12

The four of them had set on a pleasant routine on the following days. Training the Riders in the morning, flying in the afternoon and long talks in the eyrie by night after dinner. The only black cloud in their skies was Arya and Fírnen's departure only a few days away. Eragon avoided bringing up the subject and noticed the others didn't want to be reminded of that either.

Finally the day they agreed on taking the trip to meet the wild dragons arrived and it promised to be intense. By then, Fírnen and Arya had created their own unspoken language, what was quite impressive, since they had little time to practice, but their experience and talent were all they needed to speed up the process.

The Hidden Lair, as Fírnen liked to call it, was half a day away on dragon back, to the southeast, by the ocean. So, they had the Edda River in sight pretty much all the way there, which was a great joy, for the sun cast its light on the surface, that appeared to be made of liquid gold, because of the current shifting and beaming.

During the entire flight, the four minds were intensely combined in a vast consciousness, where they shared every impression and emotion. At one point, Eragon saw a group of wild horses running along the river, and that was the strangest thing, because his eyes were focused on the horizon. What happened in fact was that Arya had seen the horses, and through her eyes he saw them too. He also felt sensations that wasn't his and heard sounds he would never perceive if it weren't for their connection. It was unsettling at first, but he tried to relax the grip around his notion of self, and in no time, he didn't quite know how far the boundaries of his own mind went and where the next individual begun. Being so open to his fellows like that provided the perfect opportunity to share a lot of the knowledge passed to him by the Eldunarí. Saphira also started to stream information through their bond. Words were scarce.

At midday, they stopped for lunch; they were still two hours away from the lair. Coming to himself completely for the first time, Eragon finally felt the effects of sitting in the saddle for too long. His back and legs were killing him, so was the part of his skin unprotected from the sun. Eragon knelt by the river and splashed his face with fresh water, feeling an instant relieve. He threw some of it on the back of his neck as well, and felt a few drops running down his spine under his tunic and traveling cloak.

Coming back to the others, he saw that Arya had already settled under a tree, with their provisions laid down in front of her, and Saphira and Fírnen were drinking from the river waters, but soon they joined their Riders on the grass. Eragon sat down, and they started to eat. Arya seemed lost in thought the entire time as she ate, and he wondered why was it.

"Are you worried?"

Arya woke up from her thoughts.

"A little."

"About the wild dragons?"

"That too."

Now he was really intrigued.

"Do you want to share?"

We went to see the witch last night. Fírnen spoke.

"Angela? And what did she say?" Eragon bit into a piece of bread.

"That she is waiting for you. You said that you both needed to talk about the army of magicians, but you never came to see her."

"I know. But I was hoping to have some quality time with you two before you go back home. I didn't want to worry about it now."

"Are you able to do it? Not worry?"

He pondered.

"I find it easier when I'm in special company."

Arya showed a small and flattered smile.

"Anyway, I think you should go talk to her, as soon as possible."

"After you leave."

"Eragon…"

"After you leave, Arya." He was firm.

She seemed displeased, but nodded in agreement. It was only three more days after all.

"But I don't think that's the reason you're worried, is it? The fact that I didn't go looking for Angela."

Arya frowned and looked away. She bit the apple she was slicing. Eragon waited patiently, taking the chance to study her. That way, worried and distant, she looked too much like the stoic elf he had fallen in love with. No traces of the fiery woman he held in his arms a few days before. The latter he also loved.

"She threw the dragon bones to me."

Eragon almost choked on his half-chewed bread.

"What?!"

Her disgust could almost be touched.

"She insisted."

Eragon was speechless. From all the people in the world, Arya was the least likely to believe in such mysticism, as she would describe it herself. He managed to retrieve his jaw but the words failed to come to his brain.

"I don't know what to say."

"So don't."

She's ruminating what Angela said, like she's believed it. Fírnen's tone was of mockery, and it made Arya roll her eyes.

