Chapter 10: Edoc'sil
When the elf had finished eating (and she ate a considerable amount) she leaned back with a sigh. The dragon had also finished eating, and Eragon was feeling everyone's deep interest in the name of this fair elf woman.
"Svit-kona" Eragon said, throwing his voice so that the entire group could hear him. "Permit me to introduce myself?" He wasn't really asking her permission, but she nodded in a way that told him, it was okay to talk now. "My name is Eragon Shadeslayer, Dragonrider to Saphira Bjartskular. Atra esternì ono thelduin." He placed his fingers to his lips.
"Mor'ran lìfa unin hjarta onr," she responded placing her fingers to her lips. "It is an honor to meet you Eragon Shadeslayer, and you, Saphira Brightscales." Eragon noticed that, although she had no problem speaking in elf, she had translated Saphira's last name to the human. "My name is Raya, daughter of Teodar Tharandurìn, Rider to Tunivor Diamondhide, and the last apprentice of Lord Vrael."
Diamondhide? Your mother was? Saphira interrupts almost as soon as Raya is finished talking. Eragon is about to chastise her, because he wanted to know more about Raya's ties, but realized that for a dragon, Saphira's question must be a valid one.
Opalia, the Fierce,Replies the dragon named Tunivor. Though, it is not hard to see you are Vervada's daughter. Her strength was only matched by the color of her scales. It is obvious, you have inherited both.Tunivor's compliment makes Saphira smile inwardly and only Eragon notices it.
Forgive me, but I still cannot see how you are called Diamondhide? Though Opalia's fierceness is evident in your hunting prowess. Saphira returned the compliment because it was polite of a Rider's Dragon to do so, not because Dragon's as a race, were inherently polite.
Allow me to show you, the male dragon—Tunivor—snorted, a flame tickling his nostrils. He took a final bite of goat and with an almighty roar, launched himself from the cliff. Saphira stood up and walked onto the ledge, where she was quickly joined by Eragon, Katrina and Roran. She was watching as he flew higher and higher into the sky. He was not far away, just very high up. Raya leaned lazily against a wall as her dragon gained height.
When he was but a speck, he dove downward in a tight spiral, falling in a highly controlled maneuver. As the Spiral became tighter, than male dragon opened his maw and spewed a great gulf of white hot flame. The flame tickled around the dragon, not burning him, and he kept the flame going as he spiraled past them. Pulling out of his tight dive and flapping over to the Anora River. From what Eragon could see, the dragon had burned off the dirt and moss and was now washing off the fine gray ash from his scales.
When he returned to the ledge Eragon felt Saphira's sharp intake of breath and every thought that flew through her mind. After the fire spiral, and the washing in the Anora River, Tunivor's hide glittered like thousands of perfect diamonds, the water causing his scales to catch the light in a way that made him look, if possible even more glorious.
Like Bid'Daum, the first dragon ever paired to a Rider, Tunivor was a pure and brilliant white. As the others moved back into the cave, light refracted through his scales, and other colors played across his hide and on the cave wall, like he was made of diamonds and opals. Eragon knew from Saphira's mind that White, is the noblest of colors for a dragon, not only because of the First Dragon and Rider pair, but because, the White Dragon could claim every color (save for black) in their magnificent hide.
Tunivor, feeling the attention he was getting, flared his wings wide on the ledge, lifting them up above his head, fluttering them in a way that reminded Eragon, just slightly of the way a peacock flared his tail. Pearl white wings showed veins of pink and blue, where the blood flowed. He arched his neck, displaying his man-sized neck-spikes and stretched his claws out in front of him. Eragon could barely breathe at the magnificence of the gigantic White Dragon.
With a delicacy that would be impossible for anything else his size, Tunivor folded his wings, collected himself, and walked back to his place in the cave.You should eat those sturgeon, he rumbles in a way that is very male, they look like a lot, but are just enough for one your size. Saphira nods and takes a bite of the fish. In no time the fish are non-existent and the White Dragon looks very pleased with himself.
My sincerest apologies, Diamondhide. I should have known that a son of Opalia would wear the regal hide of white. Eragon is surprised that Saphira feels it necessary to apologize, being as she usually believes herself right about everything.
