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The Talita continued its easterly journey down the Edda River, carrying its crew to the unknown lands that lie in wait beyond Alagasia. Eragon found himself leaning on the railing, at the Talita's bow, looking out into the vast expanse that stretched before him. It seemed to have no end. The moon had edged upwards in the sky until it came to rest at its highest point thus showering the region in a soft white glow. A dance of sparkles shown upon the river's surface as the light glittered with its gentle eddies. Saphira had flown ahead, shortly after their departure from Hedarth, to scout for potential danger and explore the area for new and hidden curiosities. She'd flown until the distance brought her to the threshold of their connection, leaving Eragon with only the slightest hint of her consciousness. She'd invited him to come along but he declined preferring to stay behind and contemplate further what lay ahead on their journey. The elves had retreated to the lower levels of the ship to complete preparations for the coming day, after which to rest for the night. It had been an exhausting day.

Eragon, on the other hand, was not tired; the prospect of rest farthest from his mind as a renewed sense of excitement and anticipation came over him. Somewhere out there a new home awaits us. He thought as he gazed upon the dimly lit river which stretched into the darkness far ahead. In keeping with the thought he entertained such questions as: How far would they need to travel? How long would it take to get there? Who would they meet along the way? Would their new home be like Vroengard with its great city surrounded by towering mountains teeming with numerous caves that provided homes and nests for the great multitude of dragons? In his lightheartedness his thoughts shifted to the recent events that led up to this moment and he was grateful. He was grateful that they had succeeded in defeating Galbatorix and that Alagasia was once again at peace with Nasuada as its queen. He thought of Murtagh and Thorn and was thankful they had escaped the hold Galbatorix had over them; hopeful that each would find the peace, and sense of purpose, they sought. Last of all he thought of Roran and how proud he was of him. Without him, he thought, the outcome of the war might well have been different; ending in defeat and eternal servitude to the evil king instead of a great victory. A smile formed on his face as he considered the land and title Nasuada had given Roran following the war, and of his plans to re-build Carvahall and erect a castle upon the hillside overlooking it. There to live and raise a family with his bride, Katrina. Eragon couldn't imagine a better pair and was glad that he'd been given the opportunity to marry them. After awhile Eragon's smile softened and the memory faded as a renewed sense of loss came over him.

Will I ever find love again? He thought. _Will I ever have the chance to take a mate and raise a family of my own, like Roran? _

As a sigh escaped him Eragon shook his head and thought of Arya and the moment she'd been caught up into the moon-lit sky, by Firnen, during her final farewell. The sudden memory only served to remind him of what could never be, despite all that he had sacrificed. He understood, without question, the importance of what they were doing and why it was necessary to leave Alagasia; however, that fact alone didn't make their departure any easier to accept. His questions left him unsettled for no answers were forthcoming; no prophecy from which to draw as before and none who could provide assurance that he ever would. He harbored no regrets concerning his lot as a rider, including the responsibilities that came with it. But, in spite of his responsibilities, he was still hopeful that he might find a mate and raise a family of his own one day. Up until the moment he had to depart Alagasia Arya had seemed the obvious choice, but now that was no longer so. He would never be able to return and Arya's duty as queen would only require her constant presence, preventing her from ever leaving Alaga?sia, let alone joining him.

The quiet coupled with the soft glow cast by the moon gave the night an eerie, dream-like feel as if Eragon were in one of his waking dreams. The mood it created tempted him with the hope that all he need do is wake and he would find himself back in Alagasia where he could once again be near Arya. Perhaps, given time, they would eventually become mates. Or perhaps, he thought, he would wake to find that Arya had accepted his plea to join him in the search of a new home, allowing their budding relationship to continue and flourish. If only it were that easy. He thought, releasing another sigh.

