A/N: Exams are over I can write more :D
Nights at New Vroengard were beautiful. In this part of the world, the constellations were all different, and they rose from different places, and at different times, the stars scintillating with each passing cloud. There were new night-birds forming darker shadows against the shadow of the sky, and new creatures which added to the peaceful nighttime cacophony, low roars and merry songs. Water, of which the island was surrounded by, crashed in a comforting rhythm against the high cliffs, always returning no matter how many times the coast pushed it away. Sometimes one could see glinting bodies of scales soaring through the air, their wings beating as they searched for prey with two shining eyes — and when they did find something, the sky would momentarily glow with colour from their fire (many times blue). The night was an experience the Lord Rider witnessed everyday, from sundown to sunup, from his open window at the edge of the forest. It was interesting how distinct nights here were from the mainland's.
And that made Eragon miss his home even more.
A year and a half of voyaging and exploration. That was what it took for him and the elves to stumble upon this island in the middle of a large lake, or small sea, depending on who you asked. They named the body of water "Sielmere". As for the actual island, for lack of a better name, he named it "New Vroengard", in homage to the old base of the Riders. This island was populated with a number of previously undiscovered fauna, who made their homes in the forest, hills and coasts of the large isle. Eragon and his elven companions had set up near the coast at first, where they had landed, and gradually began building inwards. They had tried not to disturb the local wildlife, but in the case of an unfortunate number of dangerous creatures, they had to take more drastic measures. Invidia still could not get over that giant beaver attack.
The castle had been completed nearly a decade later, a humbler version of Castle Illirea or Borromeo, constructed from stone quarried from the hills, and wood harvested from the forest. Glass for the windows had to be made from sand and limestone. They had been given architectural advice by the dwarves, thought they were mostly left to their own devices and built the castle in image of the one on Doru Araeba, with several unique touches from the elves. It was relatively defensible, high walls and a deep moat defending its perimeter. Eragon had hoped for it to be the centrepiece of the city that would slowly grow on New Vroengard over the years.
Despite the grandeur and comfort it offered, Eragon had never slept in its halls, preferring to live next to the coast at the edge of the forest, where he could see the roiling sea (or lake) and taste the salty air. The window where he was at now faced west, towards Alagaësia. Sielmere was vast enough that even with his elven eyesight, he could not see the far bank, nor his homeland. On days when had some extra free time he and Saphira would fly out to the Sielmere's western shore, just to sit, stare out onto the Forlorn Plains and reminiscence. He would wonder whether anyone was looking to the east as he sat there, looking towards them. He would wonder whether she was looking towards them.
The loud crack of wings outside drew his attention away from the dark sky. Saphira was back from her hunt. Eragon stuck his head out of the window to watch her descend in wide circles, and she kicked up a bit of dirt as she landed. The blue dragoness had grown even bigger over the past two centuries, about more than twice as big since they had left the mainland. She was ever increasing in size, yet her growth seemed to slow down with age, thankfully. Large dragons needed more food. Now she wriggled her neck through the window, so that her sizeable head was inside the house. Eragon smiled and rubbed her neck, and Saphira snorted smoke against his.
"How was your hunt?" Eragon asked.
"Same as always. I caught several owls on the wing, and two Inyathi on the plains," she replied, licking her sharp fangs. Inyathi were bison-like creatures with three tails and a thick mane of fair around their necks. "What have you been doing this entire night?"
"Just… thinking."
Saphira sighed into his mind. "It's unhealthy for you to be thinking about home all the time, little one. I miss Fírnen, but if I keep thinking about him I'll never be able to concentrate on the present."
"I can't help it Saphira. It's been two centuries. I have no idea what would happen if I returned. The prophecy said I couldn't."
"Forget that prophecy. I bet I could fly you back, all the way to Illirea, or Ellesmera, by dawn."
"I am still hesitant." Eragon lay his head against his dragon's. "How would they receive me? I've effectively abandoned our home, only communicating through letters or mirrors or any fortunate apprentices we send there. Some even think me a traitor."
