A/N: Well, at least this chapter is up a bit sooner . . . Thanks to darkdruid01 for his awesome editing!
(Revised around 18/7/18, and again on 22/12)
†
A few days later
Kitai nudged the heavy door of the armoury open with his hip, taking care to balance the heavy stack of bows in his arms. He huffed in annoyance as he felt the coil of bowstring looped around his shoulder begin to slip down, and shrugged it back up. It was then that he registered voices inside, and he sighed, preparing to call out and request assistance.
When he saw who it was, though, surprise killed the words on his lips in surprise. Këyal sat opposite to Osra, both with heavy war axes in their laps and whetstones in their heads were bent towards each other in quiet conversation.
These two talk together? Since when . . . ?
Osra glanced his way just then, and raised a politely enquiring eyebrow. Këyal turned, and when he saw who it was he placed his axe on the floor and moved to Kitai's side, lifting half the bows from his arms with an easy grace.
"Ah . . . thank you," Kitai managed to say, somewhat disoriented.
"They are quite heavy," Këyal murmured, his voice quiet and musical, his steps smooth and light as he went to place the bows in their place. "I hope you did not have to carry them too far?"
"Oh, no, only from the target range." Kitai followed him, glancing at Osra. "You two are attending to the axes?"
"Every last one of them," Osra said, looking distinctly disgruntled. "And with no magic."
"Why, did you do something to anger Master?" Kitai asked over his shoulder, shooting her a teasing look.
She scowled slightly. "We need a reminder of what lacking magic feels like, he says."
"Well, perhaps we do then."
Këyal snorted softly, setting the last bow in place, his lips pursed in mild discontent. Kitai gave him an amused look, which, when he caught it, caused him to look down and away with colouring cheeks. It was such an incongruous action for someone he was accustomed in a position of disdainful command that he could not refrain from clapping him softly on the shoulder as he passed.
"Well then, I'll leave you to it," he called, grinning at Këyal's surprised expression. "Enjoy yourselves."
Osra lowered her head for a brief instant, the sharp points of her horns pointing in his direction for the briefest moment - a warning by any standards, certainly by Urgal standards, but Kitai knew she meant it in jest.
"We will meet at the midday meal, yes?" Këyal called after him. Kitai replied in the affirmative, giving him a quick smile before he slipped out of the door.
Well, that was unusual, to say the least . . . I have an hour or so to spare - to the library, or to the training room? The former seems like the better, there is that essay due -
"Kitai!"
He turned to see Eragon gesturing some way behind him. "It is a good thing I happened across you. Will you come with me for a few minutes?"
"Yes, surely. Is anything the matter?"
"Not precisely, I simply wished to obtain your opinion upon a certain matter. My study is a suitable place to speak, yes?"
"Oh, certainly!"
"You will not touch anything this time, Kitai, I see that grin."
"You wound me, Master, with your lack of faith in my integrity, my -"
Eragon gave him a light cuff to the back of the head. "Spare me the soliloquies, you've no more integrity than a rascal fox."
"Now that truly was uncalled for!"
"You are fully aware you deserve it." Eragon gave him an amused look as he pushed open his study door. "Come in."
Eragon's private study was a large, circular room, lined with hundreds of scrolls and books arranged in neat rows. In the center was a handsome desk with various pigeon holes for quills, charcoal, wax, paper and ink. His seal - a dragon, of course - was accorded pride of place in a square, velvet lined hole, the top of which fit so seamlessly into the surface of the desk that the contours of the lid of the box were indiscernible. Two cane chairs stood in front of the desk, and a heavier chair stood behind it. A ladder on wheels led to a movable balcony that could be moved around the circumference on the room so that once one had entered it, one could access any scroll on any level just by moving the balcony by means of a simple pulley mechanism. The outside was carved in a myriad of patterns, and it was lined so that it was comfortable to sit and read in. An Erisdar dangled from the delicate arch curving over it; it resembled nothing more than an airy nest.
Kitai gave it an appreciative, rather wistful glance, which Eragon caught immediately.
"No, you are not touching it again. I still cannot fathom how you nearly managed to break it with nothing more than five minutes to yourself with it."
