Chapter XXIX: Hadarac Desert

The grey predawn hours were cold as we rose, forcing ourselves to shed the tiredness in our minds. "How are we going to transport the elf? She can't ride on Saphira's back much longer without getting sores from her scales. Saphira can't carry her in her claws – it tires her and makes landing dangerous. A sledge won't work; it would get bettered to pieces while we ride, and I don't want the horses slowed by the weight of another person."

"If you and the elf were to swap, so you rode Saphira... we would still have the same issue," Murtagh said to Eragon as he saddled his stallion.

Saphira was quick to come up with solution, suggesting that we tie the elf to her own belly. When no one came up with a better idea, we quickly used blankets and spare clothes to secure the elf. "We'll have to check the ropes occasionally for fraying," I said, as we analysed our handiwork.

"Shall we go?" Eragon asked.

Murtagh's eyes sparked dangerously, a tight smile lifting his lips. I looked backwards, seeing the smoke rising from where the soldiers' camps were. "I always did like races," Murtagh smirked.

I swung into the saddle, "And now we're in one for our lives!" Murtagh swung into Tornac's saddle, setting off at a trot, with Eragon and myself quick to follow. Saphira leapt into the air with the elf, flying low to the ground to avoid being seen by the soldiers. This was how we made our way southeast, towards the Hadarac Desert.

We eventually reached the Ramr, a few days after the race for our lives had begun. The river ran dark and swift. Mist lazily wafted up from the river. Murtagh tossed a branch into the river, checking the current.

"How deep do you think it is?" I asked, dismounting.

"Don't know, can't tell," Murtagh replied, worrying colouring his tone. "Can you see how far across it is with magic?"

"Not without lighting this place up," Eragon responded, Saphira sighed and lifted off.

"A half-mile!" Eragon exclaimed, hurrying to tell Murtagh and me what he meant. "Saphira offered to fly us over, and then the horses."

"I'd rather not try it, for the horses' sake. Tornac isn't as accustomed to Saphira as Snowfire and Istal are. He might panic and injure them both. See if there are shallows where we can swim over safely. If there are none within a mile of here, then she can ferry us." Murtagh muttered.

At Eragon's request, Saphira took off to go search for a ford. While she explored, we gave the horses a quick break, while we ate dry bread. Saphira returned in the early dawn. "The river is still deep and swift in either direction," Eragon eventually announced.

"I'd better go over first," Murtagh said, "I'd feel better being able to watch Tornac. Be careful with him, I've had him for many years." Murtagh scrambled onto Saphira's saddle and the blue dragon took off.

When Saphira returned, the unconscious elf had been untyed from her belly. I quickly mounted and Eragon led Tornac towards Saphira. I reached out with my mind, feeling Eragon do the same, but I pushed on calming emotions and whispered words in the ancient language. The horse stopped kicking but still whinnied loudly as Saphira flew him over the river.

Murtagh was tying Tornac when Saphira flew back across the river, the warhorse still acting as he was about to bolt. Saphira came back with Istal who stayed quiet. I refuse to do that again, Istal murmured to me. I laughed and stroked the stallion's neck.

If we are in the same situation again, we won't get that choice, I responded.

Istal snorted, I doubt we are that unlucky to end up in the same situation later.

I don't know, so far we haven't seemed to have much luck.

That's a lie, Istal said, we've managed to stay in front of the soldiers. That's lucky.

I suppose so, I said as Saphira landed again. I quickly grabbed Snowfire before the grey stallion raced off. Eragon slid off Saphira's back and mounted Snowfire after fixing his saddle.

We resumed our flight towards the Beor Mountains. The air filled with the calls of birds waking to a new day. I dozed even while walking, and I was vaguely aware that the others were just as exhausted. Eventually, the ground became soft and gave way under our feet, forcing us to a halt. Overhead, the sun was high in the sky and the Ramr River was far behind us. We had reached the Hadarc Desert.

"Are you sure we can food for the horses out there?" Eragon asked, slurring his words.

Murtagh nodded and pointed towards a line of purple crags that rose in the distance. "See those? Grass grows around them. It's short and tough, but it'll be sufficient for the horses."

"I hope you're right," I responded as I looked over the vast expanse of dunes that spread all the way to the horizon.

"Before we continued, let's rest. My mind is as slow as a snail, and I can barely move my legs," Eragon said.

