Chapter Seventy-Three: Fire and Smoke

Underneath Saphira, the pathless forest stretched wide to each white horizon, fading as it did from the deepest green to a hazy, washed-out purple. Martins, rooks, and other woodland birds fitted above the gnarled pines, uttering shrieks of alarm when they beheld Saphira. She flew low to the canopy in order to protect her two passengers from the arctic temperatures in the upper reaches of the sky.

Except for when Saphira fled the Ra'zac into the Spine, this was the first time she and Eragon had had the opportunity to fly together over a great stretch of distance without having to stop or hold back for companions on the ground. Saphira was especially pleased with the trip, and she delighted in showing Eragon how Glaedr's tutelage had enhanced her strength and endurance.

After his initial discomfort abated, Orik said to Eragon, "I doubt I could ever be comfortable in the air, but I can understand why you and Saphira enjoy it so. Flying makes you feel free and unfettered, like a fierce-eyed hawk hunting his prey! It sets my heart a-pounding it does."

To reduce the tedium of the journey, Orik played a game of riddles with Saphira. Eragon excused himself from the contest as he had never been particularly adept at riddles; the twist of thought necessary to solve them always seemed to escape him. In this, Saphira far exceeded him. As most dragon are, she was fascinated by puzzles and found them quite easy to unravel.

Orik said, "The only riddles I know are in Dwarvish. I will do mine best to translate them, but the results may be rough and unwieldy." Then he asked:

Tall I am young.

Short I am old.

While with life I do glow,

Urur's breath is my foe.

Not fair, growled Saphira. I know little of your gods. Eragon had no need to repeat her words, for Orik had granted permission for her to project them directly into his mind.

Orik laughed. "Do you give up?"

Never. For a few minutes, the only sound was the sweep of her wings, until she asked, Is it a candle?

"Right you are."

A puff of hot smoke floated back into Orik's and Eragon's faces as she snorted. I do poorly with such riddles. I've not been inside a house since the day I hatched, and I find enigmas difficult to deal with domestic subjects. Next she offered:

What herb cures all ailments?

This proved a terrible poser for Orik. He grumbled and groaned and gnashed his teeth in frustration. Behind him, Eragon could not help but grin, for he saw the answer plain in Saphira's mind. Finally, Orik said, "Well, what is it? You have bested me with this."

By the black raven's crime, and by this rhyme,

The answer would be thyme.

Now it was Orik's turn to cry, "Not fair! This is not mine native tongue. You cannot expect me to grasp such wordplay!"

Fair is fair. It was a proper riddle.

Eragon watched the muscles at the back of Orik's neck bunch and knot as the dwarf jutted his head forward. "If that is your stance, O Irontooth, then I 'd have you solve this riddle that every dwarf child knows."

I am named Morgothal's Forge and Helzvog's Womb.

I veil Nordvig's Daughter and bring gray death,

And I make the world anew with Helzvog's Blood.

What be I?

And so they went, exchanging riddles of increasing difficulty while Du Weldenvarden sped past below. Gaps in the thatched branches often revealed patches of silver, sections of the many rivers that threaded the forest. Around Saphira, the clouds billowed in a fantastic architecture: vaulting arches, domes, and columns; crenelated ramparts; towers the size of mountains; and ridges and valleys suffused with a glowing light that made Eragon feel as if they flew through a dream.

So fast was Saphira that, when dusk arrived, they had already left Du Weldenvarden behind and entered the auburn fields that separated the great forest from the Hadarac Desert. They made their camp among the grass and hunkered round their small fire, utterly alone upon the flat face of the earth. They were grim-faced and said little, for words only emphasized their insignificance in that bare and empty land.

Eragon took advantage of their stop to store some of his energy into the ruby that adorned Zar'roc's pommel. The gem absorbed all the power he gave it, as well as Saphira's when she lent her strength. It would, concluded Eragon, be a number of days before they could saturate both the ruby and the twelve diamonds concealed within the belt of Beloth the Wise.

