The Search
Eragon sighed as he stared down the river to the emptiness ahead. His eyes stopped at a curve in the water up ahead where a small nest lay upon a rock off to the side of the perilous waters. Although they hadn't been searching for long, Eragon felt his own melancholy slowly growing.
The Talíta had sailed for near on a fortnight since' their departure of Hedarth. Their journey, although it seemed laboriously slow due to the presence of infinite desert surrounding the river, was sped quite a bi by the force of the Az Ragni joining the Edda River. They had made progress that would have put other ships to shame, covered leagues in the span of hours in what should have taken days.
The Talíta was a ship built like no other. Eragon remarked as he stood at its bow, leaning against the edge of the deck's short wooden walls. The elves rarely ventured out into the world and the rivers strung throughout the endless stretch of forest that was Du Weldenvarden were too shallow and with too steep a curvature for any large ship to pass down.
Although Eragon knew the elves often resorted strictly to horses they'd bred themselves, creatures like no others due to their striking intelligence and magical affiliation. For water transport, he'd once journeyed upriver with the use of Elven canoes, and those too had been superior to both Dwarvish and Human-made crafts.
But the ship seemed to dwarf the other comparisons in its bold appearance and functionality. The White ship flowed smoothly through the water with a gentle gait that of which Eragon never expected to feel on a ship. The single mast caught the wind expertly and the Elven design of the boat streamlined the craft in ways no other race could hope to reproduce. With time on their hands, the dwarves may have had a chance at reconstructing a craft of similar functionality, but Eragon doubted it for their hands were skilled more for work with more earthen materials.
What was easily most impressive piece of the boat, however, was the mast. A spire outfitted with many grooves within which ran a slanted beam. The beam crossed the mast at an angle and here the Elves showed their artistry. The sail's shape allowed the Elves to use a technique called "tacking" in which they sailed into the wind by maneuvering the rudder so that the ship turned in a direction they desired. It was this technique that so improved their time along the Eddar River. The unusual design of the mast and the stark whiteness of the ship's stature made it stand out unusually from the Grey and tan environment that surrounded them.
What a strange sight we must make. Eragon thought watching a small pair of eyes disappear inside the nest.
Since their departure from Alagaësia, they'd encountered many varieties of life the likes of which had never been seen throughout the Northern forests, the mountains of the West and South or the Desert that separated them. Although their presence was apparent, they hadn't yet encountered any species large or numerous enough to sustain the lifestyle of Dragons. Nor any place from which they could mount a defense against raiders and thieves.
Hence, Eragon's melancholy.
Turning away from the sickening expanse of desert before him, Eragon spotted Saphira circling in the distance, her scales sparkling in the bright sunlight against, stark against the gray sky. She loosed a frustrated roar and dove towards the ship. Although she was too far for Eragon to feel her thoughts, although even as his following thought developed she came into his mental range, Eragon already understood the cause of her anger.
For the past week, the store of meat on the ship had run barren, and Saphira was forced to take energy from the Eldunari of which many laid about the ship's deck, absorbing light from the bright desert sun. Although the energy allowed her to remain alive, hunger gnawed at her stomach like so many íllgrathr had Nasuada. But outweighing that pain was her desire to hunt rendered insatiable due to the lack of animals in the desert.
There is nothing of substance for leagues around and even the small creatures lie buried under piles of sand! Saphira called despaired to Eragon. If we do not find the end of this accursed plain soon I don't think I could guarantee the safety of the ship.
Eragon comforted her with a few words of his own before tapering their bond down to the most meager of streams. He refused to let her emotions influence his behavior; he was already wearing thin due to the apparent endlessness of their journey and the harsh heat and grit that bothered him. And here he couldn't afford to upset the elves that had chosen to accompany him.
"Poor payment for their assistance." He thought out loud.
"And who's assistance, might I ask, would that be." Blödhgram's voice came from behind him, startling Eragon. Turning to see the elf, Eragon couldn't help but wonder at the animalistic features that scored his body, remembering how he once had wished to make such alterations to himself in the heat of the Blood-Oath Celebration during his first visit to Du Weldenvarden. It was these changes that allowed Blödhgram to sneak up on Eragon, who would normally have detected him due to the alterations made to his own body during the same celebration.