"Ignore them then! Who's to decide where you go? You are the Grand Master of the most powerful Order in the land. Any protests can easily be silenced with one snap of my jaws."
Eragon laughed at her indignation. "We two-legs do not solve issues as simply as dragons, as is our misfortune."
"Yes, you are all very complicated creatures," Saphira huffed, pulling her head out from inside the house. "I shall retire to my nest, then. I admit, I am a bit tired from chasing those Inyathi." The dragoness let out a large dragon yawn. "Good night, little one."
"Good night, my beloved dragon," Eragon replied. Saphira slithered to the back of the house where there was a larger, sheltered area which was her nest. He had piled it up with straw and down, whatever soft material he could acquire to make it as comfortable for his dragon as possible. He heard her settle down heavily on the cushiony floor. Her mind presence soon lessened in his. That meant she had fallen asleep. He was lucky that she did not snore, for dragon snores were terribly loud. The noise was terrible in the Dragon Aviary, a separate area for the dragons to sleep as they were too big to fit in most of the Riders' rooms. It had been built up on a hilltop, so that the dragons could easily take off into flight.
Eragon returned his gaze to the night sky. It was still dark, a purplish-blue. Sunrise was still far off. He sighed. Maybe he should be going to bed soon. He would need the rest for tomorrow's cycle of lessons with his two apprentices, Aldridge and Julia.
As he prepared to go upstairs to his bedroom, a mind presence touched his, and it was not Saphira's.
"Eragon-elda, dire news from the mainland," said Blödhgarm.
"This late at night? Alright. I'll be there." Eragon was surprised at the sudden communication from Alagaësia, as usually they were more courteous in their timing.
Evil is brewing… Eragon leapt off the staircase, since he was only three steps up, and hurried out of the house, bringing along his cloak, and his sword, which he always kept at his side anyway. He actually had the magical capability to teleport directly into the Mirror Room, but he tried not to use magic for simple tasks like running. It would have made his life too… easy. Or as Rhünon had aptly told him many years ago, "When you can have anything you want by uttering a few words, the goal matters not, only the journey to it."
"Blödhgarm," Eragon called as he entered the room. The furry elf was talking to two separate mirrors when he entered. In one was a silver-haired, wise-looking elf with a circlet of metal resting upon his brow. He wore typical elven clothing, a green lámarae tunic with simple leggings, and he had a cape of shiny cloth. His blue eyes flashed when he saw Eragon appear. In the other mirror was a much shorter, stouter figure, a grander circlet of gold and jewels around his head. His thick, greying beard had been neatened into braids, which fell to a few inches above his knees. At his side was an inordinately large hammer for his size, the metal glinting under crystal light. The dwarf laughed heartily.
"Eragon, mine brother! It is good to see you," the dwarf greeted, for this was of course King Orik of the dwarves. Age had not done any harm to his vitality, and he maintained his warm smile and healthy glow in his eyes.
"Aye. It is good to see you as well, Orik," Eragon replied, a smile lighting his face. "And you, Lord Dathëdr. Atra esterní ono thelduin."
"Atra du evarínya ono varda," Dathëdr completed the elven greeting. "I am most glad to see you, Lord Rider, for there are issues in dire need of discussion." He looked to his right and spoke, just as Orik looked to his left. So they were communicating with each other as well.
"Of course. Please enlighten me." Secretly Eragon wondered where Arya was. When Blödhgarm had told him to come, in his heart he had been hoping to see the elven queen again. They had not talked face to face for several years now, having only exchanged letters which were all of formal content. Needless to say, he was disappointed when he saw Lord Dathëdr in the mirror instead of her. She could be unwell, but Eragon thought that unlikely. Inwardly he sighed.
"Queen Arya sent me to deliver this message to you as she is busy with investigations in Illirea now," Dathëdr informed him. The dwarf king nodded in silent agreement. It appeared that they had been in communication before they contacted him. Eragon narrowed his eyes.