Weary from the exercise, he stood to retrieve blankets from his saddle. From within them, he slid the small fairth of Mariah and set it down nearby, wrapping himself in the blankets, lying beside Saphira, and drifted into his waking sleep, where his night phantasms played out against the sea of stars above.

In the twilight hours, just before the sun had fully set, the three Riders crested a hill overlooking the Jiet River. Through a hazy cloud of orange and red smog, they could see the masses of the two armies before them. They had circumvented Melian by several leagues and Mariah couldn't help but wonder why they had chosen this particular area for their battle. The Varden was located in Farthen Dûr, deep in the mountains – or had been when she had first arrived. Their traveling to Surda was a strategic move, and one that benefitted them from the looks of the river banks, their numbers had been bolstered since her time with them. However, to travel so far from the capital of Aberon seemed a bad decision. Unless, she finally thought, they were avoiding the deaths of their civilians. By choosing the battlefield in such a remote location, they provided the minimal number of extraneous deaths.

A good decision on Nasuada's part. Andrar flapped his wings strongly, gliding through the haze.

It will not matter, she said. As they descended to the edge of the massive army, the Varden disappeared in the distance. The empire will control Surda when this battle is through.

Andrar landed heavily beside Nasreen and Thorn, shaking his neck, his armor causing a racket. This armor was not made for traveling.

She chuckled, I'm not much better off. It was the best way to bring it with us you know.

The three dragons tucked in their wings and crouched slightly for their Riders to descend. Soldiers nearby gripped their weapons tightly and stood ridged with anticipation. Kieran took the lead, striding through the crowd towards the base camp located at the edge of the army farthest from the river. Mariah and Murtagh trailed behind her, leaving the dragons to continue both inspiring and terrifying their troops.

It was then that Mariah caught their uncensored thoughts streaming through the air. Both positive and negative: Those creatures are massive; they could swallow us all whole. - Three? The king sent us three Riders? Weren't there at least six? Kieran stepped into the tent ahead of her and followed. Inside the massive structure was a group of generals for the army, all surveying a map and arguing amongst themselves. At their presence, silence dropped in like the night.

"Princess Kieran." One of them muttered, lowering his head slightly. Mariah noted his name: Harrison.

"As you were," she said, waving her hand. "Per my father's request we are here to relieve you of your command over the Empire's army. Now, tell us what we have to work with."

"We have a hundred thousand soldiers at your command. Core recruits are those trained and established, however Galbatorix has also conscripted many of the men from cities in the Empire to fight. Their lives would be thrown into upheaval if the resistance were to succeed in their advance. Upon our arrival we sent a horseman to deliver a message asking for their surrender."

Mariah laughed, "Allow me a guess, Lord Harrison, they didn't accept?"

"We wait for their reply." He said, pausing at the idea she knew his name and title.

"They will refuse surrender," she said. "And we will have to make an example of their messenger to get our point across." Murtagh shivered at the thought, watching her. In a room full of soldiers who had trained all their lives for a war of this caliber, she was confident. "We will let them know that their surrender or their destruction are their only choices." The newly demoted generals all muttered their agreement.

"As first in command," Lieutenant Harrison moved from behind the table, glancing between the three of them, "should there be anything you need, come to me with your demands and I will do my best to accommodate them."

"I first need to speak with the magicians, and then the highest ranking soldier in each division. Send for both groups immediately, as there is much to discuss before the response arrives from the resistance." Kieran said, surveying her nails. In a moment, the group of Lieutenants disbanded and left the three Riders inside the base alone. "A hundred thousand isn't bad."

"We won't need that many," Mariah insisted, looking over their battle plans.

Murtagh watched the two of them and shook his head. "Between the three of us I don't think we'll need much more to win our way through this fight. If we could just cut our way to Nasuada we would be able to hold her captive, it would force their surrender."

