Author's note
***SPOILERS AHEAD***
This is going to be an extremely long story, likely about the length of one of the original books. Thus, it is going to be quite a long time before it is completed. This is intended to be a complete conclusion to the Inheritance cycle. If there are any errors, or things from the original books that should be addressed, notify me as soon as you see them. This story begins 900 years after Eragon leaves Algaësia, and will seek to fill in the gaps in the original four books. The target date for finishing this story is May 2017, and I'll try and do at least one chapter a week. Thank you for reading!
Pronunciations in this chapter:
Vrangr - Verr-awng-er
Ytirrivard - Tier-iv-ard
Arya - Arr-yuh
Eragon - Air-uh-gone
Illvindr - Eel-vin-dur
Fiérdauth - Fear-doth
Italic is either a character thinking to themselves or to another, mentally.
Bold is an author's note.
Regular text is-well-regular text.
Chapter 1 - Du Islingr
Eragon sat, cross legged and perfectly balanced, upon a knurled stump. The forest around him thrummed with activity, the massive trees sentinels of the creatures within, but Eragon paid heed to none of them. A spear of his consciousness probed, searching leagues upon leagues of barren, scorched earth, searching for one single entity. Eragon's brow furrowed as he extended the range of his thoughts further than any magician, of this or any age, could have done before. He touched a handful of minds as he combed the land, mostly animals that had survived, birds, squirrels. On occasion he would find a human or a dwarf, always hard at work, trying to survive, but these contacts were few and usually amounted to nothing.
Seven years I have searched and seven more I will continue-Eragon stopped his thought and his eyes flew open as he found another consciousness, too old and too wise to be a human or a dwarf. He roared mentally as he pushed his full power into establishing a connection between himself and this stranger, and found himself facing a closed mind, surrounded by an unmovable iron wall. Not wasting any time, Eragon focused his entire being into a blade of mental energy and dismantled his opponent's defense. He panted with effort as this distant magician fought back. The moment the walls had been pushed aside, he recognized the music of her mind, the landscape of her consciousness. A tear ran down his face. Suffusing his voice with magic, he screamed across the link. Arya! A response came as a series of raw emotions. Loss, wonder, rage. Eragon was overwhelmed by the forcefulness of her response, falling to the ground against the stump.
Nine hundred years is no small time, Eragon. Even for an elf. Her voice, Eragon thought, was filled with loss. The confident young woman he had known was hidden from him, covered by the tone of a wanderer who has seen too much in her long life.
Aye. Eragon responded. His energy growing short, he cast about for his sword and drew some power from the vast reserves in the hilt in order to maintain the connection. Using magic across a single league is difficult, using it across five thousand leagues was by all rights impossible.
Not a word, after all this time, and all you can manage is 'Aye'? Eragon sensed her laughing. You don't change, Eragon. The world we once knew is gone, but you are still the boy-the man I fought alongside.
Eragon hesitated, not wanting to mar the occasion. That I am, and I believe it is time for us to fight again. Was his simple reply. Were you successful? In your preparations, I mean. Eragon had been unable to make contact with Arya until now, but he had scryed her many times and knew of her endeavors.
I was. And I intend to depart for Ytirrivard at dawn. Eragon frowned. Ytirrivard was part of the holdings of Elva, his adopted daughter. He wondered briefly why Arya intended to visit Elva, but dispelled the thought. The reason did not matter, he was sure Arya would tell him in due time.
If it is acceptable, I would accompany you. Eragon winced. He was taking a chance, hoping that Arya could forgive him for his silence.
She sensed his strife and spoke in a kind tone. Eragon, the past is the past. I would be glad to have you as company.
Eragon exhaled, realizing he had been holding his breath for several minutes. Will you be going directly to Illvindr? Illvindr was the capitol of Ytirrivard, the city of gold Elva had built in a fey rage of magical insanity.
I will. I must leave you, Eragon, but I will see you three in three sunrises at the gates of Illvindr. Fair travels. She closed the link, and Eragon made no move to stop her. He was already darting about the clearing, his movements fast and fluid, collecting his few belongings. He donned his traveling cloak, strapped on the Belt of Beloth the Wise, and slid Vrangr and Brisingr, his twin swords, into their sheaths across his back. He glanced at his armor, wrought for him by the forest imps of Flérdauth, seemingly aqueous metal that shined with the light of the morning star. He muttered a word in the Ancient Language and the armor seemed to melt, shrinking until it was a small sphere of metallic light. Eragon picked it up and placed it in his pack.
Finally, he walked to one of the massive trees surrounding the clearing and began to sing, a song of peace and concealment. After several minutes, the wood of the tree began to slide and change, patterns appearing in the wood, then wiring to cover an area slightly larger than Eragon's hand. He placed his hand upon the tree and pulled. Bark fell away from the patch he had sung from the tree to reveal a mask, half white and half black, perfectly fitted to his face, with Eragon's swirling flame insignia on the brow. He thanked the tree and placed the mask on his face. He swept his gaze over the small patch of forest that had been his home for the last years, then turned his back and walked to the cliff , on the side opposite the edge of the forest. Eragon felt a tenuous mental contact, as if something far below him was stirring from a long sleep. Nodding, he knelt down and jumped, rocks cracking under his heels as he jumped higher than any man, elf, or other being could muster.
He almost flew through the air, soaring upwards, until he reached the peak of his jump and began to plummet towards the ground. As he fell through the clouds hiding his view of the valley below, a part of the cliff seemed to break off and begin moving towards him. As the shape moved nearer, coming into focus, Eragon saw the enormous wings and gargantuan body of the partner of his heart and mind. She rolled with an agility that seemed impossible for a creature of her size, flipping upside down and catching Eragon between two of her hulking talons. She rolled again, righting herself, and Eragon ran, using the force of her spin to run upside down until he was on her long, bristling neck, just behind her skull.
