The Search

The first rays of sun broke out from behind the ashen clouds and tiledthe sky in pale pink. They rose with the dawn. Ivren yawned, but soon the excitement chased the exhaustion away. Once again they used the dream vision. There was only one change - the blood had dried.

Ivren never wanted to be a true dragonrider. But now he wished he had the magical bond with Nainar.

Saphira pushed off with a mighty leap. Dust swirled beneath her wings. Ivren sneezed. High in the sky, she circled once and again. Lights continued to burn below them until Saphira soared even higher and he could barely see the sparks of the flames. Eragon stared into the distance. Suddenly he flinched. "Ivren?"

"Yes?"

"Can you find blood with a spell?"

Ivren blinked. "Good question. I understand your idea. But . . Hm . Blood in general is not a problem. But it costs far too much energy because there's so much blood around us. Finding Nainar with it would be extremely difficult, almost impossible. You'd have to be very specific to find a particular person, otherwise Galbatorix would have used it long ago." Eragon swallowed. "Besides, I've covered us both with quite a lot of spells to avoid being found."

"Then how could I see him with dream vision?"

"With a little work, you can cast exceptions into spells like that. Alone, you and Aurora can find me."

The main problem was to allow only these people to find them. As dragonriders, they were unique enough that there was no danger. There was unlikely to be a second Eragon bound to a Saphira. The easiest way would be with the true name, but of course that was not possible. Some things should remain secret.

At once, Saphira shot down as fast as an arrow. The wind tugged at them and Ivren had to press close to Eragon. With a tremor they touched down. Ivren immediately saw why Saphira had landed here:

Deep furrows cut through the ground. Blood caked the peat, many fine splashes and, in one place, a large pool of blood. There were scorch marks in the grass, large black patches, ash and the remains of burnt grass. Behind the dead branches of a shrub laid a boulder, deformed by the flames.

He jumped of her back. "Good find."

Ivren wrinkled his nose. There was a sharp, sour smell in the air. He knew it all too well. Damn! If Nainar - ! Eragon snapped him out of his thoughts. "That smell . . I remember it. Seithr oil."

"Seithr oil. Yes." Ivren sighed, but he wanted to scream. "I don't see any remains here."

"Maybe we'll find traces."

"I hope so."

Ivren strode aimlessly across the square. Why Seithr oil of all things? Oh, he knew. Ra'zac preferred it, but still - the one thing no spell could really heal. He had tried so many times. Always to no avail. Back then, a hundred years ago . . Ivren hardly wanted to think about it.

There was a loud crash, a rumble of thunder, as if the mountain was about to collapse on top of him. Ivren opened his eyes, brushed his hair out of his face and sat up. The rain pelted down on the rocky outcrop and soon drops were falling from the ceiling. His shelter would not withstand the weather for long. He had to move on. But the storm - Ivren didn't want to leave.

The embers barely gave him enough light to see his own hand. "Garjzla," Ivren spoke and a small ball of light appeared. Under its light, he packed up. The residents of Karstwehl waited for him, worried for their families and lives. Too many strange events in too short a time were causing panic in the small village. Ivren would ease their worries. Aurora thought it was just superstition, but the disappearance of an entire merchant party worried them both. At least it couldn't be a dragon.

Light cut through the darkness outside the cave, a flash of lightning, and then a mighty roar and thunder. Hopefully not an avalanche. Ivren stared at the night. Not even moonlight could show him the way. He had to carry light with him, and he didn't like that at all. Old paranoia told him that he was inviting almost anything to attack him. And yet he had no choice.

The day before the forest had been a sight of wonder, now it was a terror in the night. The gnarled, twisted trees were no longer fascinating, but disturbing. The dense undergrowth no longer full of treats, but full of monsters. Soon the forest floor turned into a mud bath. It smacked with every step. The storm was still raging above the treetops. Not even moths were flying around. The rain scared them off.

At last! Solid ground under his feet. The footpath turned into a proper road. It split at the stream, well, if you could still call it a stream. It was swollen from the rain and condensation of the last few weeks. The small bridge creaked in the wind. The planks were old, wet and moss-covered, the ropes worn and soaked. Hmm. Should he really go over there?

He stepped carefully onto the first plank, then onto the second and the third. It swayed precariously. He took another step. Bloody slippery! Now he was in the middle, almost in the water. The bridge was sagging. Just one more, and - done. Ivren breathed a sigh of relief.

