How Things Shine
I was still staring at the Eldunarya an hour later when I heard the tent material shuffle, and I looked around, my eyes heavy and puffed from tears I had held back, ready to punch whoever came through the door.
However, I could not punch Emereldo, especially when he possessed a sober aura, his great green eyes solemn as he regarded me, taking in my shrunken form.
I'm sorry, Tamunora.
I rubbed my eyes. What for? Nothing was your fault.
That's not true. I should have come to you sooner, rather than cavort foolishly around with Saphira, ignoring our Rider's distress in our selfishness, even when the city still burns.
Emereldo. I smiled at him. You and Saphira are the two last untwisted dragons left, and one of each gender. You should be allowed to delight in each other as long as you wish. My troubles are nothing compared to those of the Dragon Race.
Tamunora, are you on a lying tangent? A dragon is less without their Rider, as the Rider isn't who they are without their dragon. Just because my race is on the edge of extinction doesn't mean I neglect what matters to me the most. His snout moved further into the tent cautiously. May I come in, or shall I fear the wrath of a punch?
I giggled nervously. Sorry. Yes, of course you can.
Like a sleek vine across a forest floor, he slipped in the tent noiselessly, and settled himself down into the spacious tent, curled into a position not unlike a cat's. That's better; I'm not interrogating you now.
Do I really matter to you that much? I asked, curiously, gripping onto my knees, peering at him.
Well, I think you would. We do share thoughts a lot, and if I have any value for myself, it would extend to you, now, would it not? He winked at me, and laid his head along the ground, watching me. Now, what is this fascinating saga that I know little about?
I sighed, and scooted along the ground towards him, close enough to feel his warm breath hearten me. Well...you probably know how I feel towards Eragon?
Yes. Hard not to, but you could blame that one on me; I fell for Saphira, which leads you to fall for Eragon.
If you blame yourself one more time, I will be lead to believe that it's you who makes me angsty, impassioned and crazy.
...You might be right in thinking so!
Oh, shush. Anyway, it would appear that Eragon loves Arya, but she won't reciprocate those feelings, and she has her eyes on my brother...despite the obvious age difference. It makes me wonder where my cloth headed brother has gone...and so, Eragon had read the history of Alagaësia, found a page on my family, and, remembering Angela's prediction, realised that it could be me that it refers to who will be his lover, as I am apparently descended from the Grey Folk King and Queen blah blah...although how he knows of my feelings, I have no idea.
I think you have gone slightly paranoid, if not crazy. It sounds to me that he genuinely feels for you...as he, erm, would. He sounded embarrassed.
Saphira loves you, doesn't she? I giggled when he looked away sheepishly. That's nice, but it doesn't necessarily mean that Eragon will love me too. It just can't work that way; it's too...oh what's the word?
Perfect? What's so wrong with that?
I don't know...I suppose it's the fact that we have so many years ahead of us, it might kill us to put up with it.
Put up? His eyes glinted mischievously. Don't tell me you want the death and destruction to continue! Why not a little bit of love, eh?
Emereldo! I stifled a chuckle. It's not like that...it's just that...
Emereldo saw him in my mind, and he gave a breathy growl, his way of sighing. Oh, aye. Murtagh.
Yes. Murtagh. I saw his shape before me, as I first saw him, berating me for sneaking upon them in the mountains; when we were in that room and he had spoken to me like an equal, not revealing my secret to Eragon; when I had him placed in a better room, of how his eyes widened at me, which was after he came looking for me; of how he looked when bandaged, addled in his head, in those glowing corridors – his rage, his determination for revenge, and how I saw him again only two days before, proud upon his dragon, eyes steeled to kill...and then what I knew of him, of how he was brought up in the King's court, unable to trust anyone, unable to love, yet when he met Eragon, he showed him the kindness only a brother could show...
I gasped, unable to comprehend my thoughts as I slid the two men's faces together in my mind's eye. Emereldo...are they...brothers?
