Ismira

Prologue: In The Name of Peace

Eragon Shadeslayer. That's what they had called him in the days of the war. After that, it was Eragon Kingkiller. And his dragon, Saphira Bjatskular, Brightscales. They were loved and feared by the people of Alagaësia. Their names were common to the people of the cities that dotted its landscape: Teirm, Dras-Leona, Aroughs, and even Ilirea. But even as they had left Alagaësia, so too had their names become part of the myths and legends of the land. Their names had become synonymous with the fall of the Empire, and the death of Galbatorix. Eragon remembered well that day, the day he had wrought the most powerful magic he could imagine, the likes of which he suspected he would never see again. And even as the time of the Empire came to an end, the age of the Riders was just beginning. Remembering that sorrowful day upon which Eragon left Alagaësia, he could not help but feel the pangs of his heart, a thought that Saphira shared.

They sat upon a mountaintop. But not just any mountaintop, it was a jagged and rough landscape. The cliffs were high and the beasts that roamed the mountains just as fierce. Eragon and Saphira had chanced upon the location on their way to the new home of the Riders, and the pair spent many hours at the place. More often than not, Eragon found his time there filled with meditation and conversations with Saphira. Very few times was he disturbed by Graufdera, the dwarf woman whom Orik had been so lucky as to find within a few weeks of his departure. Upon her arrival in the place Eragon had found, a place he had dubbed Stenr Abr Du Varda. It was a rough name, but it had fit the Riders well enough, the "guards" of Alagaësia. But when Graufdera had come to Stenr Abr Du Varda, the dwarf woman had spoken with him at length about the name, and convinced him to change it to Du Vardafells. The name had been much more appropriate in his mind and it allowed for the possible expansion of the place onto more parts of the chain of mountains, and so he had agreed to change it.

Graufdera had become his right-hand Rider since her time with him, during which he had taught her much of the ways of Dragons and how they conducted their business amongst the land. And her dragon, a stout and strong female brown dragon, one befitting of a dwarf, whom she had named Miremel, was surprisingly similar to the dwarf in her love of the land. Eragon found the name fitting for the proud and gruff dragon, and was glad that he had not decided upon the name for Saphira in those first months they spent together, in the days when he knew little of the world and of magic and filled his days caring for Saphira and making sure she was not discovered by Garrow and Roran. Within a few months of Graufdera's arrival, so too had come an Urgal male, one who had been chosen by a fierce and mighty gray-silver dragon, whom Raknovosh had deemed worthy of the name Koruvesh. Raknovosh had quickly proven himself a skilled warrior and an intelligent and cunning magician, far surpassing Eragon's initial opinions of an Urgal able to wield magic.

But in the years since Graufdera and Raknovosh had come to him, many more Riders had come, many more than he had expected. He was not prepared when he was regularly sending out new eggs. At one point he considered waiting a few months before sending out more eggs, so that he could take the time to train all the new recruits. He had already been filling rooms with as many as ten or more students at a time. It was not at all what he wanted for the new Riders, but since he was the only one, with the aid of Glaedr and Umaroth, who could properly train them practically, he had no choice. And so he toiled and taught, he dueled and sparred with any who wished to, and more often than not Eragon found his skills tested by those Urgals and elves with whom he fought. Even dwarves proved an interesting and surprisingly devious foe, as the dwarves had found ways to counteract their larger opponents by using the length of arm of their opponents against them.

After almost ten years Du Vardafells had become the home of nearly one-hundred and fifty Riders, and as the dragons that were there began to breed and have eggs of their own, he knew that the Dragons would not die out, as he had hoped. Saphira herself had even lain several eggs over the years, of many colors in the spectrum. In the meanwhile, Eragon found himself constantly assigning some of the more experienced of the new Riders to coax the stone of the mountains into new rooms and roosts, with others still practicing trades they had held at home, from bow-making to smithy work to weaving and other mundane tasks, when they weren't practicing magic or other skills that the Riders were required to have. But Du Vardafells persisted, and the Riders grew back into prominence. Ten years after Graufdera's arrival, Eragon sent the first "graduates" back to their respective races, one to each of the Rider races. He was sure they were greeted with a great many celebrations, and had returned with stories of home for the others, encouraging them to work diligently in their studies so that they may return home when their dragons were an appropriate size and strength, and when Eragon felt that their skills would be enough to protect them against most any foe.

But that had been almost nine years ago now. Twenty years ago Eragon had left Alagaësia, and now Eragon was thinking of home, Palancar Valley. He wondered how his cousin-brother Roran and his wife Katrina fared, and how Ismira, the young woman she had become by now, was coming along. Saphira's mind touched his, and she shared her thoughts of how she missed spending time in Ellesméra among the elves and with Arya's dragon, Fírnen. Eragon was sure that Fírnen had grown just as large as Saphira since their departure, and was almost certain that he would still, despite his younger age, prove a fine match for Saphira. He let his thoughts drift to Arya, but only for a short while, as too much thought on the topic would send him spiraling into a shallow depression that would not leave him until he took his leave for his waking dreams that night. When the time came for Eragon to depart the peak he and Saphira had been visiting it was nearly evening, and the sun hung low in the sky as Saphira's massive body shook the whole mountaintop when she landed and lowered her neck to allow Eragon to saddle her and climb onto her neck. As Eragon looked out across the mountain range they called home now, he ran a hand over Saphira's hard scales and said quietly, "Maybe it's time we go back to Alagaësia."

And with his words, Eragon had considered how he might go about being able to forsake his duties to the Riders her for a month or more to visit the lands he had come from. It would have to be the delivery of the new eggs to Alagaësia he decided, for that was the only excuse he could think of that would allow him to stay away for such a long time. Generally he awarded the task to a deserving Rider, but this once he chose that he would take the eggs to Alagaësia, and he smiled as Saphira hummed at the idea of returning to places where she had been as but a mere hatchling now as a massive and glorious beast. And as Saphira swiveled to ride a thermal that carried her high up, near the peaks of the mountains, he knew that despite the dream he had so many years ago, when he was but fifteen years of age, he would return to Alagaësia, and perhaps this would indeed be the last time he flew across its lands.