissing a scale between his nostrils. I am grateful that you are fully intact.

As am I my darling. None should have to face such a brutal opponent.

Looking over her shoulder, she watched as Galbatorix retreated into the castle and Shruikan soared off over the city before looping back towards the balcony he used for a perch. Rest. We leave in the morning.

Heal yourself as well my love. Andrar said, nosing her hand. She glanced down and ran a hand smoothly over her bleeding shoulder, sealing it back together with a few quiet words. If there is one thing I am grateful for from all our time here, it was your ability to access the library. You have learned much, and taught the others far more.

I don't always know if that is for the best.

It is good to know that Murtagh and Kieran both will be able to support you to their full potential, for that I am glad. They are both doing much better with their spellcasting now.

Murtagh more so than Kieran, he takes to magic like a bird does to flying. It was rough at first, but he comprehends words and spells so clearly it does worry me sometimes.

Andrar snorted, I would rather he be the best magician than the worst. For your safety.

I can take care of myself my dear, now, get some sleep.

Only as much as you, he insisted, nosing her towards the doors before curling up tightly to sleep.

Eragon packed his belongings in less than five minutes. He took the saddle Oromis had given them, strapped it onto Saphira, then slung his bags over her back and buckled them down.

Saphira tossed her head, nostrils flared, and said, I will wait for you at the field. With a roar, she launched herself form the tree house, unfolding her blue wings in midair, and flew off, skimming the forest canopy.

Quick as an elf, Eragon ran to Tialdarí Hall, where he found Orik sitting in his usual corner, playing a game of Runes. The dwarf greeted him with a hearty slap on the arm. "Eragon! What brings you here at this time of the morn? I thought you'd be off banging swords with Vanir."

"Saphira and I are leaving," said Eragon.

Orik stopped with this mouth open, then narrowed his eyes, going serious. "You've had bad news?"

"I'll tell you about it later. Do you want to come?"

"To Surda?"

"Aye."

A wide smile broke across Orik's hairy face. "You'd have to clap me in irons before I'd stay behind. I've done nothing in Ellesméra but grow fat and lazy. A bit of excitement will do me good. When do we leave?"

"As soon as possible. Gather your things and meet us at the sparring grounds. Can you scrounge up a week's worth of provisions for the two of us?"

"A week's? But that won't-"

"We're flying on Saphira."

The skin above Orik's beard turned pale. "We dwarves don't do well with heights, Eragon. We don't do well at all. It'd be better if we could ride horses, like we did coming here."

Eragon shook his head. "That would take too long. Besides, it's easy to ride Saphira. She'll catch you if you fall." Orik grunted, appearing both queasy and unconvinced. Leaving the hall, Eragon sped through the sylvan city until he rejoined Saphira, and then they flew to the Crags of Tel'naeír.

Oromis was sitting upon Glaedr's right forearm when they landed in the clearing. The dragon's scales gilded the landscape with countless chips of golden light. Neither elf nor dragon stirred. Descending from Saphira's back, Eragon bowed. "Master Glaedr, Master Oromis."

Glader said, You have taken it upon yourself to return to the Varden, have you not?

We have, replied Saphira.

Eragon's sense of betrayed overcame his self-restraint. "Why did you hide the truth from us? Are you so determined to keep us here that you must resort to such underhand trickery? The Varden are about to be attacked and you didn't even mention it!"

Calm as ever, Oromis asked, "Do you wish to hear why?"

Very much, Master, said Saphira before Eragon could respond. In private, she scolded him, growling, Be polite!

"We withheld the tidings for two reasons. Chief among them was that we ourselves did not know until nine days pat that the Varden were threatened, and the true size, location, and movements of the Empire's troops remained concealed from us until three days after that, when Lord Däthedr pierced the spells Galbatorix used to deceive our scrying."

"That still doesn't explain why you said nothing of this." Eragon scowled. "Not only that, but once you discovered that the Varden were in danger, why didn't Islanzadí rouse the elves to fight? Are we not allies?"

