After three hours they saw the straw-yellow lanterns of Bullridge. A web of soldiers patrolled between watch fires scattered around the town. Eragon and Murtagh muffled their sword sheaths and carefully dismounted. They led the horses in a wide detour around Bullridge, listening attentively to avoid stumbling on an encampment.

With the town behind them, Eragon relaxed slightly. Daybreak finally flooded the sky with a delicate blush and warmed the chilly night air. They halted on the crest of a hill to observe their surroundings. The Ramr River was to their left, but it was also five miles to their right. The river continued south for several leagues, then doubled back on itself in a narrow loop before curving west. They had covered over sixteen leagues in one day.

Eragon leaned against Snowfire’s neck, happy with the distance they had gone. “Let’s find a gully or hollow where we can sleep undisturbed.” They stopped at a small stand of juniper trees and laid their blankets beneath them. Saphira waited patiently as they untied the elf from her belly.

“I’ll take the first watch and wake you at midmorning,” said Murtagh, setting his bare sword across his knees. Eragon mumbled his assent and pulled the blankets over his shoulders.

Nightfall found them worn and drowsy but determined to continue. As they prepared to leave, Saphira observed to Eragon,This is the third night since we rescued you from Gil’ead, and the elf still hasn’t woken. I’m worried. And, she continued,she has neither drunk nor eaten in that time. I know little of elves, but she is slender, and I doubt she can survive much longer without nourishment.

“What’s wrong?” asked Murtagh over Tornac’s back.

“The elf,” said Eragon, looking down at her. “Saphira is troubled that she hasn’t woken or eaten; it disturbs me too. I healed her wounds, at least on the surface, but it doesn’t seem to have done her any good.”

“Maybe the Shade tampered with her mind,” suggested Murtagh.

“Then we have to help her.”

Murtagh knelt by the elf. He examined her intently, then shook his head and stood. “As far as I can tell, she’s only sleeping. It seems as if I could wake her with a word or a touch, yet she slumbers on. Her coma might be something elves self-induce to escape the pain of injury, but if so, why doesn’t she end it? There’s no danger to her now.”

“But does she know that?” asked Eragon quietly.

Murtagh put a hand on his shoulder. “This must wait. We have to leave now or risk losing our hard-won lead. You can tend to her later when we stop.”

“One thing first,” said Eragon. He soaked a rag, then squeezed the cloth so water dripped between the elf’s sculpted lips. He did that several times and dabbed above her straight, angled eyebrows, feeling oddly protective.

They headed through the hills, avoiding the tops for fear of being spotted by sentries. Saphira stayed with them on the ground for the same reason. Despite her bulk, she was stealthy; only her tail could be heard scraping over the ground, like a thick blue snake.

Eventually the sky brightened in the east. The morning star Aiedail appeared as they reached the edge of a steep bank covered with mounds of brush. Water roared below as it tore over boulders and sluiced through branches.

“The Ramr!” said Eragon over the noise.

Murtagh nodded. “Yes! We have to find a place to ford safely.”

That isn’t necessary,said Saphira.I can carry you across, no matter how wide the river is.

Eragon looked up at her blue-gray form.What about the horses? We can’t leave them behind. They’re too heavy for you to lift.

As long as you’re not on them and they don’t struggle too much, I’m sure that I can carry them. If I can dodge arrows with three people on my back, I can certainly fly a horse in a straight line over a river.

I believe you, but let’s not attempt it unless we have to. It’s too dangerous.

She clambered down the embankment.We can’t afford to squander time here.

Eragon followed her, leading Snowfire. The bank came to an abrupt end at the Ramr, where the river ran dark and swift. White mist wafted up from the water, like blood steaming in winter. It was impossible to see the far side. Murtagh tossed a branch into the torrent and watched it race away, bobbing on the rough water.

“How deep do you think it is?” asked Eragon.

“I can’t tell,” said Murtagh, worry coloring his voice. “Can you see how far across it is with magic?”

“I don’t think so, not without lighting up this place like a beacon.”

With a gust of air, Saphira took off and soared over the Ramr. After a short time, she said,I’m on the other bank. The river is over a half-mile wide. You couldn’t have chosen a worse place to cross; the Ramr bends at this point and is at its widest.

“A half-mile!” exclaimed Eragon. He told Murtagh about Saphira’s offer to fly them.

“I’d rather not try it, for the horses’ sake. Tornac isn’t as accustomed to Saphira as Snowfire. He might panic and injure them both. Ask Saphira to look for shallows where we can swim over safely. If there aren’t any within a mile in either direction, then I suppose she can ferry us.”

At Eragon’s request, Saphira agreed to search for a ford. While she explored, they hunkered next to the horses and ate dry bread. It was not long before Saphira returned, her velvet wings whispering in the early dawn sky.The water is both deep and strong, upstream as well as downstream.

Once he was told, Murtagh said, “I’d better go over first, so I can watch the horses.” He scrambled onto Saphira’s saddle. “Be careful with Tornac. I’ve had him for many years. I don’t want anything to happen to him.” Then Saphira took off.