As the memory of her lingered in his mind the sense of loss and frustration he felt transformed into bitter resentment. A resentment that seemed to intensify the farther he drifted away from her. In the time he'd pursued Arya, during the war, he was met with continual rejection and defeat; all the while uncertain if he would ever win her heart. Then, following the war, it appeared that Angela's prophecy might indeed have a favorable outcome. Arya had grown closer to him; so much so that she had confessed the possibility that, given time, her feelings for him might grow strong enough to accept him as her mate. But her confession had come too late for it had been in that moment that Eragon informed her of his and Saphira's decision to leave Alagasia. A decision that had been sealed by fate itself, as he soon realized when, days following, he saw the Talita floating upon Ardwen Lake; just as it had appeared in the dream he had many months prior.

"Bah!" Eragon exclaimed as he threw his arms in the air and paced the deck.

"I wish I'd never had that accursed dream or allowed Angela to read me that accursed prophecy. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe I would have never fallen in love with her or never had to leave Alagasia."

Coming round Eragon resumed his previous position at the bow then, following a deep breath, closed his eyes to calm himself; allowing his sense of reason to regain control. He knew that it would do him no good to toil over the apparent injustices of fate, no matter how tempting the prospect was. To dwell on what could never be would change nothing. Instead it would only serve to cripple him from fulfilling his duty as a rider which, in turn, would threaten their mission to find a new home; to re-build the order and the dragon race. Moreover he realized that it didn't really matter if the dream, or the prophecy, had never been given him. His ignorance of them would not have prevented their eventual outcome.

Eragon opened his eyes then forced the memories of Arya from his mind, lest he risk another upset. Instead he decided to muse over the unwitting subjects of his earlier outburst; specifically, his dream and the prophecy. He thought first of the dream, bringing to mind old questions and, adding to them, new ones: Why had it come to him? Would he have other such dreams and, if so, would they foretell of events involving more loss or sacrifice? Could he summon them forth at will or with the help of magic? Did his dream originate from within or from a brush with the spirit realm? Prompted by the last question Eragon thought back to the time he'd had the dream. It had been while he lay in the house of Gertrude, Carvahall's healer, teetering on the edge of life and death.

Hmmm, perhaps it was from a brush with the spirits. He thought.

With a shrug he next moved to the subject of the prophecy. He thought back to the day Angela had read it to him and of the confession she'd made concerning the knuckle bones.

Hmmm ... true power. The owner of the knuckle bones must have been a very special dragon, one of great power.

He thought as he turned his focus to the unknown dragon. Beyond the observation he'd made that day - that the dragon had once been Saphira's kin - Eragon knew nothing about it; however, his sudden impression of the dragon's unique nature left him ... curious. This resulted in a stir of new questions such as: Who was the dragon? Did it have a name? Was it killed during the fall of the riders? Was it a wild dragon or one destined to a rider? Where had Angela obtained the knuckle bones?

_"Always so full of questions ..." _

Eragon paused and smiled at the memory that interrupted his train of thought. It had been Brom and Oromis' conclusion that at times he questioned matters too much for his own good. He had to agree with them; however, what had started out as a mere attempt to distract him from thoughts of Arya had suddenly transformed into something more. With each new question he became increasingly curious as to their answers. This left him with the vague sense that, for some reason unknown to him, the subject of the questions held some special importance he'd not previously seen. How or when he'd be able to obtain answers to them was, for the moment, beyond him; assuming answers existed at all.

Shadeslayer? Came the voice of Glaedr. Startled Eragon checked his thoughts then replied. Aye. What is it Glaedr-elda?

Peace Shadeslayer. I am simply checking to see if you are alright. You seemed ... troubled ... earlier.

I ... I'm fine Glaedr-elda. I was just thinking about what lie ahead of us ... and of Nasuada, Murtagh, Thorn, Roran and ...

... and Arya? Asked Glaedr.

It is that obvious? Eragon replied, forcing a faint smile.

Only to those who are closest to you Shadeslayer. Glaedr replied. Then, following a brief pause, he continued. Do you want to talk about it?

Eragon shrugged. What is there to talk about? It is what it is. There's nothing I can do to change it.

Aye. Even so, it might do you good to talk about it instead of gnawing on it like a dry old bone. Glaedr observed.

