Long time no see. I decided to pick this back up when I had the surprise realization that this is THE most popular Eragon fic. Who knew?
The Sapphire Sea set out a week after Eragon had gifted the gold to Jeod. Eragon and Brom set out with the tide; Uthar, Bonden, and a handful of other sailors Jeod had found and deemed loyal ran around the ship, keeping everything in order. Brom stayed out of the way, but Eragon slipped easily into helping to rig the sails and tie knots, to the sailor's appreciation.
"You're no landlubber. When did you last sail?" one of them asked.
Eragon shrugged. "This is the first time in my life I've been on a ship. I'm just a fast learner."
The sailor nodded, looking unconvinced, but didn't press the issue. An hour later, when they were well and truly out of sight of Teirm, Eragon called out with his mind. Saphira!
She flew down from where she'd been hanging over them, coming about to trail over the water to let off speed. The sailors cried out when they saw her, even though they'd been warned beforehand that a dragon would be coming onto the boat. Aligning her body with the line of the ship, Saphira set down as lightly as she could on the deck, tucking her tail in so it wouldn't sway and hit the mainmast. The whole ship bobbed and dipped under her weight.
"Gods above," muttered one of the men.
Eragon ran over to his dragon, leaping into the saddle. Good luck dealing with the men, Eragon sent to Brom. Then, with a rush and a roar of adulation, Saphira took off from the deck of the ship, taking her and Eragon high into the sky.
Happy to see me? Eragon asked with a knowing smile.
Immeasurably, she projected. They flew over the endless ocean for hours, enjoying the salty breeze and looking out on the beauty of the water. Eragon?
Yes, Saphira?
You're already so powerful, and yet your memories show me that you are but a pale shadow of what the Father of Riders was. Once you get your hands on these Eldunari… What will you be capable of?
Eragon sighed, the weight and responsibility of power he never truly wanted settling on his shoulders. I won't lie to you Saphira. With everything I knew, everything I had learned over the centuries rebuilding the Riders, and the might of over a hundred heart of hearts of the dragons behind me… I was like a god. I could mold reality to my whim. Very few acts were beyond my capacity or ingenuity. Eragon leaned forward in the saddle, pressing his cheek to Saphira's neck. There are some who said I squandered that power, never properly used it. And perhaps they were right. I could have done so much more to help, to heal, to change… but my fear held me back.
And what has changed? Saphira asked.
Everything, Eragon said simply. Here I am, back at the start. All those old mistakes erased, all those triumphs undone. I've been offered a blank slate, like a tablet prepared for a fairth, and I cannot help but wonder what image I might imprint, what new world I could create.
Saphira flew. You're not planning to replace Galbatorix. It was a statement, not a question. She knew him better than to think he would ever chain himself with that much authority and obligation.
No. But… the war could end so much faster, cleaner. The Riders could return to glory so much swifter, guided by lessons that are already learned before their teaching. Eragon closed his eyes and confessed the most forbidden hope in his breast. We could stay. I could gather water from the ocean with the space-fold spell and create a lake in the heart of the Hadarac. I could create an oasis from nothing. I could rebuild Ristvak'skul not on Nest, but in the heart of Alagaësia.
We wouldn't have to leave, Saphira observed. Then she touched on the most obvious conclusion. You could be with Arya, and I with Firnen.
Eragon sighed. "My love for her will ever endure. But it's much the same as with you and the Saphira of the future past. She's not my… Arya. And just because I'll always pine for her, it doesn't mean you must as well. And Firnen may prove to be no more than your brother, for you are not the Saphira that met him and became smitten with the first male dragon of mating age that was interested in you."
Saphira rolled her eyes. Right, you are. I'm quite embarrassed on her behalf, if half of what she got up to with Glaedr is accurate.
She believed she was alone, the last female and indeed the last sane member of her race. She was desperate for affection, to have the chance to be a mate, a mother. Eragon did not excuse, merely explain.
Whereas I am secure in the knowledge that there are hundreds of my kin just waiting to be hatched after the mad king Galbatorix is dealt with, Saphira reasoned. Eragon, what became of Shruikan?
Eragon brought up the relevant memories. In Elva's words, he was the most unhappy creature to ever live. His madness was deemed too great for us to save. We could only end his misery with the Dauthdaert. Eragon sighed. Perhaps now, with all the knowledge of psychology and the brain and soul behind me, I could rehabilitate him. But it could require years.
Still, I'd prefer if not one more dragon suffered another death, Saphira stated resolutely.
As would I, my dear.
They kept quiet for a few hours more, eventually turning around and making back for the Sapphire Sea. They enjoyed the silent meditation and bonding time as much as their long, winding conversations. They were truly the very best of friends.
Saphira touched down on the ship as delicately as she could, and still left scratches as her claws were forced to dig into the wood to hold her in place. Eragon worried over them, afraid how those to use the ship in the future would see them and think of them. He'd repair them with magic before they left the ship for the final time, he decided.
"How are the men taking things?" Eragon asked his father who walked forward.
"Well as can be expected. Sailors are a superstitious lot, and one keeps muttering about how a dragon is bad luck. Otherwise, everyone is honored just to have seen her," Brom answered.
"Well, they'll get very used to her over the next few weeks," Eragon mused.
And so they did. Over the next 5 weeks, the sailors adapted to having the only living female dragon as a passenger. She'd even consented to let most of them pet her scales and see her beauty up close, though one sailor named Derf refused to come within three paces of her, convinced he would die from sheer bad luck.
They were attacked twice, the first time 3 days out of Teirm and the second halfway through their journey. Both times three boats with black sails appeared from nowhere on the horizon and sailed in on attack vectors. Eragon dealt with them simply and fatally, removing all wards defending them and then setting the ships alight. The sailors became almost more superstitious of Eragon than Saphira.
Brom proved a terrible victim of seasickness, which Eragon did his best to magically soothe. When he wasn't rubbing Brom's back, he kept himself occupied by singing to himself and the horses. Saphira was spared any magical growth due to the fact the ship might capsize under her should she grow too big.
Finally, the day came when land appeared on the horizon and the ward Eragon had set up for radioactivity went off. On his order, the anchor was weighed and the Sapphire Sea came to a halt. Eragon and Brom mounted Saphira, warded to the bone against any possible threat in the weird, mutated expanse of Dorú Araeba. Then, wishing the crew well and promising to return within three days or they could leave for Narda, Eragon and Brom and Saphira took off for the ruined home of the old order of Dragon Riders.
They reached the island within an hour of flying, and took another two to reach the center. Visible in the undergrowth beneath them were a city of Elvish design but with Dragons clearly in mind. Cathedrals and temples and palaces sung out of the wood were spotted through the foliage. All of it had a lost, forgotten quality, tainted by the invisible poison in the air. They did their best to ignore the skeletons of dragons strewen everywhere, but it wasn't easy; some of those skeletons had eyeholes big enough for Saphira to fly through.
Finally, they landed at the Rock of Kuthian, paying wary attention to all the mutations and magical abberations that populated the island. That and the snalglí, the giant snails that had claimed the majority of the island as their domain.
"Okay, Eragon. What now?" Brom asked, eyes a century away as he looked on the ruins of his old home.
Eragon cricked his neck. "Now Saphira and I go get the tool that will let us take down Galbatorix once and for all. And then we might take advantage of the near unlimited energy in the air to do some large-scale spells."
Then Eragon and Saphira turned to the prominent Rock of Kuthian. Taking a deep breath, Eragon declared his True Name. Once he'd finished, