Welcome back!

This is proving to be a bigger project than I imagined... BUT I know pretty much where I want to take this story now. The hard part will be getting there and making sure everything is just right along the way. This should be fun!

Try listening to the Eragon movie soundtrack while reading. While yes, the movie is unspeakably terrible as an adaptation, the soundtrack is actually pretty sweet. I do this with other fanfics and it makes them so much more fun to read!

Also, I updated the previous chapter based on reviews pointing out simple canonical errors (such as the number of elves with him, and which of those that were named came with him - NOT Laufin, for example) and added a few little bits to deepen understanding. I lent out my copy of Inheritance so I'm having a hard time pinning down some of these minor details without the book to reference directly, but I am trying my best to verify my claims.

Thanks for the feedback (keep up the constructive critiquing, please!) and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 3: Reality Check

Malicious, charcoal-coloured clouds packed the sky, bathing the earth below in swirling shadows. Lightning streaked across them in great chains, as if parts of an enormous spider's web were flashing in the light with anticipation of its next catch – and kill.

In the sky between the tallest peaks of Dragon Haven a pale turquoise creature of monstrous size flapped its thick, leathery wings. Treading air, it reared back and released a deafening, eerie shriek before facing down towards the lush island. From its massive, bony jaws, thick waves of white-hot flames shot towards the earth. Above the thunderclaps and whistling winds, a chorus of screams and shouts could be heard.

In minutes the island lay burning – flooded with white flames that devoured every inch of forest, grassland, building, village, and mountainside. Even the lakes and rivers appeared to be burning, swamped by the girth of the fires around them. The scene appeared eerily distant as it took on a black-and-white effect. The only visible colour at a distance was the pale dragon whose jets of flame never ceased to pour from its maw.

Perched arrogantly on its back was a tall, handsome figure with tangled maroon hair and rugged, fiery red eyes. His angular, catlike facial features resembled that of an elf, yet the fire in his eyes and his prominent smirk suggested simpler heritage. A dark red goatee stuck out from his pale, pointed chin as his mouth opened in a deep, twisted laugh that seemed to drown out the fading wails of the island's inhabitants as well as the wind and thunder that surrounded him. The dragon ceased its fiery downpour.

The clouds lit up, appearing translucent for a split second, and the electric web flashed sequentially towards the center of the scene, above the crazed pair who reaped the island of all life. The electric lightshow converged and a single, thick bolt of lightning sprang slowly from the cloud downwards. The event suddenly seemed to be progressing in slow-motion; seconds turning into minutes and so on. The bolt fell in a jagged line towards the dragon and rider, threatening to envelop them in an instantaneous stream of pure, natural energy.

In the split second that the light engulfed their figures, the image of the hideous turquoise dragon flickered almost too fast to be noticed, replacing it temporarily with that of a nobler, leaner dragon with sparkling sea-green scales. In an instant the new image was gone and the visage of the cruel, pale, deformed dragon could be seen once more.

Similarly, the appearance of the man on its back flickered momentarily – the few changes being to the colour of his eyes, hair, and skin, as well as his expression. His now brown hair appeared thicker and slightly neater, and his eyes were no longer disturbingly red… but a peculiar mix of brown and green. Not quite hazel, but not quite solid either way. In them a fire burned, but a fire of determination rather than bloodlust. His skin was no longer pale but a healthy beige, tanned almost to a light golden-brown. Together with his sea-green dragon, they radiated serenity and calmness while appearing fierce and just.

The corners of the man's mouth twitched in a confident smile, and an instant later the image was gone and he appeared malevolent as ever with his pale skin and red features. The lightning closed around the two and whited out the scene as an eruption of noise crackled from above.

The image of the rider flickered vividly in memory… It was then that it became clear that he bore a striking resemblance to–

Eragon bolted upright, nearly launching himself out of his bed with the momentum from his shock. As he regained his wits, he felt his damp garments clinging to him through his chilled sweat. He wiped his brow, trying to understand what he had just dreamt.

He had experienced dreams of prophetic nature before, however none had appeared as vividly as this. Dragon Haven… had been burning. He had felt sweltering waves of heat, life forces dwindling in terrified states of agony, and he had heard the piercing screaming that confirmed the reality of events within the dream. And he had seen the disturbing details of both the dragon and the rider.

But most importantly he could see the rider's face flashing in his memory – not only the pale-faced picture of evil, but the image of the young man that held so much vitality and promise. He could have sworn he looked exactly like–

Eragon! What is the matter now?