"And we won't get to kill anyone," Kieran muttered.

"The magicians need to be kept in check. The soldiers just need to make sure they steer clear of anything they aren't suited to. Once we tell them that they don't stand a chance against a magic user, they should be of no consequence." Mariah sighed, "It wouldn't take much for them to get wiped out in waves. We could destroy the entire army ourselves if we felt like it…"

Within a quarter of an hour, the magicians had all arrived - there were nearly fifty of them, with varying degrees of skill – led by none other than the Twins. They grouped up just outside the tent and awaited instruction. Kieran surveyed them for a minute, battering them each out of her own head as they tested her. It was Mariah who snapped and shot back at a few of them mentally. The ones that had been prying harder recoiled at the lashing. As if waiting for the initial round to finish, the Twins kept looking towards her. Mariah shot a glare at the two bald-headed magicians and daring them to attack her mental defenses.

The princess smirked, "You are to guard against the enemy's magicians and wipe them out before they find you. However, above any beyond that your goal is to keep them distracted from attacking regular soldiers, and us. You will each be assigned to a group of soldiers, and defend them from any attacks from Du Vrangr Gata."

"In the event that Imperial soldiers begin to break ranks, you have permission to control the situation before it escalates - by whatever means necessary." Mariah paused, looking around the group. A few looked at her questioningly. "If a single solider flees from this battle, make an example of him and cut him down where he stands. There will be no surrender, or escape. I will warn the commanders that you have my permission to do whatever you deem necessary to keep order." A murmur ran through the group before Mariah raised her hand to silence them. "In addition, you are to remember above all else, that you are not to harm the Varden's Dragon Rider, or his blue dragoness. Galbatorix will personally see to it that you suffer a slow and agonizing torture for the remainder of your life if they are harmed. Make sure your soldiers understand the same."

The Twins waited for her to finish, "A question-"

"No. You do not harm the Varden's Rider under any circumstances, have I made myself clear?"

"Dawnsinger if we may-"

"You may not," she snapped, "His life is more valuable than both of yours combined; now you are all dismissed." The others scattered quickly, but the Twins waited in silence. "Your next words had best be thought over carefully."

"Yes," they said. "It would be most advantageous for the magicians to report directly to us, as we are most familiar with the strategies His Highness Galbatorix has concocted thus far."

She stepped toward them in a few smooth strides, her eyes icy and voice shifting. Galbatorix spoke for her then, "The entire army reports to General Dawnsinger, that includes both of you." They shifted their footing as she regained some control. "Now, if we are going to have a conflict then it will be here and now, and I will run you both through with my blade. I have no use for either of you, any more than I do a pair of rats searching for stale crumbs. Now get back to your tent, and if I see, hear, or even feel your presence within fifty feet of me until this battle is over, you can consider yourselves dead. Now. Am I understood?"

"Yes General Dawnsinger." They bowed their heads one after the other to her and scurried off to their quarters, silently talking between themselves.

Turning, Mariah saw Murtagh watching her, looking surprisingly pleased. "They needed a good thrashing, pity it was only verbal. Now, let's go find the commanders…"

Harrison had grouped a larger mass of battle-worn men just up the hill. They were loud amongst themselves and rowdy, a few getting into a small fist fight before the Riders appeared before them. Several of them laughed at Kieran and Mariah's appearance and Murtagh went ridged beside them, catching the same thoughts as the other two.

The princess looks like she'd be better off in a bed than on a battlefield. - If I had to guess ain't none of them seen blood in their lives. - Son of some fancy lord come to bark orders again eh? - So that's why no one likes having female soldiers around, too distracting. - That girl's no more than fifteen, I'm not takin' orders from some kid – especially not a little girl.

Mariah's eyes flashed towards the last one, catching his gaze. His laughter silenced as she took a few quiet steps toward him. She spoke quietly, "It would be best if you respected your superiors. I have it in my power to demote you on the spot… or spin your head around so it faces the other direction. Continue your commentary and I'll have you split in half. Am I clear?"

"I ain't scared of you."

Her mouth twitched. "I am Mariah Dawnsinger. I am a Rider, and now General of this army. Would you like to rethink your comment?" A few of them glanced over at her, quieting down to listen.

"Sure," he said, folding his rippling arms across his chest with a gruff laugh. "I'm not takin' any orders from some little girl."

The rest of the commanders fell silent.

The tip of her blade was nearly at his throat when she felt Murtagh holding her back with a spell. "I don't need a blade to kill him you know."

"We know, but now is not the time to be murdering the commanders… we are here to give them instructions for the battle." His voice was calm and she lowered her blade, sheathing it, leaving Kieran and Murtagh to deal with them. Mariah didn't listen to them speaking, just felt the comments rolling over her mind.

I didn't even see her move. - How did she get to him so fast? - She's possessed. - I'll have to warn my battalion not to anger her or General Dawnsinger may just murder every last one of us…

She clenched her jaw and shut them out, waiting until Murtagh and Kieran were finished. Harrison came back some time later, collecting them before he marched off, his sword clinking against his armor. As they stepped after Harrison, the renewed sensation of concentrated thoughts brushed her consciousness. Murtagh seemed to be ignoring them, focusing on a point in the distance. Up ahead, Kieran was having too much fun showing off to the soldiers, flashing flirty smiles and batting her eyelashes at a few of them. Their thoughts turned Mariah's stomach and she set her hard gaze on those with the more lewd comments.

Ahead there was a raised area, halfway up a hill, where three large tents had been set up. The dragons were lounging at the base of the hill, awaiting their Riders. "You will have a slightly higher vantage point from here, so that you may oversee the army better. Be sure to contact me if you have need of anything, generals." Harrison commented, motioning over the tents in the distance. He dismissed himself with a salute and started back down the hillside.

It was black now, and the fires from individual groups of soldiers littered the ground for three miles until they were nothing but twinkling stars on the bank of the Jiet River. In the same moment, Mariah saw the underlying lights of the Burning Plains. There was the slow pulse of green flame underneath the shattered rock, and sudden sparks where the cracks broke through to the surface. It was haunting in its appearance.

"Mariah, are you alright?" Kieran asked, setting a hand on her shoulder.

"Fine." She said, moving inside one of the tents and shutting the flap behind her.

Kieran exchanged a look with Murtagh. He sighed and shook his head, moving towards one of the empty tents. When Kieran followed and grabbed his arm, he turned and blinked in surprise at the look on her face. "What?"

"You need to tell me what's going on before all this starts happening."

"What do you mean?"

Kieran glanced over her shoulder and pulled him forward into the tent, setting up a few sound wards to avoid Mariah listening in on them. "You. Mariah… what's happening that I don't know about."

"It's nothing, she's just been off because of Galbatorix possessing her or however he did it…"

"I know that, it's everything else. She had me wipe her memory last time… and I think I know why you two started fighting. But… I thought you two were over that."

"We are." He said curtly, not liking how close she was shooting her comments.

Kieran stepped up to him, holding eye contact. "What happened when you left?"

Murtagh shirked away from her, unable to stare into her eyes and think. "Nothing. Mariah and I were arguing before I even left. I don't know what Galbatorix did to her-"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

He sunk into a chair and sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "I don't… Kieran…" Murtagh lifted his head up and looked up at her. Why did they have to be identical? It was everything he had to look into her eyes. Kieran's features were soft as she watched him struggle with running into Kendra within the next few days and being on the opposite side of the fight. "I don't know why Mariah's being like this."

She let it go, allowing the change of subject. "Mariah can't remember half of what's happened, or at least that's what she told me. Her memory has gaps in it from you erasing it so often… and then when I did it last time, I think I might have done more damage than I intended. She did something… and I erased everything from quite a ways back up until that point…"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." she shuffled her feet, digging her heel into the dirt. "I think I erased some memories I shouldn't have…" Kieran looked back up at him. "And I'm pretty sure he's why you were fighting."

