Even In Death

By: Anda Faith

"How do you ride on this thing?" Roran exclaimed in Eragon's ear, clutching onto the saddles straps so tight that his fingers turned a ghastly shade of white.

Eragon looked back at his non-biological brother, a chuckle threatening to burst forth. "It's a Dragon and it has a name, Roran… but I guess my first time riding wasn't the best either," he remembered. His legs had hurt for days, but if he had a saddle it would have been better, which Roran had. "Just close your eyes, that's what Orik did until he got used to it."

Taking the advice at heart, Roran closed his eyes tightly but it never got rid of the lighter than air sensation in his gut that made him rather sick. After hours of travel, night had set in and the two settled down in a safe place to camp. Eragon extended his mind to his surroundings and sensed no harmful intentions around the area. "We'll be safe here," he told his cousin as he started to get a fire going.

"Dragons… obviously my feet were meant to be planted on the ground. The air is just too frightening! Have you ever fallen off?" Roran asked, pulling his provisions out of his knapsack. He immediately went to work cooking the meat over the open flame.

"I've jumped off of her – she'll catch you, Roran. Never mistrust a Dragon."

Well said, Eragon. Tell him that I will never let him fall.

Eragon repeated her words and Roran half grinned at the beautiful creature that settled around them in the clearing. "I guess Dragons are rather amazing creatures. I think she might even be more intelligent than I."

Well, spotted.

Eragon gave a throaty laugh at Saphira's response. Not going to shower him in riddles like you did Orik?

I think you better go over the plan again, Roran looks very uneasy about going into Dras'Leona. Saphira acknowledged changing the subject with her bright eyes fixed on the grizzly bearded man across the fire. Eragon opened his mind once again and muttered the spell to ward off any listeners.

"What is it?" Roran asked, peering at him over his pot of meat he poked at with his eating utensil.

"When we go into Dras'Leona we're going to have to use disguises. It's pretty easy to get in since me and Brom did it." To him that seemed like such a long time ago, so much had changed since then. "We probably will have to get room and board somewhere since we won't reach the city until nightfall when the Ra'zac are their strongest. In the morning we'll go to the Helgrind palace, kill the Ra'zac and get Katrina. There will most likely be a trap set to capture us so be sure to be on your toes and keep your hammer at your side…"

After his words, Eragon felt a bit of sadness cloud him. He knew that Roran was attached to his hammer, which he thought very strange but it had gotten him through times of hardship just as Zar'roc did. He almost hated to say it, but he missed his old sword – although now it was Murtagh's sword. Anger replaced the sadness when he thought of his biological brother.

Just focus Eragon, Saphira said licking his arm gently with her rough tongue. You better preserve as much magic as you can into your belt.

"I never was the best swordsman," Roran said, "that would have to go to you, Eragon. May your sword stay sharp."

Eragon couldn't help but smile at his words as he set to his task of transferring his energy.

Helgrind presented itself balefully to the two riding the dragon. Eragon realized that Roran grew stiff and rigid behind him. "Are you alright, Roran?"

"Is Katrina in that?" his cousin asked, his eyes as wide as a horses hoof. Roran's face glowed palely in the dim sunlight, blanched from the shock and terror of his loved one being imprisoned in the deathly looking palace similar to Helgrind.

Opening his mind to the area around, Eragon sensed no one in a clearing a short distance away from the city gates. Land there Saphira, I think it's a big enough clearing.

A tight fit, but it'll do.

They landed and dismounted the dragon. Eragon pulled his sword out of his sheath and examined it. The sword was given to him by Arya, but he didn't know where it came from. He had wondered if it was made by elves, but it had the slight appearance of a dwarf's blade. Unfortunately, no stones donned the blade, which meant he couldn't store any excess energy in it like he could with Zar'roc.

"Every day you look at that sword, Eragon, it's not going to change overnight," Roran said pulling a couple of cloaks out of the bag hanging from Saphira's saddle. He threw one to him before putting it on. Eragon sheathed his sword and picked up the cloak. Roran was really quick to act with the plan.

As he pulled the hood over his head, he extended his consciousness to his surroundings, searching for a group of travelers that they could hide amongst. There was one person alone, but they had their mind blocked very thickly, which Eragon let pass, sensing that their intentions were not to hurt anything.

To his luck a minute later, a bunch of people from Melian were traveling to trade in Dras'Leona. Eragon gave Roran a nod and peered around a tree at the road, waiting for the group to pass so they could tag along. Seeing an opening, he signaled Roran to follow and they trailed behind the group quietly so to go unnoticed.

Once they reached the gates of the city, Eragon could already smell the stench emitting from the fowl city. The guards let the group pass with out even checking the wagon. The two sighed silently to themselves as they passed into Dras'Leona.

"I think we'll stay over here." Eragon looked around and extended his mind. He sensed no harm down one of the streets, which an Inn was built on, luckily and walked toward it.

Roran spoke to him in a whisper, "I've never seen such a horrid city in my life."

All Eragon could do was nod as they entered 'The Hanged Man', which looked like a nicer pub than what the name had made them expect. The room was cheaper than what they thought it would be as well. "Business is down ever since the King visited…" the barkeep girl had said. "Would you like me to bring you up some supper?"

"Just as long as it doesn't have any meat," Eragon said politely, to which Roran retorted:

"I eat meat, unlike him."

Eragon fought the urge to roll his eyes and just grinned at his cousin. He remembered what it was like when he did eat meat and once in a while he craved it, but just the thought of killing something for food was absolutely barbaric now.

"Sure, dears."

The room was comfy and bright, not dreary like the last place Eragon had stayed in with Brom in Dra'Leona. That pub/inn was farther into the city. The chamber was large and held two beds, adorned with comfy linins almost fit for an upper class Lord or Lady in the colour of red. Stone walls were covered with tapestries, bookcases, and a work of art that was a picture of a grand looking woman with wild hair, pinched and painted lips, and a crown atop her head.

Roran plopped down upon one of the bed and sighed in delight. "A bed, no ground, no hard floor. I shall sleep sound tonight." His cousin nuzzled a pillow, which made Eragon chuckle at his cousins bliss.