Of all the elves, Eragon liked and trusted Blödhgram the most. His loyalty to the riders made him an undying ally while his age, experience and cheery nature often gave Eragon solace when the burdens of waking life became too difficult to bear.
"You all. I can understand that you would be ready to experience new lands after so long a time in the forest, even that as entrancing as Du Weldenvarden. But I could not fathom the difficulty of leaving behind a home after having grown accustomed to it for centuries." Eragon said. "I know without you all I would be hard-pressed to succeed in my journey."
Blödhgram bowed in return and flashed Eragon a fanged grin. "Ahh, but you would have flown faster over these empty lands with Brightscales than this boat carries you. I can not help but feel as a hindrance." He said apologetically.
"Not at all friend, who else in the world would help me to construct the home of the riders. Certainly the Dragons would be able to instruct me on the design and provide the energy necessary, but I have not the skill to create the structures as you and your brethren do." Eragon responded, remarking on the Elve's uncanny ability to sing natural formations into the shapes of their will. "And I don't know how I would fare with only dragons as company in the time it takes for the first egg to hatch. They provide interesting conversations but there is only so much I can hear before I fear my mind will begin to crack." Eragon said in a hushed whisper to Blödhgram.
Just because I lack ears does not mean I do not listen. Please remember that Eragon. Umaroth's voice growled in both of their minds. The great dragon's Eldunari had been laying on the ship, basking in the sun with the rest of the Eldunari who were all listening amusedly to the conversation, though many of the old ones had grown distracted by the creaking of the rocking ship and the feel of the waves against the hull.
Blödhgram and Eragon laughed quietly before Saphira landed heavily on the ship's deck.
What are you two giggling about? She asked, a growl low in her chest.
"Our own ignorance." Eragon laughed before heading below deck.
Opening the door to his cabin, he walked over to the desk set against the starboard wall of the room. Kneeling down, he pulled open the bottom-most drawer and removed the mirror that lay within. The mirror was a gift he'd brought from Alagaësia, with it he was able to communicate magically with others who possessed similar devices.
Falling upon the chair set next to the desk, he recited a small spell over the surface of the mirror and spoke his Orik's name.
Soon his foster brother appeared set in the mirror, he appeared as if he was preparing for bedtime, although Eragon realized that he could expect almost an entire hour before dusk.
The sky is hollow and the earth is round he repeated to himself, the grand realization dawning on him. For the whole of his existence, he'd never seen the connection between location and time. The whole of Alagaësia had not been enough for him to realize the difference, and similarly he'd only used the mirror a on the rarest of occasions, at which points he had been almost perfectly south of his partner in the conversation. He realized then that, as the earth and sun rotated, one around the other although he did not know which, the time of day was different depending where on the earth you were.
Perhaps Jeod knows more about the phenomenon, or maybe Glaedr or one of the other dragons Eragon pondered, resolving himself to ask next time the opportunity arose, but before he could dwell more on the matter. Orik spotted him through the mirror.
"By Guntera's fist, Eragon!" Orik proclaimed, a wide smile spreading across his face.
"Hello Orik, how do you fare? Has the egg hatched yet?" Eragon asked, although he smiled all the same. After his departure, Arya had carried out her plan to send one egg to the Urgals and another to the Dwarves, the rest Eragon carried with him. If none were to hatch he would send others back to Alagaësia through magic, but he knew that the people of both races would fare better if the eggs hatched immediately. Any more discrimination within the riders would weaken the already unstable aftermath left by Galbatorix' reign.
"No, mine people grow anxious, many of them have approached the egg. We've kept it underneath the Star Sapphire in hopes that a passerby would awaken the dragon within but so far we've received naught. I've heard from Nar Garzhvog that his egg fares no better."
Eragon showed no emotions in his response but inwards he felt a sense of dread. There was no way of knowing for sure until the first egg hatched that his restructuring of the spell binding riders to dragons had worked at all. It could be that the original riders had made it so that no tampering could rework the spell, they may even have known the name of the ancient language, a possibility which hadn't occurred to Eragon until that point.
"Hold strong Orik, it might be that the eggs should be switched soon so that both races have equal opportunity for them to hatch. I would not send more back so quickly if it is not necessary." Eragon felt despair starting to creep into his voice so he pretended he to hear a thought from Saphira and then sighed, letting some of the days somber mood slip into his voice.