Aye. Wasn't it obvious before, or was the cloth thicker back then?
By the Gods! No wonder Murtagh wants to kill Eragon me...if I had a sister, and she took Eragon, I would want to kill her, then him, myself! Oh Emereldo! What a mess we have gotten into! Hundreds of men are dying because of my foolish actions! I felt my eyes tremble at the thought again.
Tamunora, you already have filled the sea a hundred times with your tears. Just remember that their deaths would be avenged by correcting your actions. He got up. I believe it's time for a walk of fulfilled promises. Come.
Sniffing, I dutifully got up, tucking the Eldunarya and the rock into my spacious dress pockets, and followed him out of our tent, nodding politely to the guards who had silently placed themselves outside, and were giving me concerned expressions, which I discovered was not unique to them; others were looking at me in a similar manner. A bearded man with his pretty pregnant wife were looking at me closely, but when I looked back, they returned their attention to each other, their bodies so closely entwined they could have been the same person, despite their obvious differences.
Jealous? Teased Emereldo, who was beginning to walk ahead.
Of course not; just in the want of...something.
Aren't we all? He replied sardonically. Let us visit your parents.
A fine idea. Do you know where...? Oh, Emereldo, don't look over there; it's scary.
My brother and Arya were standing nearby, and seemed to be deep in conversation. She seemed very upset, and he was holding onto her hands very softly, stroking them as he listened to her, giving the occasional word of comfort. Despite her obvious distress, the impropriety made me cringe, as I knew my brother well, and I silently thanked the Gods that Eragon was not there to witness the scene. Without much further thought, I stalked over, thunder in my heart, ignoring Emereldo's warnings, causing my brother to look at me, and jump away from Arya as if she were a bolt of lightning. Always fear women.
"Greetings, Jeod, Arya. I was just coming past, and I was curious to know what was afflicting you, Arya svit-kona, and why, Jeod, are you being embarrassing?"
Arya shook her head politely, "It is nothing to unsettle yourself about, Tamunora-elda. Your brother was giving me comfort over events that have passed that live as demons within me, as he was in a similar position to I." The expression she gave Jeod, however, made my eyebrows raise up slightly, and I felt my own demons bay with anger with my brother's next words,
"Why do you come here, Tamunora? Are you jealous that you cannot speak civilly to Eragon?"
I will take that from you, Emereldo, but not from my brother! I glared at him, a simmering cooking pot of rage, minutes from being served...
"Eragon?" Arya looked puzzled, "Has he been bothering you, Tamunora-elda?"
"NO!" I screamed, the pot spilling everywhere. In a slightly quieter voice, but no less scalding, I continued, "We just had...a disagreement! And I can't help but state the fact that the root of the argument was to do with his feelings towards you, Arya svit-kona. It is nothing that you should cry a pardon for; however, I feel that the antidotes for his affliction aren't strong enough. I do not mind you becoming close to my brother, as he's an idiot but lovely, but not in front of Eragon, I think. That is why I appear to disapprove."
Jeod folded his arms, "I thought you loved him, Nora...have you told him?"
"Yes."
"And to what end?"
"...no end to worry about."
He waved his arms furiously, "What is this world if all problems are downplayed and never sorted out? You're meant to cut Galbatorix's heart, not your own! Go to him and clear the air before I tell our parents."
"I will do the same about you and Arya." Yet I managed to smile, "Thank you brother, Arya. Perhaps I will see you later..." Feeling a little confused, but determined, I wandered hastily off, followed briskly by Emereldo. I approached the bearded man with his wife, who had watched the scene in interest.
"Do you wish to know where Eragon is?" Asked the man with bright eyes, veering close to laughing.
"...aye. Who are you, sir, my lady?"
"I am Roran, Eragon's cousin, and this is my wife Katrina." She smiled slightly at me, and grasped his hand, "Eragon has just disappeared up the battlements, but Saphira is not with him; she has gone hunting, I believe. I would suggest that you hurry; he looked upset, and ignored us when we called after him." Under his pleasant demeanour, he looked wrought with worry.
