Shenkuu grew quickly, and within two weeks his size tripled. He was as tall as Archayne now, more agile and stronger. Nature, or perhaps his ancestry, or perhaps both, had gifted him with a keen mind and deadly agility. He was thinner than the other male dragons, but lither. He could twist himself in ways the rest could only dream of, prancing from place to place with the grace of a dragonfly. He was not strong, though. The other dragons could easily overpower him in a battle of brute strength, but battles are rarely reliant solely on strength. Besides, he could gain their bulk through training, something he was intent on doing.
Archayne's progress was not as stellar. Her memory was poor, and she constantly found herself digging through scribbled notes to remember some fact from a lecture the day before. The one thing she was good at was critical thinking. No matter what hypothetical situation was thrown at her, she could always find a way out. Her solutions were usually different from those of the others, and often took the Logic master by surprise. Her body fared better under training than her mind did; after just weeks, she became far more flexible, and stronger. She could now hold her sword with ease, and swinging was no longer something she did with difficulty. Her balance was excellent, thanks to years spent carrying water on her back.
The first two weeks of their class with Master Ikaru were all about teaching the students how to hold the sword, how to balance with it. They practiced swinging just to test their strength, but nothing more. Now, they were finally moving on to actually wielding one.
Archayne woke that morning feeling unusually refreshed. Her body buzzed with energy, and she rushed through cleaning and eating. Master Ikaru promised to begin teaching us to spar today! She told Shenkuu excitedly as the pair descended the steps.
Shenkuu was equally excited. Master Tulvir said he would take us out to train among the clouds! He replied. The dragon had a penchant for being high in the sky, for being able to see the world beneath him. The clouds were as natural to him as the water was to a fish.
Master Tulvir was a huge dragon with scales that shone like emeralds. He was, in fact, Master Ikaru's partner. He was strict, and effluent. He indulged in diatribes over wrongdoings, and his lectures tended to meander through the world of subjects related to his lecture. All of which put Archayne to sleep. Shenkuu, on the other hand, drank in all the information with surprising curiosity. Tulvir had once commented how unlikely the pair was: Shenkuu's natural intelligence seemed to clash with Archayne's lack of it.
"You are full of energy this morning," a voice said behind Archayne and Shenkuu, making the former jump. Dûrion's steps were ridiculously quiet, or at least the girl thought them so.
Archayne nodded once her surprise faded, laughing slightly. "I guess they put something in the food last night!" she suggests.
Dûrion only laughed, shaking his head.
Side by side, they made their way to Ikaru's class. They were the last to arrive, as always. Ikaru's brows twitched upward as he watched them approach, but he made no comment. As soon as the pair was within earshot, he began to speak. "Today, you will begin the practice with your swords. Go, retrieve them."
The class, murmuring amongst themselves excitedly, went over to the bin where the dulled swords were stored. One by one, they returned to the one file line they stood in at the beginning of each class. Expectantly, they looked at Ikaru, whose eyebrows promptly rose. "Will you be fighting yourselves?" he sighed, then barked, "Partner up!"
The group rushed about, friends' eyes meeting. The last two standing were Archayne and Amomi. His green eyes met her violet ones, and he lifted his eyebrows inquisitively. She nodded, walking over to him. "I guess we're partners then," she murmured.
He nodded, shrugging his thin shoulders lightly.
Amomi and Archayne were the two outcasts of the group: quiet and reserved, they stood out from their boisterous companions. Prin and Ranec were the two leaders, despite their relative lack of skill in both the Rimgar and swordplay. Marina and Dûrion were the most skilled of the group, something that surprised no one. Unsurprisingly, they were an immediate pair for this exercise. Ranec was paired with Namid, and Prin was against Karen.
Ikaru examined the pairs, and then nodded decisively. "This will do," he commented, then introduced them to a long list of moves. After he introduced one, he made the pairs execute the move. Everyone except Dûrion and Marina struggled, since all this was new to them. Even the elves, unfamiliar with the slashing swords, seemed less graceful than usual.
Archayne sighed slightly as they completed the last move. As Master Ikaru had instructed, she slowly stabbed at Amomi, who blocked the thrust in exactly the manner Ikaru had pointed out.
"Good," the Master yelled. "Now, let's see what you can do. Begin!" He motioned for them to begin.
Amomi and Archayne faced each other then settled into their ready poses. Their steely gazes met, and for a moment they were frozen. They heard nothing, but the sound of their breathing and their beating hearts. They saw nothing but each other. Then Archayne swung at Amomi's ribs. He reacted quickly, blocking the blow with the flat of his blade, and reacted with a jab at the girl's shoulder. She parried the blow, surprised by his strength. He's an elf, she reminded herself; he's stronger than a human… and he's not about to soften his blows for me. She was still used to the human tendency to soften everything for females. The Riders, after the fashion of the elves, frowned on this practice, and promoted gender equality.
