When she returned, the unconscious elf had been untied from her belly. Eragon led Tornac to Saphira, ignoring the horse’s low whinnies. Saphira reared back on her haunches to grasp the horse around the belly with her forelegs. Eragon eyed her formidable claws and said, “Wait!” He repositioned Tornac’s saddle blanket, strapping it to the horse’s belly so it protected his soft underside, then gestured for Saphira to proceed.

Tornac snorted in fright and tried to bolt when Saphira’s forelegs clamped around his sides, but she held him tightly. The horse rolled his eyes wildly, the whites rimming his dilated pupils. Eragon tried to gentle Tornac with his mind, but the horse’s panic resisted his touch. Before Tornac could try to escape again, Saphira jumped skyward, her hind legs thrusting with such force that her claws gouged the rocks underneath. Her wings strained furiously, struggling to lift the enormous load. For a moment it seemed she would fall back to the ground. Then, with a lunge, she shot into the air. Tornac screamed in terror, kicking and tossing. It was a terrible sound, like screeching metal.

Eragon swore, wondering if anyone was close enough to hear.You’d better hurry, Saphira. He listened for soldiers as he waited, scanning the inky landscape for the telltale flash of torches. It soon met his eye in a line of horsemen sliding down a bluff almost a league away.

As Saphira landed, Eragon brought Snowfire to her.Murtagh’s silly animal is in hysterics. He had to tie Tornac down to prevent him from running away. She gripped Snowfire and carried him off, ignoring the horse’s trumpeted protestations. Eragon watched her go, feeling lonely in the night. The horsemen were only a mile away.

Finally Saphira came for him, and they were soon on firm ground once more, with the Ramr to their backs. Once the horses were calmed and the saddles readjusted, they resumed their flight toward the Beor Mountains. The air filled with the calls of birds waking to a new day.

Eragon dozed even when walking. He was barely aware that Murtagh was just as drowsy. There were times when neither of them guided the horses, and it was only Saphira’s vigilance that kept them on course.

Eventually the ground became soft and gave way under their feet, forcing them to halt. The sun was high overhead. The Ramr River was no more than a fuzzy line behind them.

They had reached the Hadarac Desert.

T HEHADARACDESERT

Avast expanse of dunes spread to the horizon like ripples on an ocean. Bursts of wind twirled the reddish gold sand into the air. Scraggly trees grew on scattered patches of solid ground—ground any farmer would have declared unfit for crops. Rising in the distance was a line of purple crags. The imposing desolation was barren of any animals except for a bird gliding on the zephyrs.

“You’re sure we’ll find food for the horses out there?” queried Eragon, slurring his words. The hot, dry air stung his throat.

“See those?” asked Murtagh, indicating the crags. “Grass grows around them. It’s short and tough, but the horses will find it sufficient.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Eragon, squinting at the sun. “Before we continue, let’s rest. My mind is slow as a snail, and I can barely move my legs.”

They untied the elf from Saphira, ate, then lay in the shadow of a dune for a nap. As Eragon settled into the sand, Saphira coiled up next to him and spread her wings over them.This is a wondrous place, she said.I could spend years here and not notice the passing time.

Eragon closed his eyes.It would be a nice place to fly, he agreed drowsily.

Not only that, I feel as though I was made for this desert. It has the space I need, mountains where I could roost, and camouflaged prey that I could spend days hunting. And the warmth! Cold does not disturb me, but this heat makes me feel alive and full of energy.She craned her head toward the sky, stretching happily.

You like it that much?mumbled Eragon.

Yes.

Then when this is all done, perhaps we can return. . . .He drifted into slumber even as he spoke. Saphira was pleased and hummed gently while he and Murtagh rested.

It was the morning of the fourth day since leaving Gil’ead. They had already covered thirty-five leagues.

They slept just long enough to clear their minds and rest the horses. No soldiers could be seen to the rear, but that did not lull them into slowing their pace. They knew that the Empire would keep searching until they were far beyond the king’s reach. Eragon said, “Couriers must have carried news of my escape to Galbatorix. He would have alerted the Ra’zac. They’re sure to be on our trail by now. It’ll take them a while to catch us even by flying, but we should be ready for them at all times.”

And this time they will find I am not so easily bound with chains,said Saphira.

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.”

“Something to hope for indeed,” said Eragon as he checked the elf. Her condition was unchanged; she still did not react to his ministrations. “I place no faith in luck right now, though. The Ra’zac could be on our trail even as we speak.”

At sunset they arrived at the crags they had viewed from afar that morning. The imposing stone bluffs towered over them, casting thin shadows. The surrounding area was free of dunes for a half mile. Heat assailed Eragon like a physical blow as he dismounted Snowfire onto the baked, cracked ground. The back of his neck and his face were sunburned; his skin was hot and feverish.

After picketing the horses where they could nibble the sparse grass, Murtagh started a small fire. “How far do you think we went?” Eragon asked, releasing the elf from Saphira.