We've a danger before us.
A girl kneeled on a little niche in the forest, like an alcove formed of branches shielding their child. Light filtered through the branches weakly and fell upon the child bowed over as if in prayer upon a bed of dry leaves. A green creature lay wrapped around its ward, a curved tail and long body standing out in sharp contrast to the brown and maroon layer beneath it surroundings.
We've no right to do this, the risks-
"Oh do shut up about your risks Kalla. I know my limits." I think the girl thought to herself with less certainty. But she would never betray her fear and anxiety to the creature. The subject of this fear was a small pile of leaves, freshly plucked. It was barely half a metre wide and only ten centimetres at its highest.
She exhaled, calming herself, and drew on her magic. To her it was like a kite tethered to the earth far below, and which she watched from the heavens. She only had to grasp the kite, and it would conduct power to her.
The girl furrowed her brow in concentration, ignoring the displeasure radiating from the creature. She saw the kite, and grabbed for it, and again, and again! There! She imagined the fabric rustling beneath her palms and its cord forming a conduit of power. All fatigue from sitting in that position for the time she had been there faded, replaced with renewed zeal.
The creature by her side seemed to want to intervene, to nip this incident in the bud, but the excitement was overflowing from the girl and into the lizard like creature, pervading the being's normally sensible mind.
"Reisa du laufsblädar lífblödh!"
A throbbing materialised in her head, akin to a headache. She stretched out her palms to just above the pile and concentrated harder, imagining power arcing back and forth across the kite's cord. The throbbing grew louder and she was aware of the creature next to her swaying in time with it.
But it grew louder still, and louder, and louder till it swallowed her world. There was no more trees, no more creature, and no more light. Just her, and the leaves. She saw the water in them being drawn out, seeping through tiny holes in the leaves' skin and coalescing into a visible whole. But it wasn't enough, more water was drawn out, forming tiny sphere's floating above the pile, sometimes joining to form larger ones. And still the throbbing continued.
The girl became aware of a tinny voice in a dark corner of her mind. More water came out. The throbbing continued.
Frelsa…
The edges of her consciousness dulled and her view of the world darkened. How was she seeing this? Weren't her eyes closed?
Frelsa…
She was dimly aware of a need to stop, but it seemed like a storm had materialised in her mind, whipping her kite back and forth. She was afraid to let go, lest the wind spirit her away.
FRELSA, IF YOU DIE ON ME I WILL FIND YOUR SOUL IN THE AFTERLIFE AND SHOW YOU A DRAGON'S RAGE!
The mental roaring brought her consciousness back to reality. Frelsa's immediately severed the flow of magic and felt what seemed like little raindrops falling upon her open palms. She cracked open one eyelid and saw that her hands were wet with the water she had drawn from the leaves, which now lay in one shrivelled, blackened pile of ash before her.
"Well that's something ain't it?" Frelsa exclaimed as she examined the pile of dry ash, turning to her companion.
Yes, interesting. And nearly killed yourself at it didn't you? "I know my limits"? The dragon recited in annoyance.
"Of course I do, why do you think I managed to stem the magic flow?" She asked in mock arrogance.
The dragon heaved a mental sigh. She felt a hundred years older when she tried arguing with her Rider, and at this rate that number would probably ratchet up to a thousand.
"Hah, c'mon Kalla. Let's go tell Ebrithil."
Seriously? Just like that? You nearly died back there!
"Ah, but I didn't, did I?"
Argh! You know, someday I'll…just go.
Frelsa got up and pushed aside a bunch of loose bushels of leaves, making space for her dragon to crawl through.
You know, not to say I told you so, but…
"I am a talented spell caster? I knew you believed in me."
They walked through the bright lit pathways of the island. Frelsa's little hideout was on the edge of the forest and opened up next to a dusty path that led straight to the main area of her adopted home.
Rounding a corner, she entered the main area, Festa eom Líf. Literally 'Learn to Live.'
A huge volcano dominated her view, rising thousands of metres into the air. Two long stone arms stretched down its sides and these tall arms formed the walls that defined Festa eom Líf. Against the left side, closet to Frelsa and Kalla, was the area frequented by dwarves and their dragons. A collection of low, stone houses and huts, a huge assembly of furnaces, forges and smelters. Dwarven riders stooped over anvils, hammering metals into strong weapons and fantastical ornaments, dragons by their side heating the metals to putty and moulding them with ease. Here metal was forged and smithed and hammered to great shapes and devices. The name for this place in common tongue was the Dwarf Corner, but their name for it was Knarnbzark. No one knew what this meant, save the dwarves. And their lips were sealed on the subject.
Next was the Men's Corner. The Dwarf corner was huge but only occupied half of the gargantuan left arm, the other half was the corner of men. Here the buildings varied greatly in architecture, some featuring the exquisite flowing beauty of the elves, other bore the sharp, acute angles of dwarves, but the majority bore the familiar shape of regular abodes of men. Most of the buildings here were two stories tall at least, the highest, the observatory, at seven. Humans and dragons there alike learned from masters of the same race. It shouldn't matter but young riders were more eager to learn from teachers of their own race.
On the right arm was the Elf Corner and Urgal Corner, both mysteries to the pair. The Urgal Corner was the largest, due to the right arm being greater in size to the left. It was composed of mud huts atop sandy ground, arranged in a circle radiating out from a central bonfire. Other races were welcome in any Corner, but… less welcome, in the Urgal Corner. At one point the Urgals wanted to make it a whole clan, there was more than enough space anyway, but the decision was declined due to political difficulties it would cause with the other races. But there was a clan of sorts, just less organised, one which Frelsa knew little of.
The Elf corner was the real anomaly. Unlike the other corners, it was a forest like the one that surrounded the rest of the volcano. Completely devoid of visible buildings, it appeared as nothing but a gathering of giant trees with indistinct shapes weaving in and out of them. No one wanted to encroach on the elves' territory, and they liked it that way.
