THE DRAGON RIDERS
CHAPTER FOUR: INTERRUPTED TRAVELS
Eragon stirred slightly as he woke. He sat up absent-mindedly, rubbing his face wearily with feeble hands. His eyes felt as if a bright light was being shone into them directly, for he had only enjoyed a few hours of restless sleep. The sharp throbbing in his head had resided to a dull ache, feeling like a person was lightly driving their knuckle into his temple. For a few peaceful moments, he sat there, not thinking of where he was and what had happened to him over the past sixteen hours or so. But then it dawned on him, and an ache similar to the one in his head formed inside of his chest. He thought of Murtagh, and of Garrow, and of the six-limbed creature, the dragon that had brought all of this upon him. His mind worked slowly no matter how fast Eragon had tried to speed up his train of thoughts. And then his thoughts came to the elf named Arya, remembering her pale, red-tinted features, her slanted eyebrows, her long, thin neck and jaw, her thin arms, and her red hair that seemed to flow with nature itself. The thought of the elf's characteristics warmed his insides and helped subdue the ache in his chest. Eragon began to open his eyes but clutched at them when the rays of the sun, that had set over Palancar Valley for fifteen years, illuminating life itself, clawed at his watery eyes. He began to stand up when he realized the weakness in his body. He had just woken up. How could he expect to start running like a mad man?
Suddenly, a great surge of energy rushed into Eragon, coursing through his blood, all the way from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. It felt as if a great gust of wind had swept through his very soul. His muscles flexed slightly, his tremors stilling, and the pain in his eyes had vanished. He opened them finally, welcoming the day, feeling that he could run a hundred kilometers if he wanted to. There sat before him was the elf, a compassionate smile touching her animalistic features. Eragon allowed himself a smile as well, though for reasons he was not entirely sure about. The swimming blue eyes held him in place, for he was transfixed this feature of the elf more than any other. Finally she said "We must get going. I had planted some supplies on the way to your home, so that we may make use of it on the way back. Galbatorix won't know yet of a knew Rider, and we best make our dash for Ellesmera while he is oblivious to you and me. Still, he has many military outposts stationed throughout the Empire, and it would be best to stay out of sight for the day. Being this far north and close to Du Weldenvarden, we shouldn't encounter any, but he has been known to send small parties of twenty or so to check up on the activities of the peoples of this section of Alagaesia. Those people would be the Wandering Tribes, a nomadic group who travel to the most dangerous and desolate lands of Alagaesia, seeking out a better life. Their ancient family roots, however, prevent them from pursuing the life they love; travelling. Still, they would not bother us, and I think if we are smart and quick, we should reach Du Weldenvarden in at least four weeks. But once we are within the trees of Du Weldenvarden, we shall not fear any sort of attack, for the elves are the only race that will not betray one another for personal gains, especially within our own race. But you will understand that in due course. Let us ride. I had arranged during my venture to Palancar Valley that two horses would remain for us in this spot. They were bound by magic, so they should still be here and well." She got up and turned around, resuming to read something that she had apparently been previously immersed in. Eragon let his gaze linger over her before he caught himself and began to fold up the blankets.
Eragon surveyed where they were. He had not really studied his surroundings intensely when he had been up but a few hours ago. He now saw young trees with light bark encircling their encampment. The leaves had begun to adopt the traditional colors of red, yellow, and orange and every other shade of those colors. Small bits of ashes had flew out into the trees, giving them a burnt demeanor. A few vibrant leaves flew from a branch to his right, scattering about as a fairly large, gleaming animal had jumped from the trees. He only got a glimpse of it. Directly to his right was a small break in the forest, through which expanded an endless array of varying colors and shrubs, along with dried grass and trampled, cracked, fallen trees. Through that opening he saw a small, green leaf fall lightly with the wind, as if it was a true part of the world. It slowly set onto the ground. It thrummed with life, even though Eragon knew it was dead. Within the depths of that leaf he saw himself somehow, his mind going blank as it had when he had touched the golden dragon's stone. What he saw, though, was not a person, but rather feelings; feelings of loneliness, sadness, lifelessness, and many other sobering and depressing facts. The falling leaf seemed to represent the passing of a life, a very unhappy and hard life, where one had lost all and yet still owed all. The thoughts made Eragon's eyes water. He quickly came back to reality, trying to forget the weight of the emotions on that leaf. He flinched as a small trinket of cotton from the trees fell on his shoulder. He examined the waving thread of silk, admiring it. He looked up finally. The exuberant colors of the trees seemed to resonate with nature, a life-like heart beating within them. The light glimmered with the colors of the forest. casting glints of green and red specs throughout the floor of their campsite. The beauty was so astounding that unexpected emotion clogged Eragon's chest. He regretfully let his eyes wander down ward to his bed and began to re-organize.
