Eragon threw the scroll he held in his hands against the flap of the tent, frustrated. "There is simply no mention of the Eldunari in any writings of any race!"
Arya tapped the ground beside her, seeming to fight off her own anger. "Would you abandon our finally hope then? That is your only option, Eragon, next to this one."
"Perhaps if Glaedr was able to speak with us," Eragon suggest, exhausted of searching for ways to destroy Galbatorix's hold over the Eldunari every day for the past week and a half.
"He is still in shock. To attempt speaking to him now would be akin to speaking to a man unconscious."
"It's been more than a week," Eragon roared, his anger overflowing. A moment later he relaxed his shoulders and sighed. If Saphira was killed, it would take him much more than a week to recover. "I just-" Arya sighed.
"I understand, Eragon. Your wish to find Galbatorix's weakness is my wish as well. However, we must be patient. To be as agitated as a restless pond now would only serve Galbatorix's whims; for then we might miss a key hint about the Eldunari that will allow us to free them."
Eragon sighed and dipped his head, picking up another scroll. For ten days he and Arya, as well as three of the of elves sent to guard Eragon, had been hard at work scanning every scrap of writing concerning Dragons that might contain some phrase or word play that would lead to a hint of how to free the Eldunari of Galbatorix. Eragon would have had more people helping, but as it was the elves were the most suited people in the Varden to spot word trickery.
Just as Arya fell silent an elf pulled the flap at the entrance aside and bowed. He was a thin male elf of medium height with a willed scare on his left temple stretching the length of his face. "Shadeslayers," he said in a lilting voice that reminded Eragon of Blodhgarm's. "I fear that I and my companions have made no progress in the search you have set to us. The Varden are nearing the city of Melian and I wish to know what my and mine two companions' roles shall be in the fray of the siege. Shall we aid the Varden in the fight or stay and continue our research?"
Eragon looked up at the elf. The lowering sun outside cast his features in shadows, making it so the only reason he could see the scar on the elf's face was his heightened sensory abilities. "Fight," he said in a groan. "The Varden could use your talents in Melian." The elf bowed once more and departed. For near five minutes he and Arya sat in silence. Breaking it he said, "I'm afraid for the Varden, Arya."
"Because of the attack on Melian? We're more than ready for it. According to our reports Melian was the closest city that has not been reinforced."
"No, not that. With how many numbers the Varden have now that Orik's dwarfs have reached us, we should have no problem killing every last solider in Melian, wither they be ordinary or pain immune. I'm afraid that when the time comes to set upon Uru'baen we will not be able to withstand the King's powers. How can we? Now that we know what we know about the Eldunari it finally makes sense why Galbatorix hasn't left his black citadel since the fall of the Riders; all but once anyway. How can carry so many Eldunari that he would be as powerful as he is in Uru'baen and not give blatant hints to the Varden's spies? If there was but some way to provoke him out of the city, beyond the reach of his Eldunari-"
"But he is so old and powerful that the reach of his mind could be hundreds of leagues," Arya interrupted. "How would you tempt him out so far?"
"I don't know," he said, exasperated. "Perhaps we could make some illusion of his first dragon; Jarnunvosk." The black haired elf beside him shook her head.
"It wouldn't work. Galbatorix's dragon has been dead for longer than I am old. He has surely had time to bring himself to understand that Jarnunvosk has passed long ago."
Eragon clasped his hands together. He placed them over his face just so that he could still see and tapped his thumbs against his nose. "The Eldunari are likely guarded as heavily as Galbatorix's last egg. But because of their number it must take many more men to guard them."
"Aye, that is a reasonable conclusion."
"I wonder if Galbatorix cast spells on those men; spells to make them have a lack of need for sleep or water or bread. It would be so much easier if he had to have hundreds of guards. He's so unpredictable, though."
Arya stood, her lithe form not making a sound as she did so. "We may continue work on this tomorrow."