In all the Corners the populace was made of not only dragons and their Riders, they were also filled scholars or resident tutors that volunteered to teach their craft to young Riders or the occasional eccentric trader selling goods for favours.
Frelsa and Kalla made their way to their goal, a small area between the Men's and Elf Corners. They cut through the huge sparring field on their way there.
She skirted a rowdy group of three Urgals and their snarling dragons, the lead Urgal, a young buck with a pair of horns that already curled once around, seemed to be challenging a dwarf to a head butting match. Further down the field two dragons wrestled with each other while a crowd had gathered around them cheering, the huge beasts carving deep furrows in the dirt and gouging scars in the grass that as a result of strange enchantments, immediately began to repair themselves. Even further away, two elves sparred with long, curved blades, drawing attention from all around them with their skill and speed.
Amazing isn't it?
"What? The elves?"
No, this! Them, all of this. The largest gathering of our dragons and Riders since the glory days. And even then they didn't have these many races in their fold!
"Yes, it is quite amazing. I can't believe Ebrithil founded this!"
Yes. The largest gathering of different raced two-legs without you tearing each other apart.
The Urgal gang leader was now at blows with the dwarf, both rolling in the dirt and raining punches and kicks and other assorted attacks on each other.
Well, mostly.
Kalla was not a large dragon, being only a few months old. She was almost the size of an average sized horse but tiny compared to some of the old hands. Their dragons were huge, towering above many of the buildings there. Then there were the wild ones, they rarely, if ever, came into Festa eom Líf. The island was divided in two, Festa eom Líf and a portion of the forest on the South side, and the North belonged to the wild ones. A huge, unbroken forest. The trees there were so huge that even the biggest dragon could remain hidden there. In fact Frelsa realised she had only seen one in her whole stay on the island, a brilliant yellow wyrm soaring far overhead. It was an unspoken rule never to encroach on their territory.
Kalla wanted to visit one of the Dwarf smiths, Hothgeir, a friendly dwarf who was the one who now forged the rider's weapons, but Frelsa was determined to report to Ebrithil her success.
They came to the spot between the Men's and Elf Corner, a clearing devoid of any buildings. Here the mountain met ground, and Ebrithil's wisdom met his student's ignorance.
There he is! Frelsa thought. She could feel Kalla rolling her eyes, kind of hard to miss him and his huge blue dragon.
The man wore a simple silk robe of some sort, probably elfin, and lay against his dragon's belly with one hand on the sheathed blue sword across his lap. He seemed to be in a deep sleep, head angled upwards and serenely smiling at the sky. His dragon's side rose and fell as she took in gargantuan breaths. There was nothing further beyond but the side of the mountain, dotted with sparse vegetation and young trees upon the steep mountain side.
Frelsa grew timid as she drew near, her mind brushing against the powerful consciousness of the pair.
Greetings Ebrithil.
He didn't even open his eyes and said, "No need for formalities here, only when I'm teaching. You can use my name."
"Of course, E-Eragon."
Saphira stirred, her large head rising off the ground and she stared straight at Frelsa and Kalla.
Greetings, little ones.
Kalla backpedalled furiously as the head came close. The blue dragon was so big that the green one was barely larger than Saphira's head. The giant creature made a strange noise, as if it was laughing.
"So, have you done as I asked?"
"Y-Yes, Ebrithil. I drew the lifeblood from leaves, a leaf, I mean. It would have been easier if you'd just told me how to say 'water' in the Ancient Language."
And nearly killed yourself at it, Kalla reminded her Rider. It may not be wise to tell him the whole truth.
She disregarded the green dragon. "I did as you said, but uh… I…" She would never reveal it but she feared that Kalla may be right.
Speak your mind, Frelsa, Saphira said.
Kalla shook her head disapprovingly. "I found a single leaf too easy, little a challenge I mean. I decided to use the same spell on several leaves at once."
"Well done, I assume you took precautions? You didn't risk overexerting yourself?"
"Um…"
Eragon finally opened his eyes and his normally calm features distorted in alarm. "What happened?"
"I did take quite a few leaves…"
"How many?" When an answer was not forthcoming Eragon turned to Frelsa's dragon. "Speak, Kalla."
Not many, she only took-
"Thorta du ilumëo!"
Kalla stiffened. 82 leaves in total.
Her green body loosened up and relaxed.
The tall Rider stared at Frelsa accusingly. "You knew the risks associated?"
She nodded.
"And you did not stop her?" He looked at Kalla now.
The green dragon shook her head. I tried but-
Eragon silenced her with one raised hand. He let his head fall back against Saphira's armoured side. The sounds emanating from the sparring field seemed to dull to silence. Frelsa realised how interesting her shoes were.
You knew how dangerous it was, yet still did so? Why? Saphira asked, her huge blue eyes twinkling in the noon day sunlight.
"I guess… I got frustrated?"
Why?
Frelsa heaved a sigh of relief. This was the exact conversation she had played out in her mind countless times in her impatience during lessons.
"I mean no disrespect, but the tasks you give Kalla and I are no challenge. Raise a stone, draw water from a leaf. You know I can do it! But you still give them to me. I just… needed to show you I can do more."
To her amazement, Eragon's frown slowly dissipated and the tips of his mouth lifted in a smile. She heard him murmur to himself, "History repeats itself…" Even the disappointment emanating from Saphira lifted slightly, replaced by amusement as she turned to Eragon and had a silent conversation with him.
After a while, he opened his eyes again and seemed surprised that Frelsa and Kalla still stood there. She squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of a verbal lashing. Instead, she heard the Rider say reassuringly, "Relax, Frelsa. You too Kalla. Lay down and appreciate the day."
She looked up timidly, and glanced at her dragon, and asked, Did that just happen?