"I will bring him back in a lighter mood." I promised, and hurried towards the city walls. Ignoring the stairs, I climbed up the side of the wall, as the steps were still scrubbed cleanly with blood, and I wanted the physical challenge so I was calm when I reached the top. Emereldo watched me in amusement; I will leave you to it, as I am hungry also.
I'm not; I have apologies to give, not take. He chuckled, and took off over the wall in search of Saphira. I frowned at the distance above me, and identified a path to the top with the stones dislodged by the battering rams used in the battle. Because of my new abilities, it was no longer hard to climb, and I scrambled up them easier than a gentle hill, eager to reach the top. I panted a little when I reached the top, and hoisted over the edge.
I then looked along the battlements, and saw him there, stiff and far seeing. Cautiously, I walked towards him, heart ready to force itself out of my chest, which confused me, as I had already given it...when I was barely arms length from him, he noticed me, and he relaxed slightly, but still looked a little tense.
"Hello Tamunora." He looked away from me again, back to the distance. I took a quietly deep breath, and asked,
"How are you Eragon? I am sorry for my rude behaviour earlier; I was feeling confused by the thousand and one traps."
He grimaced, "I'm fine." He replied emotionlessly, which was like a thorn in my chest; normally he would have found that funny...I dared to try again.
"Eragon...about what I said earlier..."He didn't give any sign of hearing me, but I pressed on anyway, "I didn't mean it. Afterwards, it began to dawn on me that despite this accursed war, there is still room for love, no matter where it comes from, and even when there's the risk that it should be divided by conflict, death or separation – perhaps even all three - people take it anyway, knowing that a few days of happiness counteracts an eternity of regret, even when it was short lived. So, I'd like to take back my words, and ask you now..." I gripped my hands firmly, readying myself to say it, but he looked round at me, eyes so dark and so bright, it reminded me of the night sky, and interjected,
"Do you love me?"
I was astonished at first, but then I found myself laughing, "I was going to say that!" and we were both laughing as we realised how silly the awkwardness was, two pure notes ringing in the air, curling around the late summer air, two little doves of peace amongst the choking smoke of the fires, which were finally beginning to die...eventually, I wiped my eyes, unable to curb my smile, and I said, "I loved you from the moment I saw you, Eragon." I replied simply, "When you were asleep in that room outside Tronjheim. When I first spoke to you in that unusual situation, I fell in love. I know that you are in love with Arya, but I don't mind; I am happy to keep things as they are, and I will support you in whatever direction you choose. But I don't think I'd know a happier thing for me, aside from defeating the King, than you wanting to be with me."
Eragon shook his head, and suddenly wrapped his arms around my waist, the soft material of his tunic against my face, his wild brown hair entwining with my own, and I delightedly wrapped my own around his, "Tamunora, I don't think I could say it as well as you, so I'm just going to say; me too!"
I laughed, and I held him tighter, my eyes overflowing again, but this time, they were not tears of sadness; they were of happiness. In my mind's eye, I could see those trees again, but they were beginning the drift apart, allowing the sun and the rain to creep on in, bringing a brilliant rainbow to our surroundings...I pulled my head from my shoulder, and I felt my lips slide onto his; opposites we are, the sun and the rain always make superb results in the dance of the rainbow...
We were there for hours that mellowed into minutes, telling each other inconsequential things, laughing when we regaled seemingly irrelevant stories about each other. As we spent time together, I discovered that in deeper character, Eragon was like the rain; practical, serious and quite pessimistic, whilst I felt I was the sun; brazen, bold and impulsive. Our personalities clashed, but the rainbow caused was too pleasant for us to mind.
As the sun began to set, however, the colours in the sky, red confronting blue and green who were staying close together, I was reminded of what was in my pocket, and I pulled them out.