"What did you erase?"

"Just… some of her thoughts about him I think… and a little bit of some time with you… and me, and a few other parts of our time this spring. I hope it wasn't anything really important."

He shook his head, "It alright Kieran, we'll figure it out. As for him, well… she's known him for a long time; I doubt you'd be able to erase him completely from her mind. And yes, he is part of the reason we decided to… well… stop."

"Oh," she sighed, relieved, "Good. But still I felt bad…"

"Don't." Murtagh stood and walked past her towards the entrance to the tent. He paused, his fingers curling into the fabric as he stared at the foggy night sky. "Kieran… Please make sure no one we care about gets hurt during this war."

Biting her lip, she nodded to herself. "I promise." As her breath left her, Kieran felt him leave her presence.

Soon after they resumed their journey the following morning, the rippling grass gave way to tan scrub, which grew ever more scarce until, in turn, it was replaced by sunbaked ground bare of all but the most hardy plants. Reddish gold dunes appeared. From his vantage on Saphira, they looked to Eragon like lines of waves forever sailing toward a distant shore.

As the sun began its descent, he noticed a cluster of mountains in the distant east and knew he beheld Du Fells Nángoröth, where the wild dragons had gone to mate, to raise their young, and eventually to die. We must visit there someday, said Saphira, following his gaze.

Aye.

That night, Eragon felt the solitude even more keenly than before, for they were camped in the emptiest region of the Hadarac Desert, where so little moisture existed in the air that his lips soon cracked, though he smeared with nalgask every few minutes. He sensed little life in the ground, only a handful of miserable plants interspersed with a few insects and lizards.

As he had when they fled Gil'ead through the desert, Eragon drew water from the soil to replenish their waterskins, and before he allowed the water to drain away, he scryed Nasuada in the pool's reflection to see if the Varden had been attacked yet. To his relief, they had not.

On the third day since leaving Ellesméra, the wind rose up behind them and wafted Saphira farther than she could have flown on her own, carrying them entirely out of the Hadarac Desert.

Near the edge of the waste, they passed over a number of horse-mounted nomads who were garbed in flowing robes to ward against the heat .The men shouted in their rough tongue and shook their swords and spears at Saphira, though none of them dared loose an arrow at her.

Eragon, Saphira, and Orik camped for the night at the southernmost edge of Silverwood Forest, which lay along Lake Tüdosten and was named so because it was composed almost entirely of beeches, willows, and trembling poplars. In contrast to the endless twilight that lay beneath the brooding pines of Du Weldenvarden, Silverwood was filled with bright sunshine, larks, and the gentle rustling of green leaves. The trees seemed young and happy to Eragon, and he was glad to be there. And though all signs of the desert had vanished, the weather remained far warmer than he was accustomed to at that time of year. It felt more like summer than spring.

Are they asleep?

It seems as though they have drifted off, yes. Is this a good idea?

I'm not going that far, she insisted, stepping out of her tent and climbing up the hill a ways. There were a few trees and bushes along the tiny trail that led to the crest. Once at the top, able to hear only silence and wind, she knelt down in the grass and surveyed the landscape. She could see for miles. Both armies lining either side of the banks were intimidating to say the least. The gravity of the situation weighed on her in that moment and she let out a small sigh.

Turning her head down, she carved a small pool in the ground and emptied her water skin into it. Her hands trembled for a moment before she raised them and spoke aloud the words to scry her brother. The water swirled with ruby light before it faded and the magic released. "Should have known it'd still be useless…" Sitting there, she stared into the puddle and let her shoulders drop in defeat.