"She has roused the elves, Eragon. The forest echoes with the ring of hammers, the tramp of armored boots, and the grief of those who are about to be parted. For the first time in a century, our race is set to emerge from Du Weldenvarden and challenge our greatest foe. The time has come for elves to once more walk openly in Alagaësia." Gently, Oromis added, "You have been distracted of late, Eragon, and I understand why. Now you must look beyond yourself. The world demands your attention."

Shamefaced, all Eragon could say was, "I am sorry, Master." He remembered Blagden's words and allowed himself a bitter smile. "I'm as blind as a bat."

"Hardly, Eragon. You have done well, considering the enormous responsibilities we have asked you to shoulder." Oromis looked at him gravely. "We expect to receive a missive from Nasuada in the next few days, requesting assistance from Islanzadí and that you rejoin the Varden. I intended to inform you of the Varden's predicament then, when you would still have enough time to reach Surda before swords are drawn. If I told you earlier, you would have been honor-bound to abandon your training and rush to the defense of your liegelord. That is why I and Islanzadí held our tongues."

"My training won't matter if the Varden are destroyed."

"No. But you may be the only person who can prevent them from being destroyed, for a chance exists – slim but terrible – that Galbatorix will be present at this battle. It is far too late for our warriors to assist the Varden, which means that if Galbatorix is indeed there, you shall confront him alone, without the protection of our spellweavers. Under those circumstances, it seemed vital that your training continue as long as possible."

In an instant, Eragon's anger melted away and was replaced with a cold, hard, and brutally practical mind-set as he understood the necessity for Oromis's silence. Personal feelings were irrelevant in a situation as dire as theirs. With a flat voice, he said, "You were right. My oath of fealty compels me to ensure the safety of Nasuada and the Varden. However, I'm not ready to confront Galbatorix. Not yet, at least."

"My suggestion," said Oromis, "is that if Galbatorix reveals himself, do everything you can to distract him from the Varden until the battle is decided for good or for ill and avoid directly fighting him. Before you go, I ask but one thing: that you and Saphira vow that – once events permit – you will return here to complete your training, for you still have much to learn."

We shall return, pledged Saphira, binding herself in the ancient language.

"We shall return," repeated Eragon, and sealed their fate.

Appearing satisfied, Oromis reached behind himself and produced an embroidered red pouch that he tugged open. "In anticipation of your departure, I gathered together three gifts for you, Eragon." From the pouch, he withdrew a silver bottle. "First, some faelnirv I augmented with my own enchantments. This potion can sustain you when all else fails, and you may find its properties useful in other circumstances as well. Drink it sparingly, for I only had time to prepare a few mouthfuls."

He handed the bottle to Eragon, then removed a long black-and-blue sword belt from the pouch. The belt felt unusually thick and heavy to Eragon when he ran it through his hands. It was made of cloth threads woven together in an interlocking pattern that depicted a coiling Lianí Vine. At Oromis's instruction, Eragon pulled at a tassel at the end of the belt and gasped at a strip in its center slid back to expose twelve diamonds, each an inch across. Four diamonds were white, four were black, and the remainder were red, blue, yellow, and brown. They glittered cold and brilliant, like ice in the dawn, casting a rainbow of multicolored specks onto Eragon's hands.

"Master…" Eragon shook his head, at a loss for words for several breaths. "Is it safe to give this to me?"

"Guard it well so that none are tempted to steal it. This is the belt of Beloth the Wise – who you read of in your history of the Year of Darnkess – and is one of the great treasures of the Riders. These are the most perfect gems that Riders could find. Some we traded for with the dwarves. Others we won in battle or mined ourselves. The stones have no magic of their own, but you may use them as repositories for your power and draw upon that reserve when in need. This, in addition to the ruby set in Zar'roc's pommel, will allow you to amass a store of energy so that you do not become unduly exhausted casting spells in battle, or even when confronting enemy magicians."

Last, Oromis brought out a thin scroll protected inside a wooden tube that was decorate with a bas-relief sculpture of the Menoa tree. Unfurling the scroll, Eragon saw the poem he had recited at the Agaetí Blödhren. It was lettered in Oromis's finest calligraphy and illustrated with the elf's detailed ink paintings. Plants and animals twined together inside the outline of the first glyph of each quatrain, while delicate scrollwork traced the columns of words and framed the images.

