Well that fateful day is finally upon us… We're on our way back to Alagaesia! I know it is a long time coming, but it is finally here… sorta… I am deeply sorry that it has taken me a long time to post this chapter, but I had a bad case of writers block. Hopefully it is now over and I can continue on in stride.

I want to thank all of you for following my story, you have no idea what it means to me when I read all of your wonderful reviews. I hope that, despite my long absence, you will continue to read my story as it progresses. Again, please leave a comment telling me what you thought of the latest chapter… I would be so honored.

. Oh almost forgot… I have changed the name of the island… the original name was Ília Skulblaka, which is supposed to mean Island of Dragons. Well Skulblaka means dragon- singular- so I have changed it to Ília Skulblakar which is the proper way to say Island of Dragons.

Well read on! Chapter Seven FINALLY! MWAHAHAHA!

Departure

The night before they planned to leave a storm blew in. Everyone woke to the swirling black clouds, torrential rains and blustery winds of a typical fall storm. The rain was so heavy that anyone that went outside was instantly soaked. Eragon had hoped they would leave before the storms arrived, and he still contemplated leaving, but one look at the continuous flashes of lightning and driving winds and he realized it would be too risky and declared that they could not leave until the storm abated. "Hopefully this storm will only last a day or so. Until then, we will just have to wait it out."

"Bah! It is just a little rain." Reznargh said, his voice a guttural rasp. The Urgal stood two heads taller than the tallest elf there and had horns that almost curled completely around to where they began; gleaming a pale ivory against his ashen skin. His moss-colored dragon, Guilith, blinked in agreement, her eyelids clicking as she did so. "Let us be off Ebrithil."

"It is more than a little rain. And I dare not fly with that much lightning and wind. You run the risk of injuring one or more of the dragons and yourselves." Eragon said, pinning the Urgal with a serious look. Reznargh exposed his throat in acknowledgement while pounding his fist over his heart. Eragon returned the gesture with a nod then turned back to his anxious students. "We will just have to wait the storm out. I know you all are excited to leave, but trying to venture out into a storm like this is dangerous. Many a good dragon has been killed by foolishly heading into a storm. Saphira herself has been at the brunt of a storm similar to this one. We have seen first hand what winds like this could do. Even a large dragon is helpless against the forces of nature. Please do not venture beyond the limits of the city if you go outside. It could be dangerous and you could be seriously injured. And there will be no flying while the storm rages."

"Couldn't you use a spell to make this storm go away?" Aretha asked, her voice shaky with timidity. "Is that even possible?"

If it were possible, Saphira said, fixing the young girl with her deep sapphire eyes. There wouldn't be a drop of rain anywhere in the world.

"Even if it could be done, and it can't," Eragon said, giving his students a stare that was meant to discourage experimentation. "What would happen if you were able to make the rain or clouds disappear when they inconvenienced you?"

There would be no plants because plants need water to survive. Michali said. She was a bronze colored dragon with a soft, timid sounding voice and a personality that couldn't be more the opposite. She was brash and proud and she reminded Eragon of Saphira when she was young. Michali's rider was a dwarf named Dlarin. The two were so similar it was no surprise why Michali chose him. He was direct and, to Eragon, predictable. It wasn't until he used magic that he became a force to be reckoned with. He was ingenious with spells and often worded them where no ward could block it; even Eragon had trouble deflecting them.

"Precisely. Weather is one of those things that magic has no effect on." Eragon said, his voice serious. "You can block the rain and wind and protect yourself from lightning, but you cannot erase them. If you were to use a spell designed to whisk the clouds away, your strength would flee you and you would die. For your own safety, I discourage trying magic of this kind. Do not be disheartened though. Storms pass; soon we will be on our way to Alagaesia. For now, we can pass the time with lessons." The six apprentices groaned while Sorrel and Rumis shared a small smile between themselves. "Dlarin, Reznargh, and Kílla will join Blödhgarm and Raiya at the training facility. Griln and Laitha will come with me to my study to practice writing the Liduen Kvaedhí. Aretha, I want you to meditate for an hour. I know you cannot go outside, but I still want you to find a quiet place and open yourself up to the world. After the hour is up, report to me and tell me what you have heard."

...

