“Ouch,” agreed Eragon weakly. A blotchy bruise extended down his left side. The red, swollen skin was broken in several places. Murtagh put a hand on the bruise and pressed lightly. Eragon yelled, and Saphira growled a warning.

Murtagh glanced at Saphira as he grabbed a blanket. “I think you have some broken ribs. It’s hard to tell, but at least two, maybe more. You’re lucky you’re not coughing up blood.” He tore the blanket into strips and bound Eragon’s chest.

Eragon slipped the shirt back on. “Yes . . . I’m lucky.” He took a shallow breath, sidled over to Brom, and saw that Murtagh had cut open the side of his robe to bandage the wound. With trembling fingers, he undid the bandage.

“I wouldn’t do that,” warned Murtagh. “He’ll bleed to death without it.”

Eragon ignored him and pulled the cloth away from Brom’s side. The wound was short and thin, belying its depth. Blood streamed out of it. As he had learned when Garrow was injured, a wound inflicted by the Ra’zac was slow to heal.

He peeled off his gloves while furiously searching his mind for the healing words Brom had taught him.Help me, Saphira, he implored.I am too weak to do this alone.

Saphira crouched next to him, fixing her eyes on Brom.I am here, Eragon. As her mind joined his, new strength infused his body. Eragon drew upon their combined power and focused it on the words. His hand trembled as he held it over the wound. “Waíse heill!” he said. His palm glowed, and Brom’s skin flowed together, as if it had never been broken. Murtagh watched the entire process.

It was over quickly. As the light vanished, Eragon sat, feeling sick.We’ve never done that before, he said.

Saphira nodded.Together we can cast spells that are beyond either of us.

Murtagh examined Brom’s side and asked, “Is he completely healed?”

“I can only mend what is on the surface. I don’t know enough to fix whatever’s damaged inside. It’s up to him now. I’ve done all I can.” Eragon closed his eyes for a moment, utterly weary. “My . . . my head seems to be floating in clouds.”

“You probably need to eat,” said Murtagh. “I’ll make soup.”

While Murtagh fixed the meal, Eragon wondered who this stranger was. His sword and bow were of the finest make, as was his horn. Either he was a thief or accustomed to money—and lots of it.Why was he hunting the Ra’zac? What have they done to make him an enemy? I wonder if he works for the Varden?

Murtagh handed him a bowl of broth. Eragon spooned it down and asked, “How long has it been since the Ra’zac fled?”

“A few hours.”

“We have to go before they return with reinforcements.”

“You might be able to travel,” said Murtagh, then gestured at Brom, “but he can’t. You don’t get up and ride away after being stabbed between the ribs.”

If we make a litter, can you carry Brom with your claws like you did with Garrow?Eragon asked Saphira.

Yes, but landing will be awkward.

As long as it can be done.Eragon said to Murtagh, “Saphira can carry him, but we need a litter. Can you make one? I don’t have the strength.”

“Wait here.” Murtagh left the camp, sword drawn. Eragon hobbled to his bags and picked up his bow from where it had been thrown by the Ra’zac. He strung it, found his quiver, then retrieved Zar’roc, which lay hidden in shadow. Last, he got a blanket for the litter.

Murtagh returned with two saplings. He laid them parallel on the ground, then lashed the blanket between the poles. After he carefully tied Brom to the makeshift litter, Saphira grasped the saplings and laboriously took flight. “I never thought I would see a sight like that,” Murtagh said, an odd note in his voice.

As Saphira disappeared into the dark sky, Eragon limped to Cadoc and hoisted himself painfully into the saddle. “Thanks for helping us. You should leave now. Ride as far away from us as you can. You’ll be in danger if the Empire finds you with us. We can’t protect you, and I wouldn’t see harm come to you on our account.”

“A pretty speech,” said Murtagh, grinding out the fire, “but where will you go? Is there a place nearby that you can rest in safety?”

“No,” admitted Eragon.

Murtagh’s eyes glinted as he fingered the hilt of his sword. “In that case, I think I’ll accompany you until you’re out of danger. I’ve no better place to be. Besides, if I stay with you, I might get another shot at the Ra’zac sooner than if I were on my own. Interesting things are bound to happen around a Rider.”

Eragon wavered, unsure if he should accept help from a complete stranger. Yet he was unpleasantly aware that he was too weak to force the issue either way.If Murtagh proves untrustworthy, Saphira can always chase him away. “Join us if you wish.” He shrugged.

Murtagh nodded and mounted his gray war-horse. Eragon grabbed Snowfire’s reins and rode away from the camp, into the wilderness. An oxbow moon provided wan light, but he knew that it would only make it easier for the Ra’zac to track them.

Though Eragon wanted to question Murtagh further, he kept silent, conserving his energy for riding. Near dawn Saphira said,I must stop. My wings are tired and Brom needs attention. I discovered a good place to stay, about two miles ahead of where you are.

They found her sitting at the base of a broad sandstone formation that curved out of the ground like a great hill. Its sides were pocked with caves of varying sizes. Similar domes were scattered across the land. Saphira looked pleased with herself.I found a cave that can’t be seen from the ground. It’s large enough for all of us, including the horses. Follow me. She turned and climbed up the sandstone, her sharp claws digging into the rock. The horses had difficulty, as their shod hooves could not grip the sandstone. Eragon and Murtagh had to pull and shove the animals for almost an hour before they managed to reach the cave.