"I thought," said Oromis, "that you would appreciate a copy for yourself."

Eragon stood with twelve priceless diamonds in one hand and Oromis's scroll in the other, and he knew that it was the scroll he deemed the most precious. Eragon bowed and, reduced to the simplest language by the depth of his gratitude, said, "Thank you, Master."

Then Oromis surprised Eragon by initiating the elves' traditional greeting and thereby indicating his respect for Eragon: "May good fortune rule over you."

"May the stars watch over you."

"And may peace live in your heart," finished the silver-haired elf. He repeated the exchange with Saphira. "Now go and fly as fast as the north wind, knowing that you – Saphira Brightscales and Eragon Shadeslayer – carry the blessing of Oromis, last scion of the House Thrándurin, he who is both the Mourning Sage and the Cripple Who Is Whole."

And mine as well, added Glaedr. Extending his neck, he touched the tip of his nose to Saphira's, his gold eyes glittering like swirling pools of embers. Remember to keep your heart safe, Saphira. She hummed in response.

They parted with solemn farewells. Saphira soared over the tangled forest and Oromis and Glaedr dwindled behind them, lonely on the crags. Despite the hardships of his stay in Ellesméra, Eragon would miss being among the elves, for with them he had found the closest thing to a home since fleeing Palancar Valley.

I leave here a changed man, he thought, and closed his eyes, clinging to Saphira.

After sleeping for a few short hours, Mariah was up again, pacing through her room, scanning books feverishly, creating dancing lights to hover with her so she could see the words through the darkness. When the night finally broke, she set down her volume and moved to the window, watching the sun rise from the balcony, leaning against the railing overlooking Urû'baen. What had once been Ilirea sparkled in the morning light, the tall spires of glass and stone glittering like dew drops. Then, parting her lips, Mariah sang quietly,

Ngîl cennin erthiel
Ne menel aduial,
Ha glingant be vîr
Síliel moe.

Ngîl cennin firiel
Ne menel aduial,
And-dúr naun i fuin a galad firn
Naegriel moe.

An i natha
An i naun ului
A chuil, ann-cuiannen
Am meleth, perónen.

She heard Kieran open the door without knocking. The princess hesitated, waiting until her singing faltered before speaking, "You need to come see this."

Mariah watched the sun for a few moments more before nodding, the wind sweeping her hair over her shoulder. Buckling her sword to her waist, she stepped after Kieran into the hallway. Together, the women hurried downstairs to the armory where a few soldiers were gathered, admiring a glittering suit of armor. They stepped aside for the Riders and scurried from the room.

"Well?"

On a stand beside a table was the elvish armor Mariah had been promised by Galbatorix, only it was now coated in a wash of gold, causing it to glitter like rays of the sun. It had been worked slightly to be fitted to her body and embellished with small gemstones to accent the filigree. She moved to it and ran her fingers over the shoulder piece. "It's almost too handsome."

"Then make sure to get some blood on it." Kieran moved to take it from the stand and helped Mariah put it on. Satisfied the buckles and straps were all in place, she stepped back, nodding. Pinning up her hair, Mariah grabbed the gleaming helmet, which curved around her face in a heart, guarding her angled nose and cheekbones with feathers and gemstones. "Oh, yes, that is stunning. Like a Valkyrie, come to inspire soldiers on the field of battle."

Mariah pushed the red cape back so she could strap Ancalë back to her waist alongside the matching dagger and glanced at Kieran as she moved to her own silvered armor. "Don't get too excited princess… let's make sure you're safe first."

"Just need help with the back," she insisted. Mariah tightened the pieces where she could and made sure everything was secured for Kieran before leaving her to finish. The tight silver gleamed like mirrors, and her helm dripped over her forehead with large jewels like a tiara, showing her lineage to any who dared question her. Between the swirling and sharp points of detail on her vambraces and shoulders were small blades, in the event of anyone daring to get too close. Deep purple and rose embroidered fabrics layered underneath, a silver dragon embellishing the pointed end of the long fabric dripping from her waist.