The storm over Ília Skulblakar lasted four days and part of the fifth. Around midday, the rains stopped and blue could once again be seen between the swirling clouds. Eragon waited one more day just to make sure the storm had fully passed and then on the morning of the seventh day, Eragon and Blödhgarm stepped into the cool morning air, their faces to the sky. Eragon faced his blue-furred friend and smiled, beaming at what lay ahead.

"Call the others Blödhgarm, it is time to leave."

"It has been a long time coming Shadeslayer, a long time." The elf said, giving Eragon a feral smile before turning back into the building.

...

Redick, do not fly so low, the air over the river is too cool and your wings cannot support you, Saphira said, dipping down so that she was level with the little black dragon. Up a bit higher; not too close to the sun, but not too close too the water either. Fly just where the warm air lifts you up but doesn't force you higher. Good, now try staying level there. If you must rest your wings, climb a bit higher and glide.

It was their second day into the journey and the dragons' exuberance seemed to lend them speed. Already Ília Skulblakar was no longer in sight and Eragon knew that if they kept up the pace, they would be at the borders of Alagaesia before the end of the week. Saphira and a few of the older dragons could have kept up the current pace for the whole journey, but the younger dragons couldn't; their wings weren't as big and they had to work harder to stay airborne.

As the noonday sun glared down upon them, the group descended to let the young dragons rest their wings a moment. As the dragons drank from the river, Eragon looked over them, amazed that so many of the wild dragons accompanied them. He counted thirteen; that was twice as many that lived within the limits of the city.

Once they were back in the air, Eragon and Saphira began quizzing their students, going through everything they had learned. Rumis joined in occasionally- when none of the younger students could remember an answer- but mostly he conversed with Valdr and Aeridou. At first the Eldunari wasn't very keen on talking, he was too intent on wanting to feel the flight. Valdr had instantly opened his mind up to the small Eldunari and allowed him to see and feel everything he did. But once the novelty of flying again wore off, he began telling them his story.

I wasn't more than a hatchling when Galbatorix began his slaughtering. Aeridou said, his voice like water, smooth and tranquil. As he spoke, images appeared, illustrating the Eldunari's story, playing it out before their eyes. Just past maturity; not more than a year. I fought him, as did we all, but he was too strong, even then. Surprisingly though, he didn't attack us younglings first, but went after the older more powerful dragons. It was genius, his plan. Older dragons may be powerful, but they are… slower. Once a dragon reaches a certain age, they start to loose a connection with the outside world; they begin to sleep more, only waking to eat enough to keep them til their next meal. Galbatorix attacked them because he knew they wouldn't be as quick to retaliate. And once he had the strongest Eldunari on his side, us young ones were definitely no match for him. Some of us stood and fought, but most fled, hoping he would loose interest after a time. I am sad to say, I was among them. A foolish hatchling I was hoping to outrun the collective strength of the oldest of my kin.

Aeridou paused for a moment- the images disappearing, replaced with one of Aeridou repositioning himself. When he began again, a sad note crept into his voice and the memory took on a darker hue. But that wasn't the case. It was his madness that kept him going; til the very end. I was hiding, funny enough, with the dwarves. The only time a dragon was permitted access to their lands back then. They had hoped that the strength of us savage dragons would protect them. I'm afraid the opposite was true. It was mine and a few of my kin's fault that they were attacked. Galbatorix burnt their towns and fields, decimated their crops, and continued to until the dwarves turned us out. I don't blame them; they did what they had to to survive. On that day my body was slain and my heart- of- hearts stolen.

Madness he drove me too; me and the others. Until we couldn't tell friend from foe. So mad we became that he had to defend his own mind from us; our madness giving us strength. It is always thus with madness. Then Eragon came and freed us, but still we couldn't recognize him as a friend. It wasn't until much later that the elves were able to repair our minds and give us even a modicum of sanity. Aeridou fell silent then, his story finished. Rumis left him and began to look about, realizing dusk was upon them. He had been so engrossed in the Eldunari's story that he hadn't even noticed the time getting later.

As the sun finally made its way past the horizon, the host of dragons made camp for the night, many of the students falling asleep quickly, tired from two days in the saddle. Rumis, however, remained awake, even after his dragon began to snore, so he slid himself out from under his wing and smiled at him before walking over to the river's edge. There he bent, and stealing himself, reached into his mind and whispered, "Dramr kopa". As he looked, a small portion of the water stilled and darkened to an inky black. When it became perfectly smooth an image of a dark blue room appeared before him lit only by moonlight. Upon the bed lay a form and he smiled as he saw his beloved. He stared for a minute more before he extinguished the spell. He climbed back under Valdr's wing and was soon asleep, visions of Sapphire within his mind.