Hello, little one.
Hello, Saphira.
They flew in silence for several minutes, the ground whipping by in a blur, until Saphira neared the edge of the island. Eragon began to speak in the Ancient Language, amending the wards he had placed so many years earlier to allow himself and Saphira to leave without harm. When he was done, Saphira spoke. Something is troubling you, Eragon.
I haven't so much as spoken to Arya since I left Algaësia. I wonder if she will be the same person I left. Saphira snorted at this, smoke curling from her nostrils and flying back into Eragon's face. He coughed.
What was that for? Eragon asked, indignant.
You must learn to see what you are looking at. Saphira recited their mantra. Eragon rolled his eyes. Arya cares for you, and she knows that what you did was necessary. Do not trouble yourself to think about it overmuch. She has forgiven you. Would you reject that forgiveness? Eragon sighed.
You are right, as always. Saphira hummed, the deep sound reverberating through her body as her wingbeats kept a steady rhythm. Saphira?
Yes, little one? Saphira turned her head slightly, fixing her pond-sized eye, icy blue, on him.
Shall we dance with the stars? Eragon asked, sending her mental images of flying high above the land, the curvature of the earth they had seen, spent so long studying. Images of the star dragons they had seen wrapping themselves around the heavens, breathing tongues of flame, uncaring, cold to what was happening below them. He and Saphira had spend innumerable days high above Algaësia, Ytirrivard, and Naraveth, observing the magical creatures there, mapping places unknown.
They had also been given a secret, given to them by the king of the star dragons. He taught them to change light into energy, a secret Eragon and Saphira had sworn in the most ancient of languages never to share. Now Eragon harnessed this power, invoked it to take the light of the stars and weave it into a spell of his own creation. The wording was complicated, but Eragon cast it with the tongue of a practiced magician. He first created a space around Saphira full of air. This space was connected to a point below them, which took air from below them near the ground and funneled it to them as they climbed higher. Next, he bent the sunlight near them and changed it, turning it into heat. The sky was cold, and without this they would freeze to death. Finally, he shaped the air currents around them to push them high into the sky, far faster than Saphira could with her wings alone.
His spell finished, Eragon stood and walked up Saphira's neck, as thick as ten trees together, and stood atop her head. He surveyed the retreating features of the land. Naraveth fell away behind him, Algaësia and Ytirrivard looming on the distant horizon. The sea between appeared peaceful, all shades of blue mixing together for a thousand leagues. Still Eragon and Saphira rocketed skyward. After several minutes they had climbed so high that Eragon could see the entire world below him, an orb floating in the emptiness. Eragon stopped the spell pushing them higher, and Saphira started pushing forward.
Flying is easier up here. Saphira spoke to his mind. Hold on! She tucked her wings in, falling like a meteor towards the ocean. She pulled up, flaring her great wings, she flapped hard, soaring up to her initial height. She continued upwards, then tucked her wings again, rolling in an acrobatic twisting backflip. as she reached the bottom of the loop, she bugled and let out a sheet of flame. The column was wide enough that, had a castle been in front of her, it would have been completely incinerated. Even in their protective bubble, Eragon felt the heat. He turned away and shielded his face with his cloak. As he turned, his gaze was captured by a dark shadow on the edge of the world. Eragon and Saphira had never explored that area before, encountering only ocean as far as they could comfortably fly.
Saphira, that looks like smoke! What do you see? Saphira turned midair, hovering in place to obtain a better view of the shadow.
I see smoke, much of it if we can see it from this high. I also see-she stopped as a sheet of flame, impossibly large, ripped through the cloud of smoke, dispelling it as if it had never existed. I see a monster. Fear laced her voice as Eragon saw what she spoke of. There, on the horizon, further than Eragon and Saphira had ever explored, walked a shining beast of immense proportions. Its speckled head reached above the clouds, its tusks as long as a mountain. Eragon stared in disbelief.
How can a creature so large exist and yet have hidden itself from me? Even as they watched, a gout of flame ripped from its maw, leveling a mountain. That peak was bigger than some in the Beors! It would take even me an immense amount of effort to destroy a mountain like that!
It seems to be flightless. Saphira noted. She seemed pleased. It looks like a good challenge, but for now we need to get to Ytirrivard and see Arya and-
My daughter. Eragon finished, smiling. He was excited at the prospect of seeing Elva, he wondered how much she had improved at mastering her ability. Elva was his ward, and one of the only people he still had contact with after his self-imposed exile. He loved teaching her, she was fast as a whip and extremely powerful, and she and Eragon had been close as long as he could remember. On the other hand, Elva resented the fact that she was not a rider, for the dragons refused to bind with her, and thus on lower standing than Eragon and Murtagh, and she was somewhat unstable, her rage dangerous and unpredictable. Despite this, Eragon loved her as his own and visited her whenever he could. Arya visited Elva as well, though never at the same time as Eragon, and far less frequently, but Elva always told him of her visits in an excited, fervent tone.
Yes, your daughter. Saphira hummed. Elva looked forward to Saphira's visiting almost more than she did Eragon's. She loved the dragon, and was always happy to see her. Saphira returned the feelings warmly. Now get some sleep, little one. We have many hours of flying ahead and you need to be well rested.
Eragon nodded, then jumped from Saphira's head, flipping in midair, and landed in the saddle on her back. He had given up trying to make a saddle that encompassed Saphira's enormous girth and instead set up a saddle suspended between two of her tree-sized spines. He tied himself in so he would not fall off in his sleep, then drifted off into his waking dreams.