"Investigations? Into what?" he asked. He exchanged glances with Blödhgarm, who had stepped back to let him talk to the two leaders.
"Let me start from the beginning," Dathëdr said. Eragon ground his teeth together. Sometimes he despaired of the elves' way of rambling on and on without getting to the point.
"As Arya Dröttning had informed you by letter a few weeks ago, the white egg hatched for a human boy named Teodric." This Eragon knew. One of the wild dragons living on New Vroengard had generously donated two of her eggs to the Riders, one white and one yellow. The yellow had yet to find a Rider, and was still being ferried around Alagaësia by Ismira.
"Wryen Shur'tugal escorted him and his dragon Nihil to Ellesmera. While they were in the forest, however," Dathëdr took a deep breath before continuing. "Teodric and Nihil were taken."
Eragon slammed a fist against the table. "What do you mean, taken?" he growled. Blödhgarm was equally upset, Eragon could tell from his stiffened stance.
"Wryen had no idea what had happened to them. The both of them had gone to sleep, and when he woke up the next morning, the two had disappeared," Dathëdr informed him, maintaining an eerie, emotionless expression.
"What? That's impossible. Wryen is one of the most observant Riders in the Order! That's why I gave him the position of egg-courier — so he could keep a lookout for thieves and scoundrels wanting to harm the eggs! Nothing could have slipped past him," Eragon scowled.
"Apparently someone did, and spirited the young pair away," Dathëdr said. "The wards around the forest should have detected if anyone had left our domain that night, but they did not."
The Lord Rider paced back and forth in the Mirror Room, Blödhgarm his trusted friend watching him tear his hair out.
"It would require a great magician to sneak past the wards of Du Weldenvarden, Eragon-elda," Blödhgarm said. "That narrows our search. Queen Nadara keeps a register of all the magicians in her kingdom, as does King Orik. Amongst these there is a special list of the more powerful ones — we can begin looking there."
"That is what Arya Dröttning thought of, Blödhgarm-vor, which is why she made the visit to Illirea. She and Queen Nadara have not uncovered anything yet, however. All those investigated so far have been confirmed to be somewhere else the night of the disappearance."
"What about you, King Orik?" Blödhgarm asked.
The dwarven monarch stroked his beard. "Mine chief magician, Gannek, also has not found anything suspicious yet. Most of our magicians belong to Durgrimst Quan, of which Gannek is Grimstborith, so it has been easy to find out about their whereabouts."
"Blast it! Was there anything else?" Eragon demanded.
"Wryen said that Teodric had been acting peculiarly since they entered our borders, whispering in his sleep a strange dialect of your human language. He was unable to identify the dialect. Then again, the boy is from Narda, and that place has… unique customs," Dathëdr said.
"A strange dialect…" Eragon murmured. For some reason the phrase rung in his mind. A dialect of the human language… there were quite a few, many originating from the west coast of Alagaësia, owing to the people's isolation from the main parts of the kingdom.
"That is all Queen Arya wishes for me to report, and she sends her regards," Dathëdr ended.
Alright, at least she had not forgotten about him. "Thank you for the information, Lord Dathëdr. Eka elrun ono," Eragon said. The elf nodded.
"King Orik, do you have anything else to say?" Eragon asked. The dwarf king thought for a moment.
"Hmm. Aye! That's right. There's been a report from Dalgon, the home of Durgrimst Feldûnost. They say a foreigner crossed over from the Ashen Opens."
"The Ashen Opens?"
"Aye. They are what we dwarves call the stony flatlands south of our borders," Orik explained. "They do not show up on our maps, however."
Tacked to one wall of the Mirror Room was a large map of Alagaësia, one of several copies that had been put up in the castle. The Beor Mountains were painted in grey at the bottom right corner of the map. A thin red line had been drawn separating the southern edge of the Beors from the lands outside the dwarven borders. Eragon scratched his head as he examined the map. No, there was nothing indicating the existence of peoples outside of Alagaësia.
