Ok, a few important announcements: 1) This story is now on Shurtugal as well: http ://www. shurtugal. com/ fan fiction/ view story. Php?sid10973 Just take away the spaces. But don't tell anyone it's here as well! Or they'll read it here and it won't surprise them. Thanks!
I know everyone wants me to pair Eragon with Arya right now...but it's not gonna happen in the near future!! And in the end I might pair him with someone else as well...
I know some people didn't like the last chapter...but believe me, it is ESSENTIAL for the plot. Nasuada is not going to turn into a Mary Sue and please don't stop reading. Kay?
Arya does NOT KNOW ABOUT BROM AND ERAGON! Thank-you.
I had to do the start twice and I had a hard time doing the rest as well. Enjoy!
Chapter Twenty-Five.
On the Crags of Tel'naeir.
Islanzadi sipped a warm peppermint tea and sighed, satisfied with their work. They were coming to Gil'ead. It was a well-defended city; they should be outside the walls in a matter of weeks. The elves marched well and seemed, almost, to be looking forward to a fight.
There was a disturbance outside. The voices that had been singing around the camp-fires were raised in as close to argument as the elves could get; Islanzadi rose, a faint frown on her smooth brow. But as she neared the flap of her tent, it was pushed gently aside, revealing a Lord Dathedr. His face was as unemotional as ever, but he held in his hand a snow-white dove. Islanzadi felt a cold hand grip her heart. Was it Arya? Had she been hurt? Or ... or killed? Her daughter, her only child ...
"Your majesty," murmured the elf-lord. "We have had news from Lady Niduen, in Ellesmera. She sent this, for you."
Islanzadi took the note from him, spinning slightly; if the note was about Arya it would not be from Niduen ... she lowered her eyes to read it. It was weather-stained and the ink had smudged. Niduen's graceful handwriting was slightly askew, as if it had been written in hurry. With a terrible, foreboding feeling, Islanzadi read:
Dear Queen; I regret to inform you that this crescent-eve, our beloved Elda, last scion of the house Thrandurin, fell ill. He asks for Eragon Shadeslayer in what I know to be are his last days. I ask you, as sovereign and as my kin, to contact Eragon and request that he travel back to Ellesmera. It is more urgent than any could know.
Yours,
Niduen Drottningu.
Islanzadi read it again, a profound feeling of relief clouding her mind. She turned back to Dathedr. "Bring me another dove, the most reliable you have." When he returned, holding yet another dove, she already had a note waiting for the Varden.
Dathedr tied the note to the birds leg, then, walking out of the tent, he let it go. It fluttered wildly for a moment, then set off in the right direction. Islanzadi re-entered her tent. "Is all well outside?"
Dathedr bowed his head. "Yes, Queen." At that moment, a chorus of dismayed and frightened elven voices rang out.
"Wyrdfell!"
"The Wyrdfell have risen again!"
The elven camp was risen to wakefulness. Islanzadi rushed outside, followed by Dathedr.
"My Queen!" cried someone. "A Red Rider, one of the Wyrdfell, had passed over us!"
"No ..." whispered Islanzadi. Beside her, Dathedr was issuing orders.
"All archers fire at my call!" A few dozen bows were strung. All eyes turned to the sky. Gliding above them was a huge black shadow. It's claws, illuminated in the fire, gleamed sharp and fell. The rider was garbed in black armour, a red sword at his hip.
"Fire!" cried Dathedr. A hail of strong arrows from sung-wood bows twanged, but all clattered harmlessly at least a metre away from the dragon and Rider. Islanzadi gathered her wits and cried out:
"Fire! Shoot until he is out of range!" and the elves did so. Islanzadi herself, touched, ever so gently, on the Riders mind. The foulness and cruelty palpable even through his closely guarded mind made her recoil. "Foul creature," she muttered. "Fire!" again more arrows followed the dragon; but he was now out range and sight.
She cursed under her breath. "Dathedr," she said calmly, "get me another dove."
--
Arya watched Eragon throw Saphira's saddle over her shoulders, then strap the martingale through her front legs and up her chest. His movements were easy and well-practiced, but Arya could tell that he was not really thinking of the task at hand. But, for that matter, she was not that interested in their departure either.
Nasuada watched Eragon with a distracted expression the probably stemmed from the two dark-skinned people standing behind her; Roran was watching with an expressionless face. Arya knew he thought that Eragon was irresponsible to leave; but then, Roran had no knowledge of Oromis.
"Have you got enough food?" asked Eragon, clambering down from Saphira.
"I have." She said coolly, swinging her pack onto her shoulder. He nodded, seeming unabashed by her cool tone.
"Sit behind me; we may encounter some enemies and it is safer that way."
