Hello, everybody! Here's Bol, the author of the original Wraiths of the Past. I'm sure some of you remember that story, it was an amazing thing, my very first story years ago and did get some recognition for having several thousand words per chapter, upwards of five thousand and up to ten thousand words for the first few chapters. It was a well-received story, but as I grow older I have less time than I did as compared to before, school and all, ugh, so I've partnered with the author PassiveBot to rerelease this story on his account, new and reimagined. Of course there were problems, we were midways of transferring half the chapters from the original story to his account when we realised our new vision to recreate this story in a new image at a higher standard of writing.
Now about this story, it is set 70 years after the end of Brisingr, Eragon has established a new order of Riders on an Island far North of Alagaësia. There will mainly be OCs, but many main characters, and several minor characters, will make reappearances from the books and play crucial roles in the plot.
Now, blah blah blah, legal stuff blah blah, and here's the reissue of Wraiths of the Past which PassiveBot and me, Bol, are beyond proud to present to you all, enjoy!
Frelsa stood on the ship with the other children, looking out over the edge of the boat, past the enchanted rigging and across miles of foam-riddled blue to a point so far away to be unreachable, where the clouds lingered and the birds spiralled. The Island.
Around her were no less than six children, all aged fifteen, some were tall, some were short, some were dressed in fine and royal tunics and dresses, others in simple colours. She looked down at her own clothes, a ragged brown coat that kept her warm from the sea squalls. Of those she stood with two were human, a boy with short, messy black hair and a Surdan girl with bronze skin and braided locks, two Dwarves, male and female, an Urgal and an Elf. The humans were obviously acquainted, the Surdan girl and the boy laughing as they spat over the edge of the boat, the Dwarves were mixing with the Urgal and the Elf, pale and sallow, sat alone against the rails, eyes scanning the horizon.
But what was strange was the looks they cast in her direction, they did not recognise her and watched her warily, especially the Elf boy. When she did catch his eyes they were filled with suspicion and apprehension. She did not understand.
A sea breeze found its way under the slanted sails of the Elf vessel, tousling Frelsa's hair and threatening to spirit her precious old cloak away. She wrapped her arms tightly across her chest, squinting as the wind stung her eyes.
The human boy leant dangerously far over the edge, laughing and pointing at the speck of land in the distance. "Look! There it is!"
The Dwarves and the Urgal rushed over to see, ogling at the approaching black mark on the horizon. Frelsa did not feel like watching, strangely, and instead crossed the deck to take a seat on the opposite rails, clutching the nearby rigging for support. She sat away from the Elf boy, he frightened her.
But evidently she did not frighten him as much. He watched her carefully, and soon she grew irked at his stare on her neck and snapped, "If you'd like to stare much longer, then I'd like to start charging you."
The boy's eyes softened and the furrows disappeared. He cocked his head, and the cryptic words flowed from his tongue, "Wem ach ono koma frá?"
She didn't speak the Ancient Language but she seemed to understand the meaning somewhat anyways. It was less a question than an accusation, a brand, and it unsettled her. "Uh, I don't speak your Language. In Common maybe?"
The Elf boy repeated, his voice smooth and accented, "Where do you come from?"
Frelsa raised an eyebrow. What kind of question was that? "From the mainland, where do you come from?"
"No, that is not my meaning." The Elf Boy gestured at the ship around them. "From where did you come from? I did not see you before, or see you board the ship. Were you hiding?"
What? "I don't-"
She was interrupted by a sound that stopped her heart and stoppered her throat in instinctive fear, a visceral, feral roar that boomed out across the sea's rough canvas and echoing off the waves, so loud that it left her ears ringing long after. The sound was fierce, strong and in its rough contours it told of the powerful and regal being behind such a sound. And an instant later, she saw the beast who had issued it.
A shadow flashed across the deck, the children screamed, some for fear and some for joy, as the sails shook and the mast trembled with the might of the great thing's passing. Frelsa saw it, hovering several metres above the ship, a great Dragon, a brilliant shade of yellow the colour of the morning star, its scales flashing like a thousand crystals through which a thousand Suns shone. It was not golden but a lighter, fiercer and more beautiful shade of yellow. It bore a wingspan twice as wide as it was long, with each beat a powerful gust bellowed down at the ship that made Frelsa close her eyes and look away, her coat and her long hair whip. One of the dwarf children scrambled over a barrel and hid behind it and the human boy tripped in his haste to hide in a shadowy alcove, their eyes peeking furtively at the rising Dragon above.
She risked a look and saw the Dragon rise a bit more, before tucking its wings in and falling like a stone, the wind screaming a high pitched shriek of horror as the Dragon dived towards the Elfish boat. She yelped in fear and ran for cover, tripping over a length of rope that stretched from the rigging, scurrying under the flight of stairs that led up to the wheel.
