When they stopped for the day, Eragon and Murtagh ate dinner in silence, refusing to look up from their food. Afterward, Eragon said tersely, “I’ll take the first watch.” Murtagh nodded and lay on his blankets with his back to Eragon.
Do you want to talk?asked Saphira.
Not right now,murmured Eragon.Give me some time to think; I’m. . confused.
She withdrew from his mind with a gentle touch and a whisper.I love you, little one.
And I you,he said. She curled into a ball next to him, lending him her warmth. He sat motionless in the dark, wrestling with his disquiet.
F LIGHTTHROUGH
THEVALLEY
In the morning Saphira took off with both Eragon and Arya. Eragon wanted to get away from Murtagh for a time. He shivered, pulling his clothes tighter. It looked like it might snow. Saphira ascended lazily on an updraft and asked,What are you thinking?
Eragon contemplated the Beor Mountains, which towered above them even though Saphira flew far above the ground.That was murder yesterday. I’ve no other word for it.
Saphira banked to the left. It was a hasty deed and ill considered, but Murtagh tried to do the right thing. The men who buy and sell other humans deserve every misfortune that befalls them. If we weren’t committed to helping Arya, I would hunt down every slaver and tear them apart!
Yes,said Eragon miserably,but Torkenbrand was helpless. He couldn’t shield himself or run. A moment more and he probably would have surrendered. Murtagh didn’t give him that chance. If Torkenbrand had at least been able to fight, it wouldn’t have been so bad.
Eragon, even if Torkenbrand had fought, the results would have been the same. You know as well as I do that few can equal you or Murtagh with the blade. Torkenbrand would have still died, though you seem to think it would have been more just or honorable in a mismatched duel.
I don’t know what’s right!admitted Eragon, distressed.There aren’t any answers that make sense.
Sometimes,said Saphira gently,there are no answers. Learn what you can about Murtagh from this. Then forgive him. And if you can’t forgive, at least forget, for he meant you no harm, however rash the act was. Your head is still attached, yes?
Frowning, Eragon shifted in the saddle. He shook himself, like a horse trying to rid itself of a fly, and checked Murtagh’s position over Saphira’s shoulder. A patch of color farther back along their route caught his attention.
Camped by a streambed they had crossed late yesterday were the Urgals. Eragon’s heartbeat quickened. How could the Urgals be on foot, yet still gain on them? Saphira saw the monsters as well and tilted her wings, brought them close to her body, and slipped into a steep dive, splitting the air.I don’t think they spotted us, she said.
Eragon hoped not. He squinted against the blast of air as she increased the angle of their dive.Their chieftain must be driving them at a breakneck pace, he said.
Yes — maybe they’ll all die of exhaustion.
When they landed, Murtagh asked curtly, “What now?”
“The Urgals are overtaking us,” said Eragon. He pointed back toward the column’s camp.
“How far do we still have to go?” asked Murtagh, putting his hands against the sky and measuring the hours until sunset.
“Normally?. . I would guess another five days. At the speed we’ve been traveling, only three. But unless we get there tomorrow, the Urgals will probably catch us, and Arya will certainly die.”
“She might last another day.”
“We can’t count on it,” objected Eragon. “The only way we can get to the Varden in time is if we don’t stop for anything, least of all sleep. That’s our only chance.”
Murtagh laughed bitterly. “How can you expect to do that? We’ve already gone days without adequate sleep. Unless Riders are made of different stuff than us mortals, you’re as tired as I am. We’ve covered a staggering distance, and the horses, in case you haven’t noticed, are ready to drop. Another day of this might kill us all.”
Eragon shrugged. “So be it. We don’t have a choice.”
Murtagh gazed at the mountains. “I could leave and let you fly ahead with Saphira. . That would force the Urgals to divide their troops and would give you a better chance of reaching the Varden.”
“It would be suicide,” said Eragon, crossing his arms. “Somehow those Urgals are faster on foot than we are on horseback. They would run you down like a deer. The only way to evade them is to find sanctuary with the Varden.” Despite his words, he was unsure if he wanted Murtagh to stay.I like him, Eragon confessed to himself,but I’m no longer certain if that’s a good thing.
“I’ll escape later,” said Murtagh abruptly. “When we get to the Varden, I can disappear down a side valley and find my way to Surda, where I can hide without attracting too much attention.”
“So you’re staying?”
“Sleep or no sleep, I’ll see you to the Varden,” promised Murtagh.
With newfound determination, they struggled to distance themselves from the Urgals, yet their pursuers continued to creep nearer. At nightfall the monsters were a third closer than they had been that morning. As fatigue eroded his and Murtagh’s strength, they slept in turns on the horses, while whoever was awake led the animals in the right direction.
Eragon relied heavily on Arya’s memories to guide them. Because of the alien nature of her mind, he sometimes made mistakes as to the route, costing them precious time. They gradually angled toward the foothills of the eastern arm of mountains, looking for the valley that would lead them to the Varden. Midnight arrived and passed without any sign of it.
When the sun returned, they were pleased to see that the Urgals were far behind. “This is the last day,” said Eragon, yawning widely. “If we’re not reasonably close to the Varden by noon, I’m going to fly ahead with Arya. You’ll be free to go wherever you want then, but you’ll have to take Snowfire with you. I won’t be able to come back for him.”
“That might not be necessary; we could still get there in time,” said Murtagh. He rubbed the pommel of his sword.
Eragon shrugged. “We could.” He went to Arya and put a hand on her forehead. It was damp and dangerously hot. Her eyes wandered uneasily beneath her eyelids, as if she suffered a nightmare. Eragon pressed a damp rag to her brow, wishing he could do more.
Late in the morning, after they circumnavigated an especially broad mountain, Eragon saw a narrow valley tucked against its far side. The valley was so restricted it could easily be overlooked. The Beartooth River, which Arya had mentioned, flowed out of it and looped carelessly across the land. He smiled with relief; that was where they needed to go.
Looking back, Eragon was alarmed to see that the distance between them and the Urgals had shrunk to little 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.