Eragon [en]

more than a league. He pointed out the valley to Murtagh. “If we can slip in there without being seen, it might confuse them.”

Murtagh looked skeptical. “It’s worth a try. But they’ve followed us easily enough so far.”

As they approached the valley, they passed under the knotted branches of the Beor Mountains’ forest. The trees were tall, with creviced bark that was almost black, dull needles of the same color, and knobby roots that rose from the soil like bare knees. Cones littered the ground, each the size of a horse’s head. Sable squirrels chattered from the treetops, and eyes gleamed from holes in the trunks. Green beards of tangled wolfsbane hung from the gnarled branches.

The forest gave Eragon an uneasy feeling; the hair on the back of his neck prickled. There was something hostile in the air, as if the trees resented their intrusion. They are very old, said Saphira, touching a trunk with her nose.

Yes, said Eragon, but not friendly. The forest grew denser the farther in they traveled. The lack of space forced Saphira to take off with Arya. Without a clear trail to follow, the tough underbrush slowed Eragon and Murtagh. The Beartooth River wound next to them, filling the air with the sound of gurgling water. A nearby peak obscured the sun, casting them into premature dusk.

At the valley’s mouth, Eragon realized that although it looked like a slim gash between the peaks, the valley was really as wide as many of the Spine’s vales. It was only the enormous size of the ridged and shadowy mountains that made it appear so confined. Waterfalls dotted its sheer sides. The sky was reduced to a thin strip winding overhead, mostly hidden by gray clouds. From the dank ground rose a clinging fog that chilled the air until their breath was visible. Wild strawberries crawled among a carpet of mosses and ferns, fighting for the meager sunlight. Sprouting on piles of rotting wood were red and yellow toadstools.

All was hushed and quiet, sounds dampened by the heavy air. Saphira landed by them in a nearby glade, the rush of her wings strangely muted. She took in the view with a swing of her head. I just passed a flock of birds that were black and green with red markings on their wings. I’ve never seen birds like that before.

Everything in these mountains seems unusual, replied Eragon. Do you mind if I ride you awhile? I want to keep an eye on the Urgals.

Of course.

He turned to Murtagh. “The Varden are hidden at the end of this valley. If we hurry, we might get there before nightfall.”

Murtagh grunted, hands on his hips. “How am I going to get out of here? I don’t see any valleys joining this one, and the Urgals are going to hem us in pretty soon. I need an escape route.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Eragon impatiently. “This is a long valley; there’s sure to be an exit further in.” He released Arya from Saphira and lifted the elf onto Snowfire. “Watch Arya — I’m going to fly with Saphira. We’ll meet you up ahead.” He scrambled onto Saphira’s back and strapped himself onto her saddle.

“Be careful,” Murtagh warned, his brow furrowed in thought, then clucked to the horses and hurried back into the forest.

As Saphira jumped toward the sky, Eragon said, Do you think you could fly up to one of those peaks? We might be able to spot our destination, as well as a passage for Murtagh. I don’t want to listen to him griping through the entire valley.

We can try, agreed Saphira, but it will get much colder.

I’m dressed warmly.

Hold on, then! Saphira suddenly swooped straight up, throwing him back in the saddle. Her wings flapped strongly, driving their weight upward. The valley shrank to a green line below them. The Beartooth River shimmered like braided silver where light struck it.

They rose to the cloud layer, and icy moisture saturated the air. A formless gray blanket engulfed them, limiting their vision to an arm’s length. Eragon hoped they would not collide with anything in the murk. He stuck out a hand experimentally, swinging it through the air. Water condensed on it and ran down his arm, soaking his sleeve.

A blurred gray mass fluttered past his head, and he glimpsed a dove, its wings pumping frantically. There was a white band around its leg. Saphira struck at the bird, tongue lashing out, jaws gaping. The dove squawked as Saphira’s sharp teeth snapped together a hair’s breadth behind its tail feathers. Then it darted away and disappeared into the haze, the frenzied thumping of its wings fading to silence.

When they breached the top of the clouds, Saphira’s scales were covered with thousands of water droplets that reflected tiny rainbows and shimmered with the blue of her scales. Eragon shook himself, spraying water from his clothes, and shivered. He could no longer see the ground, only hills of clouds snaking between the mountains.

The trees on the mountains gave way to thick glaciers, blue and white under the sun. The glare from the snow forced Eragon to close his eyes. He tried to open them after a minute, but the light dazzled him. Irritated, he stared into the crook of his arm. How can you stand it? he asked Saphira.

My eyes are stronger than yours, she replied.

It was frigid. The water in Eragon’s hair froze, giving him a shiny helmet. His shirt and pants were hard shells around his limbs. Saphira’s scales became slick with ice; hoarfrost laced her wings. They had never flown this high before, yet the mountaintops were still miles above them.

Saphira’s flapping gradually slowed, and her breathing became labored. Eragon gasped and panted; there didn’t seem to be enough air. Fighting back panic, he clutched Saphira’s neck spikes for support.

We... have to get out of here, he said. Red dots swam before his eyes. I can’t... breathe. Saphira seemed not to hear him, so he repeated the message, louder this time. Again there was no response. She can’t hear me, he realized. He swayed, finding it hard to think, then pounded on her side and shouted, “Take us down!”

The effort made him lightheaded. His vision faded into swirling darkness.

He regained consciousness as they emerged from the bottom of the clouds. His head was pounding. What happened? he asked, pushing himself upright and looking around with confusion.

You blacked out, answered Saphira.

He tried to run his fingers through his hair, but stopped when he felt icicles. Yes, I know that, but why didn’t you answer me?

My brain was confused. Your words didn’t make any sense. When you lost consciousness, I knew something was wrong and descended. I didn’t have to sink far before I realized what had occurred.

It’s a good thing you didn’t pass out as well, said Eragon with a nervous laugh. Saphira only swished her tail. He looked wistfully at where the mountain peaks were now concealed by clouds. A pity we couldn’t stand upon one of those summits... Well, now we know: we can only fly out of this valley the way we came in. Why did we run out of air? How can we have it down here, but not up above?

I don’t know, but I’ll never dare to fly so close to the sun again. We should remember this experience. The knowledge may be useful if we ever have to fight another Rider.

I hope that never happens, said Eragon. Let’s stay down below for now. I’ve had enough adventure for one day.

They floated on the gentle air currents, drifting from one mountain to the next, until Eragon saw that the Urgal column had reached the valley’s mouth. What drives them to such speed, and how can they bear to sustain it?

Now that we are closer to them, Saphira said, I can see that these Urgals are bigger than the ones we’ve met before. They would stand chest and shoulders over a tall man. I don’t know what land they march from, but it must be a fierce place to produce such brutes.

Eragon glared at the ground below — he could not see the detail that she did. If they keep to this pace, they’ll catch Murtagh before we find the Varden.