Brisingr [en]

of what might happen to it if he allowed the heart of hearts out of his grasp.

“Thank you, Master,” Eragon managed to say, bowing his head toward Glaedr.

We shall guard your heart with our lives, Saphira added.

“No!” exclaimed Oromis, his voice fierce. “Not with your lives! That is the very thing we wish to avoid. Do not allow any misfortune to befall Glaedr’s heart because of carelessness on your part, but neither should you sacrifice yourself to protect him or me or anyone else. You have to stay alive at all costs, else our hopes shall be dashed and all will be darkness.”

“Yes, Master,” Eragon and Saphira said at the same time, he with his tongue and she with her thoughts.

Said Glaedr, Because you swore fealty to Nasuada, and you owe her your loyalty and obedience, you may tell her of my heart if you must, but only if you must. For the sake of dragons everywhere, what few of us remain, the truth about the Eldunari cannot become common knowledge.

May we tell Arya? asked Saphira.

“And what about Blodhgarm and the other elves Islanzadi sent to protect me?” asked Eragon. “I allowed them into my mind when Saphira and I last fought Murtagh. They will notice your presence, Glaedr, if you help us in the midst of a battle.”

You may inform Blodhgarm and his spellcasters of the Eldunari, said Glaedr, but only after they have sworn oaths of secrecy to you.

Oromis placed his helm on his head. “Arya is Islanzadi’s daughter, and so I suppose it is proper she should know. However, as with Nasuada, do not tell her unless it becomes absolutely necessary. A secret shared is no secret at all. If you can be so disciplined, do not even think of it, nor of the very fact of the Eldunari, so that no one may steal the information from your minds.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Now let us be gone from here,” said Oromis, and drew a pair of thick gauntlets over his hands. “I have heard from Islanzadi that Nasuada has laid siege to the city of Feinster, and the Varden have great need of you.”

We have spent too long in Ellesmera, said Saphira.

Perhaps, said Glaedr, but it was time well spent.

Taking a short running start, Oromis bounded up Glaedr’s single foreleg and onto his high, jagged back, where Oromis settled into his saddle and began to tighten the straps around his legs. “As we fly,” said the elf, calling down to Eragon, “we can review the lists of true names you learned during your last visit.”

Eragon went to Saphira and carefully climbed onto her back, wrapped one of his blankets around Glaedr’s heart, and packed the bundle in his saddlebags. Then he secured his legs in the same manner as had Oromis. Behind him, he could feel a constant thrum of energy radiating from the Eldunari.

Glaedr walked to the edge of the Crags of Tel’naeir and unfurled his voluminous wings. The earth shook as the gold dragon leaped toward the cloud-streaked sky, and the air boomed and shuddered as Glaedr drove his wings downward, pulling away from the ocean of trees below. Eragon gripped the spike in front of him as Saphira followed, flinging herself out into open space and falling several hundred feet in a steep dive before she ascended to Glaedr’s side.

Glaedr assumed the lead as the two dragons oriented themselves toward the southwest. Each of them flapping at a different tempo, Saphira and Glaedr sped over the rolling forest.

Saphira arched her neck and uttered a ringing roar. Ahead, Glaedr responded likewise. Their fierce cries echoed across the vast dome of the sky, frightening the birds and beasts below.

FLIGHT

From Ellesmera, Saphira and Glaedr flew without stopping over the ancient forest of the elves, soaring high above the tall, dark pine trees. Sometimes the forest would break, and Eragon would see a lake or a contorted river winding across the land. Often there was a herd of small roe deer gathered along the edge of the water, and the animals would stop and lift their heads to watch the dragons soar past. For the most part, however, Eragon paid little attention to the scenery because he was busy reciting within his mind every word of the ancient language Oromis had taught him, and if he forgot any or made a mistake in pronunciation, Oromis would have him repeat the word until he had memorized it.

They arrived at the edge of Du Weldenvarden by late afternoon of the first day. There, above the shadowed boundary between the trees and the fields of grass beyond, Glaedr and Saphira circled one another, and Glaedr said, Keep safe your heart, Saphira, and mine as well.

I will, Master, Saphira replied.

And Oromis shouted from Glaedr’s back, “Fair winds to you both, Eragon, Saphira! When next we meet, let it be before the gates of Uru’baen.”

“Fair winds to you as well!” Eragon called in return.

Then Glaedr turned and followed the line of the forest westward — which would lead him to the northernmost tip of Isenstar Lake, and the lake thence to Gil’ead — while Saphira continued in the same southwesterly direction as before.

Saphira flew all through that night, landing only to drink and so Eragon could stretch his legs and relieve himself. Unlike during their flight to Ellesmera, they encountered no headwinds; the air remained clear and smooth, as if even nature were eager for them to return to the Varden. When the sun rose on their second day, it found them already deep within the Hadarac Desert and heading straight south, so as to skirt the eastern border of the Empire. And by the time darkness had again engulfed the land and sky and held them in its cold embrace, Saphira and Eragon were beyond the confines of the sandy wastes and were again soaring over the verdant fields of the Empire, their course such that they would pass between Uru’baen and Lake Tudosten on their way to the city of Feinster.

After flying for two days and two nights without sleep, Saphira was unable to continue. Swooping down to a small thicket of white birch trees by a pond, she curled up in their shade and napped for a few hours while Eragon kept watch and practiced his swordsmanship with Brisingr.

Ever since they had parted with Oromis and Glaedr, a sense of constant anxiety had troubled Eragon as he pondered what awaited him and Saphira at Feinster. He knew that they were better protected than most from death and injury, but when he thought back to the Burning Plains, and to the Battle of Farthen Dur, and when he remembered the sight of blood spurting from severed limbs and the screams of wounded men and the white-hot lash of a sword slicing through his own flesh, then Eragon’s gut would roil and his muscles would shake with suppressed energy, and he did not know whether he wished to fight every soldier in the land or flee in the opposite direction and hide in a deep, dark hole.

His dread only worsened when he and Saphira resumed their journey and spotted lines of armed men marching over the fields below. Here and there, pillars of pale smoke rose from sacked villages. The sight of so much wanton destruction sickened him. Averting his gaze, he squeezed the neck spike in front of him and squinted until the only thing visible through the bars of his blurry eyelashes was the white calluses on his knuckles.

Little one, said Saphira, her thoughts slow and tired. We have done this before. Do not allow it to disturb you so.

Regretting that he had distracted her from flying, he said, I’m sorry... I’ll be fine when we get there. I just want it to be over.

I know.

Eragon sniffed and wiped his cold nose on the cuff of his tunic. Sometimes I wish I enjoyed fighting as much as you do. Then this would be so much easier.

If you did, she said, the entire world would cower before our feet, including Galbatorix. No, it is good you do not share my love of blood. We balance each other out, Eragon... Apart we are incomplete, but together we are whole. Now clear your mind of these poisonous thoughts and tell me a riddle that will keep me awake.

Very well, he said after a moment. I am colored red and blue and yellow and every other hue of the rainbow. I am long and short, thick and thin, and I often rest coiled up. I can eat a hundred sheep in a row and still be hungry. What am I?