With the clipping of heels, they made their way out to the courtyard, shoulder to shoulder in silver and gold. Andrar shifted his tail, checking the weight difference from his own shielding. His plate armor every bit equal to Mariah's – gold and ornamented as hers was. He turned his head towards Mariah and blinked, Ah, Kieran is right, striking my darling, like a fairy tale.

Nasreen yawned loudly as Murtagh walked outside to Thorn. She flicked her tail at him and turned her attention to Kieran. He flashed a snarl at the dragoness and changed course to keep further away from her, setting his steel helmet on the ground at his feet before making sure all of Thorn's armor was secure.

Andrar nosed at his Rider in greeting, pointing out places where the soldiers had not been so careful in their assistance. Mariah ran her hand over the new scars on his face and sighed, looking at his saddle. Extra clothes, weapons, and provisions were all packed tightly in the luggage on their backs. Thorn and Andrar each carried two spare swords for their riders, as well as large bags holding Eldunarí. Kieran had made sure to charm her blade so that it would return to her if she lost it.

Andrar blinked from Thorn and Murtagh, back to Mariah. This extra weight is going to make flying a hindrance, are you sure we need all of this?

Yes. She said simply, glancing at the added bags and sheaths. It is a precaution.

Very well. His attention snapped up as Galbatorix entered the courtyard, followed by the remaining Riders, their dragons all sweeping in to meet them. The smaller dragons made sure to avoid the three battle-readied elders. Mariah turned and stepped in front of him, entering her soldier stance. Kieran and Murtagh joined her in line.

He examined the three armored dragons as he spoke. "Your orders are clear. The three of you will take control of the front lines as the generals of the army. The others will remain here, in the event of your unlikely deaths." Galbatorix pressed his fingers together and smirked, turning his gaze back onto Mariah, Kieran, and Murtagh. "Are there any questions?"

"No, your highness." Mariah said with her hands twisted behind her back. Murtagh glanced down at her and let out a quiet breath.

"Remember, I want his dragon alive. Do whatever you need to in order to bring the dragon back Dawnsinger. If anything goes amiss, inform me immediately." Galbatorix waved his hand to dismiss them.

Mariah relaxed from her stance and turned, bounding up into Andrar's black leather saddle. He clawed into the ground and watched Nasreen launch into the air, following behind her. Thorn waited until Murtagh was settled before following behind. Over her shoulder, Mariah watched as the courtyard of the castle rushed away. The rest of the Forsworn faded into specks of color as the three dragons flew south towards Surda, the morning sun glittering off each scale.

I can't wait to get there! Those soldiers won't know what they're in for with three Dragon Riders on the horizon. Kieran threw her fist into the air, grinning at the other two.

Mariah shook her head. We arrive at the battlefield at night, not daylight. If the enemy sees us now, our surprise is for naught. It would be best for the fighting to wait until our arrival. Once we take command of the army the Varden won't stand a chance. She glanced over at Murtagh, whose face was sullen.

He was staring off into the distance, eyes locked on the mountains. The wind whipped his brown hair past his face, and finally he caught her staring. Yes?

You are very distracted lately.

And you are very distant lately; I thought it best not to converse.

We are… still friends… are we not?

Of course Mariah. He blinked, realizing they had never really discussed their situation after everything that had happened.

And do you have no comment about the war?

He shook his head at her change of topic. No. If you and Kieran want to discuss it - then by all means... Though I may not be able to change my fate - I will do as I am commanded bound by oath as we are - I will remember that we once had a deal: that you and I would escape this hell together. I can't undo what Galbatorix has done, but I will stay true to that promise I made you. Even if much has changed since then, I still do not wish to enter this battle against the Varden, and definitely not for Galbatorix. He paused a moment, before continuing, Do you truly think you will be able to convince Eragon to join the Empire?

Yes. He and Saphira will only be spared if they side with Galbatorix.

You said so yourself once, he would never switch sides, not to save his own life… Mariah, you should know that. He will never listen to that reasoning.