Yup.
So do you think we should…?
Yup again.
The dragon nuzzled the small of her Rider's back, urging her forward.
Oh, let me go first huh?
But after an eternity under the watchful eye of the blue behemoth they curled up next to each other on the right of Eragon and close to Saphira's head. They were apprehensive to get so close to the intimidating dragon.
Frelsa glanced at Eragon and tried to adopt his posture, arms crossed, legs straight, head angled straight up into the sky. She leaned against Kalla and tried to relax. Breathe deep, clear your mind and all that philosophical drivel that elf, Khaline, had forced onto her. But she kept twitching, shifting. Cheering soon reached her ears, the boisterous calls of Dwarves and the hoarse roars of Urgals. Was the gang leader still wrestling with the Dwarf? A dragon roared somewhere in the distance. A bird screeched. Metal clanged on metal. Another roar. She was about to speak out when Eragon's voice reached her ears.
"What interests you, Frelsa?"
This question took her aback. She had expected to be the one asking. "Uh, magic."
"Evidently."
"Kalla, music…"
Dying? Kalla suggested with mock innocence.
"… and art."
Eragon seemed to ponder this for a moment, then his eyes opened and he spoke again, "Art hmmm? Then we've a subject of interest to learn. Tell me, do you know what a fairth is?"
"No, but may I ask what is the point of this?"
"Many find it easier to learn and actually follow rules pertaining to a subject of interest to them, so answer me, do you know what a fairth is?"
"I don't think so, but it does sound familiar."
"Perhaps you've seen the slate tablets all over the island? Much like painted tablets, in houses and buildings?"
"Yes, Ebrithil." She'd always wondered why they did not just use an easier medium to paint on.
"Not Ebrithil, just Eragon. Those slate tablets are fairths. They are made with magic, capturing the likeness of an image on a slate tablet. Here, I shall show you."
Eragon reached into his silk robe and produced three tablets. As he did so, Kalla complained, Art? The things humans learn. Wake me when this is over.
Who knows? You might gain an eye for it someday, Frelsa replied, in good spirits now that a lashing had been averted.
Eragon put two of the tablets on the grass besides him and lay the last across his sheathed sword on his lap. He stretched one hand over the tablet and in seconds colour began to appear on the surface. Pigments appeared and swirled in an indistinct maelstrom of colour for a split second before arranging themselves in a perfect depiction of the scene before them. He looked over it once and held it up for Saphira to see, who rumbled in response. Eragon passed the tablet to Frelsa.
The first thought she had, Gods above, I'm having a one on one class with the Shadeslayer? How am I not freaking out? The next was, Wow. The fairth captured Festa eom Líf better than any artist could hope to. Tiny figures were captured as they scrambled around buildings tall and short, in perfect detail down to the last buckle and strap. The Sun was in the same position in the fairth as it was before her, and even the colour on the tablet was so brilliant and bright that she feared if she focused too much on it she would be blinded. And beyond Festa eom Líf the sea stretched out to the horizon, light reflecting off each wave.
Frelsa sat there for what must have been a good five minutes, completely engrossed in the fairth. Hothgeir had once said that her weakness was that anything she deemed pretty immediately captivated her and commanded her attention. And she knew he was right.
"And you say I'll be able to make one like this?"
Eragon smiled at the anticipation upon her face. "In time, but you should not hope for great things with your first, second, even fifth fairth."
"What are we waiting for? Let's start!"
The smile lingered on Eragon's face for a moment longer, before it became troubled again. Frelsa grew worried. "Ebrithil?"
"Nothing, just… a memory. Yes. Let us begin."
By the end of an hour, Frelsa had two coloured fairths and a frustrated spirit. Her first fairth had barely taken a few minutes, but all that had resulted was a jumble of green and blue with a bit of maroon and dark on the sides. Eragon suggested that she take more time to concentrate on her second so she had spent almost forty minutes just staring at Festa eom Líf in silence, broken only by the occasional murmurs from Kalla about deer stew or something. But in the end her second fairth resembled an impressionist's take on the scene, nothing like Eragon's crystal clear and razor sharp fairth.
As Eragon elaborated to her the mechanics of this magic and how it worked, Frelsa heard laughing nearby. Eragon paused. "Looks like your class is here."
She looked up and saw two dragons swooping in, locked in aerial combat. One brown, one the colour of steel. The brown one was heavier built, muscle clearly defined across its length, front teeth resembling tusks. But the grey one was faster, twisting and turning out of the brown's clutches. The two fought and descended as they flew, drawing closer to Eragon and Frelsa. Though the dragon's snarls were fierce and their snaps were dangerous, it was evident that the Riders weren't fighting to kill, their strikes didn't carry as much weight behind them as a killer's would.
Kalla stirred awake as the brown roared. Ah, the testosterone fuelled duels males conduct.
The two dragons came closer and their riders came into view, a bare chested Urgal rode the brown, a one handed axe with a strangely reflective copper coloured axe in hand, rode the brown. The grey dragon's rider was a man, helmet pulled low over his face, armour shining and tunic flapping in the wind. On his belt was a grey scabbard and he swung the steel coloured sword over his head, clashing against the other Rider's axe.
Soon, both dragons alighted on either side of Saphira. The riders alighted, sheathed their weapons and rushed forward to greet Eragon. They spoke as one. "Greetings, Ebrithil."
"Greetings, Drukjl, Shepherd. Come, sit down with me."
Drukjl, the Urgal, a young buck with horns that had just made one full revolution, grunted in reply and gave Shepherd a brotherly whack on the shoulder before taking his place on the ground on the left of Frelsa. Shepherd sat on her right and pulled off his helmet.
Shepherd's dragon, Errol, barely larger than Kalla, crawled forward and remarked, Kalla? You and your Rider, early? This is new.
