As he regained consciousness, Eragon felt a deep chill run through his body. His arms ached, while his legs felt like somebody dropped a boulder on them. His body was cold, and he tried to draw his arms into his chest to protect his exposed skin from the unexplained coldness. As his arms lifted from his side, Eragon realized that he was in a sitting position, with his back against something incredibly cold. Hearing metal clanking together, Eragon opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was that it was impossibly dark. There was no light source at all where ever he was, and he was to exhausted to try to light a fire with his magic. Hearing the clanking of the metal again, Eragon tried to jump up from his position, but he was held back by his wrists. Tugging at them, he discovered that they were held by heavy chains, ones that could stop even his elven strength. Feeling the wall behind him, he found that it was concrete, and was cold to the touch. Slowly maneuvering away from the wall as best he could, Eragon felt the tattered remains of his old tunic.

Running his hands across his naked chest, he felt many deep scars, and found that some of his latest wounds had yet to stop bleeding. He could not remember how many days he woke just like this, and waited for hours. Waiting. That's all I ever do know, he thought. He was waiting for the man in black to come through the door across the cell -which was now visible to him due to his enhanced vision- and begin the latest rounds of torture.

His mind flashed to Arya's imprisonment, and the number of wounds he saw on her paled to what he could remember receiving nearly ever day. Healers would come in by the dozens to heal him, but they always left one or two wounds open so that he would be in even further discomfort. They were unable to penetrate his mental defenses, so they resorted to the old way that nearly always worked; physical pain.

Due to the fact that he was healed constantly, the torture sessions continued to get longer and longer. Once he thought that the latest session lasted at the very least three days. The man in black returned ever few hours -or what he believed to be- and would oversee his sessions. The food they gave him worse than what he received in Gilead, but he knew that in order to survive, he had to take the poison they gave him. The questions they asked blurred together now. Before, they would ask the location of Saphira, the latest plans that the Varden leader had made, and even the plans of the elven army that was advancing from the north.

Of course, the sorcerers that tried to enter his mind were left mindless, but he had noticed that the man in black had yet to try to breach his mind. Either the man was unable to, or he was saving it as a back up incase the physical pain didn't break him first. He knew that to break was to give up everything he had worked for, and would be the end of the Varden and even the elves. Still, he was surprised that he hadn't been brought straight to Galbatorix, and he had yet to see any evidence of Murtagh. Though, he didn't even know where he was, and wasn't sure that Galbatorix knew as well.

Here he was, the Varden's hope, sitting in a cold, damp cell, blood flowing freely out of his wounds. Trying to get his mind away from his current situation, he thought about the two things he always thought about here. Arya and Saphira. His connection with Saphira was closed due to the drug, but he was sure that he was miles away from where she was currently. As for Arya, he hoped that she was with Saphira, as not anyone could calm a raging dragon. He was still unable to recall the memory of how he was captured. He imagined things from ambushes to him losing a wrestling match with a urgal made of stone.

Reach out, Eragon grabbed his ripped tunic. Taking it, he pressed it as best he could against the most severe wound he could see. The would looked like it was made by a whip, yet instead of being on his back it ran from the left part of his chest down to his right hip. The wound stung a bit from the pressure, but he ignored it. He tried to ignore nearly all of the pain they caused him, and he never once let out more than a slight groan. While he couldn't make the pain fully disappear, he was glad that he had things to occupy his mind. He knew it wouldn't last forever, and he had to find a way out as soon as he could. Slowly, he would design a plan of escape, and the moment he was able to, he would take it.

Hearing footsteps approach, Eragon tried to make it look like he was still unconscious. The footsteps grew louder, pounding away on his eardrums. Days of solitude made his ears uncomfortable due to lack of use. Finally, the footsteps stopped outside the door. He knew those footsteps to be the man in black, and he mentally prepared himself for whatever the man would try. As the hinges on the massive metal door hissed in protest, he squinted his eyes against the sudden light from a torch. As he gazed upon the massive figure, he saw no visible skin to identify exactly who the man in black was. The man wore black chain mail, and a black helmet that he never removed. Not even his eyes were visible through the engulfing blackness.

The man stepped into the cell, closing the door behind him. As the man approached, he heard him say, "Stop playing games with me, rider. I know you are awake."