Biting back a retort, she climbed up onto Saphira. Nasuada had said her farewells to Arya already, and was now talking to Eragon quietly and seriously. Arya tapped her leg impatiently, though that was the only sign of discontent she showed. Nasuada had stepped forward and hugged Eragon tightly. Arya raised her eyebrows slightly; perhaps there was something in the rumour of a relationship between the two. For some reason, this made Arya vaguely uncomfortable.
Katrina and Roran were now saying their goodbyes, Roran joking with Eragon; he provoked Eragon into answering back and they had good sparring with words session, Eragon seeming to forget his worry over Oromis, though eventually he shouldered his pack and got up onto Saphira in front of her.
We will go on a very wide route around Uru'Baen. Galbatorix will likely have very extensive spies and scouts; if we are caught...Saphira trailed off, then leaped into the air. Arya could feel that she was distracted. Eragon too was sitting deep in the saddle, but he was not showing any signs of wanting to talk.
There was a sudden buffet of wind; Arya grabbed onto Eragon quickly. He stiffened, but she let go immediately. Silently wishing that she could merely put her head on his shoulder and sleep, she sighed. They had a long way to go and and little time in which to do it.
--
Arya furrowed her brow in irritation as the wind blew her hair around her face. The desert was cold at night, but scorching in the day. They were camped underneath a small mountain in the Hardarac Desert. Even in the mountain's shelter, it was nasty. Sighing with exasperation, Arya pulled a leather band around her head; able to see through her hair now, she busied herself with rolling out her bedroll. There would be no fire, as they didn't want to attract attention to themselves from unpleasant desert creatures.
"Roll the tops of your boots up and turn them upside down in you pack," said Eragon suddenly; he had said little since leaving the Varden and he surprised her now.
"I'm sorry?" she questioned.
"Scorpions and other beetles might take a liking to them," he explained abruptly.
Raising her eyebrows, she asked evenly; "Who told you this?"
Not seeming to notice her slight jab at his credibility, he answered from where he was extracting some food from the saddlebags. "Murtagh told me when we were travelling with you to the Varden. He knew a lot of things like that."
Vexed with herself for being so cold, she replied quietly, "he must have known a great many things."
"Yes, though I got to know little of them; for someone from Galbatorixs' sheltered court he was remarkably good at looking after himself."
"Well, quite," Arya said.
"Are you thirsty?"
"A little ... why do you ask? I have a water-skin."
"It's best to save the water-skins for emergencies." Moving closer towards her, he lifted his palm slightly. "Last time we came through this desert we got water by raising it from the earth." Making a fair-sized whole with his heel in the sand, he said in the ancient language; "Reisa Adurna."
Water started welling up, rising slowly, until if formed shimmering globe of clear water. Eragon nodded, apparently satisfied. "Take as much as you want; when you are done, it will refill itself."
When Arya had drunk her fill, Eragon sitting cross-legged opposite her, he leaned down as well to drink. Splashing it over his face and ears, he then drank from it awhile, before standing up again for Saphira.
Saphira took two long draughts, then told them tersely that she was going hunting and would be back before the morning. Arya watched her go with a contemplative expression. Both dragon and Rider were obviously worried and stressed about Oromis. Eragon was now sitting on his bedroll, human hunting knife, which, she had noticed, he carried everywhere and had since she'd known him, carving a piece of wood.
She wrapped her blanket around her and lay down; when she slept, Eragon was still awake and watchful.
--
The green fringe of Ellesmera was in view; Arya felt her heart lift at the sight. Eragon didn't seem to have noticed and was just the same as he had been all day. Saphira flew high above the forest, faster and faster until the momentum she gained was carrying them along so fast that the ground was an impossible blur. Well-guarded though all three of the travellers' minds were, Arya could feel worry and urgency in Saphira's mind; Eragon was focussing so hard on Ellesmera that he failed to notice the approaching dark.
We should stop to camp, Eragon.
But we are so close!
It is not wise to linger outside of cities after dark.
He grudgingly agreed and they descended somewhere north of Kirtan. Glad that this time, at least, they would be able to have a fire, Arya quickly began a meal. Eragon went to collect firewood. They had developed a routine through all the travelling they together.
When the food had been cooked and eaten with enjoyment of a warm meal, they sat back. Eragon looked marginally more relaxed than he had been so far.
"When we get to Ellesmera go straight to Oromis. I will find Niduen and tell her what has happened."
"Thank-you, Arya," said Eragon gratefully. He stared at the fire. "Roran thought I should not leave, but I could not leave him to die alone."
"Well, you are right. Roran does not understand."
"No ... and Katrina would not let him bother us." Eragon smiled. "Nasuada, though ..." he left the sentence unfinished.