Then you and I are of different mindsets now. I'm sorry. Mariah turned her attention back to Kieran, who was still rambling on about their near future and the battles that would ensue. The bloodlust ran through her veins as strongly as it did the princess's and she felt her heart race at the thought of being able to finally use her battle skills she had acquired while training in Urû'baen. With an army at her back, she smiled at the thought of finally being reunited with her brother and Eragon, knowing they wouldn't be able to refuse the option of joining the Empire, not now.

Before going to meet with Orik, they made one more stop: Tialdarí Hall. Saphira landed in the enclosed gardens, careful not to damage any of the plants with her tail or claws. Without waiting for her to crouch, Eragon leaped straight to the ground, a drop that would have injured him before.

A male elf came out, touched his lips with his first two fingers, and asked if he could help them. When Eragon replied that he sought an audience with Islanzadí, the elf said, "Please wait here, Silver Hand."

Not five minutes later, the queen herself emerged from the wooded depths of Tialdarí Hall, her crimson tunic like a drop of blood among the white-robed elf lords and ladies who accompanied her. After the appropriate forms of address were observed, she said, "Oromis informed me of your intention to leave us. I am displeased by this, but one cannot resist the will of fate."

"No, Your Majesty… Your Majesty, we came to pay our respects before departing. You have been most considerate of us, and we thank you and your House for clothing, lodging, and feeding us. We are in your debt."

"Never in our debt, Rider. We but repaid a little of what we owe you and the dragons for our miserable failure in the Fall. I am gratified, though, that you appreciate our hospitality." She paused. "When you arrive in Surda, convey my royal salutations to Lady Nasuada and King Orrin and inform them that our warriors will soon attack the northern half of the Empire. If fortune smiles upon us, we shall catch Galabatorix off guard, and given time, divide his forces."

"As you wish."

"Also, know that I have dispatched twelve of our finest spell-weavers to Surda. If you are still alive when they arrive, they will place themselves under your command and do their best to shield you from danger both night and day."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

Islanzadí extended a hand and one of the elf lords handed her a shallow, unadorned wooden box. "Oromis had his gifts for you, and I have mine. Let them remind you of your time spent with us under the dusky pines." She opened the box, revealing a long, dark bow with reflexed limbs and curled tips nestled on a bed of velvet. Silver fittings chased with dogwood leaves decorated the ears and grip of the bow. Beside it lay a quiver of new arrows fletched with white swan feathers. "Now that you share our strength, it seems only proper that you should have one of our bows. I sang it myself from a yew tree. The string will never break. And so long as you use these arrows, you will be hard-pressed to miss your target, even if the wind should gust during your shot."

Once again, Eragon was overwhelmed by the elves' generosity. He bowed. "What can I say, my Lady? You honor me that you saw fit to give me the labor of your own hands."

Islanzadí nodded, as if agreeing with him, then stepped past him and said, "Saphira, I brought you no gifts because I could think of nothing you might need or want, but if there is aught of ours you desire, name it and it shall be yours."

Dragons, said Saphira, do not require possessions to be happy. What use have we for riches when our hides are more glorious than any treasure hoard in existence? No, I am content with the kindness that you have shown Eragon. Then Islanzadí bade them a safe journey. Sweeping around, her red cape billowing from her shoulders, she made to leave the gardens, only to stop at the edge of the pleasance and say, "And, Eragon?"

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"When you meet with Arya, please express my affection to her and tell her that she is sorely missed in Ellesméra." The words were stiff and formal. Without waiting for a reply, she strode away and disappeared among the shadowed boles that guarded the interior of Tialdarí Hall, followed by the elf lords and ladies.

It took Saphira less than a minute to fly to the sparring field, where Orik sat on his bulging pack, tossing his war ax from one hand to the other and scowling ferociously. "About time you got here," he grumbled. He stood and slipped the ax back under his belt. Eragon apologized for the delay, then tied Orik's pack onto the back of his saddle. The dwarf eyed Saphira's shoulder, which loomed high above him. "And how, by Morgothal's black beard, am I supposed to get up there? A cliff has more handholds than you, Saphira."