Within the next half hour, he had packed the sleeping materials, pots, forks and knives, and various pouches into a few leather, ragged looking packs. Arya, on the other hand, had left him alone to do the work, going down the path they had travelled, covering their tracks and murmuring inaudible words as she walked. Eragon allowed this temporary solitude to reexamine his thoughts. He was one of the legendary Dragon Riders, this person, no, this elf that had attacked him was actually a friend, and that Galbatorix had managed to eliminate five Riders through dark and twisted magic. He trusted Arya, though, no matter how many doubts scurried in his head. She said in the Ancient Langauge that she meant him no harm, and that one could not lie in that language, as Eragon had found out. He still had many questions, though, about the Riders, Galbatorix, the mysterious rebel group known as the Varden, and above all, the dwarves. Tales of elves were common in Carvahall, for they were neighbors to the east in past centuries. But the dwarves had always remained in the south; where they resided Eragon had no idea in the slightest. The only object that he could associate with the dwarves was the word stone, but he only recalled it vaguely, as if it was distant land that he had heard passively. Eragon sat down, wondering about all of this. It was too much to take in so suddenly. He had always wanted to know more, but this much at one time was a daunting prospect. All the while, Eragon wondered in confusion; he was a stranger in an unknown world. All the while, though, he heard faint whispers in his mind, humming their own thoughts and feelings like a sentient being. The presence was not as foreign as Arya's had been when she had ravaged his mind so brutally, but rather familiar and comforting, yet independent but not entirely individual.
He jumped with a start as he heard the trotting of horses. Eragon froze. Arya had warned of Galbatorix's roving cavalries and military stations. He stared at the spot, fear and anger holding him in place. From the thick brush emerged Arya pulling to steeds along with her. Eragon felt the muscles in his brow relax, the sweat on his face go dry. "Here you go," she said lightly, handing him the reigns to one of the horses with an odd grace. Eragon marvelled at the steed. He had never owned nor ridden one before, or even patted one. He tentatively patted it on the neck, smiling at the feel of owning a horse, at least temporarily. Arya continued. "Put your bags in the packs in the saddle, and let us ride." He made haste and began to pack everything in, and, for the first time in his life, sat upon a tamed horse. He felt a great sense of power inside him, although such a normal experience would not arouse the slightest desire in people of normal wealth. He looked over at Arya, asking "Which way is it to your homeland? All I know is that it is that it takes up the northern chunk of Alagaesia." Arya smiled, her razor like teeth glinting with the suns brightness. Eragon blinked. "You are correct. But do not fret, I shall lead the way. It isn't going to be difficult to get there, and you shall keep me entertained with the hundreds of questions that are hammering your head. I can almost feel the confusion seeping out of you." She began to ride, beckoning him to join her side.