Releasing a heavy sigh Eragon replied, sullenly_. I don't know Glaedr-elda. It's just ... I ... we ... we had grown so close after the war. I thought ... hoped ... that perhaps we'd finally have a chance to be together. Especially after all the time I sought after her. But I ..._ Eragon paused. Then, pressing his lips together, continued. I guess it just wasn't meant to be.

Do you resent the reason for having to leave? Resent your duty as a rider?

No Glaedr-elda! Never! Eragon exclaimed. I know the importance of what we're doing. I've not forgotten that.

A soft growl echoed in Eragon's mind then Glaedr replied_. I understand what it is to lose something so precious to you Shadeslayer. Even so, the war may be over but we still live in uncertain times. There are still a great many of Galbatorix's followers in Alagasia, no doubt bent on avenging his death. Moreover, there are bound to be untold dangers that await us on this journey. Until our new home is secured, and the order and dragons restored, we must be on guard, never losing sight of the mission before us._

Aye, Glaedr-elda. I understand. Eragon acknowledged. Following a moment's silence he added. I know our mission is important, just as it was during the war. But that doesn't mean I've forsaken the desire to find love; to take a mate and raise a family. Eragon paused, looking up to the star-lit sky - as if to release a silent prayer - then continued. Considering how it ended with Arya, do you think I'll ever have that chance again? Do you think fate will ever favor me?

There is no way to truly know that Shadeslayer. Sometimes fate demands of us great sacrifice only to return great reward. Other times it does not. In any case, your desire is not without merit but do not let it consume you to the point that you lose sight of the greater need. Besides, you have eternity before you. There is much that can happen in that time. You may have lost Arya, but perhaps it is because another awaits you. Conversely, your destiny may lead you in a completely different direction. You will simply have to wait and see.

Eragon remained silent for a time as he mulled over Glaedr's words. After which he hesitantly inquired. Did ... did you or Oromis ever take a mate and raise a family in your time with the order?

Glaedr was silent for a long while, as if contemplating the best way to answer Eragon. Then he replied. To my knowledge Oromis never took a mate nor raised a family. If there was ever a time he considered doing so I know it not. As for me? Eragon felt a sudden stir in Glaedr's thoughts. As a young dragon there were several moments when I accepted the ... interests ... of desirable females alive at the time; however, none of the unions ever resulted in hatchlings. Eventually I decided my service to the order would be best met by focusing on its mission and the duties that accompanied it, at least for a time. Not long after came the fall of the riders leaving me no further opportunity.

No opportunity? Eragon replied with incredulity_._ Then, taking a moment to consider it, inquired in a lighthearted gesture; a faint smile on his face. What about Saphira? Was she not desirable when she expressed her interest?

That, Shadeslayer, is not amusing and ... none of your concern. Do not attempt to put the question to me again. Glaedr retorted.

You're right Glaedr-elda. I'm sorry. Eragon replied, a sober tone suddenly coming over him. I appreciate your answer and thank you for trying to help. His only reply was a low growl.

Following another long silence Glaedr spoke. Since we're on the subject of Saphira, have you not considered her?

Hmmm ... what do you mean?

In your brooding over Arya have you not considered Saphira? You must know of the sadness she feels at leaving Firnen. Has she not suffered a great loss as well?

_Well ... aye Glaedr-elda she has ... b_ut ...

Have you attempted to console her, to comfort her in her sorrow? Glaedr interrupted.

Eragon looked down at his hands then replied_. No, not since we left. I don't think she wanted to talk about it. She's out exploring at the moment. I'll have to wait until she gets back before I can try again. But what would I say? Saphira has always been more adept than me at handling loss. Besides, she stands a good chance at finding another mate. Better than I do anyway. When the dragon eggs hatch there is bound to be more than enough suitable males for her to choose from._ Eragon paused, his thoughts tainted with a hint of rebounding resentment. My prospects are not near as abundant.