No apologies necessary, Brightscales. I have not seen a dragon in many years, and the last I saw was male. Your beauty has reminded me that I too have the pride of a dragon. Tunivor's comment makes his Rider's eyebrow twitch. When Eragon looks at Saphira, he turns his laugh into a cough: if she could have blushed, Saphira would have been as red as Thorn.
Tunivor looks ready to say more, but his Rider, Raya, butts in. "If you say one more thing to her, she will no longer be blue. Eragon, tell me, what year is it? What has happened since the death of Vrael?" Raya sits down on Tunivor's foreleg, and listens.
Eragon explains that "it is a little over a hundred years since Vrael fell." At that simple sentence, Raya's face blanches again, pain behind her interesting green eyes.
"How did Vrael die? Galbatorix killed him, but do you know specifics?" Raya asks, closing her eyes as she listens to the news Eragon must give her.
He explains what the story is, and how things happened in his dreams. "Galbatorix fought dirty, hitting Vrael between the legs. Vrael seemed to understand that he would die, and in my dreams, his last words are…"
"Wait. What do your dreams have anything to do with Vrael?" asks Raya, confused. Her confusion turns to intrigue as Eragon explains that it was this dream of Vrael that brought him to the mountain Utgard.
"After Vrael said that word, 'Elhàna' Galbatorix chopped off his head, and left the dragon here to die in misery" Eragon explained a bit more of his dream, the Dragon's last words, and how it had sparked him and Saphira to try and open that wall.
Mithravìl. That is, Tunivor says to the group at large, he shakes his head, no, that was the name of Vrael's Dragon. Mithravìl Valesong. Tunivor rumbles deeply and the stones at his side skitter on the floor,Forever may your spirit soar. Saphira adds her own rumble to mourn the passing of the dragon who had, in Eragon's mind, died unnamed.
"Both Mithravìl's and Vrael's dying words were 'Elhàna' what does that mean?" Asks Eragon, hoping that finally one of the riddles of his life would be solved.
"That's hard to say. The true meaning of the word has long since been forgotten, even by the elves." Raya explained carefully, but Eragon's heart fell a bit. The word's meaning was unknown and forgotten. "But it was used for centuries by spell weavers to 'close' a spell. When the elves found out that you technically didn't need the word, they dropped it from their spell weaving. It stuck around with the Rider's, after Anurin ceded the Riders from elf control. They used it ever-after. What happened after Vrael and his dragon died?"
"We don't know. My dream stops there." Eragon explained, sorry he couldn't tell her more. "Historically, that was the point where Galbatorix named himself Emperor over all Alagaesia, and he and the thirteen Forsworn began their rampage to rid the world of the Rider's of old." While he talked, Eragon noticed that Raya fiddled with a pebble. Ah, the pebble exercises.
"Wait a moment. Someone came for Vrael, else his dragon's bones would still be here. Why did none open the cave before now? Before you?" Her voice, no longer rasping from non-use, showed to be a cool alto, with little of the lilt of the elves. She lifted the pebble with a muttered Stenr Reisa.
"Again, we don't know. It's possible no one knew the magic word to set you free. Or they just didn't know you were there." As soon as Eragon said it, he felt horrible. Raya's face fell, sad that she had literally been forgotten for over a hundred years. Still, it irked him that no one would remember that Vrael had an apprentice, and that his apprentice rode a White Dragon. Did they think she had simply died somewhere in the Spine?
"I'm sure your family will be happy to know your alive" said Katrina gently, her eyes hopeful. Raya shook her head sadly. She moved the pebble around in a circle, making it do little figure eights in the air.
"The House of Tharandurìn has slowly been dying out. There will be few, if any, left" Raya said quietly. "Tell me of the elves. Has Evandar withdrawn his forces, or do they make headway against Galbatorix? How many of the Forsworn have they killed?"
"Well, the Varden, with the help of Brom, have managed to exterminate all the Forsworn." Eragon said, sharing a look with Roran, to tell him not to add anything. "But, Evandar died soon after Vrael, his mate Islanzadì rules over the elves now. And the fight against Galbatorix has only recently gotten more heated. They were waiting for Saphira's egg to hatch."
"Brom? Not Morzan's apprentice? Well, it's good that he has managed to do something more, especially after the death of his Saphira. How is he?" Raya asks, politely. It seems she knew of Brom, though did not know him personally.
