Chapter Six: The Twisting Path
Veor and the wagon driver had travelled further and further from Illirea towards the Spine, and the Palencar valley. They had travelled for about a month, the cold had only grown worse as they travelled, storms became more and more frequent. Finally they had reached their rendezvous, a small tavern hidden deep within a forest, the building was made of cold grey cobblestone, and spruce wood, a small chimney rose from the roof constructed of wood and hay, snow plastered the sides of the building, and the small glass windows barely let any light through, as Veor stepped inside he found himself reminded of the tavern in which all his troubled had begun. After a month Veor had grown quite used to the passing thoughts at the edge of his conscious mind.
The true issue he found lay within the sense of ominous stillness of the world around him. Veor had observed history, sometimes from afar and sometimes by being involved, he could feel the patterns within it. He had found that history acted like a storm, there was a long silent tension, then the thunder in the distance, and then within moments one was trapped within waves of destruction, lightning and rain would come down, and then once again there would be silence, the calm of the eye, before once again the plunge back into insanity.
This was a moment of silence. The true issue was in Veor's mind, that the pressures built up, were the pressure to be relieved in some places, then the Storm wouldn't be as destructive. The more one tried to suppress the storm the worse it would be. Now Veor sensed that once again the world was heading towards a destructive storm, and he felt, deep down, that he would have a part to play in it, be that part hero or villain, he did not know.
Du Fell Edoc'sil was beautiful, it was created out of marble, and gold. Large pillars rose to meet arching boat-like roofs, it was in a way as if the city had been built to mirror the greater parts of each culture's styles. Beyond this the great Dragon Home lacked any clear way up if one was not a rider, the only entrance was on wing. There were great rooms carved into the mountain, covered by floodgates, a place for the dragons to rest, and land. Tall white walls grew up around the city, small round towers appeared every so often to defend the place from any assailants.
The place did not go close to rivaling the Vroengard of old, but it was still beautiful and magnificent beyond compare in modern times.
A Large lake of azure water sat on a cliff, forged from this were two waterfalls that ran down the mountainside to the bottom of the city, where once again the two separate waterfalls converged into a large clear pool.
The smaller lake at the bottom of the city seemed to provide water for swimming in, while the lake at the city top provided drinking water.
Myrker watched as the dragons danced in the fading sunlight, their scales shining like the most beautiful of jewels, as they spun and twirled through the sky chasing after each other, below riders and some non-riders waited in the city, sparing or talking. Some had rider swords, others lacked weapons entirely, there was a middle group who held weapons of different types and sizes, but still lacked the blade's of the riders.
Two large dragons came out of the air next to Myrker, he watched the purple and gold dragon fly by him at his side, the two riders were both non-human, one was an urgal, whose horns were curling into the air, his features were sharper though, and his eyes were dark brown. The other rider was a dwarf, he had a darkly colored beard and piercing grey eyes. The riders signalled for Umaroth and Myrker to head towards the fortress far below, specifically to the room that Myrker presumed was a landing ground and home for the dragons.
Torr and Soha rode quickly along the mountain pass, the thin and winding roads covered in snow, the two wore black cloaks over their garments in hopes of keeping themselves warm. The winds blew hard and fast making it hard to hear, the two lay flat to the back of their horses, surrounded by craggy cliffs of stone. Soha pulled the cowl of her cloak up over her head once again, her clothing was soaked through, and cold frost covered it, the same was true of Torr's clothing.
The winter's cold weather forced the two to slow their pace, as they headed through the mountains. Soha's breath turned to mist as they rode, Torr seemed more comfortable for no clear reason. As the wind shifted it became even harder to hear the world around them, ice covered the stone rode, making the horses slip every so often. Soha looked over at Torr, her expression filled with worry, the storm had only been getting worse, and she wasn't sure they could get through it without losing the horses, if not their own lives.
Veor sat in the room, the warm fire spreading light across the room, Veor himself had become comfortable, his clothes were drying off thanks to the fire, and he himself didn't really mind the cold weather. The wagon driver had rested the horses, and Veor had brought the eggs into the room, setting them down at the table. The hooded man entered the room, his red-brown eyes were more clear this time, cutting through the empty tavern. The man was well dressed this time, he wore once more a dark cloak, but beneath that he was in a darkly colored tunic with some silver-engravings.
"I half expected you to have died in the attempt." The man's words were softly spoken, but it seemed to Veor that he had wits as sharp as a rider's blade.
"Now if I did that I wouldn't get payed, would I? I brought you two eggs." Veor said, he knew the man had sworn an oath in the ancient language, but still there was something about the man that seemed untrustworthy. I've met untrustworthy people before, but this is different. Everyone else was just a normal person he feels like more than that, as if to him all of this is just a game.
"You lost the third egg then." The man said calmly, his eyes flitted to Veor's sword, and then to the eggs.