Saphira had sensed his troubled mind, as he had awoken without capping his racing mind. She must have seen something of the nightmare as he recounted it to himself, although the sense of panicked inquiry suggested otherwise. Perhaps it would be best if I kept this to myself for the time being, he thought to himself, stemming the tide of his thoughts and emotions.

Nothing, just a rather strange dream that forced me awake, he replied. He expected to see her snout peek into his room, however he could not sense her presence in the immediate vicinity. He could have probed the area with his mind but instead simply asked, Where are you?

Little one… I have something I wish to show you.

He sensed a great deal of pride and excitement coursing through their mental bond. He needed only wonder at it for a second, then:

…No! While I was sleeping?

Indeed, she huffed with amusement.

Where?

I have brought it to the nesting hall – where else?

I'm on my way, he said, allowing her glee and satisfaction to flow through him.

He soon forgot all about his vision as he dressed appropriately but comfortably for the day. Neglecting to magically remove his stubble, he opted to avoid the long trek through the hall and down the stairs and instead ran through the doorway to the balcony. He launched himself forwards off of the edge, freefalling towards the grass alongside Thrándurin Hall's southern wall of amalgamated stone and tree.

Using magic he deadened the speed of his fall as he neared the ground, allowing him to gracefully step down into the short, soft grass and sprint uninterrupted towards the towering building two hundred feet away, directly opposite Thrándurin Hall on the plateau. He did not care to glance around the rest of the open courtyard-like square that he passed through – he merely barrelled onwards towards the nesting hall, anticipation threatening to overwork his furiously beating heart.

He passed through the high, open arch and sighted Saphira lying down, curled up as if to protect something precious, in the first alcove on the left of the hall. While it was slightly smaller than Thrándurin Hall, the elves' eye for beauty in nature had not left it untouched. The main floor and outer walls were polished stone, like most of the buildings making up the acropolis that had been developed. However, everything above ground was wood – the inner walls, rooms, steps, and second story landings.

The room straight down the hall from the entrance was actually insulated with a thick layer of stone, and within it Eragon knew there lay a stockpile of two hundred and forty-one eggs of various colours and sizes. Despite the protection the walls afforded them, Eragon could sense even from that distance the relatively small beings that were the hatchlings within them. And in a room hidden directly beneath, about fifty feet underground, the one hundred and thirty-six Eldunarí from the Vault of Souls – along with the hundreds more that had been in Galbatorix's possession – lay resting, observing, and healing their kin.

The total number of Eldunarí they had recovered from Urû'baen after the former king's defeat amounted to four hundred and ninety. While all of them had become fatally violent and hostile due to their corruption during and confusion following their release, nearly four hundred had now been subdued and at least partially restored by their peers. Help was also common from Eragon, Saphira, Blödhgarm, and two or three older, more experienced elves who well remembered times of peace in Alagaësia, long before the Riders' fall at the hands of Galbatorix. Glaedr spent much of his time now with the rest of his Eldunarí companions, attempting to relieve the confused inner turmoil of the most hardened dragons.

The metallic, dragon-headed humanoid construct housing the Eldunarí of Cuaroc once again kept vigil over his Eldunarí companions in the hidden room – similar to his time in the Vault of Souls. In the egg hall above this hidden room, two elves were to watch and care for the eggs at all times. In the event that one of them hatched, they would be transferred to one of the semi-private alcoves off of the main hallway, where they could safely rest and be looked after when not outside hunting or flying.

It was a hotly debated topic among the seven-person Dragon Haven Rider Council as to whether it was wise to raise the wild dragons in such partial captivity, even briefly. However, it was by majority vote amongst all twenty-one non-dragon inhabitants of the island – including Eragon's (and therefore Saphira's) – that they hesitantly agreed that it would be best to make the hatchlings aware of the presence and importance of the creatures and caretakers through gentle introduction and gradual developmental aid. It had been difficult to sway the argument in their favour, but Eragon had argued that this way there would be reduced hostilities between the hundreds of dragons destined to live in the wild and the twenty-six currently fated to hatch for a Rider – as well as the people inhabiting the island.

Eragon approached Saphira in the nearest alcove, the floor of which was lined with a layer of earth and pulled grass and leaves. The massive window provided a magnificent view of the northern mountains and the forests that lay beneath them. Above, the blue sky was littered with cottony strands of cloud. And as if to complete the majesty of the image before him, Saphira was humming. It was a deep, ethereal sound that always sparked a sense of wonder and amazement within him, and this time was no different. In fact, it sounded to Eragon like her happiest song yet.