We slept long enough to clear our minds and rest the horses. Luckily, no soldiers could be seen, but we still didn't slow our pace. The Empire would keep searching until we were far beyond the king's reach, we all knew that much.

"Couriers must have carried news of my escape to Galbatorix," Eragon said. "He would have alerted the Ra'zac. I'm sure they're on our trail now. It'll take them a while to catch us even by flying, but we should be ready for them at all times."

Murtagh scratched his chin, "I hope they won't be able to follow us past Bullridge. The Ramr was an effective way to lose pursuers; there's a good chance our tracks won't be found again."

"They might see our tracks if they fly," I muttered low enough so that no one heard me. However, Istal did and nudged me with his nose.

"Something to hope for indeed," Eragon said as he checked the elf. "I place no faith in luck right now though. The Ra'zac could be on our trail even as we speak."

"Let's get moving then," I responded.

At sunset, we arrived at the crags we had seen from afar earlier that day. The imposing stone bluffs towered over us, casting thin shadows. However, I was grateful for the shade they offered. For a half mile, the area was free of dunes.

I dismounted and untacked Istal, letting him wander to eat grass. The heat now attacked me like a physical blow. My face and neck felt hot, and I was sure that it was all burnt from the sun.

"How far do you think we went?" Eragon asked as Murtagh started a small fire.

"I don't know," Murtagh snapped. His skin was red, his eyes bloodshot. He picked up a pot and muttered a curse. "We don't have enough water, and the horses have to drink."

I sighed, knowing that we were all equally irritated by the heat and dryness. "Bring the horses," Eragon said, sounding seconds away from snapping.

I refilled the waterskins as water pooled in the hole, before letting the horses drink. The trio of thirsty animals quaffed gallons, but when Eragon started looking tired, Istal stepped back and herded the other two away from the water.

The sand had a pink hue in the morning light, and the sky was hazy, concealing the horizon. I shivered in the freezing cold. Despite being able to have a full night's sleep, no one's mood had improved.

"Do you think it'll be long before we leave the desert?" Eragon asked as we ate.

Murtagh glowered, "We're only crossing a small section of it, so I can't imagine that it'll take us more than two or three days."

"But look how far we've already come," Eragon said.

"All right, maybe it won't!" Murtagh snapped, "All I care about right now is getting out of the Hadarac as quickly as possible. It's hard enough to do what we're doing without having to pick sand from our eyes every few minutes."

I sighed as I tacked Snowfire and Istal while Eragon prepared the elf for travel. I was in a foul mood like the others, but lacked the energy to really snap at them.

At midday, after a brief rest, I noticed that the haze had thinned since the morning. The distant smudges we had seen earlier, had gained definition. They looked to be broad, forest-covered mounds with clear outlines. The air above them was pale white, bleached of its usual hue. In fact, all colour seemed to have been leached out of a horizontal band of sky that lay on top of the hills and extended to the horizon's edges.

I rubbed my eyes, confused at what I was looking at. Are those the mountains? Istal asked quietly, mind tired but focusing on what was ahead of us.

"Guys, look!" I said, pointing ahead.

"What?" Murtagh grunted, scanning the land.

"Oh," Eragon said in surprise, figuring out what I was pointing to.

"What, I don't—" Murtagh's sentence died in his mouth, giving way to slack-jawed wonder. "That's impossible!" He said as he squinted. He shook his head, "I knew the Beor Mountains were large, but not that monstrous size!"

"Let's hope the animals that live there aren't in proportion to the mountains," Eragon said lightly.

"I don't think it matters if they do," I responded with a grin, "After all, we have a dragon on our side."

"It will be good to have some shade and spend a few weeks in leisure. I've had enough of this forced march," Murtagh said with a smile.

I nodded in agreement as Eragon spoke, "I'm tired too, but I don't want to stop until the elf is cured... or she dies."

"I don't see how continuous travelling will help her," Murtagh responded gravely. "A bed will probably do her more good than hanging underneath Saphira all day."

Eragon shrugged, "Maybe... When we reach the mountains, I could take her to Surda – it's not that far. There must be a healer who can help her; we certainly can't."

"We can figure that out later. Right now, our goal is to reach the Beors. There, are least, the Ra'zac will have trouble finding us, and we'll be safe from the Empire," I said.