"Ah, Master, at least allow me to look over it once more! I could make so many little - what do you say, puzzles? Contraptions? - if only I knew how it worked -"
"My answer is a firm and unequivocal no, Kitai. Be seated, please."
He sighed and complied, crossing his legs and settling down to wait. Eragon frowned slightly for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts as he fiddled with a quill. Then he began, "I assume you know exactly how I was poisoned – and by whom. You may have some idea as to the reason behind as well, I hope."
Kitai frowned slightly, taking his time to reply. "How, yes. By whom . . . perhaps. Why, I can only guess."
"I would like to hear it. You and Senshi told me, when you came, that your people were at first quite understandably apprehensive about the dragons, and thereafter decided to leave us well enough alone, with the only precaution being illusionary barriers to prevent us from approaching them - which explains why I have never seen a village or town of yours, though I have flown many leagues north and east with Saphira. This makes it seem to me unlikely that any of them would be responsible for the attack upon myself. Senshi repeated to me later what she told Orik, Orrin, and Nar, Garzhvog, and I would like to know your opinion on how likely her theory is."
"I would say . . . very likely indeed. I do not know, of course, the entire reach of the old empire, but to me - I can believe that it was them far easier than I can believe it was the Chorih. After the war, we hunted them like the rats they were. They scattered, they hid, their clan is nothing, has been nothing for some years. If indeed there are any left, if they were responsible, they would require an overpowering reason, incentive, and they would require a daakyir with the knowledge of Vilta. It is very precise, very meticulous to make, and all instructions relating to it have been burned. Then, too, they would need to overcome the sacred - the law, the edict -"
"Your crown issued an edict that we were not to be approached?"
"The crown did not, Lidéna did."
"Ah . . ." Eragon leaned back in his chair. "I see. That is the guise in which Dellanir dwells in your land, if I remember aright."
"As you say. The goddess of the hunt has three forms; as a deer, to represent the chase; as a wolf, to represent the pounce; and as a fleet, stern huntress, to represent the kill. Lidéna is the last. To speak the truth, I doubt Dellanir intended to be perceived as such an image, as such a manifestation. I suspect she only accepted that which we assumed her to portray . . . and considering that she is among the most venerated of our gods, since much of our way of life depends upon the hunt, it would be unthinkable for any, especially the Chorih, to disobey her word. Thus it is most likely that it was someone else, someone who knows precisely what the Riders are and who would not be bound by what she says. All indicates that your enemy is from Alagaësia. And they must have some considerable power as well, as the Chorih would not sell their last weapon easily."
"Hmm. Then we must begin to search for them . . . Is it possible they live in your kingdom?"
"It . . . may be possible, but I doubt it is probable."
"It is a possibility we cannot eliminate. Can you provide me with an estimate of the total population living to the north?"
"Well, given the five major clans and ten smaller ones, as well as certain others . . . how would you estimate the dwarven population?"
"I suppose at some nine hundred thousand, if I were to make a rough guess."
"And the human population?"
"After the war? Perhaps twice or thrice that."
"Then I will say we have thrice that again. Nine millions, give or take perhaps a few hundred thousand."
Eragon's eyes opened wide for a brief moment. Kitai gave him a wry smile. "Not an easy task to find your enemies, I would imagine."
"No indeed . . . What surprises me is how nine million people living in one forest have managed to conceal themselves so well, be the forest ever so dense."
"Well, as you told me, the land is nearly equal to Alagaësia in terms of area, and we have some experience with protecting ourselves from foreign eyes."
"I see . . . well, my thanks for your assistance. There is only one more matter I would like to clarify before I let you return to your duties."
Kitai inclined his head in answer. "Of course."
"Yourself and Senshi have remained to study here because - in your own words - there was no bright prospect left for you at home, and so why not learn something of a different land; why not understand and learn to use the abilities you had been granted? I admit, I too may have emphasized the importance of a matched dragon and Rider a tad overmuch to persuade you to stay. Now, however, you have resided here for two years, and there is not much left for you to study. After that, you will help the four who have so recently arrived learn. And once their education, too, is concluded . . . what do your sister and yourself intend to do?"