...

The cacophonous sound of cheering reached them just as they rounded the last bend in the River Edda. As they looked, a host of people and dwarves stood cheering, elated at their hero's return. Eragon had not looked upon a sight such as this since his first visit to the Dwarf capital of Tronjheim. His eyes began to water, and he had to wipe them quickly before the others saw. Saphira too was elated, she roared her happiness to the crowd and, impossibly, their cheers became louder, blotting out every other noise there was, even that of the roaring river. Their thunder of dragons circled the group a few times before angling toward a great swath of land that was free of people.

When they had all dismounted, a great roar was heard from the distance and the dragons straightened, not sure of the newcomer. Saphira perked her head up, cocking it to the side as another roar was heard. Eragon grinned, as he too recognized it. Go, He told her, patting her wing as she began to raise it. She was airborne in a single bound, her joy lending her strength. As she rose above the trees, she heard the roar again and she took off like a bullet, flying straight toward the winking speck on the horizon. As the dragon got closer she bellowed back, displaying her happiness. Then they rocketed past each other and circled, slowing so that they were hovering almost nose to nose. And then Saphira reached out and rested her blue snout against the red one of Thorn's.

Saphira. Thorn said, his voice even more melodic than the last time they met. His eyes sparkled with mirth and he raised his head, releasing a jet of ruddy red flames. Saphira mimicked him, her blue flame twice as brilliant as his. Then she turned to his rider and saw, not a wizened man, but the boy who had saved her rider all those years ago. She opened up her mind to his, not afraid, and felt the lightness of his. He allowed her access at once and she saw at once the change that they had gone through.

Eragon waited patiently as Saphira slowly flew back with Thorn. He strode toward them as soon as they landed; noticing how big Thorn had gotten. He was truly huge; he was at least a third the size larger than Saphira, each of his neck spikes as big as him. As Eragon gawked at the red dragon, his rider dismounted, jumping with elvish grace from Thorn's back to the ground below while Thorn was still standing. He then spotted Eragon and beamed, sprinting full speed toward him. He barely stopped before he gathered Eragon up into a bear hug, squeezing him tightly. "Eragon! Man is it good to see you!"

"And you as well!" Eragon said, trying to extract himself from Murtagh's tight grip.

"By the Gods you look too much like an elf." Murtagh said, gazing at him with canny eyes.

"Well you knew that. I have looked the same for a hundred years Brother," Eragon said, crossing his arms in mock consternation. "And you should be talking! You looked like you haven't aged a day!"

Murtagh laughed and slapped Eragon on the back and they turned towards the dragons, who were all sniffing at Thorn. Murtagh chuckled again and Eragon suspected it had to do with something Thorn said. "He extremely happy you are finally here Brother." Murtagh said, gesturing towards the red dragon. "He has been too lonely for far too long. Now look at him; he's practically glowing!"

"Well look at Saphira." Eragon said, "She looks just as happy to see Thorn as she is to see Fírnen."

"I'm glad for that." Murtagh said, wheeling them around so that they were facing the crowd of people in the distance, who were steadily heading this way. "I was afraid they wouldn't… cohabitate well; with what was between them in the past.

"What was between them was Galbatorix." Eragon said, stopping and turning Murtagh towards him, trying to catch his eye. Murtagh refused to meet his eye though, staring off into the distance. "I know full well you had no control of what happened back then, as does Saphira. It nearly broke her heart every time she had to battle you two. Murtagh- Brother, tell me you will let this go. The past is gone; you cannot change it, but you can let it go."

"Ah, you have the wisdom of the elves as well. I hear what you are saying Eragon, I do," Murtagh said, finally looking at Eragon, "But it is hard to forget what we did, to you and to everyone else. Oh how did we even get on such a grim subject. I propose we change it to something cheerier; like the feast that a certain king has prepared for you."

"Orik's here?" Eragon said, excited to see his foster brother after so long.