Arya tensed at the mention of Nasuada. "What about Nasuada?" she asked slowly.
He eyed her speculatively. She was taken aback by his keen gaze. The Eragon she knew would not have looked at her like that, ever. He had become a very powerful, self-assured man, not the farm-boy that had rescued her from Durza. Thoughts a little confused, she realised Eragon was still watching her. At length, he spoke. "Did you have chance to talk to Hyelda and Azhborn?"
Arya shivered almost imperceptibly. "The Grey Folk. Yes, a little. Strange woman, isn't she?"
Eragon chuckled. "Yes, she is. But I was there when the assassin came and when she killed the assassin as well. She told Nasuada a lot of things about her mother, and the slender sword she now carries was her mothers. So much weighs on her mind."
"I have noticed ... she is young, even by human standards." said Arya. "I was ambassador for over half a century before she was even born."
A flicker of smile graced Eragon's face. "The mortal in me, Arya, thinks that you should be well into retirement now."
Arya crossed her arms. "What do you mean, 'retirement'?"
"Nothing bad!" he said quickly. "But at sixty - if they get that old – the men of Carvahall like to sit on the verandah with a pipe and plenty of pipe-weed and tell stories of their youth."
She chuckled. "Are you comparing me to an old mortal man?"
"No ..." he replied "... elves do not smoke."
She nearly gaped at him for that jest. Was this Eragon she knew? "You, Argetlam, will be old one day and for a very long time; perhaps you should start practising the art of pipe-weed now?" she said artfully.
"Oh no," he said seriously, "I couldn't afford it."
She thought she had misheard. "Sorry?"
"I couldn't afford it," he repeated. "The weed is very expensive, even if I did had a mind to start."
"You couldn't afford it?"
He looked at her strangely. "That is what I said. I do not have much money and pipe-weed is expensive; not that I would want to start smoking in any case."
"Not enough money," said Arya in wonder. "I would never have thought that."
Eragon smiled slightly. "People imagine that I have plenty to spare; in reality, I have ten silver marks in a small bag."
Arya leaned towards that fire a little bit more. "What do you plan on using those for?"
He shrugged. "I don't need it. I like to forget about it most of the time."
"Ten silver marks is not much though, is it?"
"If I was at home," he said gravely, "ten silver marks would have bought us meat for the whole winter." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Actually, Saphira paid for a whole winters' worth of meat."
"What!?" said Arya in amazement.
He grinned at her response. "I thought Saphira's egg was a nice, shiny stone that someone would pay for – enough to buy meat for the winter."
"You sold your dragons' egg?"
"Well ... tried to. But Sloan wouldn't have it because it came from the Spine; he made a fuss. Katrina got Horst and Horst paid for the meat in exchange for me working for him the next spring."
"Eragon ..." said Arya, at a loss for words. "If you ... sold your dragons egg!" she laughed, leaning back. Eragon watched her solemnly until he joined her as well.
"I am glad you think it so funny,. Arya Svit-Kona," he said. She peered at him over her blanket, green eyes sparkling.
"I do, Argetlam." She was struck by a sudden thought. "You look like Brom, crouching over the fire like that." He stiffened immediately.
"I ... wouldn't be surprised, Arya," he said slowly. She looked at him curiously, but Eragon did not have a chance to elaborate; Saphira arrived, claws showing hints of blood.
Hello, young ones, she said in some surprise. I expected you to be both asleep.
We were expecting you later. Said Eragon.
The prey in Du Weldenvarden is easier to catch at night than I expected. Very tasty too.
Arya winced, but Eragon laughed. Please do not continue with a description, Saphira.
I was not going to. Her mood had not lightened and Eragon realised that.
Will you sleep now, Saphira?
Yes, I will. Sleep well, both of you.
Arya wished her goodnight as well, and the dragon curled up, just beyond the light of the fire.
"We should do likewise," said Eragon to her. She nodded.
"You sleep well too, Eragon." Lying down and pulling her blanket over her, she watched Eragon do the same. Arya marvelled at the change in him. The young boy she had accompanied to Ellesmera last time had not been the young man lying opposite her. Self-assured and strong, Eragon had changed.
"Goodnight Arya," he said.
She smiled at him and they slept in companionable peace.
--
It was Ellesmera. Sung-wood houses, as much a part of the forest as the trees and scrub, peered from every tree. But no elves came to meet them; indeed, they met no one at all.
"I will go to Tialdari Hall, Eragon. You go to the Crags." She said tightly. "Go on!"
Eragon caught her eyes. "Thank-you, Arya. I will not forget this."
"Go on, now. He needs you both." She said quietly, holding back her emotions.
