Chapter 37 – Eyes in the Sky
Eragon bent over to see what Hope was working on. They were having lessons in the library. Eragon was instructing the young student Rider on the crafting of spells with the use of the Ancient Language. She wasn't as fluent as she needed to be in order to be a complete Rider yet even four years after an egg had hatched for her. But it was only a matter of time, and practice, as Eragon liked to emphasize. She was halfway through her studies, and magic didn't come easy for her, that's why he started to dedicate part of his afternoons to personally help her achieve her goal of being proficient in magic and fluent in the Ancient Language.
"How is it, master?" Hope finished writing down the words of a spell on a parchment and turned the page to him.
Eragon checked her spelling and grammar. There were a few mistakes, ones that he thought wouldn't hurt her, so he said, "Try it. Let's see how it goes."
He saw Hope swallowing and standing up to try her new spell.
Hope gathered her energy and very carefully spoke the words she had just written, her right palm lighted up in silver. Eragon had given her the assignment of rearranging the books and scrolls on the shelf in front of her by subject. Easy for an experienced magician. For a beginner, it could be challenging.
A reddish tone came to the pale skin of her face when the last word came out of her mouth, and Eragon realized she was losing control of her energy supply. The books scrambled on the shelf in no coherent order until they all fell to the ground and Hope was left panting, holding the back of the chair.
"Good. Again," Eragon sat down and offered her the paper so she could correct the spell.
Hope looked at him with surprise, a drop of sweat ran down her forehead. Her pale skin was tinged in red.
"I'm sorry, master, but you must be joking. I nearly died."
He smiled with warmth.
"Isn't it invigorating?"
The dark-haired girl let herself drop on the chair and grabbed the pen. She scratched the first attempt of a spell and started over. Eragon thought it was counter-productive to start something from the beginning when the answer to one's questioning is in the mistakes made. He let her do her away, though, but in a separate parchment, he wrote a few words in the Ancient Language that he thought she might consider useful.
He dragged the paper toward her and watched her brow furrow to see the possibilities she had been overlooking. With her energy renewed, Hope began to write.
A sense of peace reached Eragon's body. He leaned back in his chair so he could appreciate his student's hard work. It was all that he needed to make him feel like himself again, to fulfill his duty. It caused great anxiety to think of his future with Arya, or if they would even have one. It was disheartening to think that a lot was happening in the west and he wasn't allowed to travel there and help. It was depressing to know his family and friends were each day falling deeper into death's arms without him having the chance to say goodbye. But not today. Today he was being helpful. Today the anxiety and sadness became dormant inside his being.
He shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts when the power of the Eldunarí infusing their consciousness in his mind made him lose his breath. They were agitating themselves inside his head, so he felt his body losing the strength to hold itself upright. All he could feel was the coldness of the stone ground on his cheek as he fell facedown. He might have hurt his nose, but he couldn't know for sure. He could only see a city burning and people running in panic.
It's happening now, little one. It's Carvahall at this exact moment. I can tell. Saphira clarified through their bond while she curled herself in a ball of apprehension in the eyrie as well.
He wasn't himself again, he was an eagle, a crow or a dragon, something that flew over the Palancar Valley amidst the smoke.
His eyes watched as a small army came from the woods throwing big balls of fire toward the agglomeration. The Riders jumped on their dragons' backs so they could fight the magicians. People were running to the city hall guided by Angela, Elva, Roran and the others. Villagers he knew from his childhood and others he had never met. He saw Avelina leaving the square with Runalla and joining the group of dragons in the sky. He looked for Fírnen but didn't see him.
In the middle of it all, he saw a dome of energy that covered the main square of a city he knew was Carvahall but could never recognize from his memories, being so big and developed. He felt himself getting closer, and the screaming getting louder.