They travelled at a gentle pace, roughly thirty kilometers an hour by Eragon's judgement, although he did not have many teachings in numbers other than basic tutoring by Garrow. Eragon frowned as he thought what his father would say and think when his older son had abandoned his younger brother in such a state. Eragon pushed the poisonous thought from his mind, and, attempting to purge all of his homesickness, he began to pester Arya with questions. He asked first the one that mattered most to him. "Where is the dragon?" He could not conceal the concern on his face. Arya smiled and pointed behind him. He whirled his head around, scanning the path. There it was, a small dragon not much bigger than the dog his brother owned in secret. Its scales glimmered with the sunlight, like the trees had. It yawned, opening its jaws a foot wide, exposing clear white fangs and a red tongue. The teeth sent a shiver down Eragon's spine, thinking of the horror that the dragon could cause if it grew to a great size. He looked at it more intensely, noticing the molten eyes, wide with wisdom and ferociousness. Its pupils studied Eragon like a predator does before it pounces. Eragon noticed as well the blue stone incrusted in its brow, still glinting with all of the shades of blue, shimmering like water. Eragon did not fall into a trance this time, but he was still absorbed in the colors of the stone, and how they contrasted with the dragons golden scales. Noticing him, Arya said "You'll have to name him." Eragon looked back at her, confused. "Dragons are not like ordinary creatures, Eragon; they are immersed in natural magic. It is through their bodies that the wonders of self-perpetuating magic that occur frequently througout Alagaesia form. Through them flows a great amount of magic, and not only is it powerful, it is very influential. It is because of the magic that flows through the dragons' blood that all Riders become immortal." She smiled understandingly as Eragon's features expressed awe and shock. "Yes, it is an amazing peace of magic. If you have ever heard tales of great Riders, do not disregard their dragons at all. In fact, praise them, for they are the instrumental reason that the Riders were capable of great feats of magic and power. Before the pact, the full might of the dragons was hard for them to realize, even among their elders. With the elves and humans, they could channel their energy through them, and therefore release the full might of their magical capabilities. Dragons cannot use magic consciously, for that is to deliberate a process for them to perform. They cannot channel the flow of magic within them on their own, and only rarely they are inspired enough to will the world before them to change. It was with the dragons magic that the spell cast to banish the legion was performed, and has diminished the power of future dragons since, although it was a good price to pay at the time. The magic of the dragons also enhances the capabilities of the Riders they are bonded to, giving them natural yet unnatural gifts of pure power. But I will not speak of all the dragons abilities, for the magic that flows through them and their Riders is not a subject that should be taught to such a young and novice Rider." She finished, the last phrase echoing in Eragon's mind. That will change in due course. He looked back at his golden dragon, wondering what kind of name would be appropruiate. "I do not no of any names of dragons," he said. "Would you give me a few."
And so Arya began, naming Iormungr, Remingnosk, Quar'lan, Yemerstrong, Skystorm, Lefningr, Balntr, Undwic, Veraptun, Wolintree, Delangum, Akorthrind, and finally, Glaedr. "Your dragon is male, so the ones I have mentioned are the most I can name off the top of my head." Only one resonated with Eragon; the very last one. The name felt so majestic, so regal, so proud and powerful, as if it contained a hidden secret behind it. It reverberated throughout his head, pushing out all other thoughts, save for the sound of the name. He looked back at his dragon, feeling that such a name was very fitting for him. He looked back at Arya, saying loudly, "Dragon, I name thee Glaedr!" Arya's eyes widened slightly, although still slanted. "Are you sure you have never heard tales of the Dragon Riders before?" She had a stern gaze held upon him. Eragon thought for a moment. "Not really, maybe a few times when I was very young, but other than that, I can't recall much. Why do you ask?" Arya nodded. "Such is the way of the world. Galbatorix does not want word of the Riders secrets getting out. No, the reason I questioned you was to see if you named your dragon with your heart or with your mind." Eragon's confusion deepened. He tilted his head, a curious gesture. "Glaedr," said Arya very slowly, "is the name of Morthngal's dragon, the first dragon of the Riders order. It is one that no other Rider has dared use bestow upon their own dragon, mainly out of respect for his feats and accomplishments. You two have much to live up to now." She smiled, as did Eragon. What a name, what an honor to have. And I named my dragon without knowledge of Glaedr the first!.
