Bitter

A veil of dust and ash settled over the steppe. Greedily cawed the crows above their heads. Their wings rustled in the wind. Ivren gave the last mercy to the dying, while Eragon healed those who could still be saved. An aching tightness closed around his heart and Ivren knew it was his fault. If only he had asked Nainar to intervene . .

On the floor laid a man, so smeared with blood that Ivren could no longer tell if he belonged to the Varden or the Empire. He groaned in pain. His hand twitched and reached for something invisible. Ivren went down on his knees beside him and let a trickle of magic flow over him. The soldier was lucky. Tendons reconnected, bones slid into their rightful places, skin grew over flesh and veins pulsed with blood.

With a gust of wind, the dust swirled around. It brought with it the stench of boiling blood and burnt flesh. Graves were dug or bodies burned as best they could. The warriors with whom he had shared a meal last night were dead, few of many. How many thousands had died? What senseless bloodshed!

But what was the point of despairing? Ivren could not turn the hourglass. Time obeyed no one. Hopefully they would understand. Oromis would understand him. He didn't want to think about the alternative. And yet - Ivren shooed a crow from a corpse. It was hideous. How often would he witness such a battle? If only Galbatorix were vulnerable, Ivren would slit his throat himself. To end it, to end all of this, all it took was just one death.

A Varden warrior pressed her hand on the wound at her side. Drop by drop, her blood coloured the steppe red. Ivren healed her too. Slowly the energy really ran out. The Eldunari feed him energy, but even that source would run dry. No, he had to keep an emergency reserve in case he would meet Galbatorix or another extraordinary opponent. Like a shadow.

Hm. What was Rauthren doing right now? Aurora surely had a hold on him. How he would love to have her by his side right now, if only for a hug and a few words of advice. His foster mother always seemed unflappable. Ivren could imagine only too well how she would have cornered Murtagh and Dorn, defeated him and set him free. The dreams of a child.

And yet one question remained: Where was Nainar?

Dusk was falling. Ivren still had not reached him. At first Ivren tried to convince himself that everything was all right. Maybe he was following Dorn and Murtagh? The thought alone made him feel cold. At least Shruikan couldn't show up without everyone noticing. Ivren stroked his hair. He hadn't exhausted all his options yet. He disappeared into Eragon's tent, poured water into a bowl until it reached a shallow surface, took another deep breath and spoke, "Draumr kópa."

The water rippled. Shadows swirled around. A bright eye flashed out, then black scales. They formed a body, curved in on itself. The wings were sewn with many small wounds from which dark blood dripped. One leg was pulled tight against the body.

Damn! His hands clenched into fists. He should never have left his side in the first place!

Somewhere, in a place he didn't know, lay his friend, his brother. Ivren had seen virtually nothing of Alagaesia with his own eyes. It could be anywhere!

No, he had to remain rational. Nainar must have been attacked at the beginning of the battle, or perhaps at the end, when Murtagh and Dorn appeared. Oh, it was no use!

But who could hurt a dragon single-handedly? Could it be - no. Nainar would have called for help after all. Mages? How would they even know about him? No. It couldn't be a dragon, unless there was a wild one prowling around after all. Highly unlikely. The possibilities were getting slimmer and slimmer. What could fly?

Ivren laughed nervously. Yes, what could fly . . Desperately he clung to the lie, but there was only one choice: Lethrblaka. What other creature would dare to attack a dragon?

Ivren felt Saphira's landing vibrate through the ground. He stepped out of the tent. "Hello Eragon, hello Saphira." he greeted them. "Are you still injured?"

"Just exhausted." Eragon admitted with a tired smile. "But Saphira didn't want me to heal her."

Saphira snorted. "A few scratches. The wounded needed you more." She took a deep breath. "You smell of blood-and-prey fear. What happened?"

"We need to talk." Ivren said reluctantly. The Varden desperately needed Eragon and Saphira, but more importantly the two were still exhausted and drained from the battle. He didn't know how the two felt, but he could imagine. A friend, now an enemy, no more dragon eggs in Alagaesia. . .

"I had tried to call Nainar to stand by us against Dorn. But . Something happened. I don't know what. My guess is Ra'zac and Lethrblaka, because what else could attack him?"

"He's hurt?"

"Yes. I have searched for him with the dream sight, but I do not know the place. I suppose I must take my leave."

"We can help you." Saphira nudged his shoulder sympathetically. He forced a smile.

"You need to rest." Ivren stared into the horizon. Every second counted. "I can't wait. I have to find him."

"The trail is getting cold." Eragon nodded. "I could use dream sight to look for him?" he suggested. Ivren blinked. He wanted to slap his hand over his face. Why hadn't he thought of that? After all, he had friends, allies. What a relief!

Eragon looked at him expectantly.

"Yeah right!"

They disappeared into the tent. "Draumr kópa." Again the water showed Nainar, hunched over, his wings drawn tight and his eye full of exhaustion. But the background remained dark. Despair enveloped his heart. How long would it take to search all the unknown corners of Alagaesia? Time they did not have. Pain startled him. Ivren rubbed the marks of his fingernails.

"We will find him, I promise you," said Eragon. He pulled a map from behind some scrolls and fixed its corners. "He must be close by."

"You know the Beor Mountains, likewise it cannot be Hadarac, Weldenvarden or the Leona area."

"I've been here too." Eragon pointed to Teirm, then to Gil'ead. "Would Nainar fly far?"

"I don't think so. But," Ivren mused, "perhaps by water. Especially the open sea. I must admit I don't know how well Lethrblaka can swim, but we've gone diving more than once."

"Towards the sea, then."

Ivren focused on the burning steppes. For a dragon, it was not even a day's journey to the water.

"Now, assuming that he has managed to shake off or kill his attackers, and is not trapped somewhere - where could he be?" murmured Ivren. "I am injured. I need a place away from people. I need water and food. Where am I?"

Lake Tudosten drew his gaze. It was the perfect place, and he wasn't just saying that because Oromis had been born there. A lake full of fish, a forest full of prey, perfectly suited for Nainar. But they had been there. The dream view would show him.

"I wouldn't fly far." Ivren circled an area with his finger. It stretched inland to the Helgrind, Furnost and the western end of the Beor Mountains. Nainar could easily cover this distance in a day. Had he fled purposefully?

That would make a huge difference. "A dense forest, a high mountain or deep water. All good places to hide."

"Here?" suggested Eragon. He pointed to a cove on the Surda coast, surrounded by forest.

"Maybe. I guess he'll want to stay away from the Empire. More likely not the Helgrind or Leona."

Ivren sighed. "Damn. I just don't know."

"We should look for leads. I still need to talk to Nasuada, but I'm sure she'll allow me to hunt Ra'zac."

"Just imagine if they managed to mount a coordinated attack with Murtagh."

Eragon shuddered. "Terrible. We won't let them get away with it. I promise you that. We will find Nainar."