"But-"
Arya raised a finger. "You are tired, Eragon, and ill of temper. Better to rest now than miss something later." She raised her arm out to him, palm open. He sighed and took her hand. The instant he did a fire seemed to burst forth in his blood, surprising him but not paining. He jerked his hand back, as did Arya, from which he deduced the same had happened to her. He looked at his palm, the one that bore the gedwey ignasia, as it shimmered and burned with the same flickering motion that had made when he first touched Saphira.
Arya's eyes tightened and she looked down at her own palm. "Did you do that?"
"No," Eragon said, still staring at his palm. Eventually the tingling stopped. Arya offered her hand once more, but then appeared to think better of it and Eragon pushed himself off the hard dirt himself. As they exited the tent, Eragon heard Arya muttering spells under her breath.
That night Eragon lay next to Saphira, her wing comfortably fit over his body and the flames in her belly warming him. Many strange and wonderful fantasies drifted through his waking dreams, but none of them violent or angry, for Saphira was close to him and she swept away anything that might harm Eragon's waking dreams like a mother eagle would shy away anything that might harm her young. His dreams were many and varied, but near midnight as the full moon shone down upon him his dreams fell into a vision as clear as day. He thought at once that another premonition was striking him, but what he saw he knew had no bases in the future.
He stood in a court yard of majestic waterfalls and shrubs that bore berries that were bright and red. Not a single cloud smudged the skies and a pleasant wind drifted through the yard. In the skies three young dragons played happily with each other, diving and spinning to avoid imaginary enemies. A loud bell struck the air and he looked to see a large tapering building of white marble that seemed not having a speck of dirt upon it. On the entrance of the building were the flowing words of the Ancient Language. Welinar, fricai, eom du breoal abr du Ebrithila abr Adurna un Brisingr. Eragon walked up to the building and stared up at the words.
Welcome, friend, to the house of the Masters of Water and Fire. Just as Eragon ascended the first step he heard rushing voices behind him. He turned to look just as four men strode up to him, two holding a third by each arm. The fourth looked at him quizzically. "Give me your hand," he said harshly. Eragon, slightly frightened that the man; or elf, could see him, raised his hand out to him. He gripped Eragon's wrist and looked at his gedwey ignasia, then nodded, looking back at his fellows. "He's a Rider. He's allowed." He looked back at Eragon. "I apologize, Master Rider," he said, releasing his hand. "Can't let just anyone around the Hall of The Masters, you know."
Eragon dipped his head. Trying to play what role he thought was supposed to he said, "You are doing your jobs. Who is that?" He asked, gesturing at the man the two other men held. The man made a disgusted sound.
"Name's Galbatorix." Eragon's spin went rigid. "He's the blasted fiend who killed Laydanar. Have you not heard of him, Rider?"
Dragging his eyes away from the face of Galbatorix he said, "I-I-I have just returned from...a trip to Farthen Dur."
"Ah," the man said. "Long trip, that. Well this sorry sap went off on a trip of his own and got his dragon and two friends' and their dragons killed by Urgals. When he came back he asked for another egg to replace his killed one. Guess he thought the Riders were just a market for Dragons. Anyways when he left the Hall he just stabbed the first person he saw. Poor Rider died late last night."
Galbatorix raised his black haired head so that a single eye was visible and said in a low, growling voice, "I'm coming for you, Shadeslayer." With a sound like a dying scream Galbatorix jumped at Eragon.
Eragon sat up so fast he banged his head against one of Saphira's scales. He sat panting, covered in sweat. Saphira lifted her wing and looked down at him with eyes as large as his head. What's wrong? She asked him. Eragon tried to swallow three times. Just a nightmare, he said. Saphira snorted, tousling his hair with her breath. And hedgehogs nest in trees.
I'm fine, he said, trying to placate her. He stood and brushed his leggings off. I think I'll go for a walk to give my mind time to settle.
Saphira rested her head on her paws and stared at him. I shall await your return, little one. I'm here if you want to talk. He patted her snout and walked away.