Archayne pulled her thoughts back to the field, and sent a stab at Amomi's hip. At the last moment, she tried to change the swords direction, but she wasn't strong enough yet. Instead, the sword cut a path toward Amomi's stomach. The elf's eyes widened and he twisted out of the way, trying frantically to block the blow. He managed to evade it. Something flashed in his eyes as Archayne's sword met the grass. She was distracted, and Amomi took advantage of the opening. He lifted his sword and swung it at her exposed back. The girl looked up, surprise evident in her features. She leapt for her sword with a cry and, grasping it in her hands as she fell clumsily on her back, blocked the blow just in time. She exhaled sharply and scrambled to her feet. She swung carelessly back at the elf opposite her with a grunt, but he easily flicked his sword up to block the blow, and quickly lunged forward. The tip of the dull sword hit Archayne's hip, causing her to pause for just a moment. Gasping for a breath, she answered Amomi's thrust with a lunge of her own. Easily, Amomi parried the stab. The edge of his sword slipped along the edge of hers. He then suddenly wrenched his sword around Archayne's, forcing her to let the blade drop from her fingers- the pain in her wrist was excruciating. Before she could retrieve the sword, cold metal touched her collarbone.
"I win," he stated in an emotionless voice, his cheeks flushed slightly.
Archayne nodded, and retrieved her sword. Then their sword dance began again until, at last, Ikaru's orders sent them running to their next class.
Archayne hurried down the path to her history class, Shenkuu by her side. The pair jostled through a current of other rookie Riders, doing their best to keep track of where they were. The girl's eyes were glued to the flower path, making sure they were following the correct color.
Watch out, came the warning thought from Shenkuu.
But too late; she ran right into the person.
Told you, came Shenkuu's bemused voice.
Shrugging the dragon off, Archayne lifted her gaze, quickly muttering, "Sorry, I'm so sorry!" The words stopped between her lips; there stood Dûrion, gazing down at her with a haughty expression.
"Watch it," he growled, glowering down at her as he shouldered his way past her. Delora glided after him, gracefully waving her tail to Archayne and Shenkuu.
Delora says he's in a mood, Shenkuu informed the blonde girl carelessly.
I thought elves were very well-mannered, Archayne mused as she started down the path again. She glanced up every few steps to make sure she wasn't about to crash into someone. She would prefer to avoid another crash.
And I thought humans were pleasant and not smelly, Shenkuu replied, I guess we were both wrong.
Archayne tore her gaze from the path and stuck her tongue out at Shenkuu, rolling her eyes. What did Master Ryger say we were doing today? She asked instead, eager to change the subject.
Shenkuu shrugged the question off with a careless flick of his tail, and then took off. Master Arrheus will be instructing us about herbs today. I better not miss that. Sarcasm was clear in the dragon's voice. He swooped around Archayne's head, stirring the pale hairs on her head, and took off in the direction of his class.
Archayne shrugged and quickened her pace. If she kept walking so slowly, she would be late to History, and today was not a day she wanted to miss: Ryger had promised they would learn about Du Fyrn Skulblaka!
The blonde girl slid into her seat just as Ryger turned to the tall board behind him and began to write with a piece of brilliant white chalk. Archayne, quickly as she could, took out her parchment and charcoal pencil, and began scribbling down what the Master wrote and spoke.
"Du Fyrn Skulblaka, as the elves call it," he began in his sonorous voice, "was a war between the elves and the dragons." The history Master paused, his eyes drifting over the class. His gaze paused on each elf, and finally rested on Archayne. The girl had a nagging suspicion that he knew her lineage. "I must ask all of you here who are elves, to set aside your pride for today," he said finally, "For the elves committed a fatal error when their feet first touched the sandy beaches of Alagaësia." He paused again.
Finally, Amomi's soft voice came from the front of the classroom: "What was that mistake, Ebrithil?"
The Master held the elf's gaze, and then began to speak again. "The elves assumed that the dragons were but beasts, their intelligence less than that of the fair, white horses that they rode. The elves, therefore, treated them like they would the lowest of beasts. One fine day, a youth, more likely than not of your age, hunted down a dragon, and slaughtered him as if he was game. He was proud enough to present it to the others. Needless to say, the dragons were enraged. As an act of revenge, they banded together, and in return let the blood of the fool youth flow. The bloodletting did not stop there." Ryger paused again, letting his words sink in, his eyes running over each student before he finally began to speak again. "At first the elves battled only to defend themselves, but soon they were fighting to save their own skins. The skirmishes escalated to a full-fledged war, climaxing on the craggy peaks of the Stone of Broken Eggs. One day, an elf named Eragon found an abandoned egg."