"What do you have...?" Eragon asked sleepily, and his eyes popped awake when he saw what I had, "By the Gods, Tamunora! How in the whole of Alagaësia did you get those?"
"Fighting Murtagh. I cut his pack, and Jeod caught them as they fell out. We thought that they would come into useful in the final battle, you see...he asked for their permission for Emereldo to use their strength, but you shall have to ask them..." I handed him the blue one, which he took cautiously, and placed it on his lap, frowning slightly as he looked at it, and I watched him anxiously. An echo of surprise reverberated on his face, and I became enfolded in insatiable curiosity, wishing to know what had been said.
When he looked up at me, he looked vaguely excited, as if someone had told him something miraculous and he couldn't quite believe it, "Tamunora, you rescued Saphira!"
What? "I've done a lot of things, but she's managed to save herself very well."
He laughed, "No, I mean my father's dragon, Saphira! Her Eldunari was stolen after she was killed...thank you so much, Tamunora!" He held me close, and I blushed. A sneaky suspicion came to me, and I contacted the green Eldunari, curious to know who this dragon was. I nearly screamed when he asked where his Rider, Aiedail, was.
For the whole month of Sepembt, we conquered various cities together, fighting at each other's side, astride our dragons. The cities flew by; Melian, Belatona, Dras Leona...until we reached Furnost. It took all my strength and beyond to bring myself to capture my home, where I was born. When I showed Eragon where I grew up, the house abandoned and ravaged by spiders, he did not tease me; rather, he helped me to clean it, and when my parents came, they fell on their knees, and thanked him profusely, asking what they could give in return. Eragon blushed, and murmured,
"I would like your daughter...but I believe that is too much to ask."
My father roared with laughter, "It's what Brom would have wanted, my boy! We shall have to see when this war is over." I looked at the doorstop, reminded of how he had thrown out potential suitors in a foul mood, and compared it wryly to how he accepted Eragon. Things have changed.
I led him up to my old room, and we sat on my bed, creaking in exactly the same way, the egg shards, bizarrely, still there. I picked them out of the wardrobe, and placed them on the bed. Eragon gathered them up, and began imitating Angela; "Manin! Wydra! My hair!". I laughed, but reprimanded him for being unkind.
He looked at my dress, and noticed a bulge in the pocket "Is there something you aren't telling me?" He asked sneakily, lounging on his side on the bed.
I looked at the bulge in my pocket, "Oh, um, you know that dwarf that got turned into a rock?"
"Aye...that's him isn't it? Lucky him; I'd love to be there."
I smacked him, but not hard, and brought it out, handing it to him. He looked at it thoughtfully, "Speaking of Angela...what was the dwarf's name?" He asked casually, yet i could sense his overpowering curiosity.
"Kuthian." At the word, Eragon fell off the bed with a thump, in a parody of how Evandar had hit the wall near on a year before...
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" He cried, yet I could see he wasn't angry; he was clearly delirious with delight. I leaned over the edge, sharing in his unknown pleasure, wondering why the rock would be important, "It's the rock of the Kuthian! I was told by a were cat that I would need it to open the Vault of the Souls! And you know what that is?"
I gasped, understanding flowing, as a word of a were cat was not to be ignored, "The store of the Eldunarya! We can free them from their enslavement!" But then I realised something else, and I stared at him, "You need your true name to enter, don't you?"
Eragon stared back at me, and beat the floor angrily, "Blast it! I don't know what that is! We're so close, yet we are blocked out by sheer glass." He placed the rock gently upon his chest, and rubbed his face angrily, making it go red and sore looking.
"Don't give up hope, Eragon." I murmured, taking the rock carefully, and peered at it, "I have an idea." I took a deep breath, and probed for Kuthian consciousness...
Tamunora?
Aye! How are you feeling, being a rock?
Oh, it's great; no one can kill a rock, you see...it's hard to hear what's going on, though, being in your pocket. Must say, though...you and Eragon make a sublime pairing.
Thank you, but I'm not here to idly chat. I would like to ask you a question.
