In the forest's shadow

Soon the landscape rushed by beneath them. Individual trees piled up until they became a veritable forest. It was freezing cold. Saphira flew high up, in thin air. On her own she had decided to do so. Ivren felt a surge of pride. Melian was not too far away and if even a peasant spotted them, they would be lost.

Saphira landed in a clearing with a thud. As yet she was slim enough to weave her way between the treetops. Nainar was not. They had seen his tracks a little further south. A few trees were downed in a dragon-shaped hole. Despite the crystal-clear trail, Ivren had advised against landing there. Traps, or a very angry injured dragon, could be waiting for them there.

"You should better stay behind," Ivren ordered. "Wild dragons accept no outsiders."

"Not even Saphira?"

"Especially not Saphira. Wild dragons are territorial, and even more so when they're injured."

"But they brood together, don't they?"

"Of course. Dragons form bonds just like us. They defend their nests, whether human or dragon." Ivren adjusted his coat. "I should get started. Keep an eye on the sky. Maybe the Lethrblaka will come by. Just look for my mind."

"We'll be ready." Eragon promised.

Barely three steps into the forest, he found torn branches and broken trunks. Splinters were scattered far and wide. Birds fluttered around, already calmed again. A young roebuck was eating the shoots of a beech tree. Nainar couldn't be too close, it would smell him.

"Nainar?" called Ivren and strechted his mind out. A rumble sounded from the thicket. He shuddered. Nainar was almost unrecognizable. His mind felt like an animal deep in a fever craze.

Hidden between the trees was a sharp broken slope, roots protruded from the earth wall and twisted around lumps of stone. A stream purled at the foot, surrounded by round pebbles and flowering grasses. A small school of fish darted around in the shallow water. Black scales and shiny back teeth protruded far behind brambles and a solitary hazel bush.

He slowly approached Nainar. Red spots decorated the moss on the boulders. Sulphur and iron. Dragon blood. Ivren jumped into the stream. A wave of red water came towards him. He swallowed. "Nainar?"

A hiss was the answer. Well, he would try the wild way then. Ivren forced most of his mental walls down and let his thoughts brush against Nainar's. Pure agony burned through his body, fever and pain and hatred. He held against the storm and searched, deep inside, for all the warm feelings and memories they had ever shared and threw them at Nainar.

Suddenly something cracked. Ivren saw the treetops shake. Damn it, Nainar! Why didn't he give in? Should he dare come any closer? If he was unlucky, Nainar wouldn't recognize him, would kill him and never forgive himself for it.

Ivren took a deep breath and began to speak. The protection spell was long and complicated, but it gave him protection from even dragon flames. At least enough to sneak up on him. He had created it together with Aurora many years ago. Only if it really came to a fight would it activate, perhaps even kill him. The amount of energy required to stop a dragon's fire was enormous. He had never needed it before. Hopefully not now either.

A long shadow whipped back and forth behind the trees. It splashed. The stream surged around his feet. Ivren jumped out of the water. Again his friend growled.

"Eka malabra né haina," Ivren shouted, "Eka malabra né haina, Nainar."

A hiss, a crack, and then a bright eye stared at him.

"Fricai onr eka eddyr. Nainar." He held out his hand to him. "Atra eka heill ono, fricai. Iet evarína, bjartr auga, sonr abr Steorra."

Nainar blinked. The dragon lowered its head and drank in greedy gulps.

"Nainar? You actually have to answer me." He seemed to recognize him, or at least understand the promises in the Ancient Language. "Can I bring Saphira and Eragon here?"

No reaction. Ivren touched his mind again. Still feverishly hot, but infused with a gentle warmth and that feeling Nainar always associated with Aurora and his time in the egg. Safety. He had to smile. Ivren focused on a clear image of Saphira and Eragon and sent it to Nainar. The latter lifted his head, blinked again and returned it with a memory: Saphira, Eragon and Ivren on her back. "Is that a yes? - Ah. I see."

He shook off the strange feelings. Eragon and Saphira felt it every day. Still disconcerting, after all these years. "Let me take a look at your leg now."

Nainar pulled back his wing. Ivren grimaced. It was not black, but red with crusted blood. A sweet yet pungent, familiar odor rose from the wound. Damn. He would need Eragon's help. "How deep is that?"

Phantom pain shot up his arm. "Hm. Show me the fight later, will you? I've got some stories to tell, too."

The wings - it was cruel. Cutting a dragon's wings - beyond words. Without a talented healer, Nainar would have died here. With luck, his innate magic might have saved him from the Seithr Oil, only for him to starve to death or be captured by the Empire. Terrible. It could be weeks before he could fly again. Weeks they didn't have.

Was he doomed to put his friend, his brother, in danger again and again? How many more times would he almost die for him? He wanted to suppress the thought and yet he wondered: would it one day no longer be 'almost'? Unintentionally, his imagination drew a horrific picture, Nainar cold and lifeless.

No! He had to concentrate. "I have to get Eragon. Then we'll take care of your wounds." Ivren placed his hand on unblemished scales. "Don't worry. I'll protect you, come what may."

Ivren ran back the way he came to Saphira. "Ivren! What is it? - How bad is it?"

"It's bad. He'll survive, but I need your help."

"How can we help?"

"Saphira, could you hunt for him? He won't be able to anytime soon."

She hissed. "Of course. What did they do to him?"

"Seithr oil and blades - the wings are the worst. I can't go back to the Varden with you. I'm sorry, but he's going to need me."