His voice was deeper than Kalla's, and tinted with humour. She snapped back playfully, It isn't my fault we're always late, ask Frelsa.
Shepherd didn't even disagree with his dragon's remarks, instead nodding in agreement.
"The nerve," Frelsa muttered to Kalla just loud enough for Shepherd and Errol to hear.
Drukjl's dragon, Dýrgrir, slightly larger than Errol, lumbered over to his Rider and allowed him to reach up and scratch his chin.
Behave, little dragon, Dýrgrir shot at Errol proudly. His voice was several times more gravelly than his victim's.
Little? Errol asked in outrage.
"Calm your fire breather," Drukjl said. "Or you shall have a reason to."
None of these threats bore weight, Drukjl and Shepherd were quite famous for the fact that they were the closet human and Urgal on the island. In fact, they were the only human and Urgal who actually enjoyed company of the other race.
Calm, little ones.
Saphira need only say these three words to draw attention to her, who dared to disobey her? Eragon cleared his throat, "Now, what should we learn today?"
Shepherd gestured to Frelsa's fairths. "How about those?"
"No, it's a private lesson. Neither you nor Drukjl would find interest in it."
Shepherd glanced at Frelsa, seeming to ask: Private lesson? She mouthed back that she'd tell him later.
Drukjl spoke up. "Your quest on Shashnark. The Mainland."
Frelsa perked up. She took any opportunity she could to hear stories of her home. She'd been found on the island shores asleep in a pitch sealed box, seven years of age and no memory of her past. She didn't know her past but Alagaësia was still home to her.
"My quest? You haven't heard the story yet?"
Drukjl made a croaking sound, as if he found the question funny. "Of course we have, Dur Firesword," Drukjl stated, using the Urgal honorific for great teacher. "It would be hard to live on this island and not hear of it."
Eragon's exploits in the war were the stuff of legend among the young Riders, tales of how he slew a shade, used nothing but magic to tear apart gates and throw an opposing dragon aside. And the greatest story was of his duel with the Old King. Frelsa herself had heard the story countless times, but never from Eragon himself.
Is it true that Fire-tongue and you fought and bested Ushnark by your own? Dýrgrir asked.
Eragon glanced at Saphira as if referring to an inside joke, who replied, Not exactly, but it is a story for another time.
"Is it true that you infiltrated Dras-Leona through the tunnels below and slew the High Priest of Helgrind?" Shepherd asked with admiration shining in his eyes.
"Bah, everyone knows that one. Was it true you fell a thousand metres in a fight against the Red Thorn and Murtagh onto Fire-tongue?" Drukjl asked.
"I'd say a thousand is a bit exaggerated," chuckled Eragon.
"Don't mind Drukjl, Ebrithil. But how about your sword, is it true you and Rhunön forged it in one night?" Shepherd inquired.
"Did you and Fire-tongue actually study under Oromis and Glaedr? The only survivors of the Fall?" Drukjl asked this time.
"Students…" Eragon started. But it was no use, Drukjl and Shepherd had started on one of their competitive streaks again. Both began to shout out facts and questions to Eragon, endeavouring to get their master to answer them first.
Saphira cocked one head at them, before growling both mentally and in real life at them, adding, Little ones, calm the fire in your hearts.
How about you, Frelsa? You have not spoken your mind on the subject yet.
She looked at Kalla and asked, What do you think we should ask about?
The green dragon looked back and said, Your call. Saphira asked you.
Frelsa thought for a while before answering. "Uh… the Agaetí Blödhren?"
She hadn't known what else to pick but Eragon seemed to smile at the reminder of this event. "Well, we've burned enough time idling. Gather close and we shall begin. Closer than that, I've no wish to repeat myself."
"Let's see, let's see, it began with the werelight. At the stroke of midnight, the Queen of the elves then, Queen Islanzadí reached her left arm to the new moon and seemed to draw a light from it, and produced a small white orb. She walked up the Menoa tree, the matriarch of the forest, the eldest and largest tree, and set the orb in a hollow there. The celebration would end when the light faded to dark. And thus it was begun."
Eragon smiled to himself at these words.
"A feast ensued, tables laden high with fantastical dishes that would make you salivate in the presence of them. At the time I couldn't believe that all of it was devoid of meat. Songs were sung, songs of heroes and quests and ships and also of sorrow of things past. The voices of the elves flowed over each other smoother than creek water, joining with each other, weaving and interlacing together into one great melody. In the madness ensuing, I'm not sure if I slept or slumbered at all."
"I danced with a maiden, listened to the riddles of elves upon the Menoa's branches, heard the riddles of many elves, foremost among them Queen Islanzadí's and… anyway, we saw works of wonders contributed to the celebration. Intricate puzzles, entertaining toys, beautiful arts and strong yet elegant weapons. Many of them I didn't have a clue of their purpose. A shield that would send a sword back with the same force it was swung with, a sculpture of a heron in flight, somehow suspended above a stone pedestal. Rhunön presented an unbreakable shield, gloves that would not melt within molten lead and a sculpture of a wren in flight, made from a solid block of metal and seemed alive."
"I saw great and strange beasts, a she-wolf that appeared in the form of a woman with a grin of dagger teeth. And some elves were just as strange. One seemed like a cat, garbed in fur, another pair had webbed fingers and gills. Their skin was wet and slime layered. There was another with scales like a dragon and fire in him, another who seemed akin to shadow, those who were tall as trees and looked like them, and those with pale eyes with no pupils. The Menoa tree seemed to sway and shake in tune to the melody around us."
"On the third day I sung my song. I would not want to bore you with its full length, but it personified my experiences and journey since becoming a rider, and though I deemed it mediocre the other elves praised me. It now lies in the great library in Tialdarí Hall, but I have another copy in my chambers, which I would be more than willing to share with you all. I learned that Saphira had a flair for art, and presented her offering."