It is both our honor, said a deep voice within his mind. He gasped, fear gripping at his insides. Someone was inside his head, and, as he knew from the previous night, one could examine and control one's mind with such an advantage. Relax, said the deep voice again, sounding very intelligent. It is I, Glaedr, your dragon. Eragon was startled. He had assumed that dragons were more intelligent creatures than any other non human or elf, but he did not think them possible of conscious thought. He queried Arya of this. She smiled again, a sight which Eragon never tired of seeing. "Dragons are, if not even more so, as smart as humans and elves. They can think, predict, reason, determine, distinguish, and above all, feel the feelings of sentient beings such as love, hate, anguish, jealousy, greed, and many others besides. They are not dumb animals with vast stores of powers that the Riders use to get from one place to another. No! They are the most wise, free, and perhaps naturally intelligent beings. We elves absorb knowledge through years of arduous study and training. Although dragon's do train, they are born with their knowledge, and keep learning everyday, week, month, year, decade, and century." This last piece of information startled Eragon. "How long do Dragons live for?" Arya thought for a few moments, then responded. "When joined with their Rider, they will endure forever, the gift of immortality being granted to them as well. As for wild dragons without Riders, I'd venture a guess at about one-hundred-fifty on average. With some luck, a dragon may reach the age of two-hundred, maybe even a few years to a decade more, but beyond that, no dragon can truly live a dragon's life, and they will willingly succumb to death." Eragon shrank from the thought of enduring two-hundred years of life. "How big can they grow?" "They will keep growing until the magic within them starts do fail in power, for it is that which drives the dragons' bodies to grow for over a hundred years or so. For the first year, the dragon will grow at a rapid rate. Thereafter, it gradually grows to such an immense size that the magic within cannot sustain such a large creature and at the same time retain all of its abilities. That is when a dragon will stop growing. Now, for actual size; after the first year, a healthy dragon that trains constantly will be about one-hundred feet from head to tail, and after a whole century, will be, about, three-hundred feet or so from head to tail." Eragon gasped at the magnitude of such strength and size. "But then," he said thinking slowly, "how big is Shruikan, Galbatorix's slave dragon?" Arya looked him straight in the eye. Eragon glanced downwards. "He has enlarged his size and twisted his flow of magic with dark rituals, and has also placed many wards around him. He isn't as large as a fully grown dragon, but his size would still be formidable." Arya paused, then continued. "Many of the current Riders have medium sized dragons, except for the two remaining elders." Eragon continued to think. Shruikan would probably be over three-hundred feet long, and would have an immense bulk. The shear size frightened him, and he wondered how powerful the dragon was. Then another question occurred to him.
"I thought there were always three elders, the three oldest of the Riders order?" Arya's face saddened somewhat. "Since Felwin's death, which was, I believe, twenty-five years ago, I believe, no Rider has passed all levels of training in order to qualify to become an Elder. The training for Riders goes in fifteen year intervals. After the thirtieth year of training, the training of the Riders slows down as they travel for the next fifteen years upholding the laws of the stars above. During those fifteen years, they spend at least one month of training while during the rest, wonder the land and keep order. After this third interval, the Rider will return to his training, another five years to be exact. During those five years, the leader of the Riders would reveal the greatest secrets and pieces of information that the Riders hold most dear. Many things are passed on through the generations, things that many have no knowledge about and would astound even the most educated elves who have lived long and magical lives. After these fifty years of intense study, the Rider would retire and become what is known as Theldrin, a rank which would qualify one to become an Elder if there weren't already three Elders. Other than the two current Elders, there are two Thor'gals, one Thor'quan, which is what a Rider is during his forty-fifth to fiftieth years as a Rider, and one who is about to become a Theldrin, although he will automatically become an Elder as soon as the coronation is over. One of the Thor'gauls is in his thirty-ninth year, so soon there will be two Theldrins along with three Elders. The time to strike back at Galbatorix is fast approaching." Eragon wondered how he'd feel in the presence of so many elder Riders. But then he said "But the two Thorguals won't be there, since they, as you said, travel the land." Arya nodded. She said "One is currently with the Varden, the one in her thirty-fifth year as a Rider. The other is stationed in Surda. It is dangerous for the Elders to send the Riders on separate missions, since Galbatorix was able to pick off five very well trained Riders, even an Elder albeit with some dark magic. But sources of the Varden's situated within the king's Empire report that he is very distracted at the moment, undertaking a great project. His vices are many, but beyond that not much can be determined. He has not deigned to leave his castle ever since Felwin and Leatran had fallen. We might as well make use of his absence while we have the opportunity."
