Greetings, dear Readers!
I have noticed that there is a certain 'mood' associated with each story, a certain feel for its characters a writer has to immerse himself in before letting the story flow. This story is one that requires that feel in abundant measure...I do not dare to write it without that sense of wonder and fantasy firmly fixed in my mind. The other fics I have been constantly updating has an entirely different mood to it, if you understand what I am saying.
Some might see this as a flimsy excuse for the late update, but I hope even they will understand. It is no easy matter to balance multiple stories without letting the 'mood' of one spill into another. This chapter, therefore, has taken more time than usual in order to preserve the true spirit with which I began this tale.
My apologies for the monologue. As always, many thanks for reading and reviewing...Your approval means a great deal to me, something without which this story would never have continued so long.
So. A merry Christmas in advance to you, my readers and reviewers, and I hope your enthusiasm with my stories will continue as always.
Thank you for reading.
Sincerely,
karldin.
CHAPTER 21
The sun's light was fading gradually, bathing the eaves of the sprawling Menoa tree with a dull orange light as if reflecting the prescience of nature itself. Dimmed even was the grace of the Elves of Ellesmera seated randomly around the base of the Great Menoa, watching with sorrow and turmoil upon their fair faces as Lord Fiolr arrived upon the agreed ground wearing armour of truly cunning make. His hair was tied behind him with a ring of beaten gold, so as not to impede him in his battle and concealed in the sheath at his waist was a long curved sword already glinting menacingly.
"Be careful, Ismira", said Eragon as he stood beside his own niece, whose armour was being strapped to her by Yaela who had just finished braiding Ismira's hair. "Do not be afraid to use every weapon at your disposal if it means you will win", he continued even as Yaela was softly murmuring spells of warding and binding as she closed the last of the armour's straps. The decision to stand by Ismira, he knew, would not make him very popular amongst the elves who he knew literally idolized him.
They will likely see it as a rank betrayal of trust, said Saphira to him as she sent him images of her lying leisurely beside Oromis' hut, and images of Varda chasing Laetri happily in the field of lilies. Even at a poignant juncture such as this, that image simply brought him a joy he could not explain. He had decided not to meet with Varda until after the duel and sometime later; There was much left for him to resolve and many things to complete…Varda would not benefit from the attention he was going to garner after these events. He would shield her from violence as long as he could.
"It is done", said Yaela as she stepped back from Ismira and looked at her with a critical eye. "I have done this as best as I can, daughter of Roran. Perhaps Wyrden could have done better…he was the one who studied weaponry the most of us all", she said as her face fell. Eragon laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently; that day at Dras-Leona the twelve had become eleven with Wyrden's loss.
"Thank you, Yaela", he said gratefully and she nodded to him. The shared respect between them had endured long, before it slowly changed to one of deep caring and friendship. So it was with all the nine companions for Eragon. Ismira turned and acknowledged Yaela with a slight nod.
"Thank you", she said as she adjusted the black sword at her waist. Yaela inclined her head and drifted away, leaving them alone beneath the reaching branches of the Menoa tree. Ismira watched after her for a moment, then turned to Eragon even as the Elves waited for the Queen to arrive. They spared not a glance towards Eragon or Ismira as they looked at Fiolr with sympathetic or fierce eyes. The Elf-lord was standing already in the arena cleared in their midst, his eyes closed as he contemplated in private.
"You are playing us all, are you not?", she asked him in a hardening voice. "You are using me to finish Fiolr. You know how close I am to Murtagh, and you know he will rush here if I am in danger. I will not even mention the Shadow and his twelve. Here I thought you would aid me, but you are just using me!", she accused him with a glint in her eye. The elves all stood and bowed as Arya entered the clearing, and the Erisdar lanterns burst into life pleasantly upon its perches on Menoa's branches.
"You have half the truth as always, my dear", murmured Eragon as he gestured for her to proceed to face Fiolr. "What if both can be done at once? What if my using you is what will aid you in the future? Forgiveness is a gift, but that does not mean you cannot make it easier to be given", he told her drawing a slightly confused glance in return. "Think not overmuch about it. In but a moment you will face Fiolr, and he is far from being some trivial opponent. Clear your mind. Think of how much you want to return to Belegroch, and let the duel flow from that feeling", he whispered to her.
Arya was wearing a simple purple dress held at the waist by a leafy silver girdle, and at her side were the Lords Berentain and Dathedr both of whom looking at the upright Fiolr with an expression of sadness. "It is time to resolve this dispute, then. The challenges have been issued and the customs have been observed", she said quietly as she signalled for her kinsmen to seat themselves once more. "All that remains is the event itself. You may begin", she said looking at the two combatants who had stepped into the large clearing directly beneath the Menoa tree.
