Andlátkyn; Vandr Sanses unin Alagaësia

Son of Evil

The next day, the team got up quickly to set up the first sling around Snowfire. It was arranged so that the horses would take turns; one in the sling under Error's Blaster for a few hours, then the other.

It was a rather simple setup, really. A main blanket going under the animal's belly with a two straps to keep the equine from slipping/struggling. Four ropes came from the corners and up to the skull, back two ending in loops to tie around the horns protruding from the back. The two in front were actually a single adjustable band, with a strip connecting it to the central horn in the back.

Snowfire was completely calm as they strapped him in, only letting out a worried nicker when the skull lifted him into the air, then drooping his head and calming down. The white steed was exhausted.

They took off, considerably faster than before now that they had one horse at a time to worry about. The team hurried along, getting antsy as they felt the air change.
Cross flew up high to see what danger was present.

The Urgals were camped out on streambed they had passed over only yesterday. Dust bit back a loud curse as Cross returned with the information.

"Given the speed we're traveling, how long till we arrive at the Varden?" Nightmare asked Murtaugh. The human sighed in exasperation.
"Normally?… I would guess another five days. At this rate, only three. But unless we get there tomorrow, the Urgals will probably catch us, and Arya will certainly die."
The goopy one clucked in disapproval, ignoring Eragon as he suggested they don't stop for anything; he was thinking.

"Cross, Dust." He called out. They approached him. "Send your spirits down to the army. Have them slow it down. I advise you rely on scare tactics rather than outright attacking them, as they cannot take on that many alone. Is this understood?" He addressed his boys and their spirits, the pale human and the maniac skull.

Invisible to the rest of the team except the pair, Nightmare, and Error, the faded ghosts nodded, understanding the seriousness of the situation as they disappeared.
Eragon and Murtaugh gave Nightmare a worried look. They had never seen those spirits, but Dust had spoken of Papyrus before.

They fought hard to put distance between themselves and their pursuers, the spirits returning by late evening, tired after a long day of jumpscaring and haunting the army to little effect.

Late next morning, the company found the narrow valley and made their way inside, finding the forest there become massive and uninviting. A tense atmosphere draped over them, as though this forest resented their intrusion.

Eragon eventually took off with Saphira, Killer following them as he couldn't stand the forest anymore.
They disappeared into the clouds, and kept going higher. Nightmare sensed their ascent and started getting worried.
"They're flying too high, they're going to get altitude sickness." He muttered while staring at the sky.
"What? Altitude sickness?" Murtaugh perked up.
Error glanced after the fliers as Cross explained, Blue listening in as he didn't know what that was either.

Nightmare bolted upright as he sensed Eragon fall unconscious, dragon too confused to understand what was happening.
"Killer, you'd better guide them back down to air they can breathe." He muttered under his breath.
Sure enough, the skeleton started forcing Saphira into a dive back to breathable air. Nightmare sighed as they reappeared below the clouds and Eragon woke back up. He filed away the incident to discuss with the pair later, making a point to include Killer as he didn't tell them to stop.

Not even five minutes later, Eragon was doing something stupid. He tried to force mist into a wall, Nightmare and Error both sensed it and tsked. Error would have gone up and stopped the foolishness himself, but his Blaster was currently carrying Tornac as the horse slept on his break.