Udvum was no match for the Urgal he faced. He wasn't nearly as strong, tall, or tough. The only advantage Udvum could boast was speed. In these games, though, speed wasn't sufficient. He was a dwarf of the clan of blacksmiths, Durgrimst Ingeitum. The king of the dwarves, and every dwarf king before him, was of Durgrimst Ingeitum. Even the legendary Dragon Rider Eragon was of Ingeitum. If Udvum lost now, he would bring shame to his clan and the dwarves as a whole. He had already watched, with some guilty satisfaction, as this very Urgal had torn apart two dwarves from the clan Az Sweldn rak Anhuin, his rival clan. They were the most violent, evil clan. Their very name meant The Tears of Anhuin, who was a great dwarf god. He hadn't the slightest idea how he would beat the Urgal, for he was much thinner than the Az Sweldn rak Anhuin dwarves. In fact, Udvum was as thin as a human, an might be called one if he was a few dozen centimeters taller. As it was, he was well above a meter and a half high, which was tall for one of his kind. Even at his young age, his dark brown hair had migrated down his face into a close beard. He was one of those dwarves who kept his hair short, keeping it about shoulder-length. Now, as usual, it was tied back in a short ponytail with a red strip of cloth. Both the hair and the cloth swung a bit to the left as Udvum circled his opponent. Both men were equipped for battle. The Urgal wore a thick leather jerkin over a bare chest, and steel greaves over woolen pants. In his hands was a long two-handed mace that could crush a dwarf skull in a single stroke. Udvum wore a bit more protection, for he didn't have thick Urgal hide that could deflect such a monstrous weapon. He wore steel bracers over leather gloves, a light but strong chainmail shirt that hung to the middle of his thighs, light steel shoulder plates, and steel greaves over his padded leather leggings. All of his armor was made to deflect and block strokes from blades and arrows, but none would be able to withstand a straight-on stroke from the Urgal's mace. Udvum held two war axes, which he could use with speed and precision unmatched by any opponent he had ever faced. Of course, he hadn't yet started fighting this Urgal. On Udvum's back was a third axe, this one double bladed and longer-handled. It was a battle-ax, used with two hands for sweeping, crushing blows. Now though, he didn't think he would be able to use it.
Suddenly, and without the usual growl that Urgals displayed before a strike, Udvum's opponent charged at him, dropping the head of his mace toward Udvum's head. The dwarf ducked to the side, smacking the Urgal's ribs with the flat side of one of his axes. The Urgal's eyes widened, but he turned quickly. This time, Udvum attacked first. The Urgal blocked Udvum's first axe, but his second was already arcing up toward the Urgal's neck. He switched his block to the second axe, leaving the first one to slash his bare arm. Dwarves outside the arena suddenly cheered loudly. At the sight of his own blood, the Urgal roared, and swung three swift attacks at Udvum's head. He blocked all three, alternating axes, but had to give ground. Once the three attacks were over, Udvum swung a feint at the Urgal's head, then used his other axe to strike under the Urgal's guard. The point of the axe bounced off the Urgal's bottom rib, but would still be a painful wound. The Urgal was very angry now. He swung the haft of his mace up and it smacked into Udvum's jaw. He reeled back, already feeling the bruise that would soon form. The Urgal pressed his advantage, breaking his mace in half so he could effectively use it with one hand. Udvum found himself defending desperately, against not only the now-one-handed mace, but the broken off haft. Eventually, the Urgal grew tired of taking ground and swung much harder with his mace. Udvum managed to block it, though, and the head of the mace snapped off. Now the Urgal only held sticks. He swung hard and fast still, taking more and more ground. Udvum realized that unless he attacked, he would lose. He waited for one of the sticks to be swung at his left side, and crossed his right hand over to it. He hooked the bottom of his axe under the stick and brought it back to his right. Now the Urgal's arms were tangled, and with a swift downward strike, Udvum disarmed him. Then, just as swiftly, Udvum brought his other axe up and pressed it against the Urgal's neck.
According to the rules of the games, Udvum had to give his opponent the chance to yield. "Do you yield?" he asked in the common tongue.
"Never!" the Urgal said. Udvum didn't like it, but the Urgals seemed to. Had he yielded, Udvum's opponent would have carried shame with him for the rest of his life. Udvum reluctantly prepared to strike down his opponent. The crowd had gone deathly silent. Suddenly, the Urgal's hands shot out, snatched away both of Udvum's axes, and threw them. The fight was back on, but now without weapons. The Urgal threw four rapid punches at Udvum, who dodged two and blocked one. The fourth landed under his ribs, driving the breath out of him and knocking him over. As the Urgal prepared to strike him down once and for all, Udvum picked up one of the Urgal's sticks, slamming it into the back of his opponent's knee. It buckled, and he fell backward. The Urgal also picked up a stick, and Udvum had a brief flashback to the mock combats he had participated in to prepare for the games. They exchanged a flurry of blows, until Udvum managed to disarm the Urgal again. He then dropped his stick and pulled himself up to the Urgal's shoulders. From there, he grabbed the Urgal's horns and asked a second time.