Whispers ran through the class, to which Ryger reacted with an exasperated sigh. "Not our Eragon. Another Eragon was he, who was an elf by birth, who lived many seasons before our Eragon was born."
The class quieted, and Ryger returned to his lecture, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. "As I was saying, Eragon found an abandoned egg. No one knows why it was left behind. The young elf decided it would be a good idea to raise a friendly dragon, and so he did, and named him Bid'Daum. When the dragon was old and strong enough, the pair traveled the elven cities, and together, managed to convince the two sides to form a pact of peace. To ensure the peace, the elves and the dragons wrought a powerful spell, a spell that bound the two species together forever. This joining of species is celebrated once every century with a celebration named the Agaetí Blödhren ."
A silence stretched, broken only by the scribbling sound of twenty quills and charcoal pencils scrawling down the man's words.
Master Ryger watched the students' writing, patiently waiting for the last head to lift. He stood stone-still, wishing to pass on the lesson of forgiveness and the urge to understand that he saw in this story. When the last head popped up, Archayne's, he began to speak once again. "I want all of you to remember something. Remember that understanding and peace must not require a war," he intoned, his voice gruff and his gaze grave. "War and violence are not a solution. They are a last resort. Words can always be used to resolve a conflict, if put to use correctly." His gaze wandered over to a sundial that stood in an open corner of the room. Twenty minutes remained.
A tense silent ensued, as students waited for an assignment, and teacher considered what to assign.
Finally, Master Ryger spoke. "Tonight, you will read about the addition of humans to the treaty, and will write a report on the effects of the spell. You will also read of the Agaetí Blödhren traditions. The next celebration fast approaches and I expect each of you to arrive with something in your hands. Now, off you go." He emphasized his last words with several sharp claps of his palms, and then waved them off. "Out with you! And don't forget to push those chairs in! I'll not push in another after you lazy youths!"
The students jostled each other on their way out, their manner subdued by the lecture. Each was attached to their dragon; each was disturbed by the idea of killing one.
Archayne left the class, worrying about Master Ryger. As he spoke of forgiveness, his gaze was focused on her. She felt as if he was speaking directly to her, as if warning the class to forgive her for the wrongs of her ancestor. How could he possibly know!? She wondered. The only people who knew were the council, and Eragon himself. She was sure they would keep her secret! So how could he possibly know?
Same way Master Glaedr knew, no doubt, Shenkuu answered her silent questions as he landed beside her, careful to not tear any flowers from the path. By your stance, your speech, your face.
Do I resemble Galbatorix so much? Archayne asked, a frown twitching the corners of her lips downward. They couldn't be similar, she was convinced. There are no fairths to compare me to, are there?
Shenkuu flicked his tail noncommittally. None that the students can easily see. I'm sure they are not simply passed around.
With some of her fears allayed, some pep flowed into Archayne's step. A smile played on her lips as she propelled herself into a skip. What do we have next?
I have history with Master Glaedr. You have Magic Preparatory Class with Master Romera, Shenkuu sighed. He nudged her leg with his head. You should remember that by now, he stated dryly.
Archayne grinned, but the smile fell as soon as Shenkuu's hard, scaled head hit her thigh/ "Ouch!" she yelped, her hand flying to rub the spot. She pointedly gave no reply. A few passing students gave her looks and she quickly ducked her head, cheeks turning red.
Amusement flowed from Shenkuu. You have fun, he told her, nuzzling her cheek with his muzzle. Don't exhaust yourself too much.
Archayne rolled her eyes and replied, Until dinner, Shenkuu.
Archayne glanced around the path, realizing how empty it was. "Not again," she muttered as she began to run.
"Late again?" Master Romera's mocking voice greeted her as she approached the class. The class stood on the shore of the lake. A short distance from the water stood Romera's classroom and, above that, her living quarters. "Shall we send a special messenger for you, Miss Archayne?" The honorific was anything but honoring. In fact, it was insulting.
The violet-eyed girl could feel tears welling in her eyes as she dropped her bag and joined the circle of students, her head down so no one would see. She dared not look at the others, knowing Dûrion would be there, and Amomi, and Marina. They'll be laughing at you in the morning, a voice in the back of her head said.
"Well, now that our Miss Archayne has joined us, we shall begin class," the Master continued in a sing song voice, turning on her heel. The short woman's hair fluttered around her as she began to explain the week's activity.
Each week, Romera gave her classes an impossible task to complete individually. One week, it was to fill an ever-draining tub with water. Another week, it was to move piles of stones with their feet. The new project, Romera promised, would be interesting.
All they saw were piles of tinder, one for each of them, with a flint, a flat stone and a tan can beside each pile. Master Romera motioned to them with her ever-present smirk as she slowly turned to face her students, the light slowly falling on her sharp and hawk-like features. "You will be making me braids of ash," she ordered. "Find yourself your spots, and have at it!" She sounded as if she was about to cackle, her voice rasping ever so slightly in her throat. Romera was a sarcastic woman. She loved her students, but not one would ever know that; she showed them only her brutally snarky side, relentlessly building their defenses against the spoken word.