The boat rocked greatly to one side, the water lapping the hull and the wood groaned in protest as the great yellow Dragon undoubtedly alighted on the ship's bow. Frelsa peeked between the steps of the stairs and saw that there was a man on the Dragon's back, a bearded man with brown hair pulled back, eyes the wildest shade of brown that seemed almost gold. As he slid off his Dragon she saw that his tunic, though simple brown, was embroided in royal patterns at the edges and there was an ornate silver pin at his shoulder, at his side, swinging from a belt was a straight sword in a dull yellow-bronze scabbard.
He stepped off his saddle and landed on the ship with a movement that seemed to send more tremors through the wood, the man, the Rider, looked around at the children, frightened and excited. His fierce visage broke with a smile and he laughed a hearty, infectious laugh that sounded as loud as his Dragon's roar.
Silesh, the elf captain of the ship, called from the wheel, "Hail, Cibran! Looks like the Riders will have their hands full this year. Most I've brought from the mainland since the first years."
"Hah!" Cibran let loose another laugh. He set his hands on the wooden rails, looking over the children that lay scattered on the deck. "Well then? Come on, Riders! Front and Centre, boys and girls, let's have a look at you!"
Frelsa decided that she liked this man, he was wild and his good mood was infectious. She scurried over to join the other children as they hurried to gather in the centre of the deck. She stood next to the Urgal and the Surdan girl and she could feel herself quivering under Cibran's gaze, up close his golden eyes seemed to pierce her own as he looked over the children.
The Rider gave a whistle and shouted, "Seven children, eh? Horis has outdone himself, give him my regards when you return to the mainland."
Silesh smiled, "I believe the Sun has addled you, there's only six."
The other children immediately glanced at Frelsa and began to shy away. She looked around at them, confused, what was going on?
Suddenly she felt something else, like a huge presence bearing down on her as something found her in her own mind, the presence was powerful, encompassing, slow and deliberate as it enveloped her mind and bore down upon it.
She was aware of eyes on her, this stare debilitating in its power. Slowly, reluctantly, she looked up to the sound of creaking wood as Cibran's Dragon leant over the edge of the railing above to look at her and she quailed under his eyes, the colour of liquid sunlight that seemed to burn from within. He did not move his jaws but she heard his voice, like the smoothest wine, booming from everywhere in her mind.
This one.
The words were like cracks of thunder from a far away storm, distant but betraying a power that was deadly all the same. And then just as suddenly as it had appeared to her, the presence withdrew, leaving a strange empty void where there never was anything. Two words, that was all he said, but still she felt her knees go weak as she crumpled to the deck, shaking and shivering. Cibran seemed to have heard the words as well for he fell silent and the smile began to leave his bearded face. The Rider frowned, he looked down at the girl curled up like a babe on the deck in fear, then at Silesh the captain. "Hasten to Nyr."
"This… stowaway! Outrageous! My deepest apologies, Shur'tugal, I'll have her returned to the mainland once I've ferried the children, my deepest apologies!"
"No," Cibran replied simply, the smile barely a ghost that hung on his features as he began to mount his Dragon again. "Bring her to Nyr." He glanced down at Frelsa and the girl stiffened up on the floor again as she felt another presence, and Cibran's voice sounded in her crown, Child, when you reach the Island, ask for Cibran and Reckor. Do not tell the others, do not unsettle them.
She looked up between the folds of her arms and coat and saw him take a final look at her with those molten gold eyes, before his Dragon took flight with twin wingbeats that rocked the ship that it threatened to capsize.
The other children regarded her with suspicion, except for a few. The human boy, the lively one, sat down next to her, curious about her. The Dragon had looked upon her specially, as if marking her, and while they did not know about what Cibran had told her she was still different in their eyes.
And so the boy sat down next to her after she had recovered from the harrowing ordeal of letting the Dragon into her mind, the boy, wearing a red tunic that seemed a size too large, had messy brown hair and a sly smile that accompanied quick blue eyes. He offered a hand, "Hey there, you can call me Shepherd."
That must be an alibi, or a false name to sound mysterious and cool. But still she took the hand, giving a small smile. "Hello, my name is Frelsa."
She looked behind Shepherd and saw the Surdan girl, she noticed had gold braided into her hair. "Your friend?"
"She's alright," Shepherd smiled, leaning against the rails. "Says you're bad luck, but I think you could guess that by how she's looking at us right now."
The girl glared pointedly at Shepherd, jerking her head as if asking him to come over from Frelsa. He smiled and turned to the despondent girl, "So… what was that business with Reckor?"