Saphira continued the narrative. My offering was a black stone, thrice my size. The sides of the stone flowed into each other as if they were waves, connecting and joining each other in an endless tapestry. You could follow one wave across the pillar's side but find that it never had an end. I had made it through heating the stone till the outside grew molten and licked it into intricate shapes.
"It was the most beautiful offering there," Eragon stated.
You think so? Well, I guess it was because it was my offering after all.
They continued the story, listing down such amazing and strange creations wrought by the elves that Frelsa was doubtful that some of the descriptions were entirely accurate.
"The werelight dimmed, the celebration was entering its twilights. Queen Islanzadí gave a speech pertaining to the celebration, and how new hope had presented itself in the form of I and Saphira, and how they honour the blood-oath made between Riders and Dragons ages past and reaffirm it. A clearing was made, ringed with a ring of lanterns. Flutes were blown, harps were strung and drums were beaten. Two elf maids came to the centre of the clearing and stood back to back. Iduna and Nëya, the Caretakers. They unclasped their robes and upon their body was a large, unbroken tattoo of a dragon. The dragon's tail wrapped around the ankle of one and its head ended on the other's chest. Each scale was a different colour and seemed to shine like a rainbow. The pair began their dance, twining and twisting together so the dragon became a whole. They stamped as one. And again. As they stomped, the musicians joined in the dance, adding their instruments to the chorus. And the Caretakers began to twist and turn, undulating around the clearing. Their dragon seemed to fly across their bodies."
"They spun faster and joined their voices to the symphony. The Dragons present, Saphira and Glaedr, hummed along, their voices resonating through my bones. The Caretakers danced so fast that they were a blur, and then a flash of light along their bodies. Their tattoo, the dragon, a shiver passed along its length. It stretched its wings and flew, removing itself from the constraints of the Caretaker's body though its tail remained anchored there. It roared. And its roar seemed so real, it was no phantom. You knew it had power within it, and you were afraid of that power. It looked at me. And its eyes, you would be drawn to them, and into them. They had the flare of life within them. It spoke to me: Our gift, so you may do what you must. And it bent down and with its snout touched the centre of my gedwëy ignasia heat flowed through my body and I felt pain as I had never imagined, retreating deep within myself to escape."
Eragon relaxed. "When I woke, I was devoid of any scars. The tiniest wound was gone. And the worst as well. You understand how human riders grow to be like elves in time? I underwent a transformation like that, except it was compressed from decades to an instantaneous effect. I had the body of an elf, I had power unbeknownst to me before, I had the power to defeat Galbatorix."
Eragon lay his sword, Brisingr, on the grass next to him and stared at his students expectantly. "So? What do you think of my story?"
Shepherd's eyes were wide with awe. Frelsa too. Drukjl's expression was unreadable. He answered in his gravelly tones, "It was interesting, I've never heard much of this Blood-Oath Celebration."
Yes, and even those we hear and read of don't compare to a first-hand account, Kalla mused.
Shepherd, toying with a blade of grass, spoke, "This was the only time you visited this celebration?"
"Indeed, I've not been back to Alagaësia since Galbatorix was dethroned, so I have not had a hope to attend another Agaetí Blödhren with teaching the new Riders."
Errol cocked his head to one side. A fine tale, Ebrithil. But how about tell us another more exciting one? How about one of your battles with the Thorn and Murtagh or Galbatorix himself!
Kalla gave a playful snap in Errol's direction. Don't pressure Ebrithil. It's his past, it's his choice.
We have no time left today anyway, Saphira cut in. Her voice was so unexpected that Kalla and Errol jerked back in surprise. Frelsa gave a short laugh.
"Saphira's right. I've whiled away our time talking of the past. Look, it's already twilight."
Frelsa looked behind her. Indeed, the sun was sinking below the horizon and its white rays had faded to crimson, stretching across the dark sky like long fingers.
Eragon shooed them away as he lay back against Saphira's side and closed his eyes, returning to the position Frelsa and Kalla had found them in. Saphira herself lay her head against the ground and her bony eyelid slid shut.
Shepherd spoke to Frelsa, "Meet you back at the Grid."
He and Drukjl mounted their dragons. Shepherd nodded to Drukjl. "Another round over the field?"
"You mean another victory for me over the field?"
"Oh it's on."
Errol and Dýrgrir took flight, roaring at each other as they slammed into each other, each trying to gain dominance over the other as their Riders drew their weapons and struck each other. Frelsa lingered a moment longer. She turned back to Eragon. "Uh, Ebrithil."
"Outside of your class I am Eragon."
"Yes, Eragon." She still felt awkward addressing him by name. "About the fairths."
"Hmmm? Oh yes, you can come to me anytime for additional practice. I believe the library has some tomes on the subject. You shall find some slate tablets in your chambers. Now leave me and Saphira. We would enjoy some time alone."
"Yes."
She walked alongside Kalla as they journeyed back to the Men's Corner. She'd have preferred to ride her but she'd left her saddle back in her quarters.
So what did you think of the story? Kalla asked.
Let's just say, I have a new take on the 'fair folk'. Fish-elves? Seriously?
Frelsa passed through the invisible boundary that defined the Men's Corner. Her breathing immediately slowed down and she became calm. This was her home.
The buildings rose on either side. Most of the buildings here were only one or two stories high but as she got further in they rose higher. But what was striking was how gigantic they were. The smallest door was four times her height, and even one story tall buildings were large enough for a dragon of Saphira's size to walk around comfortably. The taller buildings were more slender and bore elfin signs of architecture and favoured green and other cool colours and the shortest ones had the sharp edges and dark colour scheme of the dwarves. They were arranged in neat rows with alleys, perpendicular to the main road she was walking on. The alleys were wide enough for the largest dragon to walk down comfortably, and the main road she walked down was large enough for three!
