“No! You must sleep,” protested Murtagh.

“I . . . can sleep in the saddle. But we can’t afford to stay here, not with the soldiers closing on us.”

Murtagh reluctantly gave in. “In that case I’ll lead Snowfire while you rest.” They resaddled the horses, strapped the elf onto Saphira, and departed the camp. Eragon ate while he rode, trying to replace his depleted energy before he leaned forward against Snowfire and closed his eyes.

W ATER FROMSAND

When they stopped for the evening, Eragon felt no better and his temper had worsened. Most of the day had been spent on long detours to avoid detection by soldiers with hunting dogs. He dismounted Snowfire and asked Saphira,How is she?

I think no worse than before. She stirred slightly a few times, but that was all.Saphira crouched low to the ground to let him lift the elf out of the saddle. For a moment her soft form pressed against Eragon. Then he hurriedly put her down.

He and Murtagh made a small dinner. It was difficult for them to fight off the urge to sleep. When they had eaten, Murtagh said, “We can’t keep up this pace; we aren’t gaining any ground on the soldiers. Another day or two of this and they’ll be sure to overtake us.”

“What else can we do?” snapped Eragon. “If it were just the two of us and you were willing to leave Tornac behind, Saphira could fly us out of here. But with the elf, too? Impossible.”

Murtagh looked at him carefully. “If you want to go your own way, I won’t stop you. I can’t expect you and Saphira to stay and risk imprisonment.”

“Don’t insult me,” Eragon muttered. “The only reason I’m free is because of you. I’m not going to abandon you to the Empire. Poor thanks that would be!”

Murtagh bowed his head. “Your words hearten me.” He paused. “But they don’t solve our problem.”

“What can?” Eragon asked. He gestured at the elf. “I wish she could tell us where the elves are; perhaps we could seek sanctuary with them.”

“Considering how they’ve protected themselves, I doubt she’d reveal their location. Even if she did, the others of her kind might not welcome us. Why would they want to shelter us anyway? The last Riders they had contact with were Galbatorix and the Forsworn. I doubt that left them with pleasant memories. And I don’t even have the dubious honor of being a Rider like you. No, they would not want me at all.”

They would accept us,said Saphira confidently as she shifted her wings to a more comfortable position.

Eragon shrugged. “Even if they would protect us, we can’t find them, and it’s impossible to ask the elf until she regains consciousness. We must flee, but in which direction—north, south, east, or west?”

Murtagh laced his fingers together and pressed his thumbs against his temples. “I think the only thing we can do is leave the Empire. The few safe places within it are far from here. They would be difficult to reach without being caught or followed. . . . There’s nothing for us to the north except the forest Du Weldenvarden—which we might be able to hide in, but I don’t relish going back past Gil’ead. Only the Empire and the sea lie westward. To the south is Surda, where you might be able to find someone to direct you to the Varden. As for going east . . .” He shrugged. “To the east, the Hadarac Desert stands between us and whatever lands exist in that direction. The Varden are somewhere across it, but without directions it might take us years to find them.”

We would be safe, though,remarked Saphira.As long as we didn’t encounter any Urgals.

Eragon knitted his brow. A headache threatened to drown his thoughts in hot throbs. “It’s too dangerous to go to Surda. We would have to traverse most of the Empire, avoiding every town and village. There are too many people between us and Surda to get there unnoticed.”

Murtagh raised an eyebrow. “So you want to go across the desert?”

“I don’t see any other options. Besides, that way we can leave the Empire before the Ra’zac get here. With their flying steeds, they’ll probably arrive in Gil’ead in a couple of days, so we don’t have much time.”

“Even if we do reach the desert before they get here,” said Murtagh, “they could still overtake us. It’ll be hard to outdistance them at all.”

Eragon rubbed Saphira’s side, her scales rough under his fingers. “That’s assuming they can follow our trail. To catch us, though, they’ll have to leave the soldiers behind, which is to our advantage. If it comes to a fight, I think the three of us can defeat them . . . as long as we aren’t ambushed the way Brom and I were.”

“If we reach the other side of the Hadarac safely,” said Murtagh slowly, “where will we go? Those lands are well outside of the Empire. There will be few cities, if any. And then there is the desert itself. What do you know of it?”

“Only that it’s hot, dry, and full of sand,” confessed Eragon.

“That about sums it up,” replied Murtagh. “It’s filled with poisonous and inedible plants, venomous snakes, scorpions, and a blistering sun. You saw the great plain on our way to Gil’ead?”

It was a rhetorical question, but Eragon answered anyway, “Yes, and once before.”

“Then you are familiar with its immense range. It fills the heart of the Empire. Now imagine something two or three times its size, and you’ll understand the vastness of the Hadarac Desert. That is what you’re proposing to cross.”