Kitai blinked at him, a quiet dismay gathering in his mind. It was not that the question had not presented itself to him before, but he had not expected Eragon himself to pose it so soon.
What do I intend to do? What may Senshi intend to do?
"I . . ." The answer was heavy on his tongue, heavy with uncertainty and apprehension. "I do not know, Master."
Eragon's gaze was contemplative. "Then you must think on it, and decide sooner rather than later. You may have less time than you imagine."
†
A week later
Layla hovered high in the air, above the ocean, poised perfectly between two dark, billowing clouds. The moisture in the air made it a little tricky to maintain her position, but having spent more than three years in this climate ensured that she maintained the delicate balance with ease; with, in fact, hardly a flicker of conscious thought.
Some way below her, Saphira-ebrithil supervised Palé and Ikraan as they put into practice what she had taught them on extended gliding. Above them, Layla's sisters-by-breeding put the other young ones through their paces in the midst of the treacherous high altitude winds. Jethran had joined them, Layla noted approvingly catching the flash of his blue scales in between Corinne's white and Lifaen's green. He took initiative, that one. Still, it was unfair to leave him to her sisters' supervision alone - she would return in a minute or two.
Eragon-ebrithil and Saphira-ebrithil had found that it was by far too confusing to commence the newcomers' training while yet the older students had not completed their own. Each had their own learning pace, their own skills and weaknesses and difficulties, and while that was evened to some extent by tuatha du orothim it had been decided that all ten dragons and Riders would complete their training in its entirety before the next eggs were sent out, that the confusion would not occur again. Of course, this forced the older students to remain at the Hall even after their own education was complete, given their three year head start; but it could not be helped, and by assisting the ebrithilar in teaching they would not only put their knowledge to good use but ensure that the younger ones complete their own training far faster.
Thus it was the four first-hatched dragons of the new generation were conducting class for the four youngest, while Saphira-ebrithil took the opportunity to polish the skills of the middle-born-brothers. They had discovered that the system that suited them best was for each to teach what she was most proficient at, while the others watched, assisted, and commented. Today, it was Drëya teaching the younglings how to escape dangerous weather, one of the most important lessons a dragon must needs learn, which she excelled at because of her small, strong frame.
It was not easy to learn, however - when the break-bone-wind had you in its grip and frost was cooling your scales as you were tossed ever higher into the unseeing, uncaring hard-sparkling-sky, it was no mean feat to keep calm and remember lessons taught. So for today's lesson alone, the younglings were being given individual attention. It was lucky that Jethran was a quick study, allowing Layla to take a moment or two to simply enjoy the weather.
She swung her tail around, circling to face east, and breathed as deeply as she could manage. The cold-sharp-rain was on its way - even the winds up here carried the faintest scent of overturned clay, and towering clouds were massing quickly, being driven west and south, oceanwards, by furious gales. The first monsoon storm she'd seen was still clear in her memory, one of the only things that had ever managed to scare her. The storms were nothing like the light showers that marked spring melting into summer - these roared the end of summer with no mercy, and would not dissipate until spring came around once more.
The two-legs made the best of it, transporting as much water as they could manage to a row of massive barrels stored underground, which was then used for everything from bathing to cooking to cleaning. Any excess went to the Garden in the dry months, the pure water allowing the plants to thrive. If there was still more, the elves insisted that it be poured into the ground to conserve the balance of the water table.
A mundane use, she thought, flicking her tail contemptuously. The storms were for sport, of course, nothing else. She and Mánya tended to make a game of it, of who could conquer the dangerous drafts and avoid the lightning better. Drëya hardly ever joined them, but when she did, she beat them both with ease. None of them dared fly in a really furious hurricane, though. There was recklessness, and then there was utter idiocy. Besides, Saphira-ebrithil would not hesitate to snap a good foot off their tails for attempting anything so foolhardly.
She pivoted on one wing easily, spiraling upwards to dodge neatly between two slims wisps of cloud. Këyal was watching from the back of her mind, and the quiet jolt of muted pride she felt from him augmented her content even further, causing her to hum, loud and melodious. He had been truly happy this week, happier than he had been in a long time, and that in itself was enough to keep delight glowing in her belly for days on end.