As he walked around her flank and neared the tip of her snout, he saw it – a polished blue-green stone that glistened with lifelike intensity, furthered by the light reflecting off of Saphira's beautiful blue scales. Eragon knew it was no rock, for he had mistaken Saphira's egg for one back in the Spine and his home in Carvahall before she hatched. The egg now lying in Saphira's protection appeared to be nearly twice the size of her egg as it had appeared to Eragon. He stood there gazing at the blue-green egg, paralyzed by a mix of joy and awe as Saphira continued singing to her future offspring.

Finally Eragon felt words return to his mind, and he managed, "Nuanen…"

That it is, little one… and there is even greater news to be shared. As they connected their mental link even further, Eragon was overwhelmed by a giddy, relieved sensation. Never before had he experienced from her that kind of feeling to that extent, not even during their reunions following Eragon's solo ventures back from Helgrind and to Farthen Dûr.

"What is it, Saphira? You're shaking!" he said, chuckling as he noticed her tail twitching rather violently.

Little one… this hatchling is to be paired with a Rider. She stilled with the release of this information and was silent, anticipating his reaction.

Once more Eragon was awestruck to the point of speechlessness. He sank to his knees in recognition of how much this fact meant to Saphira – that eventually she would be training her own child. As happy tears spilled from his eyes, he knelt and touched his forehead to the egg. It was smooth and warm, and through the shell he felt the undeniable presence of a dormant being, ferocious and serene and majestic. On an impulse, he formed a sentence in his mind.

In the Ancient Language he spoke, aloud and mentally, "Kvetha, fricai. Atra esterní ono thelduin, skulblaka". While not a particularly unique blessing, he felt that he had been able to convey it with a loving sincerity that would express for him what he could not express in words. The egg seemed to grow hot at his words, and he slowly lifted himself away from it, smiling.

"When will you allow us to keep it with the others in the storage room?" he asked Saphira.

I would lay here for an eternity if I could, urging him to hatch so I may witness his birth and growth.

"You know it's a male already?"

I can sense his mind, although I cannot reach into it. Even if I could I would leave him be so as not to influence him before he has a chance to witness the world himself. She began humming again as Eragon paused, thoughtful.

Is it normal for dragons to feel so attached to their offspring? I was under the impression that there was not as strong a sense of family as this…

Hearing his thoughts, Saphira paused as well before responding. I cannot say for sure whether this is normal. From what I have seen of the Eldunarí's memories, offspring have been cared for somewhat passively, without active assistance in hunting or flying, but from afar – I suppose it would be best to say they have been watched and protected but little more.

But you feel strongly about him, don't you?

She was uneasy about the implied irregularity of the situation. Yes, I do. I feel a need to care for him almost as your family cared for you as you grew into the boy who discovered my egg. I feel a need to care for him as any human mother should, and I feel as if I owe it to Fírnen… she stopped, a sudden realization derailing her current train of thought. I want him to know… I need him to know.

Eragon was quiet for a few minutes, thoughts racing once more. Last night he had privately acknowledged the truth in Saphira's wisdom – he could not withhold communication with his friends any longer. As much as it pained him to imagine seeing them so artificially, he knew he was on the verge of ignoring his duty in stubbornly refusing to scry with them. As he had agreed, he had enchanted mirrors for Orik and Nasuada with which they could scry him as they pleased, under the condition that he be allowed to settle and contact them first. It was his way of avoiding the inevitable, painful conversations that would plague the rest of his long life. Now though he was beginning to realize he was only making it harder for everyone.

Arya had not asked for such a mirror, although he suspected she would not have objected. In the end he neglected to give her one, only so that his final farewell would feel as true as possible. Saphira's mention of Fírnen was now beginning to make him regret this decision.

The Urgal war chief Nar Garzhvog had not requested one either, although that was just as well to Eragon.

The two that he had enchanted he had linked to both of his own: one hanging on the wall to the left of the fairth, towards the balcony, and one on a movable stand to be placed in his office during meetings. He had used neither of them so far, although some Council elves had proposed meeting to communicate with Nasuada about the state of affairs in Alagaësia. While Eragon had persuaded them to wait until Riders were sent to Dragon Haven, he knew he would be hard pressed to make them wait much longer. The mirror in his quarters he had covered with a simple dark blue curtain – one of the few decorations in his room – that kept it out of sight, and consequently out of mind.

Will you contact Queen Nasuada and tell her of the news? pleaded Saphira.

Eragon's stomach knotted and his breathing quickened with his heart. He felt anything but prepared to see Nasuada's dark skin and strong, almond-shaped eyes, let alone hear her clear and confident voice chastise his lack of communication. They had parted on understanding terms, although he had left her with a magical conundrum he had refused to participate in solving, and she might now add that to the list of things to berate him about.