Eragon watched with mixed feelings as Ismira faced off against Fiolr, circling each other as they drew their swords in a single synchronized motion. The ring of the swords split the air in a clear sound, and the Elves watched with rapt attention. She is certainly trained by Murtagh, said Eragon to Saphira as he saw his niece silently assume a very familiar stance. It took him back one hundred years in time, when he and Murtagh sparred against each other as young boys.
"I wonder where she got that blade?", said Yaela who had reappeared at his side. Eragon too wondered the same thing as he focused on the pitch black hand-and-a-half sword she had raised behind her. Fiolr held at his side a blade of shining steel of a leaf-bladed design that Eragon recognized with an unpleasant jolt.
The Ra'zac stole those blades, Eragon. Their original maker was Rhunon herself…they were meant to be reserve blades for the Riders, said Valdr to him. Eragon acknowledged the point but still felt a forbidding feeling as he observed the violence about to unfold. Arya glanced once at him, nodding imperceptibly and turning back to the impending duel as the duellists took each other's measure.
The elves leaned forward as one as Ismira charged towards Fiolr with speed nearly beyond elves, her braided red hair flying behind her as she literally seemed to appear in front of the calm Fiolr. Sparks flew in a burst as her black sword Ancalagon met Fiolr's pure steel blade with a jarring force, whipping leaves out of the branch above them with the force of collision. Fiolr heaved mightily, throwing Ismira into the air with incredible force. Well, he is not an elven Lord for nothing, thought Eragon as Ismira twisted her body with great dexterity to land on her feet.
"She is skilled", noted Yaela with an intent expression and Eragon nodded. Fiolr had covered the distance between him and Ismira within an instant. His sword flashed out in extremely fast patterns; it was as if he were weaving a web of steel around Ismira. A continuous sound of steel clashing with steel split the air as Fiolr pressed forward with a skill and intricacy that was simply stunning. Ismira's face had tightened at the elf lord's ferocious attack, sometimes avoiding being cut fatally by the breadth of a hair.
I would have to take him seriously to defeat him, said Eragon gravely as he saw Fiolr bat aside Ismira's sword with a twist that was extremely well timed, and brought the hilt towards her face as if to knock her unconscious. Ismira caught the hand just shy of getting knocked out, breathing just a mite heavily. Her fighting is unorthodox, noted Eragon as Ismira kicked out gracefully to strike Fiolr in the chest, her long red braid whipping around to curl around her pale neck.
Fiolr stopped the kick with a free hand without even looking, and turned furiously to toss Ismira forcefully into the Menoa tree by her leg. Some Elves looked displeased at how Ismira righted herself again in the air with an unnatural twist, landing smoothly on her feet just shy one of the props of the massive tree. Eragon turned to the side as he felt another presence sidle beside him and saw the Elf lord Berentain. "Your niece is extremely skilled to last this long against Fiolr in a battle of swords", he said to Eragon even as he acknowledged Yaela's nod with one of his own.
"She certainly is, but I can take no credit", murmured Eragon in answer as he watched Ismira circle Fiolr once more. "She has inherited her father's daring and her mother's cleverness ", he said calmly as his niece rushed once more at Fiolr with blurring speed, launching herself into the air almost parallel to the ground. Her body spun through the air as Ancalagon's edge screamed towards Fiolr as it split the air.
"And your vaunted skill", replied Berentain quietly as they saw Fiolr driven to one knee by the force of the blow. Eragon saw Arya watching with an openly morbid look, he regretted the need to put her in such a position in the twilight of her reign. Black steel and pure steel smashed at each other with unnatural force, and every time leaves fell from the branches that shook in response. "Ah, that is Murtagh Morzansson's move", said Berentain in recognition as Ismira spun her sword, pivoting to catch Fiolr's sword edge as it whistled towards her torso.
"That is true", said Eragon in acceptance as he shot a glance at the Elf. Quite good, admired Saphira as she saw through his eyes Ismira's free hand went rigid and slashed like a knife towards Fiolr's throat. Yaela gasped as Fiolr's throat was struck with a dull thud, sending the elf-lord crashing into a nearby prop. It is as if she has been trained only to kill, broadcast Yaela to his mind with a slight hint of revulsion.
Eragon sensed the mood in the now dim forest darken considerably as Ismira slowly approached Fiolr who was getting up somewhat dazed from the blow. He has warded himself too. Thank you for your insistence, Yaela, he said gratefully to his fellow Rider. Yaela smiled at him, and turned back to watch as Fiolr rushed once more at Ismira, resulting in a furious exchange of blows visible only to the Elven eye. This time Ismira held the upper hand as she used Fiolr's disorientation from her earlier blow, turning aside each and every one of his blows with a much greater ease. Eragon watched with growing suspicion as Ismira evaded a mighty swing of Fiolr's blade and struck the Elf lord's wrist in a strange maneuver that sent his blade spinning to the grassy ground. Before anyone could protest or even blink, she seemed to turn her back to the elf-lord who had gone rigid with pain and thrust her black sword behind her with preternatural speed.