"She better! Angela's readings aren't something to be taken lightly." Now Eragon was worried. "Was it bad?"

Arya looked at him with a warning.

"I'm not asking for you to tell me." He defended himself. "That's your fortune, not mine. But the way you seem concerned, I can't help to feel a little anxious too."

She took a deep breath before answering.

"It would not be unfounded of you to do so. It's your fortune too, even if indirectly." She said and glanced to Fírnen, as to seek support. "At least part of it."

Eragon couldn't stop being baffled.

"Me? What do you mean? Am I going to die and you'll have to take the leadership of the Order or something like that?" He was joking, but her look was horribly upset, like he had beaten her in her favorite game.

"Oh for the gods! I'm right, am I not? I am going to die."

Arya sighed in exasperation.

"Probably, one day. But that's not what she said. Now calm yourself!" He took a deep breath, but felt the anxiety taking over him. Eragon was very curious to know what had transpired between Arya and the herbalist, but it would be rude of him to ask, even if they had mentioned his name. "Now, answer me this. What do you mean Angela's readings aren't something to be taken lightly?"

"That she had read my future before, of course."

"And? Did it happen?" Her concern marked her forehead in a frown.

"Aye, it did." The crease got deeper. "At first, I didn't put too much thought on it, but then the things she said started to happen, so I realized it would be wiser of me not to doubt her prophecy."

"Is there anything in there that is still to happen?" It appeared that Arya was investigating to find out what could happen to her in the future or if she could change what was predicted to her.

Eragon pondered. Him leaving Alagaësia already happened, such as his love for someone of noble birth. But was still too early to know if he was gone forever and if this love would outlast empires. So far, it outlasted only one.

"In a way. It's a long-term thing." He said casually.

"And you think you can't change it, because you're bound to it." It wasn't a question.

"Well, yes. It's my destiny."

"Eragon, I'm sorry, but that's not how prophecies work. I'm not entirely sure how they work, but the future is not set in stone. It changes."

"I know, I've heard that before. But the fact the we know it now only brings us closer to what was predicted. I thought you shared this belief."

Arya considered what he said by staring deep in his eyes. Unable to hold the stare for long, Eragon looked vaguely to the beaming waters. He had spent too much of his time trying to interpret what fate wanted from him. Angela had said when she read the dragon knuckles that he was one of the few who had the chance to choose his path. But since he had found Saphira's egg, he felt like following someone else's plan. He could count on one hand the choices he's made during his life as a Rider, and most of them were taken to avoid a worse outcome, like when he decided to pledge fealty to Nasuada as the leader of the Varden. It was either attaching himself to her or to the council. In both ways, it was very clear that he wasn't free to do as he pleased. Looking at it from this light, it seemed that freedom was only an illusion, not only to him but to everyone. Some were freer than others, but in the end, they were all debtors of fate, or whatever held them accountable.

"Honestly… I don't know what to think." He laughed. "I only know that even if our future is set in stone, we just have to live a day at a time. And hope for the best. If it isn't, then we just have to live a day at a time and hope for the best." He shrugged.

Arya resumed eating, not displaying the same humor he did. In fact, she seemed lost in thought, more so than before.

Don't dwell on it too much, Arya. Saphira advised. It will it eat your insides.

Eragon let out a snort in amusement.

"She's right. Just let it go. Even if indeed what Angela saw was my death."

Arya didn't seem pleased at his joke.

"Stop saying that. You should know how words have power."

Eragon thought that her behavior was disproportional to the situation. He was only joking!

"Arya. What is it? I'm only joking."

She sighed and rose up to her feet to go clean the knife in the water. When she came back she looked a little less concerned.

"You are right. Both of you are. I'll let it be and forget it for now."

Eragon gave her a slight nod. He hoped she really did.