"Dead as well, helping me fight the Ra'zac." Eragon explained. My goodness,he thought to Saphira, I'll need to explain the entire history of Alagaesia since the fall of Vrael, for anything to get across.
"Tell me those monsters are dead." Raya said, some disgust that the Ra'zac still lived. Eragon explained briefly that they had killed two young and the two eldest, though the 'Ra'zac' still lived. Raya swore a round and bloody oath in dwarf, then apologized profusely.
Maybe share your memories and knowledge? Suggested Saphira.
Nay, you remember what Arya said. That's considered Taboo, and wrong. He points out to her. He returns his attention to Raya.
"Not to keep you in the dark, but for me to explain things to you, I'd have to give you a relatively broad history of Alagaesia, since Vrael's fall. And I hope you don't mind, but now seems like a rather odd time for a history lesson. Can we save the lesson for a later date?" Eragon says, rather abashed that he has to resort to this, but he really wants to question her, not the other way around. Raya looks at him for a moment, but then nods.
"Saphira can tell Tunivor as we fly." She says with some finality. "I'll pick it up from him. I do have one question that you must answer: how many Rider pairs exist today?" She is making the pebble spin in place and Eragon is surprised at how much control she has on her magic. When he had started, he couldn't do much, and she had just woken up and she was already getting this much control on her magic. She's an elf. They will always be physically and magically more powerful than any human, even at their weakest. He repeated to himself.
"Galbatorix and Shruikan" says Roran, spitting the words out angrily.
They don't count. The relationship between the two of them is a perverse bastardization of a true Dragon and Rider relationship, Says Tunivor with equal anger and venom. Next?
Eragon and Myself.Says Saphira, looking at Eragon fondly. Eragon smiles at her.
"Murtagh, Son of Morzan, and the Red Dragon, Thorn. They are enslaved to Galbatorix, for he knows their true names." Eragon says, with some anger and frustration. Raya seems to ignore the fact that Murtagh is a son of Morzan.
"He holds them by their true names? That's it? But Murtagh does not support Galbatorix's cause?" Asks Raya and Eragon tells her that Murtagh hates Galbatorix. "Well, then that's not so bad. It could be worse. Any others?"
Eragon shares a look with Saphira. Technically, by agreement with Islanzadì, he was not supposed to talk about Glaedr and Oromis. Oromis. In his goodbye, Oromis had said he was the last scion of the House of Tharandurìn. He guessed, if Raya was from the same house, than she would know of Oromis as some uncle, and technically would know of him as a Rider as well. He wouldn't be breaking his word to the elves.
"Oromis" Eragon says with some trepidation. "And the Golden One." He had been expecting confusion, or even general recognition from Raya or Tunivor. But when Eragon had said Oromis's name, Tunivor had snorted and Raya started to laugh.
What is so funny? Though they cannot fight anymore, they are teachers. They are our teachers. Saphira sounded very cross.
Ah! Such rich Irony! The Wayward Dragon lives on! Tunivor could not contain his amusement and gave a grrrrt sound that Eragon could only assume was laughter. How deliciously amusing.
Wayward? What is this? Is he not a Dragon-true? Saphira sounded as irked as Eragon felt, she turned her blue gaze to Raya, who was still laughing with some inside joke. I believe he managed to survive Galbatorix's extermination of the Rider's when other's fell. Explain.
"You are right Saphira, he did survive the extermination. Though I don't think Galbatorix was that worried about Glaedr the Golden." Raya tried to gain some composure again. "Glaedr the Golden's shame was known to almost every dragonrider at the time. He is no threat to the future Galbatorix wishes to control."
His shame? What shame? How can any Dragon, especially the Gold Dragon, be shameful?Saphira sounds indignant, but Eragon can feel her worry that she might have been tainted by this very shame.
The Gold Dragon, for all his hunting and fighting prowess, has not once risen to mate.Tunivor, unlike his Rider, cannot help but control his mirth.Does that help?
Not at all. What does his progeny, or lack thereof, have anything to do with him being shamed, as a Dragon? Saphira is frustrated and rather confused with the cavalier attitude of Tunivor and Raya.