"It is over; I believe he always meant to join her in death. Two times losing a mate can drive anyone to despair, even us.", said Berentain sadly as he watched the black sword slide into Fiolr's body with a slight crunch, emerging out of his chest. Arya had risen with a look of sorrow mixed with rage, and the tension and mourning in the forest rose in a crescendo as Ismira pulled out her blade with a wet sound. Fiolr's blood was sprayed onto the green grass as the Elf lord coughed out blood weakly.
Ismira watched with a hard expression as the Elf lord sank to both knees before her, not caring for the outraged and at places murderous looks on the Elves' face. "You fought as fiercely as her. You deserve peace…what peace you can find in the void", said Ismira quietly to the harshly breathing Fiolr, and turned away towards Arya. Fiolr may have been antagonistic, but he did not deserve for this to happen to him. I can understand his decision, thought Eragon as he felt only compassion and pity for the Elf-lord whose life was leaving him. "It is a good thing Varda did not come here", he murmured to Yaela who was watching Fiolr bleed slowly to death. The Elves were slowly alighting from their seats in the trees and approaching the Elf-lord to pay their last respects as some of their fair faces were openly shedding tears.
"A tragic end to a bitter Lord", said Yaela sadly. "If only-"
"No, Fiolr!", shouted Berentain from beside Eragon and everyone froze as Fiolr rose up as if with the last of his strength and pointed his twitching hand towards Ismira whose hand went towards her sword in a flash. Before Eragon, the lords, or anyone else could react Fiolr had managed to draw enough energy from the earth to hurl his last magic before slumping dead to the ground. His dying curse in the ancient tongue echoed through the minds of every thunderstruck elf as the spell rushed towards Ismira.
MAY YOU BE CHILDLESS!
Ismira was tossed spinning high into the air, and Eragon watched with an instant of astonishment with everyone else as his niece fell to the ground clutching her abdomen with tears streaming down her face; an expression of unutterable loss was upon her face as she cried out a cry filled with raw pain. Belegroch's rage-filled roar echoed through every being in Ellesmera, driving them to the ground for an instant.
ISMIRA!
Even he could not get past the horrible surrealism for a few seconds, watching with blank shock as Fiolr's final revenge became visible for all to see. ERAGON! Go see to her!, Saphira's voice urged him. Indigo light flashed once in the clearing as he appeared beside Ismira's writhing and screaming form, and he touched two fingers to her forehead to render her limp with magic. He swiftly gathered her up in his arms. Still the elves did not move an inch, frozen by the happenings of the past few moments.
"My Bower, I will take her there", he said shortly to Arya as Yaela came to his side. "See to your-"
The ground shook violently as a massive Black Dragon landed in front of Eragon with a resounding thud, his anger making even the Menoa tree stir. Eragon watched Arya instinctively draw Tamerlein with wary eyes, and the elves responded likewise as hundreds of weapons were drawn in the night by the Alfakyn.
Belegroch whipped his head to the side to face the Elven people, his golden eyes almost mad with rage as he arched his neck high in the air. No, Belegroch!, shouted Eragon as the Dragon opened his snout to release a torrent of golden flames that seemed to fill the entire forest. The air itself seemed to turn into golden flame as Belegroch spewed out a blaze that consumed the entire base of the Menoa tree, and consumed every single elf before him.
"Stop him, Eragon!", shouted Arya as she gathered her magic with Dathedr and Berentain. Yaela too had begun to incant a spell before the Menoa tree was awakened. The fires seared their vision as it spewed forth, and Eragon dimly heard in his mind Saphira and Sahloknir making somewhere towards the north despite all that was happening. With no time to question the strange occurrence, he began to will magic into shape to stop Belegroch's vengeful assault. He held Ismira tighter as she convulsed in his arms, cursing as his concentration was broken.
Gilderien is here!, warned Umaroth grimly and his eyes saw a tall Elven shape manifest within the terrible deluge of flames and wave its hand. The fires spewing from the Dragon vanished as if it never existed in the first place. The elves had shielded themselves and the forest quite efficiently, but Eragon saw that they would have expended much strength doing it all if it were not for Gilderien who was standing in front of Belegroch with a faint frown.
"Slytha", he said and Eragon watched the ancient Prince's spell broke through to the black Dragon with a mighty force and sent him crashing to the ground, unconscious. Bring order here, Eragon Shur'tugal and Arya Drottning. Another issue awaits my scrutiny, he said intently and faded out of sight. Deal with your people, Arya, Eragon told the queen who nodded briskly at him as she turned to her congregated people.