He nodded ever so slightly, and Saphira took off again. Arya took a deep breath, watching the dragons powerful wing-beats, then turned abruptly to find Niduen or one of the elf-lords.
--
Eragon leapt from Saphira and ran down to where Oromis was lying against his dragon. He was pale, even paler than normal and thin as well. Glaedr was curled up, protecting his Rider. When Eragon approached, Oromis opened his almond-eyes.
"Eragon." He said quietly. "How was your journey?"
"Fine, master," said Eragon. He knelt down and took his masters' hand.
"These are my last hours, Eragon," he said. "And there is much to tell you."
"Master ..."
"No, Eragon. You ... asked me, once, how Galbatorix has so much power." he took a rattling breath and continued. "He takes his energy from those he kills ... no, not from them, exactly, but from the ... Vault of Souls."
Eragon stared. "The Vault ...?"
Oromis nodded. "The Vault collects souls of everyone who has died. Once they have passed through the Vault, they vanish. No one knows where they go or what happens to them after that. It is something that no one should, a door that should not be opened. But Galbatorix ..." Oromis trailed off, drawing a deep breath. "... Galbatorix was trained by a Shade. The Shade gave him powers enough to tap...to tap into the Vault of Souls."
Glaedr shivered as they both fell silent in agony. Oromis' face was screwed up in pain.
Every time Galbatorix kills, he is granted the ability to take that persons soul out of the Vault and imprison it in himself, in cave in his twisted mind. Each soul is bound with nature. Through this, Galbatorix can do the impossible. He can draw, limitedly, on the very core of the earth. In ... Glaedr roared as another wave of agony swept through him. In another hundred years, the earth will start to change ... that is all we, the elves, know.
Saphira rushed to Glaedr's side, standing by his shoulder. Eragon's eyes burned. "But why has nothing happened to Alagaesia yet?"
Because he is drawing power from a land across the sea ... Alalea, the home of the elves. No one knows, of course, in what state that land is in; but doubtless it is not good.
Eragon felt disgusted. "He draws from people's souls? People that he has killed?"
Oromis nodded slightly at his reaction. "That is the reason only a select few of the elves know. It would scare most of the Varden too much ... Ugh!" He grunted as his body tensed with another spasm.
The Vault of Souls is located on Utgard Mountain. Saphira growled in surprise. Sources say that, earlier, before the Battle of the Burning Plains, a red dragon with a rider garbed in black visited the Palancar Valley. He went to Utgard, and spent many hours there. When he returned ... Glaedr stopped and Oromis carried on.
"When he returned he used his new-found 'power' to destroy the town of Therinsford and most of it's inhabitants. I ... am sorry, Eragon."
Eragon clenched his fist. "Do not be, master. He will have his comeuppance."
Oromis coughed. "This is terrible news, Eragon, I know. You are strong, very strong! but not enough to resist two riders using this power. I cannot see what will happen to you and Saphira, Eragon. My sight is clouded down that path."
Glaedr peered at them solemnly. Out time has come, young ones. We will soon depart from this world. I am glad to know that you, Saphira, and you, Eragon, will be the ones to carry on the Riders after us. Go well and live as best you can.
Eragon bowed his head, his masters hand still clasped in his own. Oromis closed his eyes, chest rising and falling slowly. Glaedr moved his tail so that it encircled his Rider completely. A gust of wind blew a flurry of noise towards him. Niduen and Arya were coming down to the Crags. They stopped dead at the sight of Eragon bowed over his masters form, hand clasping the hand of the old elf, who was calmly breathing in and out as if he was only meditating.
"Oromis ..." breathed Niduen. She had known this time was coming and had been preparing herself for it. Arya said nothing. Eragon was bowed with grief and misery, while his master was slowly floating, gently and gracefully, out of their world. Arya could almost feel his grief.
The sun sank low in the sky. Eragon did not move, but stayed by his masters side, watching the elf's peaceful face. Slowly, as the sun sank beneath the tree-line, Oromis' breathing slowed. Less and less his chest rose, until it stopped altogether. Glaedr opened his huge jaws in utter agony as he felt his Rider dying. Then is head flopped down to the mossy floor and he was silent.
Eragon knew they were gone. His face streamed with tears; Saphira moaned low in her throat, a melody that matched all three's shocked grief. A gust of wind blew some leaves across Glaedr's still form. Saphira roared loudly, pain and misery and anguish in every tone. And the inhabitants of Ellesmera heard and knew that dragon and Rider had passed.
And so it was, that, at sunset of that sorrowful day on the Crags of Tel'naeir , Oromis and Glaedr, last Scions of the House of Thrandurin, Riders of a past age, ended their lives and passed into the void.
--