Under the dome, holding it with her last drop of energy, he saw Arya. She was shielding the place with only the strength of her being, taking every hit with bravery only. His heart that was already racing felt like beating inside his head and a fatalistic thought run through his head. Where's Fírnen? Where are the Eldunarí she took to Ellesméra? She can't hold it by herself.
A voice he recognized as being Umaroth's spoke, So help her.
From the sky where he watched everything, he was thrown into a conscience, so powerful and bright, but so familiar at the same time. The music there was too loud, as he knew she was trying to shield herself from intruders. Besides that, an iron claw grabbed his mind and crushed it. More than quickly, he raised his own defenses and curled up in a ball, both mentally and with his physical body.
As soon as his mental garden worked its way around her walls, he felt her relaxing, little by little.
Eragon?
She relaxed the pressure around his mind, so he could enter.
Yes, Arya. Please, let me in. The Eldunarí brought me here. They want me to help you.
A thought of relief passed through her head and he was welcomed inside. It was only then he realized she was in great danger. He felt her energy levels decrease more and more. Desperation came to him.
Arya, what…
I can't... Eragon, I made a mistake. The Eldunarí you gave me… I left them in…
Her mind's voice was as strained as her physical voice would be in a situation of great effort.
Eragon didn't bother to answer, he had to act quickly.
Exiting her mind and always led by Umaroth's guidance, he looked for the source of all that mess. There, around the city limits coming from the spine, a group of magicians battled against the Riders. One of those magicians stood alone on a tall boulder, hands in the air, throwing fireballs toward the city. He was the source of the attack that was mining Arya's energy, the attack that threatened to take her life.
The force of his intention brought him closer to the magician, as he saw Fírnen flying at full speed in Arya's direction. Without a second thought, he felt himself nudging against Fírnen's mental walls. It was when he realized Saphira had joined forces with her elders in helping him.
Piercing through his defenses was as hard as it had been with his Rider. But the familiarity of Eragon's and Saphira's minds was just as effective with him than it was with Arya.
Fírnen, Arya is in danger.
I know! I was battling the enemies, but now I need to go to her.
No! Let me ride you.
What do you mean? Where are you?
Fírnen, we don't have time. Let us do now what we did that day when we prepared to go to the dragons' hidden lair. Let us fly together!
Fírnen hesitated but caved, and soon Eragon had merged their minds completely. A concern pounded inside their shared conscience. It's too dangerous.
It was dangerous to open up to someone mentally in a fight with magic, but it was urgent at that moment. He tried to express himself with feelings rather than words as he turned Fírnen's immense body toward the magician instead of Arya. It felt like the wings were his, and his eyes no longer saw from a human or elven perspective, it was the world as a dragon saw it.
A glance back made them know that the dome was only a thin layer of energy, dimming with each attack it held. Arya was an incredible being, holding by herself what could easily kill any experienced warrior. A sense of pride filled both of them and fueled their onslaught.
They flew over the battle, dodging attacks and crossing with the other dragons, that dove to bite and scratch just to fly back up again to flee from the dark magic practiced by the hooded figures.
Eragon thought, and they both executed. It was a steep dive toward the magician, who looked up and extended his right hand to them. Fírnen's mouth was opened and from there an abundant column of fire came out, involving the man completely. It was enough to stop the attacks to the square. His first goal had been achieved.
As they flew away, they watched as the man rose from the flames untouched. How? It should have torched him.
They didn't have time to turn back to him, for the man raised his hand and a loud snapping sound came from Fírnen's body, and he felt a second later an excruciating pain on his right wing as they fell to the side. Eragon was sure the scream he heard was his own, in the library many leagues away.
Again, he thought, How? Fírnen's protections should have stopped that.
The fall caused a big impact, and the fighters who used magic and swords on the ground had to run not to be crushed by Fírnen.
Eragon knew exactly where it hurt, for Fírnen's wing was his. But acting on his pain was more difficult than one might think. His vision was black from the pain and the fall. He felt Saphira clearing his mind for him so he could heal the bone, drawing the necessary energy from her mate. A pulsating ache still lingered for a bit after that, so did the gratitude he felt for her.