Eragon, you need to hear this!, cried Saphira in his mind as he disappeared with a blinding Indigo flash from the duelling ground, appearing with a whisper in Vrael's…no, his quarters with Yaela. "See to her, please", he said tensely to Yaela as he laid Ismira down gently on his bed, absently kissing her forehead affectionately.
Saphira, what is wrong?, he cast out the thought as he looked out of the window. Murtagh and Thorn are here as you expected, I know because Thorn tried to contact me. We must go meet them, she urged.
Ismira lies suffering. I must help her, said Eragon as he heard Yaela's voice lift up in a melodious song of healing and fertility. I have told Gilderien-elda of the possibility of his arrival…he will halt Murtagh and ascertain what he must. Do not concern yourself with Murtagh for the moment. I am glad he is here, though.
As am I, said Saphira as their link dimmed. Eragon sighed sadly as he turned back towards the bed where Ismira was breathing heavily under Yaela's ministrations. His mind reached out slowly towards the clearing by the Menoa tree they had just departed, feeling with relief Belegroch's still sleeping consciousness. Perhaps that was for the best, he thought, as he sampled the consciousness of Ismira, a single tear sliding down his cheek. Pain was their past and pain would remain in their future.
Leech the curse out of her. You are the only one who has the power, Eragon. You claim to yourself that you used her for your purposes. Even before that she was your responsibility and now she is doubly so…leech the curse out of her, Eragon. And leech the shadow out as well, said Umaroth's voice in his mind, with the cavernous rush of all the Eldunari's voice behind him.
Memories of Ismira Laetri had seen rushed through his mind, memories of a young girl of fourteen tortured by whip and word for refusing to kill; Memories of a seven year old girl hugging her hatchling of a Dragon, crying silently in the dank cell of her dungeon; Memories of a beautiful red-haired young woman of twenty-five, ravaged by the mental strength of three Shades just because they could do so. Pain, sadness, grief and loss. He turned and saw Yaela incanting spells upon spells softly, but to no effect upon his niece. The niece he had blessed upon her birth, speaking words of promise and power as he looked into her eyes the first time.
The same niece he had failed so terribly. No more. He had finished using her to focus the elves from their mourning, to alert them to the new threat that abounded abroad. He had finished using her to gain the attention of the dwarves, Dwarves who had informed him of sending an envoy within weeks to discuss the current situation. The humans were already alert and fighting, holding back the tide of chaos as they always did. The races were ready to fight united or at least pointed in that direction. But Ismira…
No more, he thought firmly, as a familiar feeling began to rise within him.
"Yaela, enough", he said as his eyes began to shine a blazing indigo, rimmed by a ring of white. "Enough. You must leave here. I order you", he said as he observed her astonished face, but ploughed on nevertheless. "I order you as Lead Rider not to interrupt me. I order you by the oath the Nine swore me", he said in a voice gathering resolve like an ocean storm gathered strength.
She looked at him, and understood immediately.
"Why?", asked Yaela with her eyes brimming tears. "Why? What are you going to do? Not again, Eragon-elda. Please, not again…", she said sucking in a breath. Eragon gestured, and the thin film that constituted their roof opened up the heavens to his towering tree, causing a shaft of moonlight to fall upon him. With an almighty effort, he closed the gates of his mind kept open to Saphira and Sahloknir. With a pained grimace he closed himself fully to Laetri as well, no longer could he feel her consciousness thrum against him.
As he ejected even the Eldunari out of his mind, he reflected. For the first time in a hundred and twenty years, his soul was his alone and he detested the emptiness. Yaela was shaking where she stood, looking at him with a face that spoke only of anguish and betrayal. "No, please. Your soul is yours and yours alone", she cried desperately at him as he raised a hand towards her.
"A Rider", he said softly, "A Rider must always take responsibility for his faults. My responsibility is all of our Order. Every Rider in Alagaesia is mine to watch over and protect, after Alagaesia itself", he stated. "I do not fear the pain, and this time it will be different. I will have Laetri, Saphira and Sahloknir to help. Go Yaela, and let me fix my mistakes", he said gently to her.
She stood there with tears streaming down her face, staring at him with pure pain rippling continuously across her face. Eragon sighed, and snapped his fingers as he twisted magic effortlessly. The indigo light flashed once more as he transported Yaela to the base of his bower, closing the door and warding the dwelling instantly with hundreds of thoughts. He slowly walked to Ismira's side, stroking her cheek gently with two fingers. The memories of Ismira's life Laetri had shown him smote his heart painfully, and for a moment he saw the young girl with life shining from her. Tears blurred his vision.