Saphira's desperation to share the news with Fírnen was so startlingly strong that Eragon felt himself distraught about not contacting his friends as much as he was about going through with it.

"I will. I don't really have a choice in the matter, if you are to plead with me like this," he stated, resignedly. A sense of relief washed over him as she flicked her tail, pleased.

Thank you, Eragon. I think this will do you good as well. Perhaps we shall hear news of young Riders soon to be sent to us!

Growing more and more anxious by his agreement, he bade farewell to Saphira and the egg but maintained their mental connection as he returned to Thrándurin Hall to meet with the Council.

As he approached the door to his office he saw Blödhgarm outside of it, awaiting his arrival with a polite grin.

"I have heard the news, Eragon. It is a joyous occasion indeed," he commented after performing the traditional elven greeting, to which Eragon responded in kind.

"That it is, friend. And Saphira has convinced me to scry Nasuada later today."

"It is about time!" Blödhgarm said with a chuckle. "I'm sure the Council will be happy to converse with her as well!"

Eragon hesitated. "I'm not certain that's a good idea yet. I'd like to speak with her in private first, so that we may establish our connection and discuss our circumstances on both ends before opening up to a tedious, formalized meeting."

Blödhgarm did not show any sign of disappointment but instead asked, "Shall we postpone the meeting, then? The elder elves may not appreciate the mismanagement you would be displaying, however if you believe it would be best to wait until after you have had adequate time to speak with her, then I will back your decision."

"Yes, I would prefer to avoid talking about the trivialities of what we are to do with the Riders that come to us until after we know when they will be coming to us. As always, I appreciate your support, Blödhgarm-elda," he replied, acknowledging the wolf-like elf's loyalty and support that had helped win him many a debate within the Council.

The elf nodded and Eragon opened the door, stepping inside and down the single step towards the half-circular table where five elves were situated quietly. Standing in the center, Eragon formally acknowledged each of them individually from left to right: Invidia, Renjin, and Tergan left of center; Yaela, Hilna and Blödhgarm on the right. Of the six, Invidia, Tergan, Yaela and Blödhgarm had been his and Saphira's personal guard in Alagaësia. They were the only ones of the nine who accepted his invitation to the Council, and so he had looked to the elders Renjin and Hilna to fill out the Council and provide the wisdom of age and experience that the others - while quite skilled and experienced themselves - lacked in comparison.

As Eragon seated himself in the largest, middle seat at the table, Renjin's thin voice sounded. In the Ancient Language he asked, "What would you speak with us today, Eragon-finiarel?" While his expression betrayed nothing other than calm and respect, the honorific he used suggested he still thought of Eragon as young and inexperienced, whilst acknowledging his promising abilities. Saphira had thought it a sly way to insinuate that he looked down on Eragon, particularly because he remained the only elf to address him as anything other than "Eragon-elda" or "Shadeslayer". Blödhgar speculated that due to his age - which, in years, all had lost count of after four hundred - he felt entitled to the freedom to address those younger than him as such. Still, it was hard to tell, and as he usually presented counterarguments to the topics of discussion, he gave Eragon an unpleasant feeling in his gut every time he thickened the debates.

The other elves looked to Eragon as he responded impassively (in the Ancient Language), "With your understanding I would move to postpone this meeting until this evening, whereupon I shall have several pieces of news to present and discuss." As he waited for the words to settle in, the relatively young, silver-haired Yaela inquired from his immediate left:

"What is it that you anticipate that you cannot share with us now, Eragon-elda?" As she looked at him, her sky blue eyes seemed to sparkle with anticipation.

"I apologize for my temporary secrecy but until I know more regarding the matter I do not believe it would be meaningful to discuss it. Please trust that once I have had time to assess the matter in greater detail we can discuss it freely." His voice was steady but he was not certain his words would be welcome to their pointed ears.

Yaela turned away, her eyes betraying a sense of satisfaction as Hilna, the dark-grey-haired elder female, spoke up:

"While it does not please me to have information withheld, I trust that you have sound reason to do so, and as you have hereby sworn through the Ancient Language that you shall reveal the matter to us at a later time, I believe we can adjourn our meeting now and continue as you see fit tonight." Her gaunt features remained impassive but Eragon knew the statement was sincere, and he silently pledged to thank her for her trust in him. Especially considering he had the power to freely break his spells and oaths in the Ancient Language, although no one in Dragon Haven knew that except him and Saphira.

Renjin did not oppose this, however he adjourned the meeting by flatly stating, "I will accept your terms, Eragon-finiarel. We shall meet again tonight, following our evening meals."