Back on their feet, they turned to see that the dragons had destroyed most of the magicians with their teeth and claw, and the remaining ones were being cornered by the Riders. Arya's few lessons on protection against dark and nonverbal magic must have paid off, for the Riders were almost unscathed, besides a broken bone in Amara's arm and Thom's bloody nose.
Fírnen's legs brought them closer to the magician, who also worked his way toward them, slowly. They studied the man. He didn't seem afraid, on the contrary, he seemed confident. Not even the roar that resounded from Fírnen's throat was enough to break him. He smiled his wicked smile, with pointy teeth, as he had polished them into fangs.
Eragon didn't want to attack first but feared what kind of attack that could come from the man. He had to make a decision, but before he reached for the energy in Fírnen's body to cast new wards for the dragon. He used the power of his intention rather than words and hoped it would suffice.
Fírnen roared again to make the man stop, and he did. From the corner of their eye, Eragon saw the Riders and the other dragons forming a circle around the man, which brought more confidence to his heart. They didn't know that Eragon was inside Fírnen's mind commanding the defensive, so Renir took the lead and interrogated the man.
"It's over! Tell us who you are and what do you want from this stupid attack."
The man's eyes never left Fírnen's as he spoke, his voice was smooth and dangerous.
"I'm here to send my master's regards to the Order and its leader."
"Who is your master?"
Renir took the space in front of Fírnen, and Vance stood by his right side baring his teeth.
"Your leader knows the name, so does his traitor brother."
"Our leader isn't here."
A laugh full of mockery came from the man.
"Then tell him she is coming. Tell them she is coming with their worst nightmare. Their enemies are alive and hungry for their flesh."
Eragon's core went cold and he didn't know what to do or say. He had the faintest idea of what the man was saying, but he didn't want to believe it. So, Renir took another step forward, preparing his sword.
"You are very brave or very stupid to think you can come here, threaten our leader and walk free."
The man showed his fangs in a sordid smile again.
In the blink of an eye, flames swallowed the man whole and went away almost immediately, taking him with it. The Riders ran to the place where the man had stood before but couldn't find any trace of him.
That kind of magic required too much energy and skill, it was the kind of magic that Eragon didn't dare to do himself. Certainly, the man was guided by a superior being, someone he had to find and destroy before she could get even stronger. He should have done it twenty years before.
Eragon intended to go see Arya and let the Riders take care of the wounded magicians and the dead bodies, so Fírnen turned to the city and took flight.
As they passed by the houses and buildings, they could see destruction all around. The flames licked the wooden walls and the people held on to each other when reunited. Eragon guided Fírnen's eyes to look for Arya until they found her.
Where's Elva? He thought to Saphira in anger. She was supposed to be there, not running when things get difficult.
You know that protecting Arya is not her job. Elva is there to warn her of eminent danger, that's all.
Eragon knew that but hoped – only hoped – Elva would give herself a little more to their pact.
People passed by her and ignored her lying down unconscious. They were worried about their loved ones, too worried not to notice her, the one that saved them all with her green shield. Fírnen knelt by her side and nudged her with his snout. She grunted low but didn't wake up.
Eragon threw his mind to the Eldunarí and begged, Help her.
One more time, he felt his mind being transported to her enchanted melody. He concentrated on getting through her defenses again, careful not to be harmed or even harming her. He prayed not to harm her.
Arya! Talk to me.
She didn't respond with words but slowly let him in, dimming her music to a background noise. Once inside her realm, he felt what she felt, which was an extreme weakness. Her breathing was faint, and her heartbeat was almost nonexistent. Eragon couldn't transfer his energy from that far, he would if he could. So he helped her open up to Fírnen, who she had been blocking not to expose him to possible mental attacks. Arya was careful, but Eragon exposed them all. He would laugh at their differences if the situation didn't cause him so much concern. As soon as Fírnen entered their shared mental space, he felt Arya being reanimated by the influx of energy provided by the dragon.