"Roran said it all, really. He made me understand", he said quietly to Ismira who leaned into his hand slightly, a tormented groan passing her lips. "He asked me what I would do for Varda if she were in pain like yours….the answer is, I would do anything for her to be happy again. Though you are much older than her, my dear, you both are the same to me. I realize that now", he said sadly to her though she slept. "A mite too late, perhaps", he said with a laughter of no amusement.
"You said I was no Lightbringer. But I am not called that simply because I can call forth light", he said solemnly as he began to radiate a nimbus of pure white light that drenched the entire room in its brightness. He laid a hand on her forehead and the nimbus of light grew blindingly bright, and a huge column of that eternally pure light burst out of the open roof and high into the dark skies.
He delved effortlessly into her mind, sweeping her defenses across as if they were nothing but autumn leaves. You swore an oath with magic without the language binding it, Ismira. Such an oath cannot be unbound by normal means as the will is tied directly to the soul, he thought. Ellesmera was illuminated by the enormous light exploding from the pinnacle of his bower, and Du Weldenvarden itself shivered in response to his strength.
"The oath you made can be changed only if your very being changes. You have been stripped of the will to initiate that change, so I will help you. I will free you today from everything that hurts you. My gift to you", he said firmly as everything became white light in his field of vision. He reached within himself even as he held on to her, weaving weaves of terrible magic he had used but once eighty years ago. Pain consumed every nerve in his body, every crevice of his mind and soul as he reached into himself and uttered the spell that had doomed him once long ago. He had been careful to exclude Laetri in his enterprise, and that thought brought him some comfort as he shouted:
"DEYJA MANIN! ETHGRI HUGIN!"
…
What said Eragon, Saphira?, queried Laetri as she idly finished braiding Varda's hair. The young Rider had almost fallen asleep in her chair after the day's events, and Belgabad was already snoring softly in his alcove in the walls. She carefully picked Varda up and laid her in the simple cot that once used to belong to Oromis, and softly kissed her brow. "Senda Valima, Varda", she said with quiet affection and stepped out of the hut as she closed the door. She breathed in the slightly cold yet sanctified air of Ellesmera as it swept over the flowers that now blanketed the entire crag, illuminated by the moonlight in a scene that could have been one of Nuada's paintings.
Apparently, Eragon has asked Gilderien the Wise to deal with Murtagh. He told me not to worry about Murtagh or Thorn for the moment. It is most unlike him, said Saphira as she curled up slightly at the edge of the Crags, her worry leaking over to Laetri. What happened to Ismira was unfortunate, but such was the design of fate. If he had opened his mind to you, perhaps you could have uncovered what it was he hid from me. He was hiding something, of this I am certain.
He is always hiding something, she replied with an intrigued amusement. She knew that better than anyone else and had learned early in their association about it. He will open his mind to me when he is ready. Trying to force him to do something is like trying to ask the waves to stop.
He will do it if you truly desire it, said Saphira as she focused a brilliant eye on Laetri. He will do anything for you, be anything for you. You know this.
I do, said Laetri solemnly as she gently caressed Saphira's snout. But then, I understand him far too well to ask him to do so. I myself have subtly concealed my thoughts at times…a need for privacy is most understandable, she said as she glanced towards Ellesmera and cast out her mind effortlessly. She respectfully skirted the awarenesses of her many brethren as she quested towards the tower of the Lead Rider.
Laetri, please. You have to come to his tower now!, Yaela said urgently to her and Laetri flinched at the agony and sorrow running through her fellow Rider's mind. Before she could ask further, she felt the threads of her soul that bound Eragon to her unravel and thrust back at her. Beside her, Saphira had risen with a mighty roar that shook the ground with its power, and in another part of the city Sahloknir too responded as Eragon cut his ties off to all of them momentarily.
He is doing it again!, Yaela wept in their minds, her consciousness almost blank with grief. He sent me away, and warded the tree so powerfully that I cannot get past it. Please, you have to come soon Laetri. Only you can drag him away from this madness!
Laetri's eyes had gone wide with horror even as Eragon's magic manifested itself as a continuous column of pure light that rose to the starry heavens, illuminating the entirety of Ellesmera with its gentle light. He was planning this all the time, she said to Saphira whose own rage and grief was churning at being excluded by her Rider. He knew I would sense his intentions if I shared his mind even a little, no matter what he did to stop it. That is the true reason- that is why he has kept his mind closed to me for this long, said Laetri cursing herself for not seeing deeper.
He has become quite adept at hiding things from me, though, said Saphira angrily as she prepared to fly. Laetri gracefully bounded up the Sapphire Dragon's side and seated herself within an instant as the light grew brighter. She could feel every elf in Ellesmera rushing towards the tree tower of Vrael, and felt Arya's mind contact hers.