Do not begrudge her Shadeslayer. It is in this time that you will need each other the most. Do not brood over what you do not have; instead, rejoice in what you do have. You still have Saphira. You still have us, the elves and, above all, hope. Be thankful for these things.

Looking down in shame Eragon replied, his thoughts assuming a softer tone_. You're right, Glaedr-elda. Once again I'm sorry. I will do as you suggest._ With an approving growl Glaedr replied. Do not lose hope Shadeslayer. Simply live in the moment as Saphira has so wisely suggested before. Let what will be ... be.

With his final thought Glaedr withdrew leaving Eragon alone to contemplate his words.

---

A sudden screech echoed in the night. Eragon looked up just in time to catch sight of an owl flying low in the sky overhead. He watched as it continued its northern glide over the ship - in search of prey - until it faded into the distance. With an intake of breath he closed his eyes then, releasing it, thought of the owl and how it reminded him of flying with Saphira. Glaedr-elda is right. He thought while opening his eyes and turning his gaze back to the river ahead. In spite of the wisdom and experience I've gained over past months I still have the tendency to behave so selfishly, as if I were a spoiled child. I must overcome my impatience. There is much that I still have and for that I can indeed by thankful. With an approving nod he added. Saphira was right, we aren't alone. We still have each other.

Eragon allowed his thoughts to settle on Saphira. As he did all trace of his earlier upset, and his conversation with Glaedr, faded into the background of his mind until only thoughts of her remained. In the months that followed their bonding she had been the one constant in his life. She had been a source of strength when he was weak, of encouragement when he doubted, of comfort when he was in despair, of wisdom when he required counsel and of companionship when he felt alone. In all his sacrifices during the war, and following, she was his one, lasting consolation. He cherished their bond - their friendship - above all else and knew, without a doubt, that it would never end, nor change; a fact that left him with an instant sense of comfort and reassurance.

Perhaps fate hasn't left me entirely without favor. He thought as the memory of the moment Saphira hatched for him entered his mind, eliciting a broad smile. Of all his memories it was Eragon's most cherished. It had often served as a source of comfort for him during the times he was separated from her.

As he held the memory a warm glow began to form in the center of his chest. With each passing moment the warmth expanded, spreading throughout his torso, then outward to his arms, legs and head. He relished in the new sensation as a deeper sense of clam came over him; he couldn't remember a single moment prior when he'd felt so at peace. While basking in the warmth he thought of the look in Saphira's sapphire eyes - when they first met his - during the tentative moment before he touched her, sealing their bond. In them he discovered a mixture of wonder, beauty, innocence, wisdom, fierceness and, for a fleeting moment, a blaze of intense joy and love ... towards him.

At that moment a gentle breeze blew across the bow causing Eragon to shudder as a tingling sensation traveled down his spine. Then, without warning, the warmth in his chest flared in a wave of heat that washed over his entire body. In that same instance a roar - barely audible, like a gentle whisper - echoed in the distance.

The intensity of the wave had been so sudden and unexpected that Eragon tensed, gripping the railing, as he waited for it to run its course. Moments following it ebbed and the warmth drew inward to the center of his chest where it lingered briefly until it vanished altogether. Th ... that was ... different. Never felt that before. He thought as he relaxed and leaned atop the railing.

He remained still for a time as he gazed upon the river, contemplating what he'd just experienced. He wasn't quite certain what to make of it. As far as he knew it wasn't an attack with magic; he'd sensed no others in the vicinity who would wish him harm. He was not even sure that the experience had harmed him. It simply left him surprised for he'd never felt it before, let alone while thinking of Saphira. What he did know is that it left, within its wake, a feeling that something was suddenly different about him. Something had changed but he didn't know what exactly. Then there was Saphira. Something now stood out about her that hadn't before, he just wasn't sure what. It was as if he was walking through a dark forest having the feeling that someone, or something, was watching him; knowing always that it was there but unable to identify it.