Pay careful attention to my words, O' Sapphire colored Daughter of Vervada. Glaedr the Golden chose not to rise to mate: ever. It is not that he can't it is that he won't. For the flight brings him no joy. For his carnal eye is not caught by fierce flying beauties such as your-self. Tunivor was speaking sideways, because he didn't want to outright decry Glaedr's odd behavior.
Eragon thought he might understand what Tunivor was trying to say. Privately, he projected his idea in to Saphira's mind. She did not like it. The thought that Glaedr the Golden chose not to mate, because he would never be attracted in that way to a Dragon-female, was impossible and an insult to his person.
Surely, not. He's a dragon. Saphira's voice croaked her worry as she thought quickly of specific situations, especially the fight she had with him. Eragon felt her pain, and felt Saphira block her thoughts.
"It was unkind to laugh at him," Raya says realizing that Saphira is in emotional turmoil, and she punches Tunivor's side. "I apologize for Tunivor and myself: I am sure they are both fine teachers, and we had no intention of insulting your teachers." Tunivor finally manages to get himself back under control.
Blue-one, Glaedr the Golden has been called the Wayward One for years. No insult was meant. It just seemed a horribly ironic twist of fate. I apologize.Tunivor has noticed that Saphira's eyes are distant and he tries to look at her better. She won't look at him.
Eragon meanwhile, looks at Roran, who is rather dumbfounded that there is, in fact, another rider in existence. Katrina is also surprised. He sends them both the thought that they are not to mention the existence of Glaedr and Oromis to anyone, ever. Nor should they let on that they know. They both comply.
Your words explain much. Saphira says sadly, finally resigning herself. Raya looks at Eragon, and he sees the question in her eyes. Eragon nods, and Raya looks immediately at Tunivor, who looks deeply angered at that point.
It explains nothing, grumbles Tunivor, Fate would not be so cruel as to hand you the choice of Shruikan the Perverse, Thorn the Slave, or Glaedr the Old. At Tunivor's words, Saphira's head shoots up and she glares at him. And yes I say old. For he was old a century ago. He is only older now. You do not deserve such meager pickings, Sapphire-hide. Rejoice in your youth, Brightscales. Unexpectedly, Tunivor snakes his head over the fire and touches Saphira's side with his nose. She looks at him, confused, and both Eragon and Raya are swamped by the emotions playing out between their dragons.
Uncomfortable, Eragon clears his throat. "I know it's a lot to ask, but are you up for some flying? We need some fresh food, and we can't find that in a cave." Raya nods, agreeing. She volunteers herself and Katrina to fly down on Tunivor, to look for food and firewood, for one more night. Eragon exhales and the two women go down on the white dragon. Katrina had decided to take Lunch, the crow, with them. Raya had stared at the animal, but found it amusing.
Well, that was interesting. Eragon says to Saphira, as Roran goes upstairs to find the bathing room, so he can wash his face.
Yes, well, She starts to explain, but jerks her head downwards. She walks hurriedly onto the ledge and looks down, turning her head sideways to hear better.
As though to give her something to hear, Lunch comes cawing up the side of the mountain. He was panicking, cawing frantically. Horned-people attack white-lizard and Fire-Hair and Pointy-Ears. Head-Voice come quick. Quick quick. He dove flew over to a part of the forest, diving down as Katrina screamed to confirm his words.
Eragon bellows for Roran to hurry back down, and get his hammers. "Saphira, where's the dwarf blade?" Eragon wonders, turning his pack inside out. He can't find it? Did he move it into a different bag? Maybe it was in One of Roran's bags. Katrina's screaming was combined with the angry roar of a Dragon and a chorus of wicked laughing cackles.
Roran's bags are over by the wall with the tree carving, Saphira points at them with her nose. As the words tumble from her mind, Solembum's words echo in his thoughts.
'When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa tree.' Eragon ran to the wall, placed his hand over the Menoa tree's roots and yelled, "JIERDA!" The stone shattered, just as Roran hurtled down the stairs. Eragon saw a hilt, rapped in cloths and, not caring about the blade, ran to Saphira's side, leaping into his place on her back, even though there was no saddle. He hauled Roran up just as Saphira threw herself from the ledge.
She flew over the forest, and pointed out the spot where Tunivor's white hide contrasted the brown trees of the forest. Diving, she landed with a thud in front of a pack of creatures that looked like a cross between an Urgal and a human.
