Fifty years. Fifty years since the elven queen's life was changed forever, for the positive and negative. Fifty years since she killed a tyrant with godlike power alongside a man who had somehow come to mean everything to her within a few short years. Fifty years since her dragon had hatched for her. Fifty years since that man she fought so hard alongside had left, supposedly never to return. Fifty years since she had become queen. She longed to get out of Ellesméra once again, to fight, to travel, to do something aside from the endless amount of dealing with the court, followed by sword practice, followed by a small flight around the city on Firnen, if she was lucky, and then sleep.
A voice came from her mirror, shocking her and causing her to yelp in surprise. The face of Eragon looked at her, desperation in his eyes.
"Greetings, Arya, it's been too long. I cannot talk for long, but know that I need your help."
She breathed in deeply, fearing the worst.
The man walked over to a memorial he had built, sinking to his knees and praying to the gods. The queen of Broddring Kingdom had been assassinated twenty-five years before. He had loved her then, for she was the one that allowed him to change his true name and break the bonds of Galbatorix. However, she was mortal, and thus doomed to die, while he would endure ever onwards for millennia if no man or beast cut him down. About ten years after Galbatorix had been killed, and he left Alagaësia, he had returned and took residency in Ellesméra.
A knock came at his door.
"Who is it?" he called.
"Arya. Eragon's in trouble, apparently enough that he felt it was necessary to send a message by mirror calling me for help."
"You'd better come in then, and tell me everything he said. Even if we've nearly killed each other before, those days are over. I'll not allow my half-brother to die at the hands of something powerful enough that he thought it prudent to ask for your help."
"Damn it, damn it, damn it. What the hell am I going to do, these damned demons have been hitting us hard, we maybe have a week before we'll have to retreat." thought the Lord Rider as he paced around his study. Adding to his foul mood was the fact that when the portal to whatever hellish dimension the demons were pouring out of had opened, the Name of Names had totally stopped working. It had apparently been powerful enough to change the very nature of magic itself.
They had already lost four Riders during the initial attack, and now they were trying to wait out the siege that the damned things had laid on New Vroengard.
"Might I suggest calling Arya and Murtagh? I know that you'd hate putting them in danger, however they seem to be our only option to quell this. None of these Riders are more than novices at their craft." came the voice of his dragon.
"Aye, I'll do that now. Draumr kòpa."
He scryed Arya, sitting on her bed, deep in thought.
"Greetings, Arya, it's been too long. I cannot talk for long, but know that I need your help. A portal to some hellish dimension has opened outside the gates of New Vroengard and demons are pouring out, besieging the city. We have already lost four Riders. The Name of Names no longer works, and we have perhaps a week before we will be forced to retreat. Take this message to Murtagh, I know he resides in Ellesméra. Goodbye."