Prologue: Goodbyes
By the light of the pale moon, the vessel looked like a swan ready to take flight from the wide, slow-moving river and carry him into the vast unknown. The elves had lowered its sails, and the sheets of fabric gleamed with a faint sheen. A single figure stood at the tiller, but otherwise the deck was empty.
Past theTalíta, the flat, dark plain extended all the way to the distant horizon: a daunting expanse broken only by the river itself, which lay upon the land like a strip of hammered metal.
A tightness formed in Eragon's throat, and he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, as if to hide himself from the sight.
They slowly rode down the hill and through the whispering grass to the pebble beach by the ship. The hooves of the horses sounded sharp and loud against the stones.
There Eragon dismounted, as did the others. Unbidden, the elves formed two lines leading to the ship, one facing the other, and they planted the ends of their spears in the ground by their feet and stood thus, statue-like.
Eragon looked them over, and the tightness in his throat increased, making it difficult to breathe properly.
Now is the moment, said Saphira, and he knew she was right.
Eragon untied the casket of gold and gems from the back of his horse's saddle and carried it to Roran.
"This is where we part, then?" Roran asked. Eragon nodded. "Here," he said, giving the casket to Roran. "You should have this. You can make better use of it than I.… Use it to build your castle." "I'll do that," said Roran, his voice thick. He placed the casket under his left arm, and then he embraced Eragon with his right, and they held each other for a long moment. Afterward, Roran said, "Be safe, Brother."
"You too, Brother.… Take care of Katrina and Ismira."
"I will."
Unable to think of anything else to say, Eragon touched Roran once more on the shoulder, then turned away and went to join Arya where she stood waiting for him by the two rows of elves.
They stared at each other for a handful of heartbeats, and then Arya said, "Eragon." She had drawn her cowl as well, and in the moonlight, he could see little of her face.
"Arya." He looked down the silvery river and then back at Arya, and he gripped the hilt of Brisingr. He was so full of emotion, he trembled. He did not want to leave, but he knew he must. "Stay with me—"
Her gaze darted up. "I cannot."
"… stay with me until the first curve in the river."
She hesitated, then nodded. He held out his arm, and she looped hers through his, and together they walked onto the ship and went to stand by the prow.
The elves behind them followed, and once they were all on board, they pulled up the gangplank. Without wind or oars, the ship moved away from the stony shore and began to drift down the long, flat river.
On the beach, Roran stood alone, watching them go. Then he threw back his head and uttered a long, aching cry, and the night echoed with the sound of his loss.
For several minutes, Eragon stood next to Arya, and neither spoke as they watched the first curve in the river approach. At last, Eragon turned to her, and he pushed the cowl away from her face, so that he could see her eyes.
"Arya," he said. And he whispered her true name. A tremor of recognition ran through her.
She whispered his true name in response, and he too shivered at hearing the fullness of his being.
He opened his mouth to speak again, but Arya forestalled him by placing three of her fingers upon his lips. She stepped back from him then and raised one arm over her head.
"Farewell, Eragon Shadeslayer," she said.
And then Fírnen swept down from above and snatched her off the deck of the ship, buffeting Eragon with the gusts of air from his wings.
"Farewell," Eragon whispered as he watched her and Fírnen fly back toward where Roran still stood upon the distant shore.
Then Eragon finally allowed the tears to spill from his eyes, and he clutched the railing of the ship and wept as he left behind all that he had ever known. Above, Saphira keened, and her grief mingled with his as they mourned what could never be.
In time, however, Eragon's heart slowed, and his tears dried, and a measure of peace stole over him as he gazed out at the empty plain. He wondered what strange things they might encounter within its wild reaches, and he pondered the life he and Saphira were to have—a life with the dragons and Riders.
We are not alone, little one, said Saphira.
A smile crept across his face.
And the ship sailed onward, gliding serenely down the moonlit river toward the dark lands beyond
Roran fell to his knees when Arya flew back to him, the gold and the jewels thrown to the side, forgotten in his grief. Arya knew how he felt, since she couldn't bare the thought of losing Eragon. He had been the one to save her from Gil'ead when Durza had captured her. He had been the one to fight Durza to protect the Dwarves and her. He grieved over the loss of Orimis and Glaedr just as terribly as the elves. He helped her kill Varaug. He had become the closest thing to her since Fäolin died. And now he was leaving.
Roran finally looked up at Arya. Looked up at how calm and serene and at peace she was. Roran rose and charged Arya, angered that his cousin was leaving and she couldn't even shed a tear. He roared as he tackled to the ground.
Arya, taken by surprise, did not know to fight back or let the broken human let his grief out. Instead, she just lay there.
"Eragon is leaving forever and you can't even shed a tear for him!?" Roran started raining down blows, not trying to injure or kill, but trying to make a point. Arya received the blows, asking Fírnen not to interfere.
"He loved you! Couldn't stop thinking about you! And you can't even shed a tear!?" He continued raining down blows, his emotions running wild. Arya still just took the blows, knowing the worst he could do was cause a bruise. After a few minutes, he stopped, walked to the water, and watched the receding figure of the boat sail away.
He roared again, the pain at losing his brother all too real. Arya sat up, and watched the boat sail away. Her emotions ran high, almost breaking free of the control she had over them. They could still here Saphira keening, and Fírnen just flew around, unsure of what to do.