It had not come easy, of course. He'd had to apologize to the half-elf-girl first, and that had taken a measure of courage he had been hard put to collect, even given his own determination and her encouragement. But he'd managed to get himself assigned to Garden duty at the same time as she, and so had been able to approach her with no fear of any of the others intruding.
Layla called the memory up with ease as she snapped lazily at a startled hawk, allowing it to fill her mind entirely. It was still clear, unblurred by time, despite the fact that it was from several days before.
"You require something of me?" the girl said coolly, hands tapping against her leg anxiously but her gaze resolute. All details Layla herself would hardly notice, but through Këyal's eyes they became unnaturally apparent.
He took a deep breath, attempting to settle his nerves. Not that the girl knew it, of course - to her, he looked much as he always did, Layla was ready to swear, composed as always.
Layla, that really is not a very helpful thought.
She sent him a wave of apologetic reassurance, and it helped, if only a little.
Këyal returned the gesture with a quick flash of gratitude, and faced the girl.
"Dara, I wanted to apologize for my utterly inexcusable behaviour, the previous evening. I was unmannered, cruel, and exceptionally rude, and I regret my actions more than I can convey. I am aware that you have no reason to hear me out, but I do have reason enough for what I did, and if nothing else I owe you an explanation. I would beg that you allow me to do convey it to you."
He twisted his hand over his chest, and bowed.
It was well said.
I - hope so, but will she - ?
There was silence from the girl, and as Këyal remained bent at the waist neither he nor Layla could see her expression, could attempt to guess how she might have taken his words.
It seemed an age, both to him and to her, before she spoke.
"Why?" she said, soft and hurt, and Këyal straightened to see her mouth twisted painfully. "I am but a halfbreed, am I not? Why is it that you deem me worthy of such an apology?"
"But you are not!" he exclaimed, taking a step forward without thinking. "You are not, that is not how I think of you, how I see you at all! Dara, I cannot tell you how sorry I am that I - will you please allow me to tell you why I said what I did? You need never speak to me again, if you so wish, afterwards, but I could not reconcile it with my conscience if you did not know - if you believed I was simply - unfeeling, cruel - "
He faltered to a halt, anxiety coursing through him like a river, and even Layla could not do much to stem it. She only hoped the outburst would not cement the girl's view of her heart-partner as volatile, unpredictable, not to be trusted.
But she smiled a little, and laughed quietly, the sound trembling at the edges but true enough.
"At th' very least, that sounded more sincere than did your prerehearsed apology," she said, one eyebrow quirking. She moved to a stone bench placed nearby, seated herself with the queer grace natural only to creatures of magic, and tilted her head slightly.
"I'll hold you to your word, Këyal. I agree to hear your explanation, but I give you fair warning - I'm hardly predisposed to listen kindly, and I'll not hesitate to avoid speaking to you at all in future."
"Understood," he said instantly, relief blooming in his mind like a flower of light. "I cannot tell you how grateful I am for this chance, Dara, I - "
"And," she said, as though he had not spoken, "We will converse only in the ancient language. I'll hear no tricks of speech. What you have to say to me, you'll say it straight and true."
She has steel in her, this one, Layla noted.
That she does.
". . . Understood." Këyal said, more quietly, seating himself beside her. "Then, this was my reason - "
She had listened well, asking a few questions, but ultimately taking in all Këyal said in silence. When he had managed to finish - for it had been a hard struggle, describing out loud and in the old tongue the poisonous secret that had eaten away at him for so long - she had waited only a moment before laying a hand on his, all animosity and distrust in her eyes washed away by a warm blaze of compassion.
"Thank you for trusting me wi' that," she had said gently. "I know it could not have been easy. I understand, and you're forgiven. And, if you will have me, I will lay claim to the title of your first friend here."
The words had been simple enough, but in themselves had nearly caused Këyal to sob on her shoulder - and that was no exaggeration. The first kind words he had heard from a fellow Rider - had been allowed to accept from a fellow Rider - of course they would strike home, particularly to one such as Këyal, very much a quiet creature of light and music and warmth.