The last part of the flight was the difficult one Eragon had talked about on their first day of training. The wild dragons decided to mate and nest on the top of a mountain range by the ocean, a few miles from the point where the Edda met the sea. He personally had not been there yet, but he watched Saphira as she flew there before, and he knew how particular the place was. It had its own microclimate and was almost as tall as Arngor. Tall enough to shelter the dragons and their eggs, between a peek and another or deep in a valley. The mountain range formed a wall of stone punished by the raging waters.

The difficulty was in fighting the air flows and the torrential rains brought by the sea. For some reason still to be investigated by Eragon, there was a hot current pushing them up against a cold one, that pressured on them, making the dragons exhaust their wings trying to gain altitude. That collision and difference of pressure caused heavy rains all summer long, and even crueler winds in the winter. The same happened along the coast, but not as intense as in that particular spot. If it were like this where the river met the ocean, he would never see the possibility of navigating during both seasons. And if was up to him, he would've chosen to fly there in the spring, when the land would start to prosper after the rains of summer. But their schedule would never allow it.

The solution was to approach the peek from a higher point and fight to maintain leveled with it, riding the hot flow. After that, they would have to dive, taking advantage of the pressure to take them down rapidly. It wasn't easy, however, so Saphira and Fírnen had to be as focused as possible if they didn't want to be dragged down. That, of course, if the rain didn't devastate their defenses.

Eragon involved the four of them in a protective spell, to keep them warm and dry, and hoped it would hold.

The approach took about two hours. It was straining to beat the wind and the pressure, besides the rain, but Saphira and Fírnen were well prepared. Arya clutched Fírnen's neck as her life depended on it, and it actually did. By the time the mountain range came in sight, the wild dragons were already taking a fighting position on the ridges. Eragon spoke inside their bond for the last time.

Lift your mental walls now, all of you. Follow the plan and protect yourselves.

The plan was Saphira would go ahead and land first, so the dragons could see her and allow her entrance. After that, if Fírnen was allowed to do so, he would follow her and land as well. But before Saphira presented herself to the others, Eragon would have to jump onto Fírnen's back, for she needed to be alone, in a way they didn't startle the owners of the range.

He had asked to the Eldunarí once if the wild dragons of before were as ferocious as these ones, because it seemed problematic to him that the dragons he helped bring to life would turn against him so easily. The elders simply showed a memory of a dark red dragon attacking a bonded one and his Rider for casually flying over her nest. That was his answer. They had an entire species to protect, so of course they would be fierce when doing it.

At his command, he felt the others closing their defenses, and Saphira started to work her maneuver. She spun backwards while Fírnen flew under her. For a moment, Eragon was completely upside down, his head only two feet from Arya's, and the two pairs looked like mirrored images. Before Saphira could finish her loop backwards, he dropped from her saddle and forced a spin forward, so his legs were able to mount the green dragon. He landed on Fírnen's saddle and let out a pained grunt as his groin and the inside of his thighs hit the leather. Eragon lost balance because of the pain and was almost falling to his death when Arya's left hand shot back and grabbed the front of his tunic to keep him in place. He moved closer to her and held her waist.

"Thank you!" He shouted so she could hear him over the wind.

In response, she patted his thigh and pointed at the straps he should fasten around his legs. As quickly as possible he did what she wanted and together they watched as Saphira dove down to meet the wild dragons.

In all her life, Arya would never think she would see something like that.

After Saphira asked permission for her companions to follow her to the home of the wild dragons, Fírnen landed on the ridge and the Riders dismounted. It was still raining and the winds did not give them a break. But they didn't stay there for too long, because shortly after they landed they were led on a pathway down, made of rocks, that took them to a valley, hid between two mountains. The peeks were very close to each other, which created a shelter against the elements.

The dragons jumped down and landed by the pond formed by the constant dripping of rain water. The area was green of moss and vines, and was populated by colorful young dragons and their parents. Arya could count about thirty of them, grown and hatchlings, all looking curiously to the two Riders that descended slowly, taking in the historic scene they were watching.