Not thinking, Eragon drew the blade, grateful only that it was sharp and whole, and not caring what it looked like, he hurled himself at the creatures which had surrounded Raya, who only had her dagger. She was certainly doing a decent bit of damage with just a dagger. Eragon sliced left and right, stabbing, cutting, chopping at the creatures if he had to.
If you get the chance, Saphira growled in his mind, try for their minds. A few well placed death words, if you catch my meaning. She swung her tail viciously at two of the monsters, impaling one with her dangerously sharp spikes. Another she caught under her claws.
"Distracted," he muttered to Saphira, as he made a double crescent catching one creatures head, and then another. Raya ducked, rolling the creature, with a hook, grab and toss maneuver. As the creature lay dazed on the ground, she stabbed it with her dagger.
The things really were ugly, with pig-like snouts and short stubby horns and tusks, they weren't nearly the fighters Urgals or Kull were, but they weren't human and they had some weird animal like ferocity, which was hard to squash easily.
Roran gave an all might bellow, smashing his hammers, spikes and all into two of the creatures skulls. Katrina was whacking at the darned things with a very big stick. Roran was moving through the creatures, mainly trying to get to Katrina. Eragon struck the last one around Raya and turned his attention to the battle at large. Tunivor, it seemed, had been swarmed by them. Saphira swiped at another set with her tail, taking out a handful. Raya gave a fierce, Ayi! Yi! Yi! And ran forward to protect her dragon. Eragon moved forward as well, cutting through three, just to get into the vicinity of the White Dragon.
"Anyone have any clue what are these things!" Roran called out to the group in general, though he didn't really expect anyone to answer him. Since neither Eragon nor Katrina had ever seen a creatures of the like.
"Wraith's" grunted Raya, smashing two of them together, heads first. Tunivor snapped another between his jaws. Eragon moved on the set separating Roran from Katrina, his new blade cutting through skin and sinew like it was butter. The last one in his way was more ornery than the first two. He attacked with a move that was simply too fast for anything other than an elf to react to. It dropped, shock still written into its face.
Seeing their comrades were falling like flies the group that had run at Tunivor scattered. Tunivor caught one beneath his claws, roaring his dominance over the creatures stupid enough to attempt hunting a dragon.
Fool creature,Tunivor rumbled, and roasted the animal between his claws then swallowed it whole. Eragon stared as the dragon ate the creature. In Eragon's mind, Urgals were not edible. So something that looked half-urgal shouldn't be edible either. Lunch had no problem picking at the creatures eyeball's, which grossed out Eragon, thoroughly.Crows are scavengers, they do things like eat from dead bodies. Still, it's really yucky. Doesn't he get enough food from us? Ugh.
"What were those things? And where did they come from?" Katrina said carefully stepping over one of the creatures and getting her bag, which had mushrooms and what looked like wild onions or leeks (or both) in it.
"Those are wraiths. And before I went into a deep sleep, those little monsters were almost extinct. They live deep in the Spine, so it's odd to see them so far out towards Utgard." She wiped blood off her hand dagger, and started picking up the sticks that had been dropped when the wraiths attacked. Eragon helped her, tying up a bundle of sticks and attaching them to Saphira. "I'm surprised there are this many. Some people used to say that it wasn't Urgals that attacked Galbatorix and his first dragon in the Spine, but wraiths. They look like Urgals."
"Are they like Urgals?" asked Eragon, who knew his fair share about Urgals, especially after having fought with Kull by his side. Raya shook her head.
"Urgals are organized. They live in orderly groups, they have an understandable language. Their thoughts and memories are not instinctual, and they must be taught their skills. Wraiths are animals. And useless animals. Usually, they hunt deer, in a pack, using teeth and claws to fell the animal. On occasion they attack humans."
But why attack a dragon, the fool things? Surely they don't think Tunivor is just a big deer? Asks Saphira with a look of disgust as she pushes away several of the corpses aside. That's what got the Elves in trouble in Du Fryn Skulblaka.
"I never said they were smart," Raya said wryly, "Maybe they had some luck hunting a young dragon before, and thought they'd try their hand at a bigger one. Could you imagine the steaks that could come out of Tunivor?" Tunivor snorted his indignation of being referred to as a cut of meat, and suggested that Raya might not want to insult her ride to safety.