Here, she said. She lay flat on her belly and pushed her right hind leg out as far as she could, forming a knobby ramp. Pulling himself onto her shin with a loud huff, Orik crawled up her leg on hands and knees. A small jet of flame burst from Saphira's nostrils as she snorted. Hurry up – that tickles!

Orik paused on the ledge of her haunches, then placed one foot on either side of Saphira's spine and carefully walked his way up her back toward the saddle. He tapped one of the ivory spikes between his legs and said, "There be as good a way to lose your manhood as any I've seen."

Eragon grinned. "Don't slip." When Orik lowered himself onto the front of the saddle, Eragon mounted Saphira and sat behind the dwarf. To hold Orik in place when Saphira turned or inverted, Eragon loosened the thongs that were meant to secure his arms and had Orik put his legs through them.

As Saphira rose to her full height, Orik swayed, then clutched the spike in front of him. "Garr! Eragon, don't let me open my eyes until we're in the air, else I fear I'll be sick. This is unnatural, it is. Dwarves aren't meant to ride dragons. It's never been done before."

"Never?"

Clusters of elves drifted out of Du Weldenvarden, gathered along the edge of the field, and with solemn expression watched Saphira lift her translucent wings in preparation to take off.

Eragon tightened his grip as he felt her mighty thews bunch underneath his legs. With a rush of acceleration, Saphira launched herself into the azure sky, flapping swift and hard to rise above the giant trees. She wheeled over the vast forest – spiraling upward as she gained altitude – and then aimed herself south, toward the Hadarac Desert.

Though the wind was loud in Eragon's ears, he heard an elf woman in Ellesméra raise her clear voice in song, as he had when they first arrived. She sang:

Away, away, you shall fly away,

O'er the peaks and vales

To the lands beyond.

Away, away, you shall fly away,

And never return to me…

After flying through the night, the sun began to rise. We need to stop before we're seen. Andrar mentioned, glancing towards the east.

Yes, Mariah nodded, looking at the other two before feeling Andrar beginning to descend towards a heavy canopy of trees.

Kieran groaned, watching them descend. Oh, we're nearly there!

If we're seen now, then we're losing a valuable asset, Mariah said, jumping down into the ground. "We can't forget that they don't know we're coming yet. Or how many of us there are."

"Like they would be able to prepare for anything but their demise at that point anyway," Kieran said, waving her hand around. "Tiny militia, untrained, they have… one Rider? Against three of us, and a massive, professional army? We have amazing magicians and spies… are you sure we can't just keep going?"

Murtagh rolled his eyes at Kieran, "I for one am tired of flying. That saddle really isn't meant to be a bed. Now, can we please just stop, eat, and rest for a while at least Kieran? Whether or not we start again before nightfall is up to you but I vote to stop."

"If you're both going to be that way, fine, we'll stop." She stretched and pulled out a bed roll, splaying it on the ground. She dropped down on it, fully armored and promptly fell asleep, Nasreen curling around her and doing the same.

In the few minutes it had taken Kieran to fall asleep, Murtagh had managed to get a fire pit together and lit so they would be able to cook. He rose out of his crouch in front of the flames and retrieved his bow from Thorn's saddle, shouldering his quiver of arrows. He paused and glanced at Mariah, who was fiddling with something in her saddlebags. "I'm… going to find something to eat. I'll be back in a while…"

"Okay." She nodded, looking over her shoulder at him.

After a moment of silence between them, broken only by Kieran and Nasreen's snoring, he said, "Your armor looks brilliant on you. I hope it keeps you equally safe…"

"Thank you Murtagh," she smiled a bit at him. He returned the smile before adjusting the quiver and walking into the trees. Thorn sauntered off a ways before curling into a tight circle to rest.

Andrar nosed his Rider and hummed. You should talk with him more. Since he came back you have not spoken much…

He seems angry with be about what's happened.

That did not seem like anger to me, my darling. He motioned towards where Murtagh had disappeared into the woods.

She shook her head and stopped fiddling with the bags, reassured everything was still there. It's not like I remember what happened anyway. Just… there are a lot of empty spaces… I don't know what to… apologize for.