It took much longer to try the spell again. Every moment she anticipated the icy grip on her thoughts as they swirled in her mind, trying to collect enough courage to try a second time. Finally, she exhaled and muttered the spell, clamping her eyes shut, able to see his face. There was a surge of magic before it snapped and sparks emitted from the pool of water. With a growl, she splashed her hand into the water, breathing heavily. Withdrawing her hand, she stood and headed back down the hillside to her tent.

I take it that did not go well… Andrar commented lightly, feeling her re-approach.

Mariah snapped her connection with him, blocking out his voice. She stripped off her armor and pulled her boots off with difficulty, falling and hitting the ground. Kicking, she flung one of them clear across the tent. With a final grumble she flung herself on the bed and pulled the blanket over her head, closing her eyes, trying to remember something better than this.

Her eyes snapped open and she found herself standing in a blossoming forest. It was warm as the sun beat down on her face. Shielding her eyes, she looked upward and smiled as a flock of birds passed overhead. The rush of their feathers cascaded down into the canopy, echoing through the vast empty grove. Mariah brushed her fingers against the bark of a tree and felt a smile caress her lips at the roughness of it, walking towards the gap between the tall dark spruce trees.

She felt more than heard someone falling into step with her and glanced down to see a pair of brown boots. With a small smile, she followed them up to their owner. A hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her in tight, spinning her into him. He smiled as his nose brushed against hers. "I never did get a kiss last time…"

"I'm sorry…" she admitted, blushing hard and fighting down a grin. Mariah reached up and threaded her fingers in his hair, pushing up on her toes. She felt the smile on his lips falter as he kissed her back fervently. Breaking, she laughed quietly as he kissed her nose. "I hope that makes up for it."

"I guess we'll make that work." Eragon grinned, picking her up and spinning her once. "What would you have us do today my dear?"

She twisted a lock of his hair around her finger and hummed, pulling him back down for another kiss. He felt warm against her and the hand splayed against her back made her feel safe. Pulling her lips away, she muttered quietly, "I just want us to be together for right now."

Mariah pressed her lips against his cheek, closing her eyes and melting into the familiarity of him, nuzzling into his shoulder and hugging him tightly. She squeaked slightly when he picked her up again and carried her to another clearing, allowing her to stay tucked into his shoulder. Gently he set her back down in the flowery glen, brushing her hair back before stretching and sitting down in the grass. She followed suit, making sure she was close enough to keep her hand against his.

Picking a daisy in front of her, she spun it between her thin fingers. "You will have to tell me about Ellesméra sometime… and the elves…" she insisted, glancing over at him.

"I shall." Eragon agreed, watching her. "You like lilies better… if I remember correctly."

"Yes," she said. "Daisies are nice but… seem so plain."

He nodded, "And irises, you always liked those too." Eragon watched her for a moment before turning around, blocking his hands from view. She raised an eyebrow at him until he turned around, fiery red irises spilling out of his hands in a bundle. Mariah beamed, taking them carefully and leaning in, kissing him gently.

"Thank you, they're wonderful."

Eragon hummed, "I only tried to make them as beautiful as you."

She smiled, "They're perfect."

He blushed and chuckled a little. Mariah nudged him with her shoulder and closed her eyes, humming in approval as he wrapped his arms around her. When she started drifting off, he shifted, lowering her gently onto the grass. The movement woke her more and she smiled up at him as he settled next to her, brushing her hair away from her eyes.

Mariah rested her head on his shoulder and wriggled closer when he hugged her to him with his arm around her waist. Tracing her fingers along the side of his face, she smiled a little at the angles of his jaw and nose. Brushing her fingers over his lips, he took her hand, turning it over gently, kissing the back.

Pushing her hand up, she placed her silver palm against his cheek, kissing him hard as she felt a rush of tears threatening her vision. He responded by pulling her in tight against him, holding her. "Mariah, I love you."

"I love you, Eragon." She muttered against his lips. "I never got to say it." As her tears spilled past her lashes, she felt him brush them away.