"Yield?"
To which the Urgal answered once again, "Never!" And Udvum snapped his neck. Both the dwarves and the Urgals cheered, the dwarves for their victory, and the Urgals because their warrior had been killed honorably, in open combat, by a worthy opponent. Udvum stepped out of the ring, where one of his clan handed him his axes. He smiled as all of the present members of Durgrimst Ingeitum pounded him on the back and congratulated him. This victory had won the games for the dwarves, although Udvum hadn't realized it until then. As the dwarves prepared to leave, an Urgal approached Udvum. He kept his hand on his axe, but the Urgal stopped and lifted his head. It was, Udvum knew, the Urgal equivalent of bowing, for a bow was to offer the Urgal's horns and was considered a threat. Udvum waited, and the Urgal spoke.
"I am Nar Garzhvog." Udvum recognized the name as the lord of the Urgals in this area. "I wish to offer my congratulations for your victory."
"And I thank you, Urgralgra." Udvum said, using the Urgal term for Urgal. He nearly bowed his head as well, but then raised his head as Garzhvog had done. Garzhvog smiled at the dwarf's understanding of his culture, then turned and walked away. Udvum mounted his Feldunost, a large goat, as large as a horse, native to the dwarves' home: the Beor Mountains. The rest of the dwarf company did the same, and they all spurred their mounts to the south.
The next two weeks went by in a blur for Udvum. They rode south, breaking twice a day to rest, across all of Alagaesia. When they reached the Beor Mountains, the dwarves were all happy after spending all that time in the Spine and on the road. They went through the tunnels, and Udvum resumed his work as a smith, first repairing his axes and his armor, then making things for other dwarves. Then, one day, he received summons from King Orik. He immediately closed down his smithy and rushed to the throne room. He had asked for a presence with the king as soon as he had entered Farthen Dur. He came before Orik, and realized for the first time just how threatening the throne room was. Stone busts of earlier kings stared at him from either side. Guards were sprinkled among them, and they too stared at Udvum as he passed. At the end of the long room was a carved stone seat, on which was the great King Orik.
His black hair and beard were showing bits of gray, though Udvum knew he wasn't terribly old. Across his chainmail-clad lap was the ancient hammer Volund, and upon his head was the crown of the dwarves. On the arm of his throne was a bundle of red velvet, and though Udvum thought he knew what it was, he couldn't be sure. When he reached Orik, Udvum bowed low. Even as Udvum was straightening, Orik spoke.
"How did it happen?" Udvum was confused. Orik raised an eyebrow and elaborated. "Why is Durgrimst Ingeitum in a second clan war with Durgrimst Az Sweldn rak Anhuin?" Udvum grew even more confused.
"We are, grimstnzborith?" He asked, using the dwarf term for king.
"Well," Orik said, "you should know, for the grimstborith of Az Sweldn rak Anhuin tells me that you're the reason."
"The clan chief said what? Thardsvergundnzmal, grimstnzborith! Az Sweldn rak Anhuin grimstborith thardsvergundnzmal!" A fraud, king! The Tears of Anhuin's clan chief is a fraud! "I'm sorry." Udvum was disappointed in his outburst.
"So he's lying?" Orik asked. Udvum nodded vehemently. "I thought he was. This..." Orik paused as the velvet bundle beside him rocked. When it stopped, he continued. "As I say, this needs to be..." The bundle rocked again. "This needs to be resolved at once. If..." A squeak sounded, as if someone were grinding stones together. The bundle was still rocking, even as the squeaking persisted. Finally, it stopped. "That's odd. Never happened before..." Orik muttered. "Anyhow, this needs to be resolved immediately. If Az Sweldn rak Anhuin is allowed to be swarming the Beor Mountains telling everyone that we're in a clan war-!" Orik's voice had risen considerably, and they almost didn't hear the bundle start rocking again. This time, it stopped immediately. Orik looked at it, as if saying, are you quite finished? then opened his mouth to speak again. Then, suddenly, Orik's face lit up. "Step forward!" He exclaimed, beckoning to Udvum. "Come on, step up!" Udvum took a step toward the throne. As soon as he did, the bundle began to rock and squeak more violently than before. By the time Udvum reached the throne, the sounds of the rocking and squeaking dominated the throne room, and Orik had caught the bundle from falling off the throne several times. Suddenly, the rocking stopped. The squeaking stopped. The bundle stopped. Then, a crack, like someone shattering a branch against a mountain. Another, and the velvet bundle was ripped from the inside. A few minutes passed, everyone staring at the bundle. Then, out of the tear in the side emerged a fiery orange dragon. Its eyes were the first thing Udvum saw. They were like burning coals, piercing and bright. The scales on its back and legs were next, bright as the magma under Farthen Dur. The scales on its belly were a softer orange, and looked a bit yellow. When the dragon spread its wings, Udvum saw that they were like those of a bat. Long orange fingers extended from the main limb, through an almost transparent, though still bright orange, membrane.