"There was a problem that was unexpected, two members of the Varda-Gramarye caught up with us, found the barn I was hiding in, I used my magic to protect two of the eggs, but the third was lost." Veor lied, his eyes remained still, he himself remained calm, sitting up straight, his hands were laced, his elbows rested on the table.
"I see. Very well, I shall sell the eggs, and I will alert you when the wealth can be given to you." The man said his face hidden by the shadows once more.
"I suppose that will have to do. One last question though, what is your name?" Veor said, his interest had been peaked by the odd man, who seemed to Veor, neither Elf, Man, nor any other creature Veor knew of.
"My name. Very well, I am Wyrda." The man said coolly, the name was clearly fake, Veor knew its meaning, the importance of the name was clear, as was his meaning by saying it.
"An interesting name to have to be sure." Veor replied, the man's comment was bold. It was in fact almost a claim to godhood, the word Wyrda was from the ancient language, it's meaning in that tongue was Fate, a meaning that made it extremely clear that the man both knew the Ancient Language, and that he considered everything going on to be some kind of game.
"Now, I am curious. When exactly did the dragon hatch?" The man said smiling politely as he leaned back in his chair.
"I don't know what you mean."
"I'm sure you don't. Now, where is it."
"Like I said, I don't know what you mean."
The man sighed, quietly, his red eyes flashed with frustration, "I think you do, you should cover the mark better. The gedwëy ignasia is the mark of the riders. I would expect something better from you Vëor."
Veor move back, shocked at the use of his real name. A name he hadn't heard for centuries, it was not his True Name, no that was something he had kept hidden deep within the darker recesses of his mind, Vëor was the name was his name at birth a name given to him. He had used it for a while, but it was hard for the less educated to spell, he had thought to switch it to 'Veyar' but after a fight a young fool, with an awful memory had referred to him as Veor, the name had stuck. He found it to work just as well as any other name and used it more often. "Fine, she's waiting outside to burst in and begin to tear you apart."
The man turned to the window, Veor smiled leaping backwards, he landed on his feet and began to run towards the door. He felt the fear in the dragon's mind, he reached out trying to reassure her that she would be fine, but he felt the falseness in his reassurances.
As he ran he swore, he could see Wyrda just standing there, with a smug grin on his face, as if everything so far was just a game, as if Veor was his pawn in a long drawn out game Veor wouldn't understand.
The horse Veor grabbed from the stables was frightened as they rode away, Veor did his best to reassure it that he was a friend. He saw the dark blue shape running through the trees by his side. They rode as quickly as they could for as long as they could, through the forests to the edge of the spine, there they set up a camp and rested. Veor rested against the dark blue dragon, her scales were rough, and uncomfortable, but they provided great warmth. The dark clouds above seemed to let loose a blizzard on them, as if to wipe them from the earth. He had chosen a place with enough trees to keep the storm from causing too much damage to the horse, him, or the dragon.
Myrker's training was easy enough to him, simple tasks like moving stones, and fighting others with his blade. He was much faster and stronger than he had remembered, but he was fighting elves, and other riders, making the task just as hard despite his skill with the blade. He found he had many bruises on him when he went to his room, still it was good to be among others who were just as skilled with a blade as him. Umaroth.
Yes, Myrker.
Many of these people are fully trained, why do they remain here instead of going out into the world to insure justice, and order.
Perhaps there is a greater plan. Perhaps Eragon fears for them. I would wait to oversee these events.
How can I wait, there are riders here who aren't anything, people who do not belong among the riders, but against them. Villains so vile that they can't be respected at all.
I cannot tell you anymore Myrker, things are how they are. Unless you are ready to change these things I suggest you accept them.
Myker fell silent, Am I ready? Could I really change anything here, He asked himself as he lay awake on his bed, No, not yet, but soon. Very soon. He decided as he began to drift off into sleep.
Torr and Soha sheltered in a small cavern, they had lit a fire in the center, and were well sheltered from the snow. Soha sat against the wall, she had removed the cold wet cloak, and had placed a blanket over herself. Torr simply sat near the fire. He let out a small laugh, "This was an awful idea wasn't it."
"That summarizes it, very very briefly."
"I guess we get to sit in a cave then, hoping the snow stops before we starve."
"I guess we do."
"Please say something sarcastic."
"So now you want me to be sarcastic?" Soha said smiling as she looked up at Torr.
"Well, the other option is that you're dying so, yes I would."
"I'll be fine. I just need sleep, and not to freeze." Soha said, resting her head against the cavern's wall. She brought the blanket close around her, trying to find warmth in the cold. The shadows seemed to fade away as Torr watched her fall asleep, he smiled as he leaned back against the wall. His skin was cold, as were his clothes, numbingly cold, but still, it wasn't such a bad night. Maybe if they were lucky the storm might even clear up.