Eragon touched his shoulder. "Don't worry. We understand you. If Saphira were injured . . "

"We're hunting these - " Saphira growled. "cowardly monsters yet? I want their blood."

"I won't let them get away with it. Between the three of us, we should be able to take them down." An fight in the air would draw attention. Hmm. "We'll plan later."

"So, you know the spells?" Eragon nodded. "Oromis put a lot of emphasis on healing. So did I."

"Good." He might as well teach him something more. "Seithr oil is created by powerful magic, forbidden magic. Normally wounds poisoned with it never heal."

"Normally? I thought it was impossible."

"Almost impossible. It leaves terrible scars because the energy required would be far too high. But with the right words and a few tricks, you can at least patch up the wound roughly. But first we have to remove the oil." Ivren quickly fashioned a crude vessel out of stone. "The blood will be dangerous. The poison is still active"

"Nainar, this is going to be painful." The dragon growled. Together they cast spell after spell, removed the poison and thus some of the blood, cleaned the wound and then Ivren took over the difficult part. "Eragon. Never repeat this in front of others, understand?"

Eragon swallowed. "Why is that?"

Ivren laughed nervously. "Ah, this is deeply damned and forbidden magic. Just don't do it without an absolute emergency, like, for example - your or Saphira's imminent death."

"What, and you, you don't even ask for an oath?" Eragon stared at him. "How do you even know that then?!"

"Well, when you spend years hunting Ra'zac and mages, you learn a thing or two from them. To get around the magic in Seithr Oil, you need the same kind of magic."

Hopefully he would never have to repeat that in the Ancient Language. Because he couldn't. Eragon sighed. "I would do anything to save Saphira, too."

There was more than enough blood available to cast the spell. "I can gladly make a few more statements in the Ancient language to calm you down, but afterward."

"This, this won't hurt anyone?"

"No one." Ivren promised and closed his eyes. He concentrated completely on the words, on the blood and his will. When he opened them again, the wound was partially healed, the oil and the black magic banished from the blood and Nainar saved. Thank you, Rauthren. This was a crime he committed without any remorse. Many may condemn him for it, but it saved lives. Nainar's life.

Sweat ran down his forehead. "Eragon," he gasped, "take care of the wings, will you? That was - exhausting."

"Rest." Eragon shooed him aside. "I'll take care of it."

He leaned against a nearby oak tree and watched Eragon. Wings rustled above their heads. Suddenly, something thudded on the ground. A deer. Saphira landed, grabbed her prey again and dragged it closer to the stream. Nainar lifted his head. His tongue flicked out.

For a moment, the dragons just stared at each other. Then Saphira pushed the deer a little closer and retreated. Eragon jumped to the side as Nainar lifted himself out of the stream and pounced on his meal.

A good sign. Perhaps it wouldn't take so long for him to regain his strength after all. Eragon was a good healer. Still, the wounds needed care. Well, first they had to kill the Ra'zac. One by one. By morning, they would hunt them down.

They gathered some wood and cooked a rabbit for Ivren and vegetable soup for Eragon, who was leaning against Saphira, watching the night sky. Only a small patch was visible between the treetops.

"What do you think of Murtagh?"

"A complicated question." Ivren slapped his hands together, "He is our enemy, he is your friend, your former companion. He has done good and evil. But above all, I wish him freedom. Yes, there is nothing worse for me than to be bound by the true name and oaths, and his soulbound as well."

"But what do you think of him?" Eragon asked again, this time with emphasis.

"I met him for the first time on the burning plains. He's a good fighter, a strong mage. A danger. I can't say much about his character. Brave, resilient, clever."

"Some say it was clear from the start that he would betray us because Morzan is his father. Father like son, traitor." Eragon sounded cold. Was this a test or had Eragon's feelings really turned such?

"If he hadn't been kidnapped, I doubt Murtagh would have joined Galbatorix. Sometimes it's hard to look someone in the eye, knowing what their parents have done, and not hate them for it. Sometimes it's really difficult. But you should always judge everyone for their own actions and not for the actions of others. We all can't choose who we are born to and as easy as it is to judge others, I can only say to anyone who manages to separate themselves from their parents or mentors if they are cruel beings, I am happy for them. For all those who don't make it, I pity them."

Saphira bent her head down and touched Eragon gently. "Wise words."

Eragon took a sip of water, then blurted out, "Murtagh is my brother."

For a long moment, Ivren was deeply confused. It was terrible what had happened to Murtagh, and that he was Eragon's brother only made it worse, but - ah! Morzan's son. That made Eragon his son, too. "I guess you're not half-siblings by any chance? - It doesn't change the fact that you're a good man, Eragon, whether your father was Morzan or not."

"Am I as good at fighting, at killing, as he is, because of him? Is that my heritage?"

It almost burst out of him. Ivren had never seen Eragon so gloomy, so desperate, except perhaps after the burning steppes. That day, he had attributed it to bloodshed. But how should he answer? Perhaps Eragon really had inherited talent from his father. Perhaps magic and swordplay were in his blood. What harm could a lie do?

"Don't give him so much credit. He's dead and has never said a word to you. What influence could he have had on you? No one is born evil. Your uncle raised you, Brom and Oromis trained you, and when I look at your cousin, I think all talent comes from your mother's side."

His words had the desired effect. Eragon grinned. "Thank you." He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Saphira, you were right, of course."

"Come, eat some more. We need to be strong for the day."