Dragon roars regularly rang out and clangs of metal still sounded through the pathways. The scent of dragons and dried parchment were everywhere, mingled with the scent of burnt parchment.
Most of the buildings down the alleyways were reserved as housing for scholars and the sort who came to study on their island from time to time. There were so many of them in the Men's Corner that there were as many librarians and scholars and what not as the number of Riders.
Riders and scholars continually entered and exited the alleyways onto the main road, a wide, straight stretch of cobbled pathway. A few dragons, twelve to be exact, walked down the road alongside their riders. A dragon flew overhead, judging by the lack of a saddle or Rider, was probably a dragon going off to hunt while his Rider was busy.
While Frelsa was completely at ease here, this was her life after all, Kalla was on edge. She subconsciously walked closer to her Rider and pressed her wings flat against her body and slinked close to the ground.
Oh relax, Kalla. If you can't relax here, then when can you?
When we get to our quarters. Now move. I've no wish to get trampled by one of th- oh…
What is it, w- oh...
There was no other words to describe it other than gigantic. A huge dragon walked proudly down the centre of the main road. His scales were a deep, rich orange and his jutting chin was tilted upwards. His thick limbs shook the cobblestones with each step and his orange irises panned over the crowd before him as he made his way to the exit of the Men's Corner. Men, dragons and Riders alike stiffened as he neared and shied away from him.
Is that… Frelsa asked Kalla. She didn't need to finish her sentence for her dragon to know her question.
It is. Rimgrun. A real, wild dragon.
As Rimgrun walked down a saddled crimson dragon nearly twice as large as Kalla but still a fraction the size of Rimgrun exited an alleyway and nearly ran into the great wild dragon. The red dragon was taken aback and instinctively growled at its huge adversary.
Ohhh, he's dead now. Kalla remarked with humor.
The humongous dragon stopped in its tracks. He slowly turned and stared down at the red dragon in the eyes. The red dragon snarled at first but soon fear entered its eyes and its snarl turned to a whimper. He tucked his tail between his legs and raced down the alleyway the way he had come.
Rimgrun passed them, and Frelsa backed up against the wall of the nearest building. She felt an immense presence bearing down on her mind, mighty and powerful. She called up iron walls of protection and struggled to hold them up against the dragon's power, and as she did so saw Rimgrun's eyes focus on her for a moment as he lumbered past, those huge eyes staring into her soul, swirling maelstroms of orange storms that plucked her deepest secrets from her mind. Then the contact was broken. The presence left her mind as if she was not worth the trouble.
Rimgrun cut a path for himself through the crowd, everyone parting for him. Wild dragons were both respected and feared, and Rimgrun was one of the greatest of them. He was supposedly the third generation from the original eggs Eragon had somehow rescued from Gods know where.
"Look at that!" Frelsa exclaimed to herself.
Did you see how strong he looked? How tall he was? He must be ten times bigger than me! And his eyes, how deep they were…
Frelsa sighed to herself. Kalla always swooned for every wild dragon she saw.
Where do you think he's off to?
"C'mon. You said we gotta get back?"
Yes, but why don't we just go and follow Rimgrun, see where he goe-
"Off we go!"
Wait.
"What is it?" Frelsa asked impatiently. She'd want nothing more than to take a long nap in her quarters.
I smell something.
"This is the heart of Men's Corner! It'd be a wonder if you didn't smell anything!" Indeed, in the heart of the Corner the alleyways were crammed with scholars and alchemists concocting strange potions. The smell of smoke reached Frelsa's nose. Then she smelt something else, something fainter. She couldn't place it, but it seemed familiar.
I think… I think I might know what it is, Kalla spoke with confidence.
"What?"
I'm not entirely sure but… oh! I remember! Follow me!
Kalla bounded down the road, a green blur against the dark cobblestones. Frelsa struggled to keep up. "Wait!"
She mumbled sorry to a scholar she bumped, who looked pretty flustered after she had made him drop his tome. She ducked under the outstretched wing of a large dragon and pressed close to a wall to slip past a Rider and his dragon.
Kalla still ran, and Frelsa heard her counting. 1…2…3…yes!
The green dragon made a sharp turn and entered an alleyway. Frelsa hesitated for a while before following her. She passed rows of buildings lit with lanterns and candles, then the buildings she began to pass were unlit except by the fading sunlight. The buildings she was passing now were not habituated at all. What was Kalla looking for? A roar reached her ear, and she recognized it as Errol's. Was Shepherd still fighting with Drukjl?
Then she saw the low wall that separated the Men's Corner from the Dwarves Corner. The low wall was not much use at separating the two Corners, men and dwarves regularly vaulted the wall to get to the other side. Was Kalla going to visit Hothgeir? But no, at the last building she turned and jumped through the window of the building. She felt happiness emanating from her link with Kalla. What was going on?
Frelsa reached the building and pressed against the wall next to the door and listened. She heard faint voices.
"Kalla! It's been… you been? What… doing?"
She couldn't stand it any longer. Someone was in there with her Kalla. She rounded the corner and shot through the cloth flap that served as a door, then immediately raised her hands to shield her eyes from the light.
Frelsa reached to her side to draw her sword then realised it was at her quarters. She had not taken it since morning when she left. So devoid of a weapon, she reached out with her mind.
Kalla's presence, nothing wrong there, countless minds of small animals, quite a number of exotic plants, and then a human. She lashed out with her mind at the anomaly, and soon found herself lashed back at. The human didn't bother to set up defences, instead invading Frelsa's mind to protect herself. Frelsa drew up the walls in her mind and waited, but the attack never came.
"Oh, put your arm down. I won't bite."
Frelsa knew she really shouldn't but she did so anyway. Kalla had been so intent on getting here, and she trusted her judgement. She was stunned by what she saw.