The students shuffled to their piles, glancing at each other helplessly. Magic Preparatory Class was something no student waited for: not a single one of them wanted to try their hand at duties that even the youngest village child knew were impossible. What's the point? Archayne wondered as she struck the flint.
Each day, in addition to materials for their project, students received a word in the ancient language. Today's word was the term for "ash".
Archayne sighed, rolling her eyes. She shifted several twigs as the tinder caught fire. She looked into the flames, wondering how she could possibly make a braid out of ashes. She had time, she knew, since the class lasted for three hours. The pale girl twisted her braid, forming a bun, and tied it up but a thin strap of stretchy cloth she kept in her pocket. She checked the tin, hoping to find a hint, but found ashes instead. The fire, it seemed, was only to provide more ashes. With a soft sigh, she glanced around. Nearby lay a flat rock, large enough to function as a small tablet. Archayne shook some of the ashes onto the surface of the rock and began trying to shape the ash into a braid; it was the best idea she had. The practice quickly infuriated her- she always messed up the shape! Anger and frustration welled inside her stomach- this was impossible! Some part of Galbatorix must have awakened inside her, for her anger caught the attention of Romera. It was rare for a student to show such passion. In fact, it had not been seen in many a long year. So long had it been that all but the oldest of the order forgot to whom such anger belonged.
Inside the blonde girl's mind, the anger raged on, boiling through every corner, until finally it met a cool calm somewhere in the far reaches of her mind. The calm slowly melted, lending its energy to Archayne's anger. Her palm glowed softly and she aggressively whispered, "Ash braid" in the ancient language. The ash began to flow into the proper shape, the pieces solidifying as they fell into their spots. The particles gave off a warm glow, akin to the glow of dying embers as a cool summer breeze engulfs them. Archayne found herself watching, mesmerized and amazed, unable to believe what was happening. "What..?" she whispered to herself, her eyes fixed on the tablet.
As the ash finished braiding itself, black spots danced over Archayne's vision. Not only had she been holding her breath as she watched the transformation, but she also felt tired now, all of a sudden. "What just happened?" she muttered to herself as she straightened, taking a deep breath. She looked down at the braid and gingerly touched it with the tip of her index finger. To her surprise, the braid remained in its shape, though it bent slightly under the pressure. She quickly removed her finger, and the ash returned to the braid shape, just as hair would.
"What have we here?" Master Romera asked, peeking over the girl's shoulder. "Might you have perhaps done what was asked?" The hawk-like human's claw-like hands darted around Archayne and lifted the tablet. She peered down at the ash braid, surprise flitting across her features. She poked it with her finger, her eyes narrowing. "Very good," she finally uttered, sounding reluctant to admit that Archayne had done something correctly for once. Romera was harsh with everyone. It was her way of steeling them against rude remarks that might come from those who wish to harm them. She never really did realize that her words hurt, too. "You have done well, Archayne," she stated as she turned to the rest of the class, focusing her stern gaze on them.
"While the rest of you have been idly playing with your kindling, Archayne has managed to actually complete the task given to her," the magic prep Master stated, directing her words at all the other students. "And here I was thinking she would be the last complete a task… But she has proven me wrong."
Several students threw glares in Archayne's direction. They were used to hearing Romera reprimand her. They were used to laughing at her failures, yet here she was, doing better than them. Unlike them, she didn't even laugh.
With a glance at her sundial, Master Romera flashed the class a smile and cried, "Class is over! Pack up and get going!"
The students shuffled off, quickly packing their packs up as they threw looks at Archayne, and walked off. Archayne followed them, pep in her step and a proud smile on her lips.
Master Romera watched them all walk off, thoughtful. That blonde, absent-minded girl… she was the first to succeed, she mused, her arms crossed, chin tucked into her chest.
Perhaps she only seems so, the partner of her heart and mind replied, landing beside her, folding her wings carefully as she settled beside Romera.
But Lenora, Romera protested, you know how rarely this happens.
Appearances are not everything, Romera, you should know that, Lenora replied, clicking her eyelids at the hawk-like woman. The only thing that I think is strange here is how occupied Archayne was with the problem. The black she-dragon began to clean her claws thoughtfully.
Is it worth mentioning to the council? I will have to speak to them about this anyway, tonight, Romera asked, raising an eyebrow.
Yes… I think so, Lenora answered. I'm not entirely sure why, but that anger must be noted. It was very…. excessive. The Council will know what to do.
A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update… I've been busy (vacation, exams, swimming, yaddah yaddah) and I hit a bit of writer's block… hopefully this is alright.
