Chapter 23: A Race Against Time

[3,131 words]

Swoosh~

The wind rushed past as Saphira flew through the blue sky, the cool air brushing against Eragon's face as he sate on the saddle and clutched Arya tightly to his chest, making sure she won't fall off. Below them, the green and brown outline of the forest blurred by, but Eragon's mind was far from their surroundings. His thoughts were entirely focused on Arya's frail form in his arms and the urgency of their situation.

After another minute or two of flight, Saphira's powerful wings began to slow their rhythm. The sun cast soft golden rays that shimmered on her blue scales as she gradually descended toward the campsite where they had rested the night before. The spot was quiet and secluded, nestled among the trees with a small clearing where Brom had left their horses.

Rumble~ Boom~

Saphira's landing was heavy, the ground trembling beneath her as her massive body thudded onto the earth. Despite her strength and grace, carrying three people had been an exhausting feat. She breathed heavily, her sides heaving with the effort as she folded her wings against her body.

The horses, who had been grazing peacefully near the edge of the clearing, were startled at the sudden arrival. They reared up, eyes wide with fear, and let out anxious whinnies, their hooves stomping the ground. Despite their familiarity with Saphira, the intensity of her landing had spooked them.

Eragon swiftly unhooked himself from the saddle and held Arya tight before he jumped down despite the high height, Arya cradled securely in his arms. His boots hit the ground with a soft thud, and he quickly turned his attention to Saphira. "Are you alright? It must have been hard on you to fly with all three of us..." he asked, concern lacing his voice as he looked up at her.

Saphira lowered her head to meet his gaze, her breath still labored. 'I'm fine,' she replied, her mental voice tinged with weariness. 'I just need a moment to rest.'

Eragon nodded, understanding the strain she had been under. He watched as Brom, who lacked Eragon's superhuman physique, carefully climbed down from Saphira's back. Brom moved cautiously, his movements deliberate as he made sure to avoid cutting himself on sharp scales. The older man's face was etched with lines of fatigue, though his eyes remained sharp as they scanned the area.

Eragon gave Saphira a reassuring pat on her side. "Take your time, we should be safe here for a while." he said gently before turning his attention to Arya. He carefully laid her down on the soft grass and knelt beside her, his eyes tracing the bruises and cuts that marred her once graceful form. Her breathing was shallow, her face pale and drawn from the pain and the poison that still coursed through her veins.

As Eragon opened his mouth and prepared to channel his energy and cast healing spells on Arya, he felt a sudden, firm grip on his shoulder. He glanced up, puzzled, to see Brom standing beside him, a determined look in his eyes. "Oh no, you don't," Brom said, his tone leaving no room for debate. "Let me handle this. You go rest."

Eragon frowned, softly shaking off Brom's hand. "But I'm fine," he insisted, his voice edged with confusion. "I honestly didn't do much while rescuing Arya, I still have most of my strength and can easily cast enough spells to heal her."

But Brom's shock his head, his expression hardening. "No, you're not fine," Brom countered, his voice stern yet laced with concern. "InfiltratingtThe fortress and fighting off soldiers, blocking Durza's lightning—it must have injured and drained your energy more than you realize. You've done more than enough already. You need to go and rest."

Eragon hesitated, a protest forming on his lips, but Brom continued before he could speak. "For the love of god, just do as you are told without arguing!" Brom urged, his voice softening slightly as he looked into the younger man's eyes. "Whatever comes next, you're going to be our main fighting force so you need every ounce of strength. Let me do this exhausting job..."

Eragon searched Brom's face, seeing the sincerity and the unspoken worry etched in the older man's features. Finally, he sighed, reluctantly easing back and releasing the energy he had begun to gather. "Alright," he conceded, his voice quiet but resigned. "But if anything goes wrong…"

"Snort! Who do you think taught you how to use magic?! I'm not old enough to need help from a brat who just practiced magic for a few months, go away already!" Brom admonished him, but contrary to his words he gave Eragon's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he knelt beside Arya, preparing to begin the healing process.

Brom carefully removed the soldier's cloak that Eragon had used to cover her, exposing the full extent of her injuries. Her clothes were torn and bloodstained, her skin was marred with deep cuts and dark blue-purple bruises. Brom's face hardened as he began to chant in the Ancient Language, his voice low and steady as he worked to heal her wounds.

Eragon walked over to Saphira and sat down beside her, watching as Brom worked. The glow of magic illuminated the clearing as Brom's voice continued to weave the healing spells. The process was slow, methodical, and draining. Eragon could see the strain it was putting on Brom as Arya's cuts and bruises disappeared, but the older man remained focused and unyielding.

'Why doesn't he just use the energy in his ring? It must hold quite a lot of energy by now... What a miser!' He wondered to himself, moving his fingers on the red ruby on top of his Zar'roc. By now he have been sending it a constant stream of his energy everyday for the past month, and currently it held a small pond of energy inside, ready to be used in emergencies.