When Arya and Eragon reached the ground, coming from the pathway, they stood by their dragons. The elf could notice that a conversation was happening between Saphira, Fírnen and the one that appeared to be the leader of the wild dragons. So, following Eragon's instructions, Arya stepped back and let the majestic creatures decide what was going to happen next. She reached for Eragon's hand, who looked at her with affection. They stood there holding hands, waiting, until she felt the attention deposited on them suddenly disperse and the gazes divert elsewhere, like Eragon and herself were no longer interesting.

Come on, let's take a look around. Saphira called, and the four of them followed the leader, a brown male.

She was happy to be finally connected to Fírnen again, but didn't initiate a conversation, noticing he was too immersed in wonderment.

The leader took them to a cave, a big one. It was deep too, and there, all around the ground, from wall to wall, were the eggs. Many eggs, just waiting the moment to hatch. How many of them would turn into bonded dragons? Arya couldn't know for sure, for it depended on the agreement firmed by the dragons. But she hoped there were enough to bring Alagaësia to a time of prosperity never seen before.

Among the eggs laid there in the valley, there were the ones brought by Eragon and Saphira from Vroengard. They had decided that no one would protect them and raise the hatchlings better than their own kind, when there were enough of them to carry on with their species. In Mount Arngor, there were only the eggs selected to be bonded with the Riders, and not all of them had hatched yet, so there was no need for them to claim any more. They were only there as visitors. The only ones this place have ever had.

Open your mind, Arya. Lador wishes to communicate with you. You too, Eragon. Saphira said, and Arya allowed the brown dragon to enter her consciousness.

Without speaking any words, Lador, how the leader was called, filled her mind with gratitude. He showed her – and she believed Eragon was receiving the same message – the memories of Galbatorix's defeat. He also imprinted sorrow to Shruikan's death, but she understood that he didn't blame her. It was quite the opposite, he praised her for freeing the crazed dragon from the shackles of an unnatural bond. Arya felt grandly humbled, and for the first time, redeemed. After ten years, the burden of killing a dragon was lifted from her back. Taken by emotion, she let go of Eragon's hand and dropped to her knees, shedding a tear, as Lador kept pouring gratitude inside her mind. She was free! Finally free of guilt. She was forgiven.

It was dark when they settled on the beach for the night. It was an intense afternoon. Lador spoke to them for a long time, with images mostly, but managed to use a few words. He showed how they had established that place as their home and how in the beginning the weather was mild, with normal alterations during the seasons, just like the rest of the coast, but not long after they had set their home there everything changed. It was clear that their magic had changed the place and created a natural challenge to those intending to do them harm, there was no other explanation. Arya watched as Eragon's features became intrigued and his eyes filled with questions. She knew that if it were up to him, he would spend the entire day asking millions of questions, just to quench his curiosity. And to be honest, she would too.

After that, they agreed that Saphira and Fírnen would spend the night at the valley, preparing for when her time to lay eggs would come. They didn't know when would that be, or even if it would even happen, but Saphira was determined to keep her bloodline alive. The wild dragons wished to show them some rituals older than time itself, rituals that the bonded dragons had only seen in the memories of their elders. Therefore, Arya and Eragon would have to find a place to sleep, away from there.

Saphira and Fírnen took them to the beach a few miles away, where the rain and the wind were no longer a problem. In fact, closer to the Edda River, the weather was quite pleasant and the sand still emanated a comfortable warmth from the sunny day. They decided that it was warm enough for them to stay on the beach. Eragon went to pick up wood for a fire, since he wished to cook some food for supper, as their partners bid them good night and left to stay with their kind, cutting their mental bond almost completely. Fírnen was still a faint light inside her consciousness.