When the boat disappeared, Roran stood, walked to the forgotten chest, picked it up, and then got on the horse that Orik supplied for them. "It is time that I went home. Away from here." Arya nodded, and mounted her own horse.
She let Roran ride in front of him, asking Fírnen to fly overhead. Distancing herself from him, she then allowed the tears to fall. She didn't make a sound, but she allowed her pain to show. She could still here Saphira's wail of sadness, and could only imagine what that meant about Eragon.
"What is wrong, partner-of-mine-heart?" Arya quickly wiped her tears and looked up at Fírnen, who flew with his head looking back at her. She smiled slightly, since he knew, even with her distanced as far as she was from her dragon, that her heart was breaking with every step and every gust of wind that blew Eragon farther and farther away from her.
"It is nothing, Fírnen. Just an old woman dreaming." She looked back to the river, and silently whispered Eragon's true name. The name seemed to buzz on her lips, just as when she drank Wyrden's faelnirv with Eragon when Nasuada was taken by Murtagh during the war. Was that only a few months ago? It felt like a life time away now.
"Stay safe. Keep warm. And fly with the sun at your back. Maybe one day, you'll come back to me."
Within hours, another boat was sailing them back into the heart of Du Weldenvarden, to Ellesméra. Fírnen flew straight to the Crags of Tel'naeir when they arrived, and did not return for weeks. Roran and Katrina decided to stay, if only because traveling on horse with a baby was the same as walking to the Ra'zac unarmed at night and asking if they could come for dinner.
Arya spent the time that Fírnen was gone to distance herself from his pain and let her own show past her emotional shield.
For days, she wept silently in her rooms, begging in her mind in the Ancient Language why he had to go. She knew what he had to say. She even agreed with him that it was necessary. But she lost the only man who came close to understanding her. The only man who loved her so fiercely and purely. The only man whom she had fallen in love with.
When Fírnen finally returned to Ellesméra, Roran and Katrina packed everything they had received while on their travels through the dwarf lands and the elf lands, put them on horses, and kindly asked a few elves if they would see to it that the belongings reached Carvahall safely.
Arya waited another week before she showed herself. Her people immediately welcomed her with soft songs of loss. In the eyes of Roran and Katrina, she stood regally, as only a queen could, and showed no emotion to the song. They knew not the words, but could understand its meaning. In the eyes of the elves, she shouldered this loss as only a Dröttning could for the sake of her people. But inward? She was an emotional wreak, wanting nothing more but to look up and see Saphira flying down upon them with Eragon on her back to stay with her. But wishes didn't come true.
She flew Katrina, Roran, and Ismira to Carvahall, where the villagers were already planning and building Stronghammer castle. As she landed, she knew that both Roran and Katrina didn't like her for the show she was forced to put when she revealed herself to her people just that morning.
As they dismounted, she spoke for the first time since Eragon left. "Just so you two know, I wept harder for Eragon than I did for my own mother." They both looked up, not believing the elf. Arya bowed her head, allowing her hair to hide her face from the two. "If that were true," Roran said, "you would have truly wept for him, instead of standing in front of the elves and sitting there on your dragon with no emotion at all.
A small rumble replied Roran, as Fírnen turned his snake like head quickly to direct on of his eyes to Roran. "Do not insult my Rider, Roran-friend-Stronghammer. I do not take kindly to that." He opened his maw up slightly, letting the green flames be visible through his fangs.
"It is alright, Firnen. They do not know my heart as you do, or as Eragon does." Arya said aloud, raising her head so that her hair was out of her face. Katrina had not truly met Arya, and neither had Roran, but both knew that elves rarely showed any emotion of any kind.
The tears on Arya's face continued to fall. "I am absolutely devastated that he had to leave us. Nothing can describe how I feel. So do not say I did not weep for him when even now, I curse Galbatorix for overthrowing the Riders, and I curse men, dwarves, Urgals, Kull, and elves for being selfish, for it is their selfishness that led Eragon to leave to protect the eggs and the Eldunarí. I loved him. As a comrade. As a friend. And if time allowed it, as a husband and a king. But I do not get what I want. I do what is needed for my people, and that is all. So you grieve in your own way, and I will grieve in mine."
Firnen turned to fly off, when Roran said, "I did not mean offense, Lady Arya. I only meant to say that the last family I had outside of my wife and child has left, and the one that he cared about more than I stood there and did not shed a tear while I throw myself into the dirt at losing my brother after having lost my mother to her illness and my father to the Ra'zac."
Arya turned her head, nodded to him and said, "I understand what you mean, and do not take offense to what you said. I just know that you are angry with me for trying to cope with the loss of the closest thing that I had that resembles what you and Katrina have."
Roran bowed his head, and asked for forgiveness again. Arya pardoned him, then flew off on Fírnen's back. While flying, she gently directed Firnen, and landed close to where she and Eragon met the spirits. She spent an hour sitting there, admiring the golden lily that Eragon had given her, which the spirits had blessed. A faint smile was on her face. She looked up into the sky, then to the East, in the direction that Eragon went.
"Goodbye, Eragon. Maybe I'll see you again. Someday.