Something's amiss. Something's different about her now ... about me ... I don't know. He thought, shaking his head. Where had that feeling of intense love come from? How could it possibly have been so strong? Saphira had only just hatched; she'd never known me before that moment. And the intense joy she felt. Where had that come from? It was as if she'd found a precious treasure, long lost. Then the feelings just ... just vanished?

As he rolled the questions over and over in his mind they slowly drifted together until finally merging into a single, penetrating thought: Why had she chosen him?

Eragon winced at the sudden flashback of Saphira's reaction to the last time he'd questioned her decision. She had been furious taking his doubt as an insult to her judgment. Afterwards he had given the matter no further thought, until now.

He paused, reaching out with his mind to touch Saphira. To his relief the state of her consciousness was unchanged, confirming that she remained at the threshold of their connection. He was thankful for this, allowing him to contemplate the question further without risk of insulting her again. For the moment his thoughts were his own. To him it wasn't a question of Saphira's judgment or of his trust in her. In light of his unusual experience he simply wondered what motivated her choice; set him apart from the hundreds of other minds she'd touched while in her egg. He first recounted her original answer, that he was the best hope for the dragons and other races threatened by Galbatorix's reign. No, I don't think that's it. He thought, shaking his head.

Unsatisfied, he next observed that they shared several common characteristics apart from their bond. For example, both were fierce in battle, matched in determination and both possessed a strong sense of duty. No, I don't think those are it either. He thought, feeling that there was simply more to her choice than a mere matter of shared traits or that he'd offered the best chance at defeating Galbatorix.

Hmmm ... no, it's something more than these things. Our bond has grown too strong for reasons that now seem so ... trivial. It just seems like there was something more behind her decision. But what? What more reason could there be?

Eragon mulled over the questions for awhile longer until it was clear that no answers were forthcoming. Ultimately he concluded that the only way to know for sure would be to ask Saphira - an option that did not appeal to him, for two reasons. First off, Saphira took great pride in her sense of judgment leaving the question as a matter not to be taken lightly - lest he offend her again. And second, although he did not understand why, he felt a certain apprehension as to what her answer might be; as if he secretly expected it to confirm a truth he already knew deep down in the recess of his mind. A truth he wasn't sure he could face. Despite these reasons he knew his determination to find an answer would eventually win over - it always did whatever the risk.

A sudden yawn escaped his mouth as fatigue settled upon him. Enough thinking for one night. I've plenty of time to address this matter again. He thought as he straightened, stretching his arms over his head. By this time he could feel the stir of Saphira's consciousness, indicating that she was on her way back to the ship.

Find anything interesting during your flight? He asked.

Nothing but the moon, the river and grassland as far as the eye can see. And what of you, anything interesting happen while I was away? Saphira replied

Eragon considered his answer then quipped, a faint smile on his face. Nothing but the moon, the river and grassland as far as the eye can see.

Is there an echo out here? Saphira replied with a chuckle.

Eragon inquired, ignoring her reply. How soon before you make it back to the ship?

Shortly, assuming I encounter nothing on the return flight to distract my attention. Are you ok my mate? You seem ... unsettled. Are you sure nothing happened while I was away?

Surprised at this Eragon stiffened and thought to himself. That's a first! Since when did Saphira start addressing me as 'my mate'?

Deciding that her response was simply an innocent slip of thought he relaxed then replied. No, I'm fine. I'm just tired, that's all. It's nothing a good night's sleep won't cure.

There was a lengthy pause and then her reply. I ... I understand. We can both settle down to sleep when I get back. Will you wait for my return?

Aye, but don't take too long. I'm fading fast here.

In that case I'll hasten my effort.

As Eragon awaited Saphira's return he gazed upon the river once more. As he did his eye lids became heavy so he closed them, slipping into a light trance. Only moments passed before he became faintly aware of a consciousness lightly brushing against his mind. It was not Saphira, the elves or the Eldunari; however, it was vaguely familiar but at the same time alien to him. As it brushed his mind he could just make out the faintest whisper and then it was gone. When he opened his eyes he could've sworn he heard the whisper echo:

It is time.