As the day wore on, the mountains seem to get no closer, but the landscape changed. The once-loose reddish grains changed into hard-packed, dusky-cream dirt. Dunes transformed into ragged patches of plants and deep furrows in the ground had appeared, where flooding had occurred earlier in time. A cool breeze wafted through the air, bringing welcome refreshment and seeming to make the weather feel cooler. The horses all sensed the change of climate, and hurried forward eagerly.

When evening subdued the sun, the mountains' foothills were a mere league away. Herds of gazelles bounding through hush fields of waving grass. We camped next to a stream, relieved to be out of the punishing Hadarac Desert.

While there was still some light, we all washed the horses and ourselves, trying to get rid of all the dirt and sand. We had managed to cover roughly sixty leagues in five days. We sat around the fire, tired but content.

Eragon was looking at the elf, as if thinking of something. "Eragon, don't do it," I said.

"Don't do what?"

"Don't do whatever you're thinking of doing," I replied, "At least, not without telling us first."

"I was thinking of checking the elf's mind, seeing if I could find out what's wrong with her," Eragon said.

"It's a good idea, but you shouldn't do it alone. Elves are dangerous, and to go into one's mind is even more so. Have Saphira cover you, I can wait outside both of your defences so if anything happens I can help out," I said.

"Let it be known, I do not think this is a good idea," Murtagh grumbled.

"Probably not," I replied cheerfully, "however, it is the best one we have."

I closed my eyes and felt for the minds around me. I could sense plants and animals, as well as my companions. I turned my focus towards Eragon and the elf, waiting to see what would happen. Eragon reached out first, only to be attacked seconds later.

I attacked the elf's mind, hoping to distract her from Eragon. The elf paused in her attack, and Eragon took that moment to say that he was a rider and friend in the ancient language. The elf's attention turned towards me, eka aí fricai un eke weohnata néiat haina ono thornessa dag, eka thorta du ilumëo, I said quietly. The elf lowered her mind barriers, letting Eragon and I communicate with her.

Her mind was completely alien to what I was used to. It was vast and powerful, weighted with numerous memories from numerous years. Dark thoughts loomed out of sight and touch, artefacts of her race. Underneath it all, there was a melody of wild, haunting beauty that embodied her identity.

What is your name? The elf asked in the ancient language, her voice weary and filled with despair.

I am Eragon and this is Umaroth, Eragon responded in the same language, what is your name?

Arya, why have you contacted me in this manner? Am I still a captive of the Empire?

No, you are free! Eragon responded, before falling quiet as if he didn't know the words.

Eragon was imprisoned and escaped. We rescued you. It has been five days since we fled Gil'ead, we are now compared in the Beor Mountains. You have not moved or spoken once, I said, managing to figure out the words.

Ah... so it was Gil'ead. She paused. I know that my wounds were healed. At the time I did not understand why – preparation for some new torture, I was certain. Now I realise it was you, she added softly, even so, I have not risen, and you are both puzzled.

Yes, Eragon agreed.

Every day I was given a rare poison, the Skilna Bragh, along with a drug to suppress my power. Every morning the antidote was given to me, by force if necessary. Without it, I would die within a few hours. I lie in this trance to slow the poison's progress, though it does not stop it.

How long can you remain like this? Eragon asked.

Normally for weeks, but I don't have that much time. I can feel death in my veins even now. Unless I receive the antidote, I will succumb to the poison in three or four days.

Where can the antidote be found? I asked.

It exists in only two places outside of the Empire: with my own people and with the Varden. However, my home is beyond the reach of dragonback.

What about the Varden? We could have taken you straight to them, but we don't know where they are, Eragon responded.

I will tell you – if you give me your word that you will never reveal their location to Galbatorix or to anyone who serves him. In addition, you must swear that you have not deceived me in some manner and that you intend no harm to the elves, dwarves, Varden, or the race of dragons.

I hesitated, knowing that what Arya was asking would bind me to her words, as I would have to say it in the ancient language.

It is understood, Eragon said.

I swear to your words, I replied. A series of images flashed through my head, and I pushed it towards a corner of my mind, planning to go through it later.

It is far, Arya said, but do not let the distance dissuade you. When you arrive at the lake Kóstha-mérna at the end of the Beartooth River, take a rock, bang on the cliff next to the waterfall, and cry, 'aí varden abr du Shur'tugals gata vanta'. You will be admitted. You will be challenged, but do not falter no matter how perilous it seems.