Shifting into a more comfortable spot, Eragon merely gazed at the man with a impassive stare. Chuckling, the man said, "I can see you picked up much beside looks from those blasted elves, haven't you rider? No matter, you will break just like they all do. Guards! Take the prisoner to the torture chamber, I have something special in mind for him today."

The man in black stepped aside as the door opened and guards rushed in. Four of the twelve guards ran up beside Eragon and removed the shackles from him. Looking at the guards, Eragon saw that most of them seemed uncomfortable with the man in black, and that most of them tried to avoid both himself and the other man. He contained a groan as the guards forced him to his feet. The guards led him from the cell into the illuminated hallway, while the man in black followed behind.

The hallway was bright with the many torches lining the wall, each causing shadows to dance on the wall as the men passed. The went down the hallway, making a few turns here and there, and finally stopped at a small wooden door. The door looked out of place next to larger iron doors, but Eragon knew what was contained behind there. The man in black approached the door, tapping it five times. The wooden door swung open, and the guards pushed Eragon into the dark room.

Gazing up at the midday sun, Roran let out a sigh. The march from Feinster to Belatona was a painful one, but the sudden assault on the city was murder. He ached all over, and everyday he found a new bruise he never knew he had. The city of Belatona was bigger than Feinster, with the keep located at the opposite side. Once they had made it to the keep and acquired the mayor as a hostage, the citizens of Belatona laid down their weapons. Galbatorix's men, however, didn't have a problem with the threat.

The fact that Eragon and Arya fought hundreds of soldiers inside the keep just to reach the mayor only made seizing control of the city that much easier. Roran and Eragon had separated at the gate of the keep, with himself and his men holding back the onslaught of soldiers. He didn't know that that was the last he would see of Eragon. From Arya's report, once they had reached the mayor, Eragon had gone further into the keep because of something the mayor had said.

Arya had escorted the mayor to Nasuada just as Eragon asked, but had ran straight back into the keep after him. All she had found of him was Brisingr lying amidst dozens of bodies. Arya had scouted the whole keep in search of Eragon, even checking the vacant dungeon cells located beneath the keep. She had taken Brisingr herself, and had chosen not to stay in the keep. Nasuada was given the Mayor's old quarters, and Arya was offered what would have been Eragon's quarters.

She instead chose to stay in a empty house close to his own, which Roran had found odd. Whenever he would see her venture outside, she would glance at his own temporary place of residents, all the while gripping Brisingr in her hands. Even with Eragon missing, he still hadn't seen one flicker of emotion. She seemed to withdraw further into a cold shell.

Walking down the street towards the keep, Roran spotted many of the citizens of Belatona quickly run away from him. Nasuada had called another damnable meeting, one that he was sure would be completely pointless again. All the members of the meeting argued over whether to stay in the city, or to leave before the coming winter. Only himself and Arya had remained quiet, but Arya never spoke much at all unless she was asked something.

Entering the large keep and going down a hallway towards the meeting room, Roran spotted a giant hole that had been made from Saphira. As soon as Arya had returned with Brisingr, Saphira had tried to claw her way inside the keep. Scorch marks were present all over the inside of the keep. At least, the areas she was able to reach. Walking over a pair of deep claw marks, Roran saw the giantess herself.

Saphira changed when Eragon disappeared, Roran thought. Saphira would only speak to Arya, but he caught her watching him in the room used for the meeting. The room itself was massive, with a long table in the center. It was clearly a dining hall, and the area that Roran guessed was used to dance on now held the great Dragoness. Nodding his head in greeting to her as he walked pass, he felt her breath her warm breathe on him. His spot at the table was across from where Eragon would have sat, which was left unoccupied by all. Nasuada held the end of the table, with a massive chair that was lined with silver.

Next to the unoccupied seat sat Arya herself, an impassive look on her face. Some of the members of the meeting, besides Nasuada, kept shooting her glances. After a arrogant Council member at the first meeting had said that they were better of without the Dragon Rider, Arya had broken the previous table in anger. Some of the members still looked as if they were ready to bolt the second she showed any emotion. As Roran sat at the table, Nasuada finally said, "Good, we are all here."

As soon as Nasuada spoke, everyone began to speak at once to be heard by the Varden leader. Crossing his arms in annoyance, Roran glanced at Arya. He was shocked to find her gazing at him, and he merely raised a eyebrow in response. She turned her gaze away from him, and instead focused on Nasuada.

Obviously having something -finally- important to speak of, Nasuada said, "Enough!"