"Let's get back to the cave. I want to leave this area tomorrow." Eragon said wearily, climbing onto Saphira's back, a bundle of sticks in one hand and his new blade in the other. The two dragons lifted off. Lunch, leave the horned people alone. You ate already. The crow flew around, practically falling in the sky.
Head-voice not fair. Eyes best part. Lunch grumbled as he landed in front of Eragon. Besides, Fire-hair always cook grass. Grass yuck.
Head-voice is named Eragon. And even Saphira, blue lizard, eats vegetables sometimes.Eragon chastised the crow, finding it very difficult NOT to talk like the blasted bird. You want to eat eyes, go ahead. But Big-lizards no protect you while you eat. If horn-people come back for their dead, Lunch becomes a snack. The bird took off with a happy caw, and Eragon shot it a dirty look.
"Eragon? Where did you get that sword?" Raya said loudly. Eragon presumed that she had asked it several times already, and he looked immediately at her.
"From under the roots of the Menoa Tree," he said quickly, as apology for ignoring her earlier requests at the question. He passed the sword to her and Raya squeaked, dropping it, sheath and all on the floor. With some reverence, she knelt down and picked up the blade, pulling it from its sheath.
The blade was a bright polished silver, so bright and clean, it was almost white. It had a gemlike shine to it, and Eragon watched as Raya undid the bindings on the hilt, showing an opal the size of an egg in the pommel, and two large diamonds in the cross-guard of the hilt. It was a stunning blade. Raya ran delicate elf fingers over a symbol etched in the metal, and he saw that her hand was shaking. "Il'hen" she whispered, stroking the blade.
"I'm rather well versed in Elf," Eragon said, standing to look at the sword over her shoulder. He saw the symbol, but did not recognize it. "What is Il'hen?"
"There are many words that mean 'hope' in Elf. But 'hope' is drawn with several symbols." She looked at Eragon, as though looking for him to reaffirm this. He nodded to tell her he knew, and she continued. "If you want to say hope, with a single symbol, you use Il'hen. The name of this blade is Il'hen, Hope. It is the blade of Eragon."
"Technically, it's not mine. I just found it." He said pointing to the hole in the wall, but Raya shook her head, extending the blade to him. "It's a white blade, it will look better with Tunivor."
"You misunderstood me." Raya said, holding the blade out to him again, "When I say this is the blade of Eragon, I mean the blade of the First Eragon. It has long been believed that this blade was destroyed. Utgard is as old as the Riders, it is very likely that this blade has been hidden here for centuries, awaiting you." Eragon can feel his mouth drop in awe as he looks at the blade, "I cannot wield a blade that was carried by your namesake, and which has shed blood for you. The rules of swords are clear. This blade is yours."
Eragon takes it, looking at the symbol etched centuries ago into the metal. Long after the first Eragon had died, his blade was perfect, ever-sharp, and flawless as the day it was made. "Hope, It fits for him." He put the blade in its sheath.
"And you," Raya says, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Vrael and I were prepared for this. I have blade, though it too does not match my dragon. It is Dorev, Strength, the blade of Anurin, who was Vrael's predecessor." She walked into the back of the cave, and Eragon followed her, as they both made their way over rocks into the heart of what had been Raya's prison for a hundred years.
The cave was much bigger now that Tunivor had been moved out of it, and Eragon wondered how the mountain was still standing with this big a hole in it. Raya walked steadily to the place that had been obscured by Tunivor's head, and there was a meager pile of belongings.
A saddle unlike any he had ever seen, an unstrung elf bow with no arrows, and two swords, with sheaths, wrapped in cloth. Eragon wondered where the watermelon sized bundle had gone, for there was pitifully little there. A saddle bag looked like it had some clothes in it, and a weird cloak, which Raya said was for flying, though it looked too stiff and too thin to protect her from the wind. She shouldered her bag, tying both swords to her belt. Eragon grabbed the saddle and bow, and lifted them magically into the cave.
Raya grabbed a rag, dipped it in water, and wiped down the saddle. It was big, solid black, with heavy silver and gold inlay, and had one large round ring-like attachment on one end, and a chain and leather ring on the other end. There appeared to be a buckle on each ring, and the saddle had enough room for three people to be seated comfortably. There were leg straps, but otherwise, no way of getting the saddle to stay onto the dragon.