The dragon looked around, eyes darting from one thing to the next. When it spotted Udvum, though, it stopped and stared. After a few seconds, it pounced off the throne toward him, spreading its wings and gliding down to his feet. Then, to Udvum's surprise, it climbed up his trousers, hung on his belt, and then jumped to his left hand. When it made contact, a wave of heat and cold and pain and pleasure ran through his entire body, and he leaped backward. When he looked at his hand, there was a small oval of silvery skin.
"Silver hand..." he whispered in awe. He lowered his hand and looked at the dragon. It looked back at him expectantly. Slowly, Udvum lowered the barriers around his mind that he had spent so many years perfecting, and reached out with his mind. When he made contact with the dragon, he felt a surprisingly intelligent consciousness, completely open to him. When he tried to communicate, though, the dragon didn't seem to understand. In return, the dragon sent Udvum a series of images. One image managed to capture the concept of infinite waiting. The second image was actually a feeling, the feeling of Udvum's own mind. The third was the same, only stronger, and the fourth image was the knowledge of someone being close by. The last image was a combination of the third and fourth, a feeling of extreme happiness, and the desire to escape... something. The dragon then hopped forward again, and Udvum recoiled. The dragon persisted, though, and managed to climb Udvum's clothes again. It settled on Udvum's shoulder, and looked at Orik.
The king had been watching in awe, and a single tear had creeped down his face. "You... you must go to Du Weldenvarden. You can use Az Ragni," he said, using the name of a river on the eastern border of Alagaesia. "or you can use a Feldunost." King Orik gathered himself, and his voice grew steady. "Meet with Arya, the queen of the elves, and she will train you as a rider. She will then send you east-" Orik's voice wavered again, and another tear rolled down his cheek. "Say hello to Eragon for me." And Orik weeped freely, waving Udvum away. He marched out of the throne room, a bit confused at the king's reaction but happy about the new development in his life.
Udvum decided to use Az Ragni to get to Du Weldenvarden, as he had traveled by Feldunost-back for long enough. He used a flat wooden raft with low walls, one sail, and four oarlocks. Once again, time sped by quickly for Udvum. Before he knew it, the dragon had a basic understanding of words, and could hunt rats and moles along the side of the river. After several days, the raft reached Hedarth, a small town at the point where Az Ragni flowed into another river, the name of which was unbeknownst to Udvum. By then, the dragon was too large to sit comfortably on his shoulders, but was still only about as tall as his knees. The crew of the raft spent two nights in Hedarth, for they would need rest if they were to row upriver. When they set out again, Udvum's dragon wasn't with them. He was a bit worried, but the dragon could fly easily now and Udvum was confident it could find its way back. The next day, it did. It was just a bit larger than Udvum remembered, but he couldn't be sure. When he reached out and touched its mind again, as he always did when they were close enough, the consciousness was suddenly and overwhelmingly male. Udvum asked him his name, and the dragon replied with a feeling of uncertainty.
How about Hrothgar? Udvum asked. The dragon sent him a negative feeling. Udvum went through Orik, Thodr, Vuldr, Olgan, Duam, and Scaud, but the dragon didn't like any. Finally, Udvum looked down at the dragon, and he knew. Gulmer? he asked.
Of course, the dragon replied, as if Udvum should have already figured that out.
By the time the raft reached the edge of Du Weldenvarden, about a week later, as the raft had to go upriver, Gulmer was as large as a newborn horse. At the edge of the monstrous trees, the raft stopped suddenly. Several elves dropped from the branches and approached the raft.
"Who are you?" One asked.
Udvum answered before anyone else could. "Udvum, and my dragon Gulmer, here to see the elf Arya for training." The elves looked at him with contempt.
"Well, unless you allow us to examine your mind, we cannot allow you to pass." The elf said.
Instantly, Udvum put up his long-developed barriers around his mind, leaving them open only enough to maintain contact with Gulmer.
Perhaps you should let them, Gulmer suggested, otherwise we'll never be trained properly. Udvum had to agree, but lowered his barriers cautiously.
"Fine," he said. A gentle mental probe entered his mind, a strangely musical presence that sifted though his thoughts and memories with practiced efficiency. When it was finished, Udvum felt dizzy.