Saphira shifted beside him, drawing his attention. "Saphira, how did it feel to finally show yourself to the world? I knew you have wanted this this for a long time now.." Eragon asked, his voice soft, almost wistful. He looked up at her, curious about her thoughts on the matter.

Saphira was silent for a moment, her eyes reflecting the sunlight as she considered his question. 'Liberating,' she finally answered, her voice carrying a sense of quiet pride. 'For so long, I've had to hide, to stay in the shadows. But now... now the world knows that free dragons once more roam Alagaësia. They know there is still hope.'

Eragon smiled at her response, feeling a surge of pride for his dragon. "I'm glad to hear that," he said, reaching up to stroke the scales on her neck.

'I just wish it had been you on my back when I announced myself for the first time,' Saphira added, her mental voice tinged with a touch of regret. 'Not that I have any issue with Brom, but you're my Rider, Eragon.'

Eragon's smile softened, and he leaned closer, resting his hand against her warm scales. 'There will be plenty of other opportunities for that,' he assured her. 'This was just the beginning. Next time, it'll be the two of us together, as it should be.'

Saphira rumbled in agreement, her tail flicking gently against the ground as she relaxed beside him. The bond between them, already strong, felt even more unbreakable in that moment.

It took Brom nearly thirty minutes to heal most of Arya's injuries, his spells slowly knitting her flesh back together and easing her pain. Finally, he stepped back, wiping the sweat from his brow as he looked down at the elf. "I've healed the worst of her injuries," he announced, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "She should be stable for now, but we still need to hurry to the Varden. The poison... it's beyond my knowledge. We can't waste any more time."

Eragon nodded, the urgency of their situation pressing down on him once more. "You're right," he said, his mind already working through their next steps. "But that also means we need to change our plan."

Brom frowned, turning to face him fully. "What do you mean?"

Eragon took a deep breath before explaining. "We know Arya was badly injured, but we didn't account for Arya being poisoned. Initially, the plan was that after rescuing Arya, we would avoid the main roads and make our way to the Beor Mountains slowly, staying hidden. But now we don't have that luxury. We need to move fast, and the horses won't be able to keep up, especially after how hard we pushed them to get to Gil'ead this last week."

Brom glanced at the two horses, and hesitated. He knew Eragon had a point.

"So what do you suggest we do?" Brom finally asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"We will need to abandon our horses and move independently." Eragon glanced at Saphira, who was still resting beside him, before speaking. "We obviously can't all ride Saphira," he said, choosing his words carefully. "She's strong, but she's not yet big enough to carry all three of us with our supplies for long distances. Even the short flight from Gil'ead to here exhausted her considerably."

Saphira snorted loudly, clearly displeased by his assessment, but she remained silent, knowing deep down that Eragon was right.

Eragon gave her an apologetic smile before continuing. "The only way we can move quick enough is if you rides Saphira, and I carry Arya and run on the ground. I'm faster than the horses anyway, and have enough stamina to run from morning to dusk without tiring. We can even cut across the Hadarac Desert to save time. That will cut our journey by at least 2 weeks, and if we are lucky, we can reach Beor Mountains in a week."

Brom's eyes widened in surprise at the suggestion, and he immediately shook his head. "Eragon, that's—"

"I wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't confident I can to it," Eragon interrupted, his tone firm. "I can do this, Brom. I know my own strength."

Brom hesitated, pacing back and forth as he considered Eragon's words. His mind raced, recalling the countless times during their training when Eragon had displayed seemingly endless stamina. He knew better than anyone about Eragon's physical capabilities, how far surpassing they are of any normal human. But the thought of abandoning their mouths and relying solely on Eragon and Saphira didn't sit right with him

After a moment, Eragon urged him, "We don't have much time, Brom. We need to make a decision now."

"Don't rush me," Brom admonished, stopping his pacing to glare at Eragon. "I know time is of the essence, but this is not a decision to be taken lightly."

Brom took a deep breath, rubbing his temples as he thought through the logistics. "Even if I agree, and even if you you can really carry Arya and run all the way to the Varden, Saphira wouldn't be able to carry all our supplies, especially the provisions and water, while also carrying me."

Eragon met his gaze, determined. "We'll leave behind anything we don't absolutely need. We can even leave the water sacks behind and draw water from the ground using magic in the desert. This will lower the wight Saphira needs to carry but 2/3."

Saphira, sensing the tension in the conversation, raised her head slightly. 'I can do it,' she said firmly, her voice resonating with confidence. 'If I only have to carry Brom and some supplies, I'm certain I can make it all the way to the Varden.'

Brom studied Eragon and Saphira for a few more seconds, weighing the situation. Finally, he took a deep breath, his decision made. "Alright," he said, meeting Eragon's eyes. "I trust you know your own strength better than I do. If you're confident you can do this, then that's what we'll do."

Eragon smiled, a reassuring expression crossing his face. "I'm not someone that overestimate himself, if I said I can do it, then I can. I trust Saphira is the same as well." he said, his voice firm and steady.

'Puff~' Saphira on the side humph to signify her agreement to Eragon's words .