"Saphira has something caught in her neck spikes, I'll contact you tomorrow if we find anything new in this barren place."
Orik let out a laugh and bid him farewell and the mirror shimmered until Orik was no more, the image faded away like ripples in a pond.
Eragon pushed back from the chair and went to the bed. Although daylight still shone through the smoggy sky, Eragon could not restrain the lethargy that had washed over him during the day. Doing nothing, he'd found, leaves one as tired as doing everything.
Closing his eyes he entered into his waking dreams and let the events, few that they were, of the day filter through their head. Reanalyzing every piece of information allowed him to better understand the day's occurrences. Often he would write out the day upon paper, in both the ancient language and English, but he found that when he was tired, his penmanship decreased tremendously and he was harming his writing skills more than he was gaining benefit.
As his mind worked, the hours passed quickly, Eragon could not feel the flow of time around him but he found that his mind processed events more quickly during this period of rest than when he was awake; time seemed to slow down. Eragon could not help his thoughts straying from his intended focus, and his worries about the future of the dragons and the return of the riders took up most of his concentration. In time, he opened his eyes to see that no light came down the stairs that led up to the deck.
He was about to return to the dreams when a voice sounded inside his head, alarmed and excited at the same time. It spoke in the ancient language.
Shur'tugal! Come quickly!
The voice left Eragon almost immediately, breaking contact to wonder at the marvel that had occurred. But Eragon still managed to procure an image from Saphira's mind. The glance had been fleeting, but the image held clear in his vision as he sprinted up the stairs taking ten at a time in his excitement.
A green plain, leagues wide in every direction, surrounding a mountain formation unlike any other. Two twin mountain peaks jutted out above the land, bent at an angle so that they stuck out over the emptying basin of the Edda River. Each mountain was a mile wide and a league tall, although they both seemed to grow into a pyramid that thickened out towards the top. The northernmost peak was higher than its twin to the south. The desert, although sand had turned the river turbid, had filtered out impurities in the waters. As the Edda River progressed towards the mountain range, a series of waterfalls filtered the water even more before it emptied into the sparkling lake under the upper thirds of the twin peaks. The lake was perhaps half the size of Isenstar, but it provided enough water for the three rivers that flowed from it. One heading south of the southernmost peak, the second, north of the northernmost, and the third snaked its way between the two.
Eragon leaped through the archway that framed the staircase into the depths of the ship and grabbed hold of the mast. Pulling himself up using the grooves, he made quick work of the climb and hopped onto the cross beam in the center of the towering pillar, holding onto a rope as he searched the horizon.
Although he felt that he had entered the waking dreams for only hours, it seemed that more than half a day had passed, as dawn was only just showing itself at the edges of horizon. But Saphira's vision was more acute than his own, and, against the rising sun, Eragon saw only smudges.
Saphira! I can't see anything against the sun, allow me see through your eyes. He said mentally, excitement making his thoughts sharp and scrambled.
Without hesitation Saphira complied and Eragon barely had time to tie the rope attached to the mast around his wrist before he was drawn into her body. Her eyes were his eyes, every breath she took, he exhaled, and every image she saw was branded into his mind.
There were two things Saphira had not included in the image she'd sent Eragon. He first realized the blue expanse that swept out behind the mountains.
The sea. He realized with a start. We've reached the end, the farthest point of Alagaësia. The next thing he realized were the white specks dotting the expanse of the plain and at the base of the mountain. The specks confused him at first until Saphira squinted against the rising sun and the dots grew legs and horns against the light. At this distance, Eragon could not be sure, but it seemed the creatures ranged from the size of the ship itself to that of Eragon.
Eragon returned to his body quickly and hauled himself back to the mast. In his time in Saphira's mind, his body had lurched forward and was only hanging in the air by the rigging he'd attached to his wrist.
Shaking his head to regain his senses, Eragon untied the rope and then jumped forward, releasing the rope and holding his hands out to either side. Before he collided with the deck, he said, "Vëoht," and straightened out before turning and flying down the stairwell, unable to wait.
He had to tell them, he had to send the message to them all.
We've found it. Glaedr's voice rumbled in his head, the elderly dragon could barely contain the joy he felt.
Eragon's response was to grab the mirror and start laughing hysterically.