He had managed to restrain himself, however, had managed to force the tears back and grasp her hand firmly in return, managed to say 'Thank you' with only the faintest hint of a tremor in his voice. She had smiled in a way that hinted that she saw right through him, and had pulled him to his feet with a laugh, declaring that they would go and find his second and third friends that very day.
Layla snorted softly, the icy air burning her nose. She had not been pleased with the fact that the girl had forced Këyal to repeat the same, very personal secret to the younger-not-a-Kull Urgal and the curly-haired-bright-smiled human the very same day - for it had travelled from them to most everyone else, as she had known it would - but, well, Këyal was undoubtedly happier, and his softer emotions were undoubtedly changing her perceptions of the girl, making them kinder and more forgiving. It was altogether more difficult to remain miffed.
Far below, Jethran was tugged into a helpless, uncontrolled spin by a sudden draft which sent him hurtling down towards the ocean. Layla huffed and tipped into a steep dive, wind beginning to howl past her, as she headed back to resume her duties.
Honestly, can he not remain unscathed for a bare quarter of an hour?
But the deep content settled in her chest made it harder than she would have liked to be irritable, and she let out a quietly joyous roar as she sped downwards, the hope for a happier future infecting her from her partner making the world seem, all at once, brighter and more beautiful.
†
That evening
"Ahh, not you too."
Caspian woke with a start at the unexpected voice, the scent of grass heavy in his nostrils. He blinked, squinting up at the sky, and a dark face came into focus.
"Oh, Senshi. Good evening. Apologies, I must have dropped off to sleep . . ."
"Aye, you were sleeping like a child when I arrived," she said, sitting next to him and crossing her legs. "And that was some quarter of an hour before now."
He sat up, yawning. "Is it very late?"
She tilted her head quizzically. "Late for what?"
"I meant, is it - has the day advanced considerably? Is it close to night?"
"Oh." She looked to the side, a little embarrassed. "Yes, the sun just set. I am surprised you did not hear us coming."
Yes, I've been told I fly unnaturally loudly, Ikraan said drily. A good sleep, youngling?
"Very, thank you," Caspian grinned, reaching out to give him a rub on his dark snout. He hummed, ruffling her hair with a puff of hot breath, and nudged his side. He grinned, obligingly scratching the scales under his chin, until a thought occurred to him.
"Senshi, you were saying something when I woke up, were you not?"
She looked over at him blankly for a moment before realization dawned in her eyes. "Oh, that. No, I was just -" She huffed softly. "Every Rider comes up here sooner or later."
"Is that a bad thing? Should not everyone enjoy the beauty of this place?"
For it was truly a lovely place, this clifftop. Situated at a point where the coast curved towards the sea, and ocean was all that could be seen for the most part. If one looked back to the northwest, one would see the Hall nestled glowing against the rich green of the forest like some small, exquisitely crafted toy castle. To the north, that same forest lapped at the back of the range of chalk cliffs. On this, the tallest one, the massive banyan tree stood stark against the sky, unencumbered by any competing trees and surrounded only by soft grass. It was quiet, this place, and peaceful; all that was to be heard was the distant crash of waves and faint cries and calls of the animals in the forest. The calm was somehow magnetic, somehow anchoring.
Yet Senshi sighed. "I suppose. Only, it was mine at first. The others, who had been here longer, they knew of it but they never came much. It was only after I began to come more often that they decided to do the same."
"Exasperating indeed."
"In truth it was, do not laugh! And now you all come too. It has an - an aura? An atmosphere? - that is easily destroyed by careless action. I do not like to think of too many people here."
"Is that so? And yet I've heard that they come here mostly to meditate, unlike -" He gestured deprecatingly towards himself. "Myself, who came in search of a good place to nap. I doubt they make much noise in that endeavour."
Her brow creased as though she was attempting to decide between amusement and exasperation. "It may be as you say, but -"
He hummed, wagging a finger under her nose. "No buts. You've some other reason for wanting us gone from here, is it not so? Yes, do not attempt to deny it, for I see all and know all. You can hide naught from me. Keep your secret; I shall ferret it out sooner or later!"