Another thought occurred to Eragon. "You told me that Galbatorix, during his attempted takeover of Alagaesia, he gathered about him twelve minions, correct?" Arya nodded. "Then," Eragon continued slowly, thinking very hard. "What special powers do they have. What made them so special that Galbatorix sought them out?" A shadow passed over Arya's face. The air around Eragon seemed to cool with anger, and even the heartening melody of the birds ceased. "That is not a subject that should be taken lightly. All I will say is that Galbatorix bestowed special powers upon them, like he did with Shruikan, nothing more." Eragon's anger flared. He had a right to know these things. After all, he was a Dragon Rider, and he was going along with this strange elf to a strange land. And he would eventually be fighting alongside other Riders at the gates of Uru'baen, trying to cast down Galbatorix or die trying. Then again, he did not want to question nor anger Arya, for her strength, knowledge, speed, gracefulness, and all of her other qualities astounded him, above all her terrible yet beautiful animalistic features. Besides, he would not want to fight a female elf. Where was the honor in that?
Eager to change the subject, for Arya had become very upset with him mentioning the twelve minions of Galbatorix's, he asked "Will you teach me of magic and swordsmanship? I am a as oblivious to the subtleties of them as any novice can be." Arya also seemed relieved at the change of subject. "Magic is a dangerous subject to undertake this early, since you are so young. Still, it would be prudent to teach you the basics should it prove to be necessary. As for swordsmanship, I do not have a blade for you, and a Rider deserves a proper blade. The sword of a Rider is very symbolic and magical part of equipment. It should not be taken lightly." And so she began to teach him over the next twenty minutes about how to perform spells, how to reach within one's self and feel the flow of magic and energy, channel it, and then how to say the necessary spell. "I will have you practice a few simple words. I can't teach you phrases yet, for you do not have the strength to sustain such powerful spells. In order to stem the flow of energy being poured into the spell, you must withdraw your mind from the flow of magic deep within you. The magic has not yet truly become one with you, so it will be difficult for you to perform magic deliberately. It is very important to stop the flow of energy in a spell if you cannot keep it up. But enough warnings aside, I must see you practice." So she began to teach him many words in the Ancient Language, words like stop, back, fire, break, pain, cut, rise, and many others. She also taught him the names of objects like stone, branch, leaf, tree, dirt, water, fire, and others. Eragon strove to memorize the words he was taught, so later he was able to recite them with ease and efficiency. He excelled in pronunciation, as the words rolled off of his tongue naturally. Arya seemed genuinely surprised with his progress. She had told him not many beginner Riders with so little experience like Eragon had been able to say the words of the Ancient Language so easily after only learning them a few minutes ago. "You are a true Rider, Glaedr chose well," she had said. This heightened Eragon's confidence.
Then, for the first time in his life, he searched for the flow of magic inside of his body. It wasn't anywhere specific, it was just there. He felt it flowing like a great river of power, and, with great pride, said "Infa Brisingr!" Leaf burn. He felt a slight tingling sensation in his right arm, and his Gedwey Ignasia burned slightly. The leaf he had been holding in his hand burst into flames, burning his palm slightly. Eragon yelped and threw the leaf down on the path, grasping his blackened hand. Arya laughed, a sound that reminded him of the rapids in the Anora River in Du Lefs Janear splashing against rocks. The sound was so pleasing and calming, every doubt and fear inside of Eragon subsided to nothing. Eragon felt giddy with joy, a new life forming inside him. But then she stopped and the hard reality of life came back to him. His sadness had never been so great. Arya spoke. "Careful, you have to stem the flow of energy being used during a spell. Concentrate and try again." Eragon did so, this time focusing on restricting the amount of energy he put into the spell. This time, a few small sparks appeared on the leaf, searing it, but other than that, no flame. Eragon crumpled up the leaf, proud of his accomplishment. They rode more slowly now, their speed reduced to a gentle trot so that Eragon could focus. In his head, he heard Glaedr's reassuring compliments, telling him that this was important and that a Rider should be able to do this with ease. Eragon continued, until he could master all of the words that Arya had taught him. The next thing she taught him, however, was extremely challenging. She told him to use more than two words, to make a miniature phrase in order for more powerful and varied spells. At first, he could only light a stone on fire, and after that, not perform any other magic while he was solely focused on one task. But eventually, he was able to light the stone, make it rise, and hurl it at a target. The energy drain on Eragon was not great, but he felt it nonetheless. It was after an hour of intense concentration and spell performing, along with energy conservation and other numerous lessons on the origin of magic and how to not use it and only to use it as a last resort. "There are many branches of magic they I will not speak to you of, for this is neither the place nor the time to do so. The better part of your training involves the study of magic." Eragon understood, although he still yearned to know all.