"A foreigner? Was he a dwarf, or a human?" Dathëdr asked.
"We think him human, but he was not any human we have seen before," Orik answered. "According to Yustan, the Grimstborith, his son was out on a hunt with two guards when they stumbled upon the foreigner — and he was nearly dead."
"What was he dying from?"
"The healers at Dalgon say poisoning, though they are confused as to what poisoned the human. At first, his only symptoms were purple skin, and blood in his lungs. The next day his body disintegrated."
Dathëdr had to steady himself by placing his hands on the table. "Disintegrated! Impossible! No poison can cause a body to disintegrate, and few kinds of magic as well."
"The poison may have been infused with magic then, Lord Dathëdr," Eragon said, eyebrows furrowed. "From my studies in magic, it is possible to have a toxin contain magical energy which will only be released when the toxins have been fully absorbed by the body."
"How do you know this, Eragon? Been playing Angela the Herbalist, have you?" Orik laughed.
"No, King Orik. I suspect that such a human crossed over into the borders of the Eastern Lands before."
The room went silent for a moment, as the four thought about the implications of Eragon's words. "I do need you to continue your description of the human, King Orik, before we can confirm this."
The dwarf king agreed, and proceeded to tell the other three of the human's appearance. When he was done, both Eragon and Blödhgarm showed signs of worry, the Lord Rider blanching and gritting his teeth. Blödhgarm hissed.
"Then we have encountered a similar human before," said Eragon. "Keya Shur'tugal was flying back to New Vroengard from Alagaësia when she spotted him at the south-western corner of the Forlorn Plains. The man died as soon as she and her dragon Mor'ranr landed to treat him. They brought him back, as they thought his appearance suspicious, and we did a short study of him. He disintegrated as well."
"Why haven't you told us of this before, Shadeslayer?" Dathëdr asked. "It could have been important information."
"I did not think it important for others to know. The man did not have any consequence upon the safety of Alagaësia. Besides, I am telling you now," Eragon said irritably.
"Peace, mine brother. But the appearance of the foreigners is not what we should be most worried about," Orik continued. "The man who appeared on the dwarven borders delivered a message to us. Possibly, the human you found was going to deliver a similar message, but it seemed that he died before he could."
"What did he say?" Blödhgarm asked.
"Word for word: 'Beware, dwarf! For this land has wronged us, and the Shadow shall take back what is rightfully ours! He has returned! He who was thought Hell-bound! Our Dread Lord! Our Feared Saviour! Our—' Then he was cut off, as Yustan's son had beheaded him."
"Barzûl," Eragon cursed. He closed his eyes, trying to remember where he had heard those words before. The entire thing seemed oddly familiar to him, as if he had heard those words before, but no matter how hard he tried, nothing of use surfaced in his mind.
"Aye. Barzûl," Orik said.
Dathëdr spoke after another period of silence. "This is a worrying turn of events, Shadeslayer, King Orik. I will inform my queen, and I believe she will inform Queen Nadara. Thank you for the information, and I hope we can cooperate more in the future if any of us uncover anything new." The elf bowed, and his image disappeared, such that the mirror reflected Eragon's and Blödhgarm's.
"I should be retiring as well, brother. Until next time," Orik's mirror went blank as well.
Eragon collapsed against one wall, his hand over his forehead. Alagaësia had been at peace for two centuries now. The Riders only numbered at seven-and-eighty, a powerful force to be reckoned with but still a mere shadow of their former glory. It would take several more centuries for them to fully recover from the Fall, and yet there was a new evil threatening their borders.
"I suggest we think about it over the night, Eragon-elda, then call a council meeting in the morning," Blödhgarm said.
"Alright. And Blödhgarm, how did you know that there was someone contacting us from the mainland? We usually do not get contacted by them at night."
The furry elf gave him a toothy smile. "Magic, Shadeslayer."
Eragon frowned at this insufficient answer as the blood wolf chuckled and stalked out of the room.
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