With that, the elves stood and they all exchanged customary pleasantries as they left one by one, Renjin first. Yaela stayed back until only Blödhgarm and Eragon remained as well. Then she turned to Eragon and the excitement that he had seen in her eyes was even more vivid.

"You intend to scry them, don't you?" she asked, a hopeful smile gracing her thin lips.

Eragon was always pleased with her positive, hopeful nature on the rare occasion that she let it shine through. He considered the wisdom of sharing even that much information with her, but she was trustworthy and had already figured out the basics.

"I intend to scry High Queen Nasuada and speak with her about the current circumstances in both our lands," he said.

She appeared pleased, although the reaction was beyond subtle. Her wavy silver hair glistened in the sunlight streaming in from the deep, single window on the right side of the office. She was beautiful, even by elven standards, and Eragon knew that many of her hopes lay with the status of the spellweaver Laufin, who had also been a part of his and Saphira's magical guard in Alagaësia. On the rare occasion they were not actively supporting or protecting the two of them with their fellow spellweavers, Eragon had noticed that Yaela and Laufin had attempted to spend most of their free time together, often just sitting and resting next to one another. What else lay in their relationship he could not tell, as these observations had been made rarely and only briefly in passing. Whatever they shared, he understood Yaela's interest in the idea of contacting Nasuada. As Laufin was protected from scrying in Du Weldenvarden, she hoped to hear news of him through Eragon's contact with the Queen.

She nodded in thanks and departed through the open door, and Blödhgarm smiled coyly as he turned to Eragon as well.

"Is she the only one you intend to speak with today?"

"I haven't yet decided. It may very well depend on the direction our conversation takes."

"You had a troubling dream last night, Eragon. I could sense your sorrow, your fear... after all, I am like a wolf," said the elf. "But do not fear to speak with me about your troubles. I may not be able to understand the capacity of the link between you and Saphira, but I can offer you my ears and my words in exchange for your troubles. You are far too great in both skill and character to be left alone in a time of need." His final words could have meant several things and Eragon was sure all of them were true to an extent.

"I appreciate it, Blödhgarm, but perhaps it can wait at least until I no longer have the impending conversation with the Queen on my mind."

"So be it, Shadeslayer," he nodded, using the less personal title as if to declare a sense of detachment from Eragon's struggles. Blödhgarm left the room, and closed the decorated wooden door behind him, leaving Eragon to himself with the entire afternoon to try to reach Nasuada.

He left his office and once more passed through the illusive door that led to his personal quarters. Having not eaten yet, he grabbed a chunk of stale bread from a travel pack lying on a table near the doorway to the balcony, and he nibbled on it as he meditated. He wished to calm his thoughts so that he may appear to Nasuada as clear-minded and confident as he was expected to be. After half an hour of silence, save for the leaves rustling overhead and the wind gently shifting the trees ever so slightly, he walked up to the curtain concealing the wall next to his fairth, and drew it back carefully, revealing an ornate oval mirror shining his own image back at him. Two round sapphire stones were fitted into the top and bottom of the tall oval, in the golden-trimmed frame. He realized he had forgotten to shave, and so spoke the phrase that removed his stubble before staring deep into the mirror.

With Saphira's tired but joyful humming resonating in the back of his mind, he called forth the words of the scrying variation that would allow him to not only see but converse with the Queen of Alagaësia.

The reflective surface of the glass dulled and the colours swirled until all was black, and then a bright stone wall appeared, some fifteen feet from where Eragon was peering into the room from. Draped from near the top of the wall were the banners of the Varden, interrupted by a small window off to the left. A table stood against the wall underneath the window, and he could see various maps and scrolls and parchments littered across it. He saw a shadow move across the floor in front of the table, and with a gasp, Queen Nasuada strode over towards the mirror.

"Long time no see, Your Majesty," stated Eragon boldly.

Nasuada was visibly shocked by his appearance and his bold initiation, but she recovered quickly and her wide lips curved into a broad smile.

"It has been far too long, Eragon."

And there you have it, folks. What has come to pass in the first year of Nasuada's reign? What news will she have of Arya and the state of the Dragon Rider Order? How will Eragon react to what he learns?

There is much left to write in terms of creating this new part of Eragon's world, but despite this I hope I can pick up the pace within the next two or three chapters. Otherwise this fanfic may take forever to write, as I already intend it to span a considerable amount of time (say, a century or two)...

I must attend to more pressing university affairs in the coming week, so I regret to inform you that save for a procrastination-inspired edit, I cannot afford the time to continue writing this week. The absolute earliest I can have a chapter out for you wonderful people is probably late next weekend, so may your swords stay sharp until then!

-kms