It is not right for you to know these things of magic said Glaedr through their mental link. Eragon jumped slightly. The dragon had been quiet for a long time. I know, said Eragon, feeling slightly foolish at talking in his mind. Neither of us knows the full extent of our powers. Magic is a dangerous thing, and as Arya just said, it takes the better part of a century to truly understand all there is to know. It would be better to stay content with what I know. I can probably make up a few phrases of my own and see how they work. Glaedr agreed. Even he did not have the proper training to know what kind of powers he possessed. Eragon pondered these thoughts for the duration of the ride, thinking about magic and its deepest roots. Glaedr said Do not let these things corrupt you, Eragon. You must accept that you will not understand all of magic and its connection with dragon's for at least five to six decades. And that is when you will retire, unless Galbatorix still lives. Still, not even the eldest of both of our races, even the ones who are Riders and the dragons of Riders, who have spent hundreds of years studying magic do not know all of its effects. Remember how the great Rider Felwin died; some form of magic inside Galbatorix that most likely came from that place he went with Jarnunvosk in Du lefs Janear. Arya said that the Riders leader, Vrael, is the only one who knows what happened at that time, and has not even shared the knowledge with his fellow Elders. The wisdom of age has not failed him yet. And it will not fail you, only you can fail it. You must learn to grow with the natural order of things, for that is how the gods intended things to be. It will be very long before you know all you desire, and right now you must concern yourself about getting to Ellesmera safe with me, together, whole as Rider and dragon should be. Glaedr's impecable logic and well-reasoned arguments astounded Eragon. The dragon was as wise as any person he had ever encountered before. You're right, I should purge these thoughts from my mind.
Just then, Arya came to a sudden stop. A man had stepped out from the bushes and shouted "Halt! Who goes there, and what is your business in this isolated sector of Alagaesia?" Eragon allowed silent shock to radiate within his head. This man was the same who had come to Carvahall demanding taxes and fealty to King Galbatorix. This must be one of the roving cavalries of Galbatorix's army that Arya told me about. What a coincidence that this is the same man who brought pain and suffering to Carvahall. Eragon wished he could get off his horse right their and stab the bastard through his heart. He clenched his hands. Meanwhile, behind him, Glaedr quickly jumped into the brush, disappearing among the brambles of yellow, green, and red. The path had led onto a road, Eragon had realized. A rough pattern formed over the surface, while one foot trenches were on both sides of the road, separating the forest from it. From the thickness and blur of green, four more men emerged, their swords not drawn, but their hands clenched on the pommels, ready to strike. They all wore thick, shining armor that glinted blindingly with the sunlight. In the crest of the armor there was a small mark, two serpents coiling together. They all had cleaned, oiled helms with a movable mouth peace. On their arms they wore tightened leather bracers, and tightened leather greavers on their shins. On their feet were heavy-duty steel-toe boots, laced up and ripped slightly. They also all wore leather gloves that seemed to Eragon to be resistant to the elements, for they looked as if a tailor had made them yesterday. On their backs were pentagon-shaped shields. The man who had shouted halt had a large, flaming half circle painted in front of his heart. Eragon understood the symbol to mean captain. He stepped forward, and he spoke with thundering finality. His voice commanded power and demanded respect, and was to be given it. He felt Arya contact his mind. Don't do anything at all. I shall attend to them. Eragon wondered how an elf woman would be capable of such a feat. As a man, he had a duty to act with pride, honor, dignity, and many other noble sentiments. "What is this? Hm. Two people wondering this far north in Alagaesia? Now why would you be here when civility is the other way? Running off to join the elves, is that what you were doing. Well tut tut, the elves only except their own kind. Damn scoundrels they are anyway. They have all the resources and power in this world and still they hide like frail little pieces of meat that are too cowardly to step out and fight!" The man spat on the ground. Eragon tensed. Arya was letting these statements go by unpunished. How could she stand their and let them defile her race. "Off to join the Varden, I expect then. Well, it's not going to happen. Get off of your horses and lay down. We'll examine the packs, see what you're hiding in them. Once you swear your oaths of fealty, you'll serve your rightful king until you die in his name while trying to restore this land to peace." Eragon got of his horse, as did Arya, which surprised him.
