He told me,said Saphira.

Eragon grew angry.Why did he trust you, but not me, with all this knowledge?

Her scales rustled over the dry rock as she stood above him, eyes profound.After we left Teirm and were attacked by the Urgals, he told me many things, some of which I will not speak of unless necessary. He was concerned about his own death and what would happen to you after it. One fact he imparted to me was the name of a man, Dormnad, who lives in Gil’ead. He can help us find the Varden. Brom also wanted you to know that of all the people in Alagaësia, he believed you were the best suited to inherit the Riders’ legacy.

Tears welled in Eragon’s eyes. This was the highest praise he could have ever received from Brom.A responsibility I will bear honorably.

Good.

We will go to Gil’ead, then,stated Eragon, strength and purpose returning to him.And what of Murtagh? Do you think he should come with us?

We owe him our lives,said Saphira.But even if that weren’t so, he has seen both you and me. We should keep him close so he doesn’t furnish the Empire with our location and descriptions, willingly or not.

He agreed with her, then told Saphira about his dream.What I saw disturbed me. I feel that time is running out for her; something dreadful is going to happen soon. She’s in mortal danger—I’m sure of it—but I don’t know how to find her! She could be anywhere.

What does your heart say?asked Saphira.

My heart died a while back,said Eragon with a hint of black humor.However, I think we should go north to Gil’ead. With any luck, one of the towns or cities along our path is where this woman is being held. I’m afraid that my next dream of her will show a grave. I couldn’t stand that.

Why?

I’m not sure,he said, shrugging.It’s just that when I see her, I feel as if she’s precious and shouldn’t be lost. . . . It’s very strange. Saphira opened her long mouth and laughed silently, fangs gleaming.What is it? snapped Eragon. She shook her head and quietly padded away.

Eragon grumbled to himself, then told Murtagh what they had decided. Murtagh said, “If you find this Dormnad and then continue on to the Varden, I will leave you. Encountering the Varden would be as dangerous for me as walking unarmed into Urû’baen with a fanfare of trumpets to announce my arrival.”

“We won’t have to part anytime soon,” said Eragon. “It’s a long way to Gil’ead.” His voice cracked slightly, and he squinted at the sun to distract himself. “We should leave before the day grows any older.”

“Are you strong enough to travel?” asked Murtagh, frowning.

“I have to do something or I’ll go crazy,” said Eragon brusquely. “Sparring, practicing magic, or sitting around twiddling my thumbs aren’t good options right now, so I choose to ride.”

They doused the fire, packed, and led the horses out of the cave. Eragon handed Cadoc’s and Snowfire’s reins to Murtagh, saying, “Go on, I’ll be right down.” Murtagh began the slow descent from the cave.

Eragon struggled up the sandstone, resting when his side made it impossible to breathe. When he reached the top, he found Saphira already there. They stood together before Brom’s grave and paid their last respects.I can’t believe he’s gone . . . forever. As Eragon turned to depart, Saphira snaked out her long neck to touch the tomb with the tip of her nose. Her sides vibrated as a low humming filled the air.

The sandstone around her nose shimmered like gilded dew, turning clear with dancing silver highlights. Eragon watched in wonder as tendrils of white diamond twisted over the tomb’s surface in a web of priceless filigree. Sparkling shadows were cast on the ground, reflecting splashes of brilliant colors that shifted dazzlingly as the sandstone continued to change. With a satisfied snort, Saphira stepped back and examined her handiwork.

The sculpted sandstone mausoleum of moments before had transformed into a sparkling gemstone vault—under which Brom’s untouched face was visible. Eragon gazed with yearning at the old man, who seemed to be only sleeping. “What did you do?” he asked Saphira with awe.

I gave him the only gift I could. Now time will not ravage him. He can rest in peace for eternity.

Thank you.Eragon put a hand on her side, and they left together.

C APTURE ATGIL’EAD

Riding was extremely painful for Eragon—his broken ribs prevented them from going faster than a walk, and it was impossible for him to breathe deeply without a burst of agony. Nevertheless, he refused to stop. Saphira flew close by, her mind linked with his for solace and strength.

Murtagh rode confidently beside Cadoc, flowing smoothly with his horse’s movements. Eragon watched the gray animal for a while. “You have a beautiful horse. What’s his name?”

“Tornac, after the man who taught me how to fight.” Murtagh patted the horse’s side. “He was given to me when he was just a foal. You’d be hard pressed to find a more courageous and intelligent animal in all of Alagaësia, Saphira excepted, of course.”

“He is a magnificent beast,” said Eragon admiringly.

Murtagh laughed. “Yes, but Snowfire is as close to his match as I’ve ever seen.”

They covered only a short distance that day, yet Eragon was glad to be on the move again. It kept his mind off other, more morbid matters. They were riding through unsettled land. The road to Dras-Leona was several leagues to their left. They would skirt the city by a wide margin on the way to Gil’ead, which was almost as far to the north as Carvahall.