She did laugh at that, a quietly musical sound. "Are you always so chirpy when you first wake?"
He leaned back on his hands, crossing his legs at the ankles as he grinned back. "Indeed I am."
She shook her head, and for a minute or so there was a comfortable silence between them.
"How . . . are you finding the classes?" she asked eventually. Her fingers tugged absently at a clump of grass, steadily uprooting it.
He glanced at her hand, raising an eyebrow. "And here I thought you'd lost all reason to be apprehensive around me. I'm very disappointed, Senshi."
She threw the clump at him, spattering him with dirt. "Will you just - I am attempting to make conversation!"
"Alright, alright," he chuckled, brushing the blades of grass out of his hair. "They are good. Better than I imagined. When they told me what a Rider was, I thought it would be very upright, very stiff; but it's interesting, to say the least. And I'm learning how to fight! I have always wanted to learn to fight. The library is wonderful as well, and there are so many things I am learning about - well, everything. Did you know that in mountains, and the summits, you can find seashells? Just like the ones we find on the beach! There was this one Rider, and she flew to the Beors just to -"
The stars were nearly out in full force by the time he ran out of things to say, yet Senshi remained attentive the entire time, drinking his words in silently. A good listener, he thought, finally letting his voice die out. A better one than me.
She smiled as he stretched out. "You can talk for a long time, I see."
He felt the tips of his ears begin to heat. "I hope I did not bore you?"
"Not at all. There are not many who are willing to shoulder the entire burden of speaking themselves. It is . . . nice to be allowed to sit quiet and only listen for once."
"Why, then I am glad I could oblige you. And since we are speaking of the matter, how goes the rebuilding?"
"The - ?"
He waved an impatient hand. "Friends. Connections. Talking. All that."
"Oh. Oh, yes. Um, well enough."
"Details, if you'd please, milady."
She wrinkled her nose at him. "Well enough, as I said. Akhtar helps me train with the axe. Dara teaches me slang, and talks almost as much as you, and she expects me to do the same. She is kind, and exhausting, but I think in a nice way. With Ravûn things are much the same, we have always been good friends. Osra has decided my Urgal tongue needs more work, and she tutors me. Sorya . . . passed me a quiver once, I think that is good?"
"Undisputable progress, for her."
"And I have - I talk to Kitai once again, though things are rather strained. Oh, Këyal, he - he offered to help with my duty in the Garden a few days ago, he said he had finished his own early. We did not talk too much, but what we did I was surprised to find pleasant." She smiled, startlingly bright in the fading dusk. "He said we were both on similar journeys, and from what Dara told me I could not help but agree. It is good to see him smile truly, for once."
"That it is. And what of Zelíe?"
The look she directed towards him was just sharp enough to be uncomfortable.
"We are the same," she said slowly, brushing an errant curl behind one ear. "We are cordial enough."
"You do not like her."
"I do not find much to like." She gazed at him steadily. "For you, that does not hold true, I think?"
Caspian opened his mouth and shut it after a second. By his side, Lifaen snorted softly.
"You can be . . . quite direct when you so wish, I see," he said trying to gain some composure.
She only shrugged, her amber gaze never wavering from his face. "I hesitate to say this, but your emotions are wasted."
"Oh, I know." He looked down at the grass by his feet. "Truly, I know. We cannot help who we love, though, can we?"
He heard a soft sigh. "That we cannot," she murmured.
"The most powerful magic in the world, so the poets say, and we can do nothing to control it." He swallowed, trying to smother the waver in his voice. "A shame, no?"
She caught it, however, for she reached out and tugged lightly at the lobe of his left ear - a gesture of affection peculiar to her. "Forget this. To speak of such matters we need wine, and we have none. We will meditate for a time, and then return. Yes?"
He chuckled. "As you say. Then, the day when we do have wine, we shall return to this, and all our worries will be like dust in the wind."
She inclined her head, reflecting his smile. "I look forward to it."
And so they meditated, listening to the birds and the beetles and the fish in the sea, and the wind that thereafter swept across the hilltop, swirling around the still figures of two dragons and two humans, was warm enough to be the breath of the promise they made.