Go on...
Could you...could you guess Eragon's true name?
There was a heady pause, but I was determined to hear his reply. Finally he whispered; Yes, yes I think I could. But I need to be in touch with his consciousness...
I punched the air triumphantly, making Eragon jump. I will make him. Thank you so much, Kuthian! Explain to me later how you can, please? I withdrew from him, and beamed at Eragon, "Probe for Kuthian's consciousness; he's trying to find you." Astonishment reflected in the shadows on his face, but he took the rock meekly and began to look at it intently, his face sweating. He gave a little gasp, and looked up at me, alarmed but strangely pleased.
"My true name..." He whispered, and gave the rock back to me, staring into space.
Was it surprising, Kuthian? I asked the dwarf.
Oh yes, but it was a nice one. Your lover seems to be pure of heart... I scowled with embarrassment, but I was pleased with it.
Did the elves teach you? I asked him.
Aye. It wasn't all stiff courtesies, you know. What an adventure this has been...and now I get to save the pimple faced from certain death...now it's only possible.
And we thank you for it. Farewell, Kuthian, for now.
Indeed. Farewell. I placed the rock in my pocket, and Eragon's eyes were following my own as I looked up, and could not help but look into them. I giggled, and he chuckled. He jumped up to sit beside me, and we fell back together on the bed, joyous in our triumph.
True name. I suddenly stopped giggling when I remembered finding Evandar's name, and how he wanted to die after learning it, and later learning from Aiedail that when one had someone's true name, you could control them...
"Eragon," I asked casually, "Do you think the King has imprisoned Murtagh with the knowledge of his true name?"
Eragon's jaw tightened, "Yes. He said as much when we last met."
I nodded, and sighed, "I wish we could change it." A plan began to form in the back of my mind, but I refrained from telling Eragon, for fear of hurting him.
My heart shuddered as the wind flushed over Emereldo's wings when we finally advanced on Ûru'baen, and camped a few miles away. I could distinctly see the red glow of Murtagh's dragon, and the shadow of the man himself astride him. Eragon, like I, had his gaze fixed upon him, and our silence masqueraded as an understanding of our feelings; I had no idea how he felt about his half brother, nor did he know how I felt about Murtagh.
My plan to change the Red Rider's name was a thorn, prickly, annoying...but had to be tolerated. I still had not told Eragon about the plan, and it cut me up inside, despite how I loathed to do so. As the troops around us took their places, my parents and my brother fussed over me, making sure that I was prepared for battle, and I could see Nasuada and Arya speaking to Eragon. I could not help but notice that he was still uncomfortable in her presence, and could not meet her eyes, but I decided that he just needed time to get over her. Slowly.
I could sense so much that day. The whistle and roar of the soldiers rallied by Nasuada's rousing speech still echoes in my memory, a music that describes the mood perfectly, orchestrated perfectly by the calling of war, conducted by the fierce Urgals, who I stood amongst, as an Urgal. I had become acquaintanced with all of them, especially their leader, Nar Garzhvog, who, beneath the intimidating atmosphere, has the mind of a great philosopher and strategist. He lifted his chin at me when he saw me, and rumbled,
"A fine day for fighting, is it not, Lady Burnsword?" The charming nickname was given to me when they discovered that it was me who had set fire to many of their kin.
"It always is for the Urgals." I replied with a droll wink.
He grunted, but I could tell he found it funny by the quiet snirk he made under his breath.
Further along the line, I could see Nasuada leading her horse away from Eragon, and, after leaping elegantly upon it, notched an arrow. I touched Emereldo on the shoulder, gripping my sword hard, as if these two things were the only things I had left. My newly repaired armour chinked dully, but the protection didn't mean anything to me; I was going, as far as I was concerned, completely unprotected.
Oh, not completely. Drawled Emereldo, who bared his fangs. I would like to make a russet mess as well.
Ah, that would be a fine name for the legend we're going to be in...Russet Mess; you cloth head.