Kalla had led her to what seemed a strange mish mash of creatures. A trio of birds fluttered in the rafters above and from the same rafters long vines and capes of moss hung down. Vines of morning glory poured out of a single crack in a wall. A gecko with a yellow belly and blue scales raced up a wall as a spider the size of Frelsa's head leaped after it. The whole room was lit up by two blazing lanterns, one on a desk and another hanging from the rafters. And at the centre of it all, leaning on the desk, was a short woman with thick, curly brown hair. By the way Kalla was at ease next to her, lying down on the mossy floor on the stranger's right, it was clear they knew each other.
"Who are you?" Frelsa asked.
"Me?" The stranger asked, as if for reaffirmation. "My name is Angela."
The name struck a chord but she still could not place it. "Your name sounds…familiar."
"Familiar? That's all? Blast Eragon, I'd hoped that he would include me in some epics of his," Angela said. She now turned to Kalla, "Like it? I've taken an interest in botany recently."
Frelsa spoke in her mind to Kalla, How do you know this Angela?
Remember two years back when I disappeared for a week? Kalla replied sheepishly.
Got me a lashing, you mean. So?
Well, I was lost in one of the alleyways, and eventually wound up at Angela's shop. I like her.
Well that is evident, Frelsa replied glumly. She was usually mistrusting of strangers who commanded Kalla's affections.
Kalla spoke now both to Angela and Frelsa. Solembum isn't here, where is he?
"Oh, probably out hunting rats or chasing down a bird."
"Wait, who's Solembum?" Frelsa asked. She did not like being kept in the dark.
"Oh, just a werecat. Mind you, don't try and force prophecies out of him, he'll give you a real scratching. I know from experience."
Werecat? Kalla, are you sure we can trust this… I'm not even sure she's human. Did you feel her mind?
What happened to 'relaxing'? She's a friend. If a werecat is willing to be her companion than why should we fear her?
"So, Angela. What… do you do around here?"
The woman turned to look at Frelsa, and she was taken aback by how striking her eyes were, how they seemed to shine. "Oh, I water my plants. Grind a few dried mushrooms, botany and herbs and whatnot, you wouldn't find it interesting. But in my spare time, I've been trying to raise Red."
"Red?" Both Frelsa and Kalla were in the dark on this subject.
"Exactly. Wait, let me show you, Red ! Come on out Red!"
There was a peculiar rolling noise and out from under the desk came a strange creature. It was barely half a metre tall, with a large head and a fairly straight body and tail. It stood on strong hind legs and had stubby, seemingly useless, little two-fingered arms that seemed useless. Its skin was like a lizard's but brick red and its back and tail was covered in large, thick, stone-like plates of armour with black protrusions like small spikes at regular intervals. The stone plate on its large head grew over its forehead to form a heavy brow of armour that seemed made for head-butting, giving it a top-heavy appearance. Its eyes were like little furnaces, blazing with fire.
Kalla snorted in surprise as the creature gave a little burp and a puff of flame left its mouth. Frelsa backed up. "What in the name of the Gods is that?"
"Oh don't be so alarmed, this is Red! He's a salamander," Angela pointed out matter-o-factly, like it should be obvious.
I was under the impression salamanders were water dwellers with wet skin, Kalla said as she curiously sniffed Red, who whimpered as she got close.
"Oh those are just newts, I've proved it myself! Real salamanders look like Red, they grow much bigger of course, and they grow as fast as dragons! I've started on botany to try and find which plants affect their growth."
"How old is he?" Frelsa asked as she watched Red begin to chew on the side of the desk.
"No chewing on mommy's furniture. Oh, he's only five months. Funny story actually, I met a man with a donkey with a bald patch of fur that resembled a rooster's head. The man had cheated me in the past in a game of Knucklebones so I played a game with him to show I was superior. I won one of his exotic caged pets. Between you and me, I cheated."
"And Red can breathe fire?"
Dragons don't breathe till they're six months, at least, Kalla remarked in admiration for the little armoured creature.
"Oh, dragons and salamanders are very, very closely related, but Red could breathe from their first day. All salamanders can. I've been trying to name him something other than drab old 'Red'," Angela spat out the name in disgust. "But he won't accept anything else. Can you believe he'd turn down the name Winkershmaw?"
Angela whispered, seemingly afraid that Red would eavesdrop, and she spoke as if refusing to be named Winkershmaw was unbelievable.
Red curled into a ball, tucking in his strong legs and short arms, adopting a foetal-like position. His tail was long enough that when he curled up it reached past his forehead.
"What's he doing?" Frelsa asked.
"Oh, moving around is hard with all that armour. So they've come up with an ingenious solution!"
As Red curled up Frelsa noticed that all his armour plated now faced outwards, protecting his soft skin. He tipped back, then forth, then began to roll. It was strange, watching the creature roll back to under the desk with such speed.
"Well, Angela, it's been a pleasure meeting you, but we must leave," Frelsa stated. She didn't exactly feel comfortable in the herbalist's domain.
"Oh it's fine. People are busy on this island. Always scurrying around the place looking for something to do. That's why I chose this spot, no scurriers to come and disturb me. This isn't the last time we'll meet."
"Uh-huh." Frelsa was glad to be leaving. "Kalla, come on. We've gotta go."
Kalla reluctantly got up and followed her Rider out. As she opened up the tent flap and exited into the alleyway, she heard Angela chuckle from behind her.
"No, it's definitely not the last time we'll meet. Now who wants potato slices Red?"
You trust that crazy old witch? Frelsa asked her dragon.
I trust Solembum. If he'd been there, you would trust her too.
Oh sure I would.
Yes, yes you are.
They bantered like this for a long time until they reached the Grid. At the very end of the main road was a large circular courtyard. In the centre of the courtyard was the observatory, stretching high into the dark sky. Arranged in an orderly fashion, radiating out from the courtyard in a grid-like fashion, was the Rider's quarters. Each building accommodated two Riders and their dragons, and was three stories tall. The night lanterns were beginning to light themselves, floating from concealed crevices and onto posts and stands.
Frelsa followed directions she knew by heart. Turn right from the road, follow the courtyard till you passed the eighth passageway then turn right. Pass the first building, and you have reached your home.
Even here, the small alleyways were big enough for a dragon five times Kalla's size to walk. Kalla was only about the size of a large horse. Frelsa and Kalla entered the alleyway then turned past the first building, and reached their 'house'.
Once they entered through the huge doors, made to allow dragons through, it became clear that they were not alone. Shepherd already lay on his bed, soiling the clean sheets with his dirty armour. There was a second floor, more like the bare floor of the second floor. That floor was reserved for the dragons, if they wanted to sleep away from their Riders. There was more than enough space one the first floor for both to sleep in peace. It was also used a landing pad for the dragons and they could take off from it. Above the second floor was an empty space till the roof far above, which could be opened with magic to let light in or keep rain out. There was a skylight in the floor of the second floor to allow the dragons the move up and down. The whole building was shaped like a human house with a roof that sloped gently to one side.
On the first floor, the two back rooms were two separate shower and bath areas, which could be locked from inside. The main area of the first floor however, was four beds, two perpetually empty. Each bed was placed at one corner of the area and had a cupboard and wardrobe to themselves. There was also a folding changing screen for each bed. The area in between the beds, at the centre of the room, was designed to be a communal study area, filled with soft, padded chairs.
Frelsa noticed a stack of slate tablets on her bed, just as Eragon promised.
Kalla flew up through the skylight to join Errol who was most probably already there. Frelsa went to wash herself up, but not before wrinkling her nose in disgust at Shepherd. "We have these elven bath stations for a reason you dirty little…"
He just grunted in reply, dignified as ever. After she had washed up using the bath station, she had never gotten over her amazement at the baths, she exited to find a clean and groomed Shepherd in the same position as just now, lying tired on his bed. Except now he wore a fresh red tunic and his brown hair wasn't greasy with sweat.
"How did you..." Frelsa was still wiping her hair as she left the shower room. "Never mind, I don't want to know."
"Hah!" Shepherd exclaimed.
He got up and seated himself in one of the comfortable chairs at the study area under the skylight while Frelsa sat on her bed.
"So what's this I hear? Frelsa, actually going for one-on-one classes with Eragon? Actually doing more than her due? It's a miracle!"
Frelsa scowled at him. "Sure, sure. Just ask Kalla, she'll back me up right?"
Miracle it is, came the reply from above.
Shepherd gave a laugh and asked again, "So, tell me. What's the deal with these lessons?"
"What deal?"
"The Frelsa I know would never go for extra lessons without something in it for her."
"You don't believe I just want to be a great student?"
A glance at Shepherd's incredulous face was the answer.
"Fine, remember the incantation Eragon gave us? Reisa du laufsblädar lífblödh?"
"Yeah, 'Raise these leaves' lifeblood'. Should've just told us how to say water. So?"
Frelsa continued, "So he just said prepare the incantation, he'd use it in a future lesson. But I tried it myself, on one leaf and it was easy enough. So-"
"You tried it on a pile of leaves?"
Frelsa was surprised. "How'd you know?"
Shepherd chuckled as he poured himself a cup of water from a glass pitcher. "Frelsa, I've lived with you ever since you've gotten your dragon. That's what, three years? I know more about you than you think."
"Alright, so I try it on a pile of leaves, then it went well enough."
She nearly blacked out. And would've died if not for me.
"Who's telling the story here?" Frelsa asked, glancing pointedly at the ceiling. "Anyways, so I go tell Ebrithil. He gets mad for a while, then he calms down and asks me what interests me. I say art, so he starts teaching me how to make fairths. Using magic to 'paint' a scene before you on a slate tablet."
"So that's what they're for."
"Yup, then you two showed up."
Shepherd took a swig from his glass of water. "You do know you're in dangerous territory don't you?"
"What?"
"It's dangerous for a…" Shepherd gestured at her. "…female, to go for private lessons with Eragon."
"Oh please," Frelsa couldn't believe what she was hearing. She'd heard her fair share of incredulous tales that Shepherd and Drukjl contrived in their spare time but this one topped them all.
"I'm serious! Hear me out. You know the rumours that say he charmed an Elf princess years ago?"
"Rumours," Frelsa reminded him.
"What if they're more than rumours? What kind of man would be able to charm an elf?"
"A Rider. The only Rider."
"Granted, but this was the princess. And you know that Rider, who was she? Oh yes, that woman and her yellow dragon, Ysoldine? The ones that made a scene when they left the island? Remember how she professed her undying love to Eragon? She had requested for private lessons and attended them religiously for two years."
"So? One crazy woman."
"Make that two. I heard from one of the old hands that back about twenty years there was another Rider. Her name was Wildine or Windine or something along those lines. She did the same thing as Ysoldine. Sang Eragon a poem of their eternal love for him. Four years private lessons."
"Seriously, Shepherd?" Frelsa didn't know whether to be angry or laugh. "Eragon's has privately tutored hundreds of students. Two of them doesn't make it a majority."
"But you can't deny that-"
"Ebrithil's done amazing things. He toppled the king, brought peace to the known world ad re-established the Riders Corps. Some will be invariably attracted to the power behind a man who could do that, and in turn to the man himself. In fact I'm amazed there's only been two cases!"
Shepherd was unconvinced. "Say what you want, I'm just saying, be careful around him."
Hi! This is BOL here, and this is my first story so I hope I haven't failed... that bad. Anyways, due to some confusion by a reader who asked for a reference to imagine Red's appearance, think of a red skinned baby T-Rex with a rounder head and thick red stone plates as armor. That's the most I can simplify it.