Laetri, what is Eragon doing? I felt the magic he was conjuring even in Tialdari Hall!, she said with astonishment. Saphira soared into the air easily, growling as she rushed towards the pillar of light. To their west they saw Sahloknir and Fundor approaching, and to the east they saw Firnen flying rapidly with Arya upon his back. Below them hundreds of Elves were streaking through the beautiful city towards the bower the light from which shone like a second sun.
He is making the sacrifice again, said Laetri in a shaking voice as they all converged upon the epicentre of the light. The four Dragons circled simultaneously once around the tree as light and magic washed over them in overwhelming torrents, and followed Saphira as she corkscrewed through the air to land upon the ground with a series of ground shaking thuds.
Laetri and Arya drifted gracefully to the ground even as Yaela came rushing towards them from her post near the door. The Elves had surrounded the tree in a circle, watching with fascination as Eragon wove his magic. They stayed at a respectable distance even in their numbers when they saw the Dragons and their riders appear to deal with the situation.
"No", whispered Arya in an openly fearful tone as her eyes too swam with tears she could not halt. Laetri herself was controlling her emotions by a thin thread as Yaela spoke, "I cannot break his wards. I doubt even you can do it, Laetri. He does not even need to use words anymore…the ancient Language is of no use to him. He understands magic to such an extent that it obeys his very will. We can only wait", she said despairingly.
He cut off his connection to us. He has been planning this the whole time and simply played us all. He played me, said Saphira with helpless rage as the light and magic washing around them vibrated to a crescendo.
The days when I could undo his magic and wards are long gone. He is the mightiest of our order, and rightfully so. We can only wait, said Laetri to them. Join your consciousnesses with mine. We must act rationally now, and consult the Eldunari, she urged them. A cold fear stabbed into her heart and she saw Yaela flinch violently as their memories were stirred once more, stirred by the accursed words shouted by Eragon into the night.
"DEYJA MANIN! ETHGRI HUGIN!"
The pillar of light flared blindingly for the last time and withered out like a candle. Eragon's scream of agony caused Laetri to close her eyes tightly as blind fear gripped her heart mercilessly. Laetri, please. The wards must be gone by now, Saphira said in her mind in a scared voice and she opened her eyes at that dazedly. Arya was standing with a horrorstruck expression as Eragon's scream faded into silence, its ominousness compounded by the silence of the night and the gathered elves.
The tree shimmered in the moonlight as if in a heat haze, and Laetri ran forward on light foot towards the door followed closely by Arya and Yaela. The Dragons soared into the air, the winds of their flight buffeting the gathered Elves as they rose rapidly towards the pinnacle of Eragon's tree. High above a ruby red Dragon floated towards them bearing his Rider and three companions, and some elves cried out in surprise, but relaxing as they saw Gilderien the Wise appear before them, raising his hand solemnly for order.
Thank you, Gilderien-elda, said Arya as she bounded up the stairs closely behind Laetri. Murtagh will meet you three above, Arya Drottning. Lord Dathedr will deal with matters here while you go to Eragon Shur'tugal. Remember this, he said strongly as she the tree shook with the force of the Dragons' landing. Another almighty shake announced Thorn's landing, and Laetri raised her hand and slashed it at the door to Eragon's rooms causing it to blow inward with a loud explosion.
Light exists even in the darkest cave.
…..
There were no pleasantries that went with a reunion, no happiness or gladness upon the pinnacle of Eragon's bower. Murtagh had only nodded in acknowledgement of the Elven Queen, Laetri and Yaela, and with his three companions had rushed directly to the bed where Ismira lay. Eragon's quarters were large enough to accommodate three Dragons, but no more…Thorn had settled with Murtagh and his companions who had seated themselves around Ismira's bed, watching as the Red Rider cast several magics upon her.
Arya felt no surprise at the sight of Nasuada, for she knew Murtagh would not let her fade into decay or death. Even during the early stages of the war, she could see how much Murtagh and Nasuada loved each other. It was apparent to her, as apparent as the trees or the sun in the sky. Able to see all except yourself, she thought sadly as she knelt beside Eragon who lay on the ground, in a pose that suggested that he was merely sleeping, not soul-torn. Saphira nudged her Rider gently with her snout, battering at the walls between her consciousness and his with all the force she possessed.
It is torn again, the matrix of his being, said Saphira in a tearful voice as she gazed at Laetri who was gently stroking Eragon's face with an expression that could only be called broken. Laetri, I have no right to ask this of you but I have to. Can you heal my Rider again as you once did? Please…
Yaela had finished singing a bed into existence from the tree itself, and was arranging blankets and mattresses upon it to form another bed for the Lead Rider. I cannot. I would give anything to be able to do so, replied Laetri with a stricken expression as she picked up Eragon easily and laid him on the bed as if he were a child. I cannot, Saphira. To do so would be to put both of us in peril. What I did those decades ago, I cannot do again. As it is I am the only one holding him together and giving his soul coherence, she finished, holding Eragon's hand firmly in hers. All the progress we made healing him for the last century, gone. All gone.