What would you come up with; Eragon? He sniggered, Can't do worse than Eragon's choice is name for his sword...Brisingr, I ask you!
No, you don't. I smiled, and shaded my eyes as the sun came out yawning, almost too late for the battle. I could hear Nasuada yell, which prompted the humans to surge forwards, the Urgals fast in following. Quickly, Emereldo rose with a whoosh into the air, and we accompanied Saphira and Eragon, heading straight towards Murtagh and his dragon, which were also airborne and heading straight towards us. I was reminded, almost bizarrely, of how I had approached Eragon astride Emereldo. I could see my brother below, riding on Nar Garzhvog's back, sending spells at anyone who attacked...and then I saw dwarves charging, bringing back memories of Kuthian, of how I had shared bread with him, how he revealed Eragon's true name...
The red dragon attacked Emereldo first, striking Emereldo's front legs, which he retaliated by pushing back and whipping around with his tail, Saphira twisted around to bite at the red dragon's already maimed tail, subduing it. Murtagh thrust his sword out at me, and I feinted, dodged and stabbed where I could, calling upon strength from Aiedail's dragon when I dared...eventually, too much height was lost, and the three dragons separated, and dispersed to gain height. Saphira reached the top first, and brought her tail down in a crashing blow onto the red dragon's snout, making his fangs judder and leaving a clear cut upon his face. When it healed quickly, I knew that there were more Eldunarya. Therefore, when Murtagh was not looking, I cut the pack and caught them with magic as Emereldo swept beneath the red dragon.
Murtagh swore loudly when he realised where the Eldunarya went, and his dragon began pursuing us. Emereldo looped upwards towards Saphira, and I threw two of the four to Eragon, who caught them tidily, and tucked them into his armour.
"Thought you might have learnt your lesson, Murtagh!" I teased, Emereldo flipping over to administer another blow on his dragon's chest, making him roar with pain, and his wings beat much more weakly, causing his to lose height. Emereldo began to shoving him towards the ground, helped by Saphira, and eventually the red dragon fell to the ground with an earth shattering thump, Murtagh staggering away hastily as Eragon and I landed. Whilst Murtagh was fast, Eragon and I were cosmic, and we both leapt onto him, tackling him to the ground, laughing.
Murtagh snarled, "Not fair! That wasn't a fair fight!"
"Oh yes it was; you should have put the Eldunarya in a better position, where I couldn't get them, and you didn't, so that's you losing out, cloth head." Emereldo grinned appreciatively at the last.
Murtagh scowled, and began to mutter something, which made me leap off him immediately, but Eragon was not so fast, and he was blasted many metres away from where we lay. Saphira went wild, and sparks flew from her nostrils, flames threatening to burst forth in her anger. Before she could do anything, however, he immobilised her and Emereldo, and he turned his attention on me.
I smiled a twisted smile. I was ready to implement my plan.
"Greetings, Tamunora! The last time we could speak like this, you casted me to the darkness!" He sniggered at this, and walked towards me. I did not feel indigence, nor shame; I merely felt sadness at his behaviour.
"Dear me, Murtagh. Must you turn to such aggressive behaviour, when you still have a chance of escape, before you become a twisted bastard like our dear King?"
He brought up his sword, the tip so very close to my neck, close enough so if I spoke, I would receive a cut, "Brave words, Tamunora, brave words...but I am forced to kill you, Tamunora, despite your fine addition to the world...is there anything you wish to do before you die?" His face carried a golden sheen, despite the mud that scarred it already. The pan was laid out in front of me, and I sprinted to catch it, leaving it safe in my arms.
I leaned back slightly to avoid the blade, and murmured, "I do, and I hope you appreciate it." I cooled my mind to the hot tongs of death, as I batted his sword away, allowing it to spin into the dirt, and I leaned into Murtagh, kissing him full in the mouth, praying that it would work.