"It's alright my dear," he insisted, his lips on hers again. "I always knew. I hope you knew as well."

"Of course," she whispered harshly, fighting back her tears. Eragon hummed, twisting his fingers up in her hair as she pulled him down toward her.

"Mariah!"

She sat up quickly, flushed and drowning in sweat. Quickly, she brushed down her hair and shouted back at Kieran. "What?!"

"It's morning. We're going to meet with the lieutenants, make sure you're ready in five minutes."

It was late afternoon when they arrived at Aberon, a low, walled city centered around a bluff in an otherwise flat landscape. Borromeo Castle occupied the top of the bluff. The rambling citadel was protected by three concentric layers of walls, numerous towers, and, Eragon noted, hundreds of ballistae made for shooting down a dragon. The rich amber light from the low sun cast Aberon's buildings in sharp relief and illuminated a plume of dust rising from the city's western gate, where a line of soldiers sought entrance.

As Saphira descended toward the inner ward of the castle, she brought Eragon into contact with the combined thoughts of the people in the capital. The noise overwhelmed him at first – how was he supposed to listen for foes and still function at the same time? – until he realized that, as usual, he was concentrating too much on specifics. All he had to do was sense people's general intentions. He broadened his focus, and the individual voices clamoring for his attention subsided into a continuum of the emotions surrounding him. It was like a sheet of water that lay draped over the nearby landscape, undulating with the rise and fall of people's feelings and spiking whenever someone was racked by the extremes of passion.

Thus, Eragon was aware of the alarm that ripped the people below as word of Saphira spread. Careful, he told her. We don't want them to attack us.

Dirt billowed into the air with each beat of Saphira's powerful wings as she settled in the middle of the courtyard, sinking her claws into the bare ground to steady herself. The horses tethered in the yard neighed with fear, creating such an uproar that Eragon finally inserted himself in their minds and calmed them with words from the ancient language.

Eragon dismounted after Orik, eyeing the many soldiers that line the parapets and the drawn ballistae they manned. He did not fear the weapons, but he had no desire to become engaged in a fight with his allies.

A group of twelve men, some soldiers, hurried out of the keep toward Saphira. They were led by a tall man with the same dark skin as Nasuada, only the third person Eragon had met with such a complexion. Halting ten paces away, the man bowed – as did his followers – then said, "Welcome, Rider. I am Dahwar, son of Kedar. I am King Orrin's seneschal."

Eragon inclined his head. "And I, Eragon Shadeslayer, son of none."

And I, Orik, Thrifk's son."

And I, Saphira, daughter of Vervada, said Saphira, using Eragon as her mouthpiece.

Dahwar bowed again. "I apologize that no one of higher rank than myself is present to greet guests as noble as you, but King Orrin, Lady Nasuada, and all the Varden have long since marched to confront Galbatorix's army." Eragon nodded. He had expected as much. "They left orders that if you came here seeking them, you should join them directly, for your prowess is needed if we are to prevail.

"Can you show us on a map how to find them?"

"It has been done, sir." He was handed a sealed scroll and handed it to Eragon. "For your eyes only."

He broke the seal and unraveled it, able to feel a spell breaking as he did so. Mark. Quickly, Eragon looked over the map, reading over his friend's penmanship and the details of the map he'd provided. The Empire was advancing south along the Jiet River, and the Varden was planning on taking them head-on when they arrived.

"Would you care to step out of the heat and partake of some refreshments?"

Eragon shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the map. "We have no time to waste. Besides, I doubt Saphira would fit in your halls."

That seemed to catch the seneschal off guard. He blinked and ran his eyes over Saphira, then said, "Quite right, sir. In either case, our hospitality is yours. If there is aught you and your companions desire, you have but to ask."

For the first time, Eragon realized that he could issue commands and expect them to be followed. "We need a week's worth of provisions. For me, only fruit, vegetables, flour, cheese, bread – things like that. We also need our waterskins refilled." He was impressed that Dahwar did not question did not question his avoidance of meat. Orik added his requests then for jerky, bacon, and other such products.

