An Invisible Thread (An Eragon Fanfic)

Chapter 4

Above is a photo of Brom and his Saphira. I love this picture!

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        Days passed and Amara stuck to Brom like glue. She met him in the healer's tent everyday where on the third day, she had offered to heal him. He swatted her hand away, grumbling that he didn't need any help. Amara convinced him that it didn't inconvenience her at all, and he finally agreed to it. His broken arm was back to normal and the cuts all over his body stitched together before their eyes. Not even a bruise was left on his skin once Amara was done with him.

        Even after he had gotten his own room in the castle did Amara leave him alone. Every morning she woke, cried for an hour and then took a hot bath. Afterwards she would go down to the kitchens for breakfast and wander the castle until she found Brom. He would usually humph upon seeing her and ignore her presence, but Amara didn't care. She just didn't want to be alone.

        If she was alone, she was scared that she would cry for hours. She feared that the pain of loosing Briam, loosing the possible future that they could've had, would envelop her and she wouldn't be able to break free from the grief.

        Though Brom hated her presence, she was thankful for the distraction.

        On the seventh day after Galbatorix's attack Amara found Brom on the training fields, a sword in his hand. She watched from afar as he expertly wielded the blade, battling an imaginary opponent. He swung the sword with such ferocity and anger, that Amara wondered who his opponent was.

        She grabbed a sword from the rack and stood in front of him, a brow raised.

        "You again?" He asked, sword stopping mid-strike and relaxing. "Don't you have anything better to do?

        She didn't.

        On the third day since the battle, she had buried Briam and Tulvir miles from Ilirea. She dug the giant grave, placed them in, and covered them with dirt again. She constructed a tombstone of light green amethysts, the same color of Tulvir's scales. Inscribed on the stone was:

Here lies Briam.

Son of William and Emma.

From the city of Terim.

Rider of Tulvir.

Son. Friend. Dragon Rider.

        Amara had disappeared that day, spending all her hours at the grave and crying into the dirt.

        "Give me something to do, Brom," the girl replied, a forced smirk on her face. "It's been a week since I've fought anyone."

        Without warning, Brom attacked. He twirled and used that momentum to strike at Amara. Her refelexes were fast, and she blocked the sword with ease.

        Her smirk grew wider.

        "Got anything else?" she asked innocently.

        Brom's eyes only narrowed as he kicked out with his leg, hooking his foot behind her knee and pulling forward. Amara would have fell if it weren't for her strength. She kept her leg stiff and Brom stumbled. She pulled her sword from his and placed the sharp metal against his neck. A hair's breath away from breaking skin.

        "I win," she whispered, her blue eyes looking into his brown orbs.

        The man grumbled before Amara let him go.

        "Again?" she suggested, and the two rose their swords again.

         Amara was thankful for the short distraction. As she was sparing with Brom, she was able to put her mind on auto-pilot. All she thought about was not getting hit by his sword. To anyone looking at them, they looked as though they were dancing. One would strike out and the other would twirl away. They were beautiful.