Feeling he should be helpful, Eragon wiped down the bow, giving Raya one of his spare strings. She had no arrows, though he found an empty quiver in her bag. He put the two together, and told himself to get arrows for her as soon as possible. Seeing Raya was still cleaning the saddle, Eragon looked to the two blades.
He unwrapped the first, taking off the rags which had kept the leather of the sheath from drying out. The first blade had a black sheath, and had the symbol for Strength etched into it. This was Dorev, Raya's blade. He pulled the sword, marveling at the smoothness at which it slipped from the sheath. It was like all Riders blades, ever-sharp, amazingly balanced, and as perfect as it had been the day it was forged.
The Metal had been magically dyed to match Anurin's dragon, and it was a deep blue-black, the color of the night sky. He realized what she had said earlier: this blade did not match the white Tunivor, it would have been more appropriate for Saphira. But Eragon believed that Dorev had chosen Raya, just as Il'hen had chosen Eragon. He returned Dorev to its sheath, picking up the next blade.
The sheath for this blade was olive colored, and was etched with a symbol that Eragon knew to stand for "Faith" though he didn't know its elf name. He pulled the blade out, and saw that it was a marvelous emerald green. "Was this Vrael's sword?" Eragon asked, flicking the blade when Raya looked up. She nodded with a sad smile.
"He gave you the blade, and faced Galbatorix unarmed?" Roran asked, coming over to watch. The sun was setting and since it set behind the mountain, the cave was already getting dark. Roran and Katrina had set up a fire and Katrina was making some noise with a pot, trying to get it to stay over the fire.
"Galbatorix would have stolen the blade and destroyed it, Vrael knew that. He gave Sol'rec," Raya said, and Eragon immediately remembered the name of the symbol for Faith, "He gave it to me, in the hopes that it could serve a next generation." Raya said quietly, returning to the saddle. Eragon thought she was being cryptic, but ignored the thought, and returned the blade to its sheath. She picked up the saddle, carrying it to Tunivor's side. Looking a bit dismayed, she motioned for the Dragon to help her. "You weren't this big a hundred years ago. How, in the name of all that is wise and good, did you grow without any food to fill that cavern you call a belly?"
She placed the saddle in the crook of Tunivor's neck, in the large gap between spikes. It sat awkwardly while Raya fiddled with the rings, finally getting the buckles open, she placed the solid ring around the base of the spine-spike and the leather and chain ring, she placed around the last neck spike in front. By having chain and leather ring in front, the saddle would stay on, attached primarily to the spine spike, but it would stay on without a harness going around the middle. The chain and leather gave more freedom of movement to the dragon's neck. The saddle suddenly made sense, for a dragon as big as Tunivor.
Once she had finished, Raya came down and picked up her saddle bags, light as they were, and packed her now-dry clothes, putting on her boots and returning the slippers to Katrina. She decided to keep the clothes that she was wearing, including Eragon's tunic. She also packed the second sword, and her odd flying cloak, which Eragon still didn't believe would protect her from the cold weather up in the air, she then placed the saddle-bag up on Tunivor's back.
"Although Therinsford is closer, Yazuac and Daret are in our path, so when we fly over, maybe we can land and get some more supplies for you," Eragon said carefully. Raya looked at him, her eyes examining him very carefully. "A bedroll, a good cloak to prevent against the wind, and some other general supplies." He suggested and she nodded. "Katrina and Roran are less identifiable and less suspicious looking than we are."
"Suspicious?" Raya said, looking at Eragon, who fingered one of his pointed ears. Raya reached a hand up to her own ears, seemingly surprised that they were so pointy. "Yes, that will be good. Thank you, Eragon."
Lunch flew into the cave, fluttered on top of the bags which were Eragons, and with a shrug of his black wings, he curled into a feather ball, and fell asleep. "Though, flying over Daret takes us farther away from Du Weldenvarden," Eragon said, going over to his things to fish out a map. He spread out the map which showed all of Alagaesia, from the Spine in the west, to the empty expanse of the Hadarac, to Du Weldenvarden in the North, and the Beor's and Surda in the south. Raya came over to look at the map.