Everything that happened next was a blur. While getting off of her steed, Arya reached into the depths of her cloak, and with amazing speed, threw several daggers at the five men of Galbatorix's cavalry. The first pierced the captain's armor around his neck, which emitted a spray of blood as he choked and grasped at the weapon. Another dagger also connected with another man, piercing through his armor as well, all the way through his heart and out the other side. Two of the daggers missed. The last grazed the helm of final soldier, who flinched, throwing his hands up to protect himself. By then Arya had drew her sword, and, within a matter of seconds, amid the confusion, cut off the hand of a nearby soldier who had the where-with-all to draw his sword. It went flying towards Eragon, the hand still tight around the swords hilt. Eragon froze, not daring to move, but to spectate. He watched in awe as the remaining soldiers regained their composure and began to spar with Arya. She parried their attacks with apparent ease, blocking, slashing, jabbing, and dancing with such grace that it betrayed her non-humanity. During the fight, her hood fell off, exposing her ears and eyes and face. The two men gasped, shocked that this was an elf outside of Du Weldenvarden. Their momentary lapse in concentration was all she needed. With a swing of her sword, she disarmed the one on the right, his sword catching the other in the head, dazing him. With that she stabbed the one she had disarmed through right through the serpentine symbol, an odd metallic cling emanating from the clash of steel on steel. The second soldier, out of desperation, slashed wildly at Arya, who jumped five feet in the air in order to avoid the fatal blow. She then, in turn, with one single motion with her wrist, beheaded the man, another spurt of blood coming form his severed head and neck. The body staggered for a moment, still alive, then fell with a resounding thud.
The final soldier, who had lost his hand, had edged towards Eragon with his right hand outstretched. Eragon noticed and stepped on the gleaming sword, and said loudly "Letta!" The energy inside of Eragon depleted rapidly, as the soldier furiously tried to resist the spell. After about half a minute, he gave a shudder and succumbed to the spell. Eragon, remembering Arya's lesson, withdrew his mind from the flow of magic within him, and stared down at the frail man at his feet. Eragon knelt down, picked up the sword, hefted it over his head, gave a deep roar of anger, and brought it down upon the man's head, slicing it off with ease. Blood poured onto Eragon's boots, soaking into the hide it was made of. He stepped back hastily, a bitter taste coating his tongue. He surveyed the damage. five bloody bodies lay on the road, a sea of crimson forming along the bank of the road. Eragon leaned against a nearby tree, stunned at his actions. He had never murdered anyone before. He did not know exactly how he felt. He did not even know what compelled him to commit the deed. And then he thought of Arya, and how she had so easily been able to kill five highly trained and well armored men within a few minutes. I think she can take care of herself. She doesn't need me, thought Eragon. I have taken a life. Not an innocent one by any stretch, but still, a life. Eragon felt sickened with himself. He did not know if he would ever raise his hand in violence again if this feeling was the price. It is not your fault, Eragon, said a voice inside of Eragon. He jumped. He had forgotten about Glaedr. I urged you to do it, it is my fault above yours. Through my intentions, I willed your subconsciousness to make you perform the act. It was necessary. You will have to kill again, Eragon. You will not always have the luxury of slaying a foe in the heat of a battle. This is a moral test of strength and fortitude, the first you have had as a Rider. I am sorry that I used magic to make you do this. The last thing Glaedr said shocked Eragon. You used magic? But Arya said that a dragon cannot use magic unless inspiration sweeps through them. I did not feel anything. I should have felt something? Perhaps there is something wrong with our link. Glaedr proved him wrong. No, I concealed my mind from you so you would not be distracted incase you needed to be alert. If you worried about me, the man may have reached his sword and stabbed you. I wasn't going to take that risk, no matter the costs. Eragon smiled, grateful for the dragon's companionship, but the deed still troubled him. He had killed, no, he had murdered. It was a sickening thought.
