Eragon! I cried. His body has sunk, not coming to the surface. The spell held strong as I fought to reach him. Then suddenly, a hooded figure emerged from the trees, raising a hand. Eragon's body rose to the surface, drifting to rest in the shallows. The figure knelt over his body, resting a hand on my Rider's shoulder. I growled loudly, fighting harder than ever.

The figure looked up. Their face was hidden in shadow, but I caught a glimpse of their mouth forming a familiar word. A familiar Name. I roared louder, desperate, but to no avail. I could no longer sense my Rider lying right before me, and rays of light pierced my wing, causing to fall and be unable to reach him physically. I groaned, struggling to do something. Anything.

Arya gasped, back in the present. Tears flowed from her eyes. "Oh, Eragon," she whispered, before regaining her composure. "Is that all you know?" Saphira inclined her head sorrowfully. It is, the dragon told her. Arya sighed. "That is why neither Murtagh nor Thorn could sense or communicate with him… mentally. But how is that possible?" Saphira huffed.

It is not only dragons who can perform miracles, she reminded Arya. But tell me, when did you meet Murtagh? The elf laughed. "I suppose not. Murtagh, we crossed paths as he was traveling to Urû'baen. He also told me that Eragon reacted violently when he tried to convince Eragon he meant no harm in the ancient language." Fírnen reared his head back curiously. Why? he inquired.

Arya thought hard on it. "I don't know for sure," she admitted. "We don't know who that hooded figure, what spells might have been cast on Eragon… and what the effects of changing his True Name might do. He said a Name can only be changed if it's known?" Saphira bobbed her head. The elf queen sighed. "I need to return to my duties. We need to keep this private."

I agree, Saphira said. Her voice was tinged with sadness as she said, please help us with that. I will… speak to Nasuada. Saphira eyed the elf hard. Keep it secret, she sent, before wheeling away. Arya and Fírnen watched her shrink into the distance.

"Ugh," Murtagh groaned. He slumped down against Thorn. "First Eragon, then Arya, and now we're lost." Thorn huffed into his hair. It is not my fault you are unable to heal my wound. Murtagh frowned. "Okay," he relented, "but it's not mine, either. Whatever he did… for some reason, I really am having difficulty with your injuries. I'm surprised you could fly away with me then."

He was referring to when he and Thorn had met with Eragon in the forest. The shockwave had drained Murtagh of energy protecting himself, while his dragon had been clipped by the energy. When they met Arya, the elf had been between political meetings, unable to help them significantly. Murtagh sighed. "Things change with time," he said wistfully.

Thorn nudged him. Look over there - what is that? Murtagh looked up. "Smoke," he said without enthusiasm. "Maybe friendlies… if not, maybe I'll get to vent a little steam." The pair made their way to the smoke, peering through the branches to see a fire.

And a massacre. "What happened here?" Murtagh said, disgusted at the sight of torn limbs and blood. Lots of blood. The ashes of a fire lay in the middle of the road, smoke still rising from them. The Rider knelt near one man, examining a hand that clutched a knife. It caught his attention by how clean it was. He never had a chance, Thorn commented.

Murtagh shook his head. "No he didn't," he said musingly. "What did this? No man, for there none of these wounds match any weapons. No elf, for their work would be far cleaner than this… I believe the Kull and Urgals will keep their word on the truce…"

They stared at the scene for a while, silent as they tried to make sense of it.

It was cold and dry and quiet when I opened my eyes to the dappled patterns of light and shadow. My cheek was pressed against the fallen leaves littering the ground of the forest. Slowly I stood, feeling well-rested. Despite all this, panic was slowly working it's way into me once more. Breathing as calmly as I could, I placed a hand on the warm bark of a nearby tree.

Then I heard a voice - one that I recognized. This elated me for a brief moment, until I realized it was recognition from after the moment I'd woken at the waterfall. The voice belonged to Murtagh. I made my way towards him, stopping just shy of stepping out of the trees. He and Thorn were staring at the dead men. Fear sparked within me as I watched them.

"Are those your friends?" Murtagh looked up to see Eragon standing just within the treeline, poised - whether to run or pounce, Murtagh wasn't certain. It was the Rider's voice that startled Murtagh, though. Cold, yet hesitant. Murtagh replied as calmly as he could, "No… do you know them?" To his surprise, Eragon seemed relieved, relaxing and walking closer.

The Rider responded, "Not really. You are Murtagh and Thorn, right?" Murtagh nodded. He eyed Eragon warily as the Rider came even closer. Without seeming to notice, Eragon was treading lightly, weaving through the pools of blood. When Eragon came within three arm-lengths Murtagh asked, "Did you kill them?" Eragon paused, his posture tensing once more.

"...I did." Murtagh now understood why he had not been able to identify who killed the men. Eragon carried no weapons, and he had sensed no magic on the men's wounds. The Rider must have torn them apart with his bare hands. Refraining from grimacing at the image that thought conjured up, Murtagh held up his hands. He asked plainly, "Why?"

Murtagh's question made me uneasy. I thought it was simple. They were threats, so I killed them. However… this person's words, though spoken neutrally, felt as if they were accusing me. That wasn't fair. "They tried to hurt me," I answered him. Murtagh looked confused as he asked, "But surely you only had to knock them out, or outrun them, right?"

I hesitated. Now that he said such things, I knew them to be true. But last night, I had been terrified. Before I could stop myself I retorted, "They deserved it."

This is not how I remembered him being, Thorn commented. Murtagh silently agreed. The Eragon before them was - literally a blank slate. And freaked out. Murtagh cautiously smiled, holding up his hands. "I guess they did," he said softly, deciding to do his best not to scare Eragon off. Perhaps we could bring him back, Thorn suggested. And not tell anyone about this, Murtagh added.