It seemed instantly that it did, as he did not push away from me; in fact, he responded, and I could feel his lips against mine...it didn't feel wrong for some reason, as if it were not an act of treachery on Eragon for kissing his half brother...eventually, we broke apart, and I looked at him, the words on the tip of my tongue, and they flowed out of me.
Murtagh widened his eyes, "What?"
I beamed at him, "That's your new true name. Is it better than the last one?"
Murtagh reached for my hand, and then stopped, staring at the ground, "Without a doubt." He spun around, touching his lips wonderingly.
"Murtagh?" He look round at me, amazement dancing in his eyes, "I hate to spoil the moment, but you should release them."
"Ah yes, of course!" Hurriedly, he released the spells on the dragons, and before Saphira could attack Murtagh, I rashly stood in her path, and cried,
"One moment, please, Saphira! I have changed his true name, so he is not the same." Murtagh looked up at her, fearful, but determined.
She snorted, but consented to wait. I then hurried over to Eragon, and found him stirring softly, a cut on his forehead. Carefully, I healed it, and lifted him up, supporting him against my shoulder.
"Take energy from the Eldunarya, Eragon." I murmured, and he did so, and began to perk up suddenly. When he saw Murtagh standing there, Saphira with murder written over her face, Emereldo looking bemusedly at me, he raised his eyebrows at me. I shrugged, and suggested, "Girl power?"
The halls of the palace were dark compared to the bright light outside as we, all six of us, silently followed Murtagh to where the Eldunarya were stored. We had refrained from inviting anyone else, as three dragons were intimidating enough, and more people would equate to more noise. The shadows were curling and grey as we were lead towards the centre of the castle.
"Now, keep very quiet through here; magic is so thick in the air, the King will be able to sense you easily. Shield your minds more fiercely than anything else, as it would be what will betray you, and cast spells to soften your steps." Murtagh whispered, as he cast spells onto his dragon's feet, which Eragon and I imitated. He grinned at us, "By the Gods, it feels good to be good sometimes."
"Yeah, but we're not doing good as such...we're just defeating him, not killing, agreed?" I hissed back. Eragon and Murtagh looked at each other, and locked themselves into silent mirth.
I suppose not then. I grumbled to myself, and I followed the two men deeper in the palace.
We eventually came face to face to a wide doorway, made of simple wood, framed in stone. Murtagh stood casually beside it, "Go on, Eragon." He murmured, "Speak your true name."
Eragon sighed, and looked at both of us, "Promise to me in the ancient language that you won't laugh?"
"We won't laugh." We whispered together. Eragon nodded, and murmured his name. I could not hear it, but the door clearly could, as it creaked open slightly, and, cautiously we pushed it open, and closed it hastily behind us.
We were faced with as many as a thousand Eldunarya, glinting on polished shelves, like stars in the dark mysterious sky, and we all gasped at the sight, awestruck.
"To think I have...no, that's just...horrible." Murtagh shook his head, "Send them all to somewhere safe, and we should get out fo here."
"But where?" Eragon whispered.
"I know." I murmured calmly, "My house. Eragon and I can send them there, whilst Murtagh, you can keep watch."
"Uh, Tamunora, I have been to your house..." He looked very ashamed.
I looked at him, then suddenly I understood, "Oh...well, I have no hard feelings on that now. At least it's helpful. Let's get going everyone!"
Murtagh gave me a grateful expression, and Eragon kicked him with deliberate force, making him wince. I rolled my eyes, and we began packaging them.
It took a couple of hours, but, eventually, we were left with three Eldunarya; Saphira, Feldór and a red one that was identified as Ambra. Emereldo's eyes watered when he felt the touch of his parents' spirits against his own.
"Right," I muttered, "Time to slash Galby, men. Effeminate beings first!" I jokingly shoved Eragon forwards, earning myself an annoyed punch, making Murtagh snigger.
"Who's in there?" So suddenly came a slithering voice from behind the door, making us stop an shiver, and no one needed to say who was there, and here.