He jumped as a reassuring hand touched his soldier. It was Arya. "It's all right. The first time is always the worst. It will get easier with time." Eragon grimaced at the thought of being able to kill with no remorse or guilt. "Now help me find their horses so we may steal their supplies, even though we will not need it. Grab the captain's sword as well, it would be handy to have until we reach Ellesmera where a proper Riders sword can be forged." Eragon set off into the brush, finding all seven horses cramped into a small space. His and Arya's had ran to join the others. He emptied the packs of the other horses, which were noticeably bigger and stronger than his and Arya's. He found mostly scrolls, potions, dry foods, and a few drums of water. The most intriguing piece of equipment was a map he found in the captains pouch. It was a detailed section of this part of Alagaesia, showing all the roads and the various military factions stationed throughout the land. Eragon studied it for a few seconds, then stashed it in his own horse and led it along with Arya's back to the horrific scene of the fight. Arya had washed her blade with magic, using magic also to push the bodies into a small ditch where only someone with interest to go down their would find. Ravens and vultures circled overhead, screeching to their brethren about this new food source. From behind Eragon emerged Glaedr, his regalness magnified by the sunlight. There was an air of self-importance coming from his strut. Eragon laughed, despite the feeling of crushing weight on his soldiers. Suddenly he felt very fatigued from the day, his knees buckling. He had been riding all day and had not had a chance to stretch his limbs at all. He felt something, then. It felt like an icy cold wind going right through him. He felt his legs strengthen and his tremors and fear subside. He looked up. There was Arya, a fatigued expression upon her brow. "Thank you," said Eragon, feeling sorry for costing her her own energy. Yes, thank you, added Glaedr. Arya smiled weakly at the dragon, then asked Eragon what he had found. He told her of the map and of the various potions and scrolls, all of which were placed into Arya's pack. She cradled the map, saying that it was a valuable piece of paper. Finally, Eragon explained how Glaedr had used magic. Arya was flabbergasted. "In all my years, I have never heard of a dragon using magic at such an early age. It is rare and extremely extraordinary. You are living up to your namesake, Glaedr." The golden dragon was extremely pleased with the compliment, so much that Eragon felt it himself. Lightened of the burden of having to clean up the bloody mess, he hopped on his horse, anxious and excited to ride on and start his training as a Dragon Rider.
Arya also got on her horse, and they began to ride again. Glaedr continued to run behind them, claiming that he wanted and needed the exercise if he was going to be a great dragon. Eragon smiled, grateful for the elf and his company. With Glaedr happy, he was happy. It was a friendly cycle. But again his thoughts turned to his brother Murtagh, and his father Garrow. He could only wonder how he had reacted, and how his brother was recuperating with limited medicinal supplies. He wondered how they would complete the harvest and how they would get food and still find time to rest. Eragon pushed the thoughts away again reluctantly when Glaedr intervened. The cost of having all of this power was that which he held most dear. Eragon then drew the sword of the fallen captain, examining it closely. It glinted in the light, shining silver with the sun. the hilt was wooden with strips of leather wrapped around it for grip. It was fairly light, yet flexible and strong. As much as he loved the weapon, he despised it, for it had slew the master blacksmith of the town, Horst, a man who had always been good to Eragon. He wished he had picked up a lesser weapon of one of the other four men, no matter how much blood was on them, for the personal death did not stain them. And he rode one, leaving behind him a trail of acidic thoughts behind him.
From the hilltop, the creature surveyed the two horses a kilometer or so away, wondering how best it would be to catch them. Its keen eyesight allowed it to depict an elf and a human, along with a golden dragon. To its left was its partner, equally ugly and putrid smelling. "They are travelling ssslow, now is the time to pick them off." The one on the right agreed solemnly. It's black ragged cloak billowed with the cold wind. It's skeletal hands clenched into a fist. "Yessss, they would not think to find one of usss this close to Du Weldenvarden." Their voices sounded like a person being strangled and a snake hissing at the same time. One would wonder how they could breathe. "The boy will be the easy target, but he is not the one we are afterrr." A plume of air from the creatures face travelled to the tree above them, shielding them from the suns violent rays. The leaves crumpled and turned brown, dying at the contact of such a fatal stench. "The elf," said the one on the right, getting angry, "isss what we'll have to eliminate first. After that, we'll have fresh meat to gorge ourssselves with." With that, they jumped with amazing speed and ran into the forest, intent on destroying their two ancient foes.