As the room quieted down, Nasuada stood from her chair. "These past few months have been difficult ever since Eragon disappeared, and we are fortunate that Galbatorix hasn't sent the spawn of Morzan here. However, we can not remain idle much longer. Without Eragon, the Varden will fall apart. We have had spies search nearly all the locations in which Eragon would be held if he was captured by the Empire, except Urû'baen."

One of the Council members spoke up, "And what do you propose we do? If Galbatorix does have him in Urû'baen, then there is nothing we can do."

"I do not believe he is with Galbatorix. I have communicated with Islanzadí, and we have agreed that we may know where he is located," said Nasuada. Roran glanced at Arya again, and he saw that she instantly perked up at the last statement. She was staring intensely at Nasuada, and he never before saw such a emotion come from her.

"And where, pray tell, is he located?" Arya said. Roran was amused at the fact that nearly half of the members jumped out of their seats when Arya spoke up.

"For now, I will not release that information publicly. However, Arya, Islanzadí has asked that you lead the rescue team, and that you should chose another elf who is capable to go with you." Nasuada replied. Arya, obviously pleased at the fact that she would be heading the mission, became once again silent.

"Roran." Nasuada said, causing him to jump in surprise, "you will join Arya and the other elf in the mission. You will be following Arya's command this time. Because of the importance of this mission, I only trust you to help recover him. You will leave first thing tomorrow morning. Supplies have already been packed. Arya and yourself are hereby dismissed from the rest of the meeting. If anything of importance is discussed, I will inform you personally tomorrow morning."

Roran was grateful for the dismissal, as it gave him more time to spend with Katrina. As he got up from the table, he bowed to Nasuada saying, "Thank you, my lady."

Walking from the table, he paused in front of Saphira. She opened one sapphire eye, and he was mesmerized by the color. She lifted her head and placed her nose against his forehead. As she withdrew, he heard her say, Go, Roran Stronghammer, and return my little one to me.

The next morning, after saying goodbye to a badly upset Katrina, Roran grabbed his hammer, and began his walk towards the large gate of the city. Nasuada had sent a messenger later in the day yesterday, telling him to meet her before sunrise at the entrance to Belatona. He knew that the elves didn't need horses, and he hoped Snowfire was up to the task staying in pace with them. The morning was a cold one, and Roran felt it chill his bones. Nobody was awake at this ungodly hour, leaving Roran to walk the road in an empty silence.

Reaching the gate, Roran saw that Nasuada was staring out into the far distance. Standing next to her was Arya and the elf that she had fought with at the beginning of the siege on Feinster. As he approached, the two elves turned to face him. Arya was as mysterious looking as always, and Roran couldn't spot what Eragon saw in her. She had her customary elven sword on her left hip, with Brisingr resting on her right. He knew that Eragon trusted no one else with his sword, but was still surprised to see her caring it everywhere she went.

As Nasuada turned away from the open gate, she gestured to the horse next to her. "I believe that this is your mount, Stronghammer. I hope he is up to the task ahead of him."

Nodding, Roran jumped onto Snowfire's back, and saw that he was laced with packs of what assumed to be food. Gesturing at the two elves beside him, he asked, "And what of them? Do they not require a horse?"

The elf, who Roran had remembered was called Blödhgarm, smiled. "We can run as fast as any horse, Stronghammer."

Roran nodded again, remembering Eragon and Arya's trip back from Helgrind. The fact that they could keep pace with a horse scare Roran a little, but he never showed any outward sign of it. Nasuada finally said, "It is time for you three to depart. You are to search three possible places for Eragon. Islanzadí as scried Eragon, and saw that he was in a dark dungeon cell. She told me that she had only seen three dungeons in her life time, and the location of each. I marked the location on this map, and this map only. If anyone was to discover where you were heading, it would be disastrous." Nasuada extended a arm towards Arya, and gave her a scroll she had been holding.

The elf unrolled the scroll, and he imagined that it was a map. The fact that he was traveling to a location that he had no where it was located did little to quell his nervousness. Arya nodded, and placed the scroll into the pack on her back. He watched as Nasuada gazed at Arya for a long moment, then said, "Go."

The two elves shot off into the dark, and Roran snapped his reins on Snowfire. The sun was just beginning to rise, giving Roran some vision in the fading darkness. Matching pace with the two running elves, Roran saw that Arya was leading them straight into the heart of the Spine.