Despite everything, Karstwehl soon came into view. The village was pressed tightly against the rock face, hemmed in by stone, forest and water. Not far away, the mountains plunged into a deep valley, full of sharp edges and small caves. There was a lake at the bottom.

The locals were not very helpful. They knew who had disappeared, but could give neither a time nor a place. Who knows, if he was unlucky, they were just lost.

Nevertheless, he would take it seriously. Almost thirty people missing was no coincidence. Plus the two villagers - Hm. The traders could have been ambushed. The mountains were also treacherous, now that the thaw was upon them. Oh well.

Determined, Ivren walked back towards the road. At least it was no longer raining cats and dogs. Animals crept out of their hiding places and prowled around in the thicket. Every now and then a rustling could be heard behind him. Probably a curious fox.

The traders had last been seen at Lake Zeer. vren unfolded the map. Down a little further and then left. Everything was clear. The wet stones squeaked under his boots. Ivren stumbled, saw a laceration coming, but just managed to catch himself. He heard a squawk, as if from a magpie, but somehow not. Ivren shook his head. No matter.

The next section of the path led sharply past the edge, a path carved into the mountain face, pleasant for a human, but more dangerous with a cart. The sun fell through the clouds and painted wild shadows across the rocks. Wings rustled above his head. Ivren turned around, had to squint and, once he was no longer blinded, saw a large bird circling in the sky. There were one or two species of eagle here. Too bad it was so far up. He would like to get a closer look.

Soon the rocks gave way to a large meadow, filled with all kinds of spring flowers and herbs in all colors, yellow dots of dandelion, as well as the delicate white daisies, lady's mantle and the familiar leaves of the foxglove. Sharp splinters of stone still pierced the slope like the teeth of an ancient dragon. It crunched under his feet. Wood. Ivren knelt, lifted the plank and knew he had found the remains of the lost merchants. Had they fallen down into the valley?

A few steps further on, he found more wood, torn cloths and shards of clay, dark traces of old blood and, he could already smell the stench, flies, masses of flies and maggots that were attacking the provisions and remains. He lifted a plank with a stick. A swarm of white crawling masses fell down. Ivren let go of the plank. He shuddered. Where were the merchants? Ivren couldn't find a single person, alive or dead.

Suddenly he saw a shadow at the edge of the forest. Ivren gripped his sword, took a step forward and saw a pool of blood. A promising path, covered in blood, a veritable blood trail, led towards the forest. His face grimaced. Great. Nevertheless, Ivren crept on towards the forest. Unlike the merchants, he had magic. What could possibly happen?

The undergrowth trembled. The bushes rustled. A young roebuck stared at him, startled. After a moment, it jumped away. The trail of blood led even further. Slowly, the patches became thinner and thinner until they disappeared behind a gnarled oak tree. Ivren peered around the corner. The moss was still wet. Water, not blood. That was the source of the blood. Not human. A horse, or what was left of it. The entrails were scattered across the forest floor. Some of the bones had already been eaten bare, gnawed away.

Again, something wobbled behind a bush. Ivren stared at the bush and listened. Leaves rustled, something cracked and crunched. He stepped closer, pushed a branch out of the way and blinked at a man covered in blood.

"No! Please -" the man gasped and tried to crawl away. "Please . ."

Ivren paused. "Don't worry, friend. I was asked to look for you." He left out the 'for your bones' part. The man looked battered, as to be expected, one leg bound with roughly torn cloth, already soaked with blood, also deathly pale with deep circles under his eyes and a hint of madness in them.

"I can help you. I'm a healer," he offered, half lying but hopefully enough to gain trust. "What can you remember?"

"I . . It - it was a dragon!" the man stuttered. Eyes wide, he stared into nothingness. His mouth opened as if to scream, an unheard scream. Suddenly he gasped, began to rattle and blood poured from his mouth. His chest was pierced. Ivren raised his sword, but it beat him to it and then he knew only pain.

"Ivren? Ivren!" cried Eragon. "I've found a lead!"

Ivren flinched. His hand clutched the sword pommel. He shook his head. Eragon stepped closer and frowned. "Is something the matter, Ivren?"

"Nothing. Everything's fine." He suppressed the urge to rub his scar.

"There's some blood back there," Eragon pointed in that direction, "and Saphira smells it, too. She thinks we should move towards Melian. Dragon instinct."

"Then let's go. The sooner we find Nainar, the better."