Her heart started to beat faster, her breathing was more vigorous, and her mind was lively again. She could even think of him again. With a heart full of relief and love, he shed some light into her mind and said goodbye.
His work there was done.
The coldness pressing against his cheek was refreshing when he stopped to think about it. Refreshing because his face was in pain from falling headfirst to the ground with nothing to break his fall. Eragon put his palms on the cold stone and raised his body moving to a sitting position. When he looked around, he saw Hope and the other students, all staring at him. They had panic in their eyes. Apparently, his trip west had been quite a show.
Saphira?
I'm here, little one. How are you feeling? She said from the eyrie.
I'm all right, I think. A broken nose and a sore throat. I guess I've been screaming the whole time.
Come, let's rest together. And make sense out of everything that's happened.
Her voice was shaken, disturbed. For almost losing Arya, but for another matter as well. What the man had said could only mean one thing, now he knew. And he didn't like that.
Arya didn't want to open her eyes just yet. She knew that Avelina and Renir were there, sitting by her bed, waiting for her. She wanted to keep inside her shelter, protected by her music, shielded from pain. How wrong was that? Inside her mind hid all of her darkest fears and pains.
For example, her pride had taken a hard hit that day. She made a mistake to think that she could handle the force of the attack on her own, without the energy from the Eldunarí or the dragons. She needed his help because of her imprudence. How could she look him in the eye now that he could be thinking she was not fit for leading his Riders into battle? Arya liked to think she didn't need anyone's help, but this time, her individualism almost cost her life.
She opened her eyes.
"For the gods, Arya! I was worried about you!" Avelina said, leaning over her.
"I am all right, Avelina," she said sitting on the bed.
She recognized the room as being one of the many in Roran's fortress. She looked outside the window and saw that it was time for the twilight. Many voices could be heard in the streets, and Arya figured they were trying to fix the damage done that day.
"Thanks to Fírnen, who stopped that magician. Vance and I tried to reach him, but couldn't, there were too many of them, so Fírnen came from the Spine and fought him."
Arya nodded.
"I know. You did a great job, all of you. With so little training, you were able to fend for yourselves and the whole population of Carvahall."
The Riders glanced at each other and smiled humbled.
"Now tell me everything," she asked, so they told her.
They told her about the fight, how the magicians seemed strong by inexperienced. They seemed wild and reckless, throwing spell after spell, not caring about their well-being. They gave her details that she didn't need to know, but let them speak for she realized it had been a big event for them. Their first battle, and for them both, their first kill. When they got to that part, Arya watched Avelina shrink in her chair, with her eyes glued to the dark sky outside. She let Renir say it, how Avelina magically immobilized a young magician and Renir put Brisingr through her throat, making her fall lifeless to the ground. It didn't bring him pride, but he seemed less shocked than Avelina.
"You did well, don't punish yourselves for the things we cannot change. You cannot change the fact that they attacked us. Nor the fact that you are the protectors of the world, and protecting means destruction sometimes."
They agreed in silence.
Arya threw the covers to the side and rose to her feet. She needed to go see Fírnen and together they should pay a visit to the magicians they kept as prisoners. She invited Renir and Avelina to come along and finish their telling.
They told her about Fírnen's incredible ferocity and how they interrogated the man, who seemed fixated on Fírnen.
Arya paused her walking when she heard what the man had said. She stared at Renir and asked, "Are you sure he said these words exactly?"
"I am, master. You can search my memory if you wish."
Arya restarted walking with less impetus than before, dwelling on all that.
"After visiting the prisoners, we should go look for Angela. And I hope Murtagh is on his way here, he has a lot to explain."
A.N.: Walking slowly, aren't we? Chapter 37 and some more to go. I'm thinking 20 more, but I've been wrong before, so I don't know.
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