"He will be. His caravan should be arriving shortly." Murtagh said, motioning for them to continue walking toward the crowd of onlookers. They reached the apprentice riders and they all looked astounded to see Murtagh, not expecting another rider to appear. Murtagh stared back, a crooked smile on his face.

"Everyone, meet your fellow Rider." Eragon said, raising his voice to an authoritative level. "This is Murtagh; he is my brother and his dragon's name is Thorn."

The students bowed low at their waists, all muttering "Ebrithil" as they did so. Murtagh's smile widened as the crowd began to descend upon them, led by Eragon's previous students. He greeted the four of them and allowed them to escort their group toward the plethora of tables set out for the feast.

Several hours after they had arrived, a host of bugle calls disrupted the merriment, causing everyone to stop and stare in the direction of the sound. As they faded away, a great host of dwarves split the crowd; leading them was the Dwarf King and Queen. When Orik saw Eragon and Saphira, he abandoned his guard and embraced Eragon in a hug that was far tighter then Murtagh's. When Eragon finally escaped his foster brother's embrace he was gasping for air.

"Eragon, dear Brother! Too long is has been!" Orik said, his braided beard quivering with merriment.

"Too long indeed Orik, far too long!" Eragon said, laying an arm on the dwarfs shoulder. Orik, too happy to contain himself, grabbed Eragon for another hug, forcing the air from Eragon's lungs once again. Saphira's grating laugh rumbled over them as Eragon was released. Orik then walked over to her and she lowered her head so that they were almost eye lever- her head being taller than Orik. The Dwarf king laid his hand on her massive snout and she huffed with happiness. It is a joy seeing you again Dwarf-King-Orik.

"And you as well Saphira." He said, a grin splitting his face nearly in two. He then turned to Murtagh, his brow furrowing a little. "Boy, where be Arya? She should be here for this."

"Yes, well she sends her sincerest apologies, King Orik," Murtagh said, his voice a bit too formal. "She is dealing with preparations of the Blood-oath Ceremony and regretfully she could not make it."

Eragon's heart sank as soon as he heard that, and felt an equal response from Saphira. He kept his face the same though, trying not to give away anything of what he felt inside. He had hoped she would have been here when he arrived, and it hurt him deep down, knowing that she wasn't here.

"Oh well, it cannot be helped I suppose." Orik said, snapping Eragon back to the present. He smiled and tried to keep his mind on the fact that his blood brother and his foster brother were here with him, but he wasn't completely successful. His mind kept returning to the thought that Arya didn't care enough about him to meet them as they crossed the border into Alagaesia for the first time in a hundred years. He knew it was childish to think like that, but it could not be helped as it was there nonetheless. He pushed it from his mind as best he could and focused back on Orik as he spoke again, "It is her loss then. I think it is about time for this feast to begin! What say you Eragon and Saphira?"

"Aye." Eragon said as Saphira and the other dragons bugled their happiness.

The feast consisted of every game known to Alagaesia, from deer to lamb to the giant Nagra of the Beor Mountains. There were many vegetable dishes for the elves and giant piles of meat for the dragons to eat upon. After the main course, Orik had his servants lay out sweet pies and cakes and sweet ales that perfumed the air with the smells of fruit and molasses. When the food was finally consumed, the plates were taken away, a band was arranged, and music was played into the early hours. As it grew later, people began to shuffle off to their tents until finally, with a heavy sigh, Orik excused himself and he and Hvedra were escorted to their camp.

When all was over, Murtagh and Eragon began to walk back to where Eragon had told the others to set up a ways away from the main camp. They had a hard time of it, as they had drank a few too many ales that night. When they were finally able to make their way back to the others, they were practically falling over each other as they laid out their bedrolls and fell into a deep sleep, a smile gracing each of their faces.

Name Pronunciations:

Bellui- bell-oo-ee

Mithrim- Mee-thrim

Kellif- kell-if

Aretha- air-ith-uh

Redick- Red-ick

Yülqa- Yule-kah

Telíf- Tell-eef

Maëna- May-na

Jaltin- yall-ten (yall sounds like call)

Sorrel- Sore-ul

Rumis- Rue-miss

Valdr- vall-duhr (Vall sounds like Ball)

Reznargh- rez-narg

Raiya- Ray-ah

Kílla - Key-la

Dlarin- d-lar-in

Griln- Grill-n

Laitha- Lay-tha

Translations:

Dramr kopa- Dream stare