They sat and ate in silence by the fire for a while after the food was ready. They were both restless, but she watched as Eragon lay down on the sand, hands on his chest, eyes closed. He seemed to be meditating, and Arya thought that it was a very good idea, but she didn't imitate him. Instead, she observed him for a while and a silly grin appeared on her lips, she didn't know why. Then, she took a deep breath and raised her chin, taking in the breeze coming from the ocean. The sound of the waves was enough to transport her through her memories. What a memorable day! What a beautiful night! With her eyes closed she recalled everything that had transpired, their encounter with the wild dragons, their flight there and the talk about the prophecy she had with Eragon and Saphira.

Going to see Angela was a mistake, she knew that in the moment she had left the herbalist's chambers. Like Eragon, she's been looking for answers, a way to understand the unsettling news about the evil lurking around her land. She didn't expect, however, to have her future bared in front of her. She insisted, Arya claimed to Eragon. Well, she insisted, but it wasn't like Arya couldn't refuse. The possibility of acquiring clues of how to deal with the unknown part of her life, such as her feelings and desires, not only toward Eragon, but also toward her people and enemies, was too tempting. If she knew about what could happen to her, then maybe planning her moves would be easier. Big mistake.

Angela told her how she was each day more susceptible to the influence and desires of others, being almost impractical to break free from it and walk her own path. The only way to break the chain was to truly commit to something or someone, letting go of control.

To commit? Even more? What else was expected to her than the sacrifices she had already made? How much would she have to lose?

The herbalist proceeded saying that love in her life did not mean the same as it meant to other people, and it would transform her in many ways. A woman turned into many. It would bring many joys, but pain was going to be a constant companion. And what concerned her the most was that a bad decision making could be deathly to her love.

About that, she was left wondering if by love Angela meant the feeling or the person, the object of her love. When she questioned the other, Angela simply shrugged and said "Is there any difference in the end?"

There was also a part about betrayal. It would come from the place she had always suspected it would come, but the individual responsible for it would never be punished, and that would be a grudge she was bound to carry forever.

A long life was expected for her, but that wasn't a surprise being Arya an elf. And that was all. Enough to make her head throb painfully. It didn't help, for she could not work around her problems having this new information in hand. It was worthless in terms of planning, but very effective in taking her peace away.

Arya's mind was racing with all she had seen that day and the terms of her prophecy, so resting was out of question for a while. The same could not be said about Eragon, who was now resting his head on his left hand while the other clutched Brisingr's hilt with unfounded force. He appeared not to care about getting his clothes dirty, for his sleeping bag was completely forgotten with the rest of his belongings. She noticed he was deep in his sleep-like trance.

Suddenly, Eragon started to stir and grunt. The knuckles on the hand that held Brisingr were pale from the strain of gripping it so strongly. Arya realized he was having a bad dream.

She came close to him, kneeling by his side, and put a hand on his chest. His pulse was out of control. He was panting heavily, all the peace and calm achieved during meditation completely gone. However, by her contact, he eased his expression slightly and the grip on Brisingr resided. She reached for his sword and freed it from his fingers. Very softly she spoke in his ear "It's all right, Eragon. You can rest now."

He didn't react to her words, but his restless movements stopped. No longer he had a frown on his face, but his lips were pursed.

That was the moment when she realized he felt uneasy when sleeping alone now, which made her suspect that Saphira only agreed spending the night away because Arya was there with him. If that was the case, she wouldn't let Saphira down.

Arya put Brisingr on the ground by Támerlein. Then she went to fetch her sleeping bag and blankets. First, she unrolled the bag by Eragon side, then covered him with the blankets. Arya lay down on her right side to face him. She placed her left palm on his chest again and watched as his breathing slowed down. Taking care to not fall into his traps, she pushed her mind inside of his. He didn't resist her, so she carefully picked the bad memories, that were incredibly gory and overwhelming, and locked it away. She hid it under layers and layers of mundane thoughts, such as walking in the sunshine or swimming in a lake.

At peace, he lifted his right hand and placed it on top of hers, covering her skin with his warmth. They rested together all night, sharing dreams of sunny days and gleaming waters.