Snapping his fingers, Dahwar sent two servants running back into the keep to collect the supplies. While everyone in the ward waited for the men to return, he asked, "May I assume by your presence here, Shadeslayer, that you completed your training with the elves?"

"My training shall never end so long as I'm alive."

"I see." Then, after a moment, Dahwar said, "Please excuse my impertinence, sir, for I am ignorant of the ways of the Riders, but are you not human? I was told you were."

"That he is," growled Orik. "He was… changed. And you should be glad he was, or our predicament would be far worse than it is." Dahwar was tactful enough not to pursue the subject, but from his thoughts Eragon concluded that the seneschal would have paid a handsome price for futher details – any information about Eragon or Saphira was valuable in Orrin's government.

The food and water were soon brought by two wide-eyed pages. At Eragon's word, they deposited the items beside Saphira, looking terribly frightened as they did, then retreated behind Dahwar.

"The Burning Plains… my companion mentioned it, why have I not heard of this?"

"You may know them by their old name, then, the name the elves use Du Völlar Eldrvarya."

"Ah, yes." Now Eragon remembered. He had read about them in one of the histories Oromis assigned him. The pains – which contained huge deposits of peat – lay along the eastern side of the Jiet River where Surda's border crossed it and had been the site of a skirmish between the Riders and the Forsworn. During the fight, the dragons inadvertently lit the peat with the flames from their mouths and the fire had burrowed underground, where it remained smoldering ever since. The land had been rendered uninhabitable by the noxious fumes that poured out of the glowing vents in the charred earth.

A shiver crawled down Eragon's left side as he recalled his premonition: banks of warriors colliding upon an orange and yellow field, accompanied by the harsh screams of gore-crows and the whistle of black arrows. He shivered again. Fate is converging upon us, he said to Saphira.

In short order, he and Orik packed the supplies, remounted Saphira, and from her back thanked Dahwar for his service. As Saphira was about to take off again, Eragon frowned; a note of discord had entered the minds he was monitoring. "Dahwar, two grooms in the stables have gotten into an argument and one of them, Tathal, intends to commit murder. You can stop him, though, if you send men right away."

Dahwar widened his eyes in an expression of astonishment, and even Orik twisted round to look at Eragon. The seneschal asked, "How do you know this, Shadeslayer?"

Eragon merely said, "Because I am a Rider."

Then Saphira unfurled her wings, and everyone on the ground ran back to avoid being battered by the rush of air as she flapped downward and soared in to the sky. As Borromeo Castle dwindled behind them, Orik said, "Can you hear my thoughts, Eragon?"

"Do you want me to try? I haven't, you know."

"Try."

Frowning, Eragon concentrated his attention on the dwarf's consciousness and was surprised to find Orik's mind well protected behind thick mental barriers. He could sense Orik's presence, but not his thoughts and feelings. "Nothing."

Orik grinned. "Good. I wanted to make sure I hadn't forgotten my old lessons."

By unspoken consent, they did not stop for the night, but rather forged onward through the blackened sky. Of the moon and stars they saw no sign, no flash or pale gleam to breach the oppressive gloom. The dead hours bloated and sagged and, it seemed to Eragon, clung to each second as if reluctant to surrender to the past.

When sun finally returned- bringing with it its welcome light – Saphira landed by the edge of a small lake so Eragon and Orik could stretch their legs, relieve themselves, and eat breakfast without the constant movement they experienced on her back.

They had just taken off again when a long, low brown cloud appeared on the edge of the horizon, like a smudge of walnut ink on a sheet of white paper. The cloud grew wider and wider as Saphira approached it, until by late morning it obscured the entire land beneath a pall of foul vapors.

They had reached the Burning Plains of Alagaësia.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah Dawnsinger