"Reckor?"
"The Dragon," he explained. "You know, scales, teeth, wings, ring a bell?"
"Oh." Cibran had instructed her to ask for him and Reckor. "Nothing, he just… looked at me."
Shepherd was unconvinced, giving a knowing look. "Uh-huh, I see. I guess that business don't have nothing to do with you just appearing on the deck?"
No, no, no. "That's wrong!" she snapped defensively. She had just about had enough of these accusations and pointed glances. "I didn't 'appear', I was always on this boat, I got on with the rest of you."
"Well, I don't remember getting on with you," Shepherd replied. He gave a wry smile, "And I'm sure I'd remember a face like that."
Frelsa didn't flinch, she gave him an unamused look, and he raised up his palms in a peaceful gesture, "Ok, ok, no flirting, got it."
She sighed and looked over the deck at the Island, growing larger and larger with each wave they crested with a dull rise and a soft crash back into the foam. At this distance the features of the Island could be made out, the most defining feature the mountain that rose from the West side of the Island, which is to say the left side for they came from the South of the Island, the East side of the mountain rising gradually and gently with the West side had a sudden drop off of thousands of metres to the coast. The summit of the mountain was swathed in white and clouds gravitated towards it in a huge canopy of magnolia.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Shepherd breathed in awe, following her gaze. "Think about it, a few hours from now, we could be Riders! With Dragons of our own, I want mine to be blood red and fearsome."
Frelsa smirked, "I'll be happy with just getting past the Rider part." With how things were going, she was getting worried. Would she have gone all the way to the Island for nothing?
A hushed sound from behind, she looked back and saw the Dwarves and the Urgal arguing, gesturing at her and saying something to each other. Soon enough, the Urgal turned his back on them, stalking over to them.
The young Urgal was a good head taller than either Frelsa or Shepherd, he did not have horns yet but he was clothed in rough fur and was still plently intimidating enough. Frelsa noticed Shepherd stiffening up slightly besides her. The Urgal knelt down and growled in a deep, rough voice, "Good morning, humans. The short ones there were debating with me on what you were." He gestured at Frelsa. "A stowaway, or Thlerunn."
"Excuse me?" she asked at the last title. "The-le-what?"
"Thlerunn, you know, hm," the Urgal pondered for a while. "Spectre, wraith, ghost?"
A ghost? "Well you can tell your short friends that I am not a ghost."
This was seriously beginning to unsettle her more than tick her off, this talk of her being a stowaway. The Urgal shrugged, "That is what I told them, but Dwarves are stubborn, it is in their nature."
Shepherd obviously didn't like Urgals. He held his chin up proudly, smirking, "You speak good Common, for an Urgal."
The Urgal didn't take this insult as such, instead nodding and smiling, "And I'm sure you speak perfect Urgralgra, human."
Frelsa gave a small chuckle as Shepherd's mouth hung askew, looking for a counter to the retort he wasn't expecting. She asked, "What's your name?"
The Urgal held his head high, puffing out his chest. "Drukjl, son of Duguruk the Horn, grandson of Thunn the Bold."
Drukjl said those names proudly so she guessed they must be great Urgals. He seemed quite cultured and well mannered, despite his appearance being as it was. He sat kneeling, ignoring the stares Shepherd gave him, asking, "So? What is your story?"
"I… I don't have a story, I boarded this ship two weeks ago, I've been on it with the rest of you and suddenly today you all start acting strangely, saying I appeared out of nowhere."
The Urgal gave a contemplating stare into the distance, remarking, "Strange, but then, dealings with Riders are always so." He looked towards the Island that was, by now, close enough to see the buildings. Drukjl stood and gave a short nod to her, "Hopefully this time tomorrow we meet again as such, as Riders."
As he walked away to rejoin his two Dwarven companions, she decided that she also liked him, he was much different than what she though an Urgal would be. Shepherd watched the Urgal walk over to the rails to watch the incoming Island, shuddering. "Unnatural, that's what it is, letting Urgals ride Dragons, that's what my father always said."
Well maybe your father's wrong, she thought secretly, not that she harboured any ill will towards Shepherd. He stood, offering her his hand. "But he's got something right, I hope you become a Rider too, despite you know, just popping up and all."
Frelsa hesitated, unsure with all that had happened just in the past hour, she had a nagging suspicion that maybe they were right, what if she wasn't chosen to be a Rider? What if she came here for nothing?
But she took the hand anyway, letting Shepherd pull her upright, she said, "Here's hoping."