We will be leaving today, Arya, she said as the Elven Queen took Eragon's left hand on the other side of the bed. His excursion to Alagaesia is over. The other Riders will be given a choice, of course, to return when they wish. You are also welcome there at all times, she said softly, not taking her eyes off Eragon's unresponsive form. His original choice of not returning to Alagaesia was well made. But I and Saphira urged him to consider a return…and I knew he would refuse us nothing, she said as she kissed his hand gently.
"How will he be healed at Aiedail?", asked Arya intently as she too focused only upon Eragon's face. Firnen, Sahloknir and Fundor were circling around the towering tree endlessly, and their Riders felt the meld of minds they had with Saphira and to an extent even Thorn. It was Yaela who answered as she knelt at the foot of Eragon's bed, having mastered her emotions with all the rapidity of an elf.
"Alanna", she said quietly. "Laetri cannot thread his torn soul once more, to do so would be to put both of them at Jeopardy. Alanna cares about him deeply enough to do again what Laetri did …maybe it will help him come back to what he was yesterday in another hundred years", she answered, downcast. "It appears Ismira has awoken, and healed by the reactions of the ones who attend her."
Arya glanced at Murtagh who was hugging Ismira tightly along with Nasuada, tears sliding down their faces as Elva and Palencar's son watched joyously from the side. His title is well earned, whispered Firnen sadly in her mind. He is indeed the Lightbringer. What are you thinking, Arya?
That he cannot leave me again, replied Arya, her heart throbbing with the anguish of a hundred years as she turned back to Eragon. Once was enough.
Will you…?, asked Firnen seriously and Arya assented as her emerald eyes flashed with determination. Yes, she said as she spoke to Laetri, "I will do it in Alanna's stead. I will hold his soul together with mine just as you have done, Laetri. He would be my mate had I not let him go alone from these shores a century ago. My mate", she whispered, tasting the words as if they were precious nectar. Laetri and Yaela were staring at her with astonished looks, and she could see a slow hope beginning to grow in them.
"I would not attach much importance to that word, Arya. He does not like to define how much he cares for a person with words. Neither do I", said Laetri gently. "No, do not be chagrined", she continued as she saw Arya's sorrowful expression, "You and I, we are both bound to him in ways others cannot even hope to understand. We were prominent in two distinct parts of his life, but both of us are in his future and he is in ours. I can feel it. But would you do this so freely if you knew what it entailed? To feel his soul against yours forever, to share his mind as if it were your own, to share even Firnen's mind with his? To know that he is bound to me as well with a bond far deeper than yours will be anew?"
"Firnen has agreed to this", replied Arya quietly. "I will do anything necessary to heal Eragon, even share his soul with him. He cannot suffer anymore; I will not see it happen. Saphira?" she asked the great Sapphire Dragon.
I would not mind sharing my Rider if it meant he would be whole once more. You have my blessing, Arya, Saphira's voice resounded in their minds. Laetri nodded and rose gracefully with a hand extended to Arya, their minds meeting with a rush as she showed the Elven Queen what was to be done. Arya closed her eyes as the memories and understandings flowed from Laetri's subtle and ancient mind into hers, instructing her rapidly yet gently on the spell's intricacies.
"Do you understand?", asked Laetri. Arya took a deep breath and nodded. Firnen, are you truly agreed with what I am doing?
I am, Arya. This will be a sharing of souls unlike anything ever recorded in our histories. Three Dragons and their Riders sharing the bond of Riders? It is unheard of. And I cannot disagree with anything that will allow me to be closer to Saphira, he replied and Arya smiled. She had not thought of that, and it appeared Saphira had not either. Eragon's dragon gently nudged her unconscious Rider once more before taking off from the open roofed room, joining Firnen and Sahloknir as they flew away from the tree and into the horizon.
"You must be alone with him when you do this", said Laetri in answer to her unasked question. "The presence of others might warp the spell's effects in undesirable manners. We will leave for now, and take all of them", she said indicating Murtagh and the others, "to the Crags of Tel'naeir. The hand of fate is moving, Arya…it is almost as if this was destined to happen. It will be well in the end. I know it", said Laetri with shining eyes as she leant to kiss Eragon affectionately on the hard planes of his cheek, a single joyous tear falling from her eyes on to his brow.
"But will he be angry with me for not giving him the choice?", asked Arya in a low voice. Laetri shook her head. "He is far wiser than you think, Arya. It is entirely possible he foresaw these events the moment he made the choice to heal Ismira as he did. You have our undying gratitude for this decision as well, Arya. With your decision enforced, he will be healed", she said as she inclined her head to Arya. "Thank you".