"You may enter," the elf said. The raft rowed away from the trees again, towards an immense lake far upstream. When the raft crossed it, the river turned back into the trees. The raft followed the river, still rowing slowly upstream, floating further into the woods. Finally, they reached a waterfall, and the dwarves told Udvum to step off the raft. He hopped to shore, and watched as the raft allowed itself to flow back downstream with the river. Gulmer flew to the top of the waterfall, and Udvum followed via a path. The path led around the lake, and when it ended, Udvum found himself in a town. It was made of wood, and filled with elves. A few approached them.
"Who are you?" One asked. "What's a dwarf doing in Silthrim?" Udvum glared at him.
"I'm the dwarf Rider, here to see Arya." The elf bristled.
"That's Her Majesty Arya, dwarf! Or perhaps, if you knew any of our language, Arya Drottning."
"Well," Udvum said, "if you're not going to take me to Arya, I'll go to her myself." The elf flushed. Udvum pushed the group aside and began to walk through the town. When he saw another elf approaching, he frowned and his eyebrows met.
"Hello." The elf said, surprisingly friendly. "I suppose you're Udvum, the Rider with- Ah, yes." The elf saw Gulmer. "Well, if you'll follow me, I can take you to Arya- Her Majesty, sorry." And the elf turned and strode away. Udvum had to jog to keep up, while Gulmer glided from tree to tree, looking for all the world like a living forest fire. After several dozen minutes, the elf realized how hard Udvum was breathing. "I do apologize," he said, stopping. "Allow me to summon some steeds." He whistled, and two majestic stallions emerged from the trees. He first hauled Udvum into the saddle, or lack thereof, then mounted his own steed.
"Here can be your first lesson in the language of magic. You won't be casting spells, mind you, these are just commands for the horse. Simply say 'fram' to tell the horse to move forward, 'aptr' for back, and 'blothr' for stop." As he spoke, his mount walked forward, then back, then stopped.
Udvum hesitated, then spoke. "Fram." The horse began to trot forward, and the elf's did the same. The elf said 'fram' again, and his mount sped up to a canter. Udvum did the same, and soon they were moving by the league. After a few hours, they stopped in another town and ate, then set off again, this time to the west instead of the north. When they reached their destination, Udvum didn't know it. His guide said 'blothr,' and his horse slowed to a stop, but Udvum kept going through the trees. Then he noticed something different. How the flowers and the trees seemed to uniform, the path too straight to be natural. Then he realized what he was seeing, even as Gulmer did the same.
The trees- Gulmer said.
-are the buildings! Udvum finished. And indeed they were. Now that he knew it, Udvum noticed windows, roads, doors, stairs, and even the occasional elf wandering the city. Suddenly, the most beautiful woman Udvum had ever seen strode out from between the buildings. She was dressed in a large red robe over green and brown clothing, and had a staff in her left hand. On it sat a white raven, who would occasionally croak at Udvum. On her hip was a green sword, through and through. The sheath was a wooden dark green affair, and the handle was of the same color steel. The hilt was wrapped in green wire, and an emerald sat in the pommel of the weapon.
"Thank you, Arzor, for showing Udvum to Ellesmera. You are excused." The newcomer said. Udvum's guide dismounted, motioning for him to do the same, and their mounts rode off into the trees. "I am Arya." The woman addressed Udvum now. "If you'll accompany me, we can begin training." And she strode off to the north. Udvum followed, and they soon emerged in a large clearing. At the far edge was a cliff, reaching down for leagues until it hit a sea of more trees. At the right-hand edge of the clearing was a wooden hut, and in the middle was an immensely large pile of leaves. Udvum looked on the pile with surprise.
"Is this where you put all the leaves in Du Weldenvarden?" He asked seriously. Arya laughed, a beautiful, musical sound that made Udvum's fingertips tingle. Udvum was confused, but he persisted. "Or maybe they're just the ones from Ellesmera?" Arya smiled again, then it faded.
"You do not know what that is?" And as if on cue, the pile of leaves lifted its head and looked at Udvum. He jumped back, and understanding dawned. This was Arya's dragon. It stood, and Udvum saw the whole of the beast. It was green, and had the same color pattern as Gulmer, but its head was as big as Gulmer's entirety. It had long spikes running from the base of its head to the tip of its tail, and spikes jutting from its jaw and brow as well. Gulmer only had stubs there. It also had long claws and teeth, which were once again immense compared to Gulmer.
The orange dragon swooped down toward the larger one, and it looked up in return. Gulmer landed on top of the green dragon's head, and a quite amusing picture was created. Udvum laughed, and Arya smiled. Then she turned to Udvum.
"The first thing that needs to happen," she said, "is for you to be tested. Then you will get your Rider weapons, and we will train. Then, when you're ready, you can set out to the east to join Eragon and Saphira, and then you'll see a large dragon."