They wasted no time. Moving quickly, they stripped the horses bare, and went through their stuff and left on the ground all but the most essential items, carefully packing food and other necessities onto Saphira's back. Each movement was efficient, driven by the urgency of their situation.

Once everything was ready, they released the horses. The animals hesitated for a moment, bewildered by the sudden freedom, before they trotted off into the distance.

Brom approached Saphira, who lowered herself to the ground to allow him to climb onto her back. As he settled in, Eragon reached out to Saphira through their bond. 'Will you be alright?' he asked, a note of concern in his thoughts.

'I will fine, it's you who have the harder job between the two of us.' Saphira responded, her voice steady in his mind. 'This will not be easy, but we will manage. We have to.'

Eragon nodded, reassured by her confidence. He then turned his attention to Arya. Carefully, he lifted her from where she lay, doing his best to cover her with the soldier's cloak he had draped over her earlier. Her clothes were still torn and tattered after Brom healing session, and he wanted to preserve her dignity as much as possible.

'I wonder if all elves are this beautiful or she is just a cut above the rest..' He glanced down at Arya's unconscious form, her head resting against his shoulder, her breathing steady but shallow. He pressed her gently but securely to his chest, feeling the warmth of her body seep through his clothes. Her dark hair, matted and tangled, fell across her face, and he couldn't help find her beautiful despite her current unkempt appearance.

As he gazed at her, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 'I did promise I'd give you a princess carry, didn't I?' The thought amused him, a small chuckle escaping his lips despite the gravity of their situation.

'Though I imagined it going a bit differently,' he mused, the irony of the moment not lost on him. Arya, fierce and proud, would never have allowed herself to be carried like this under normal circumstances. 'But then again,' he thought, tightening his hold on her, 'things rarely go as one expected in life.'

"Let's go," he said to Brom and Saphira, his voice determined.

Without another word, Eragon began to run, heading southeast. His speed was extraordinary, far surpassing that of a normal human, or even a horse for that matter. He moved with grace and ease, his superhuman physique on full display as he sprinted across the terrain. His steps were sure, his movements fluid, as if running at such speeds was second nature to him.

Bang~

As he ran, Saphira gathered herself, kicking off the ground with a powerful leap. Her wings snapped open, catching the air as she rose into the sky. She flapped her wings, gaining altitude rapidly before she caught up with Eragon. She overtook him but didn't stray too far ahead, gliding leisurely above his head, her sharp eyes watching over him. She matched his speed, their bond keeping them in perfect sync as they moved together toward their destination.

Even though Brom was the only passenger she now carried, his weight and the supplies made the flight a challenging to her endurance. Each powerful flap of her wings sent ripples of exhaustion through her muscles, yet she pressed on, driven by the urgency of their mission

As Brom gripped tightly to the saddle, he found his gaze drifting back to Eragon more often than he cared to admit. 'By the stars...' Brom thought, watching the young man move with a speed and grace that resembled an elf, no, even faster then an elf.

He had seen many Riders in his time, seen many warriors at their peak, but none had displayed such raw physical prowess, such relentless determination and drive. 'He's right, he is stronger than I ever imagined... the way he blocked Durza spell with his own body as if it was nothing, I've never seen anything like that. He is strong... too strong, perhaps.'

The thought lingered, unsettling him. Brom had seen what power could do to even the most noble of souls. 'Power like that... it changes people. It consumes them, warps them... Especially to people like him who seek pleasure and attention.' He shook his head, trying to dispel the grim visions that surfaced.

But the worry gnawed at him, refusing to be silenced. Eragon's confidence was palpable—his belief in his own strength undeniable. And yet, Brom couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that had taken root in his mind.

'What lies beyond this road?' he wondered, his thoughts darkening as he glanced once more at the horizon. The path ahead was fraught with danger; he knew that all too well. And despite everything Eragon had accomplished, despite all his strength and promise, Brom feared that it might not be enough.

'He's just a boy... no, not a boy anymore,' Brom corrected himself, 'but still, he's young, untested in ways that truly matter. I've seen it before,' Brom thought, his memories drifting back to days long past, to Riders who had fallen not for lack of power, but for lack of foresight, for underestimating the darkness they faced.

The Forsworn...

Brom could almost feel the weight of the sky pressing down on him, a tangible reminder of the peril that lay ahead. 'Does he understand? Is he ready?' Brom asked himself, his grip tightening on the saddle as if to anchor himself against the tide of his own doubts. 'Does he truly grasp what's coming? The storm he is going to cause in Alagaësia?'

Eragon's confidence was admirable—necessary even—but Brom knew better than anyone that confidence alone would not see them through the trials to come. 'He will find what he seek in the Varden, they will give him plenty of admiration and attention he so much seek... But will it be enough? Will he endure and not lose his way?' Brom thought,

Brom tried to reassure himself, but the doubt lingered. Eragon was different, yes, but how far would that difference carry him? Brom feared that they were about to find out, and that knowledge filled him with a dread that he could not fully articulate.

'Please... let him be ready,' Brom silently prayed, casting one last look at Eragon before turning his gaze back to the road ahead. 'Let him be strong enough.'