What should they give you for the poison? Eragon asked.

Túnivor's Nectar. I have expanded too much energy already. You must leave now. Do not talk with me unless there is no hope of reaching the Varden. I will then impart information that is vital to the Varden's survival. Farewell Eragon, rider of dragons, and Umaroth, named after the dragons.

I opened my eyes, taking a deep breath and focusing myself. I could no longer hear the haunting melody of the elf's mind. Istal nuzzled my arm, and I stroked his nose absent mindfully.

Are you okay? Istal asked.

I showed him what had just transpired, slowing down the path to the Varden so I could actually see how long it was. I swore aloud, and started paying attention to the conversation that was occurring in front of me.

"The Varden is even farther than from here to Gil'ead," Eragon was saying.

"And we're supposed to cover that in three or four days?" Murtagh demanded angrily. "It took us five long days to get here! What do you want to do, kill the horses? They're exhausted as it is."

"But if we do nothing, she'll die! If it's too much for the horses, Saphira can fly ahead with Arya and me; at least we would get to the Varden in time. You could catch up with us in a few days," Eragon said.

I cut in then, knowing that the argument would only get more hectic if it continued. "Enough," I snarled, stopping Murtagh from speaking. "Eragon, Murtagh has told you time and time again that he will not go to the Varden. Murtagh, Eragon is trying to figure out a way to keep the elf alive and reach the Varden. He isn't thinking anything through right now."

Saphira snarled and spoke to Eragon and me. I'm glad Umaroth put a stop to your foolish behaviour. If it had gone on and ended in fighting, I would have to pin you down and shake you like hatchlings. Eragon, ask Murtagh what the problem is. I smiled thankfully at the blue dragon.

"Murtagh, what's the problem you have with going to the Varden?"

"They'll expect things from me that I can't deliver," Murtagh said. "That aside, nothing I ever do will gain their trust. And if I were to arrive under bad circumstances, like the present ones, they'd likely clap me in irons."

"What did you do?" Eragon asked, "I mean, I've done terrible things that I'm not proud of either."

"Yeah, but you're a dragon rider. Although, that might make it worse for me if that were the case..." Murtagh said, and I sighed.

"It doesn't matter," I said, knowing that Murtagh probably wanted to keep his heritage a secret. "Eragon, you need to get the elf to safety. Murtagh, you need to stay away from the Varden."

Saphira suddenly hissed, and Eragon turned to face westward. Murtagh and I followed his gaze, and Murtagh's face paled. "Demons above and below!"

A league or so away, parallel to the mountain range, was a column of figures marching east. The line of troops, hundreds strong, stretched for nearly a mile. Dust billowed from their heels. A standard-bearer rode before them in a black chariot, holding aloft a crimson banner.

"It's the Empire," Eragon said tiredly. "They've found us... somehow."

"Yes... but those are Urgals, not men," Murtagh said. "I can tell by the flag. It bears the personal symbol of an Urgal chieftain. He's a ruthless brute, given to violent fits and insanity."

"You've met him?" I asked as I started tacking Istal up once more.

Murtagh's eyes tightened. "Once, briefly. I still have scars from that encounter. These Urgals might not have been sent here for us, but I'm sure we've been seen by now and that they will follow us. Their chieftain isn't the sort to let a dragon escape his grasp, especially if he's heard about Gil'ead."

Eragon started covering the fire with dirt. "We need to go," I said as I gave Istal's girth one last tug.

"Alright," Eragon said as he quickly attached the elf to Saphira. "I have a compromise: come with me until I reach lake Kóstha-mérna, then go your own way." Murtagh hesitated. "If you leave now, in sight of the column, Urgals will follow you. And then where will you be, facing them alone?"

"Very well," Murtagh said as he tossed his saddlebags over Tornac's flanks. "However, when we near the Varden, I will leave."

Istal cautiously sent a tendril of thought to my mind. I don't remember seeing any exits in the valley where the Varden are.

I don't either, but it's not as if we were paying attention to that, I said grimly. I cast a glance at Murtagh whose face was pale and eyes narrowed. Eragon looked much the same as we took off, guiding the horses past half-visible obstacles. As the night deepened, the Urgals faded into the gloom behind them.