I am afraid I cannot help you with that either Mariah. Maybe if you talked with him about it, he could help you fill the gaps back in? If Galbatorix would allow you that much...

Shivering at the reminder of the constant hold he had over her, she moved toward the fire Murtagh had started, sitting down in front of it and picking up a stick, prodding at the flames and embers, watching the tiny sparks flying through the air. Reaching up, she removed her helmet and set it down beside her, pulling at her pinned hair until it tumbled down her back.

If only there was a way to go back and change everything. She decided she would have made sure not to get caught by Galbatorix while planning to escape, and prevent him from hatching or destroying any dragon eggs. Have avoided getting caught and dragged to Urû'baen in the first place with Murtagh. Eragon wouldn't have gotten hurt by Durza. Murtagh wouldn't have had to get stuck going to the Varden… maybe Arya wouldn't have gotten captured and Brom wouldn't have died. She paused at the thought of it all leading back to her finding Andrar's egg and stopped herself.

No, she would never ask for that to be taken back, nor finding the people she now called friends and allies. By becoming a Rider she was able to cross the country and travel to places she never would have otherwise. Arya made the elves become reality, and she learned more about her ancestry than she could have imagined. Meeting Murtagh and becoming friends with him was something she would be forever thankful for, and even though Kieran had started off horrible, their friendship had blossomed from her time being stuck in Urû'baen.

Mariah closed her eyes, sighing. It was an unfortunate twist of fate that left her in the position she now found herself. She paused, waiting for any icy feeling to rush over her at her thoughts flowing so freely, but found none. Perhaps Galbatorix would not be able to reach her so easily so far away.

A few minutes later Murtagh returned, carrying with him a small bag filled with rabbits. "I nearly broke my bow on that last arrow, forgot how strong I was."

"It happens," she let out a quiet laugh, causing him to pause at the noise he suddenly realized was so foreign.

He sat down across from her in front of the fire and proceeded to skin the rabbits, skewering them and leaning them over the flames to cook. "How much longer do you think we have to go?"

"Not much longer," Mariah insisted, looking upward at the sky. "The dragons fly quite fast, so we'll likely be there by tomorrow morning."

"I really am not prepared for this Mariah… I don't think it's going to end well… for either side."

She turned her attention back to him after a moment and moved closer to him, adjusting the skewered meat as an excuse. "I… believe we will be fine."

"Aye, but that's us, not everyone else."

"I'm not worried about anyone else," Mariah insisted. "I am worried about you… and Kieran. And my brother…"

"Your brother and Eragon both are on the opposing side. Galbatorix wants them to join him, you know this. That means one of two things: they are coming with us – willingly or not, or one side destroys the other." Murtagh paused, "I do not like either option you know."

Mariah faltered as she felt an icy grip on her thoughts of escape and lowered her gaze, "They will return with us. There is no other option."

As she made to move, Murtagh grabbed her arm to keep her from standing. "You can't keep going like this…" He reached up, brushing her hair out of her face. "Mariah… are you alright?" Despite the frost creeping into her spine, she shook her head. In return, he pulled her into a tight hug, stroking her hair as she struggled to relax. He dropped a kiss on the top of her hair and lifted her face to him. "I'm sorry."

"W-what are you sorry for?"

"I feel responsible, at least in part, for what happened… if we had not argued…"

"No, don't blame yourself." She shook her head, "Nothing that has happened to me is your fault." Murtagh bit his lip, about to respond when she said again. "Please don't blame yourself." Her tone had changed to something more insistent and he caught the blue in her eyes, understanding at once that Galbatorix was listening.

"Then I won't." He kissed her cheek and she gave him a weak smile.

"Kieran will be awake soon; we should make sure she has something to eat." Mariah stood and went back to Andrar as the dragoness and her princess began stirring.

I apologize for the long wait, but I give to you the first day of the new year, a gift: the next eight chapters are finished, all tied together, and done. I am wrapping up the ending chapter now, so these next few you will not have to wait on me so long for.

Twilight and Shadows from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack.

I do not claim to be a poet…

With Love, As Always,

Mariah Dawnsinger