Frelsa got up and followed Shepherd to the side of the deck where all the children gathered to look. There came a sound across the sea, the sound of cheering and clapping that grew louder and louder as the ship rose and fell on the waves. She saw, on the green of the Island and in the shadow of the mountain were cities, rising towers of stone and huge villas, large enough that Dragons might fly within them, between the buildings grew giant trees that rose ever taller than the buildings, their canopies hundreds of metres in the air. To the East, away from the mountain's summit, was a wide field that stretched up all the way from the beach shore to the mountain's wide base that stretched almost the whole length of the island, ringed on one side by the city and on the other by a great forest of huge trees that continued all the way to the Eastern shore and curved around the Island to the other side across the crest of the mountain's base.
Her breath halted in her chest as she saw the first Dragon, a huge orange gem that roared as it flew overhead, then the second, a red one, then a third, a sky-blue one that flew overhead. Each one echoed a roar, each roar a different exclamation of joy at the arrival of new Riders. Soon more Dragons, Rider and no, flew in and the light was blotted out by a cacophonous chorus of Dragons in all the colours she could imagine, the light refracting off their scales in a thousand different ways.
She looked down to the Island and saw the docks there, made by Elves no doubt by the tall sloping roofs and green ivory that glinted in the sunlight used to construct it. A dozen or more ships were docked there, and as Silesh manoeuvred the boat into the docks she saw so many people there, waiting for them, some of them Riders with Dragons at their sides, Humans, Elves, Urgals, Dwarves. There had to be fifty at least. New Riders were evidently a celebrated part of life here.
The faces lined the piers, beautiful, perfect faces touched by magic, smiling, cheering, craning their necks hopefully to get a glimpse of the new Riders. Frelsa noticed most of them here seemed younger than she expected, few of the Riders looked older than forty. The children on board the ship leant over the sides of the deck, waving to those that were mere feet away, reaching out and their fingers connecting with them. One of the Dwarf children reached out, hand brushing the outstretched snout of a small blue Dragon, the Dragon cocking its head back and letting loose a roar of joy.
Shepherd, standing next to Frelsa, laughed at her reluctance. "Come on! Enjoy the fame a bit!"
"I'm not sure I should-"
"Here, like this."
He wrapped his hand around her wrist, bringing her arm up. "Now smile and wave, girl."
Smile and wave. Frelsa took a deep breath, when Shepherd's hand left her wrist her arm was still outstretched. Well, if I don't get to be a Rider, might as well enjoy it here for a while.
A smile furtively crept onto her features, and soon she was grinning well and truly, waving at those on the piers who shouted exclamations of 'Welcome!' or 'Rider!'. New Riders must really be a big thing here.
She glimpsed someone in the crowd, an Elf man, without a Dragon, garbed in a tunic like a coat of leaves, long black hair tied back in a high ponytail. He stood apart from the rest, though enveloped in the embrace of his neighbours. When he looked at them, Frelsa found that his eyes gravitated to hers and hers to his, captivated by the mournful light that hung about him like a fog. The Elf reached out to the boat, to her, in his hand a single flower, a lily flower, the petals white as snow but fading to a red like blood near the edges. The others on the boat, leaning over the side to bask in the adulation, did not take the flower or pay it any mind, but the Elf was undeterred, looking at Frelsa as if offering it to her. So she reached forward and though the space between them, the water between the pier, seemed much too far to bridge, her hand found the white and red lily all the same, clutching it close to her chest as the Elf continued to watch her even as the boat passed him, watching until the crowd enveloped him again.
A shiver passed up her spine as she glanced down at the lily, she quickly tucked it into her belt. What a strange Elf, but I guess strangeness is their nature.
Soon the boat stopped, the enchanted rigging of the boat coming to life and throwing ropes around anchors on the pier, a gangplank sliding up and with a dull thud, rose and fell to connect the children on the boat to the Island.
Frelsa watched the others rush, jostling to be the first to step onto the docks, to leave their past behind. Well, I guess this is it.
She was at the back of the line as they walked down the gangplank, listening to the song of roars that made her ears throb and the laughter and cheers. She glanced off to the side, down the pier, down the line of faces that looked back, past the ship and off to sea to the South. She didn't know why but she felt a strange feeling of… loss? Just nostalgia at leaving the mainland, only good things awaited her here.
A young Rider, a Dwarf boy that couldn't have been a year older than her, bowed to the new arrivals, gesturing down the crowded pier towards the city. He beamed, "Welcome, to Doru Araeba Nyr!"
Well, that was chapter 1 of Wraiths of the Past, Reissued! I have to say, it's a monumental task retaking an old story of mine I wrote when I was so young. I hope you enjoyed it and please leave a review on what you thought, you can privately message PassiveBot with any questions you have for the two of us and here's to a long future with the Wraiths of the Past!