"That is Eragon?", asked a stunned voice from behind them and they turned to see Murtagh staring astonished at his brother's prone form. "What happened to him? And how did he heal Ismira so perfectly…I have been trying for seventy years and I did not know where to begin. How-?"
"We will tell you, Murtagh Morzansson", responded Laetri as Yaela too joined her, shooting a final look at Eragon and at Arya who had seated herself beside Eragon, slowly laying a pale palm on his barely moving chest. Murtagh made as if to move towards Eragon but found the way blocked calmly by Laetri and Yaela who stared back implacably. "We will tell you, but you must leave this place with us for now. Eragon has given up something you cannot understand to heal his niece, and is being healed in turn."
"I remember both of you", said Murtagh with a hard face as he stared at Yaela and Laetri. "You were among those thirteen elves that stood with him in the war. What is going on here?", he demanded. Laetri sighed and looked at Nasuada whose face had turned to one of pleasant recognition at seeing her, and at Elva who had matured beyond her expectation. Eragon will be pleased, she thought absently as she finally laid eyes on the young boy who held Elva's hand.
"He is Palencar's son and yours, is he not?", she asked Elva who nodded slightly and Arya had raised her voice in song behind them. "How are you called, young one?", she asked the boy whose face had lit up with curiosity and wonder as he saw her.
"I am Fanuil Elfstar", he replied. Then, with considerable hesitation he glanced at his mother and whispered in a voice that was apparently meant to convey privacy. "Ma, is she an angel?", he asked quietly as Elva knelt to hear her son's query.
The tension was broken as Laetri's bright and clear laughter filled the air, banishing the worry and sorrow the room embodied for a single instant. Yaela joined her in her mirth as she looked at an abashed Fanuil, whose wonder increased at the uplifting mirth of the Elves. It combined with some otherworldly beauty with the song Arya was singing as her palm glowed over Eragon's chest, causing even Murtagh to close his eyes in an effort to remember the counterpoint.
"I have been called that once before", said Laetri as she glanced behind her at Eragon, her blue eyes shining with joy. The door opened and Ismira's now asleep form drifted into the air at Yaela's unspoken gesture and command, causing Murtagh to frown. "We have much to speak of and we must leave now if Eragon is to be healed", she continued as she walked towards the door, joined by the others.
Ismira was being carried by Murtagh who had plucked her out of the air with his own spell, and they all descended the stairs quietly as Arya's song began to build to a climax. Thorn had soared off to join with the other Dragons some time ago. "Where are we going?", asked Elva as she absently batted her son's attempts to draw her sword. Laetri smiled at them and replied.
"To the Crags of Tel'naeir, where the Dragons await us. We have all been brought together for a reason. Eragon will soon be awake", she said and her eyes danced with infinite pleasure as she said this. "And he will return stronger than ever. But before he is ready to do so, all of you must understand what the Riders have been doing. From here, things become both unclear and clear at the same time."
We are all here, Laetri. How goes it with Arya and Ebrithil?
Thank you, Sahloknir. It is happening as if it is meant to be. I am glad Arya cares enough to make this sacrifice for him. I have little doubt that he will be completely whole, as he was meant to be without all his sacrifices. He has struck a heavy blow at the Shadow by his sacrifice here, and come out all the stronger for it, she replied as she led them leisurely down the tree-dwelling.
Are you discomfited by Arya's decision, Laetri?, this time it was Umaroth's voice asking her the question.
No, Umaroth-elda. There has ever been a part of his being that will always be dedicated to Arya no matter what has happened between them. Perhaps she will not share the same closeness I share with him, but there is potential. We care for each other far too much to let trifles such as jealousy stand in the way; I and Eragon have transcended such things. He is mine, and I am his.
There was silence for a few moments.
Ah, how history repeats itself. Those were the very words Naina said when describing what Irnstad and she shared. But this is a most unique and wonderful situation, Laetri, interjected Valdr with fascination even as they exited the tree and began walking slowly through Ellesmera towards their destination. It has never happened in our history before, this bonding of three Riders. Anurin and his mate Ancalima formed such a tie of course, and you and Eragon were thought to be the last. But Arya's inclusion has made this tale fit to be remembered forever even by the Eldunari.
With you and Arya both by his side, said Umaroth with a rumbling joy, there is nothing he cannot accomplish. The instincts of Eldunari are never astray. The three of you and your Dragons will make our order greater than it ever was. Greater than during Anurin's time…greater than even Vrael had built it. I look forward to seeing how he is changed by today's events.
But for now you have to speak with Murtagh Morzansson and his family, Laetri, and explain to them what Eragon should have, Glaedr cut in, but Laetri felt his exultation run as strongly as his brethren and hers.
So be it.
….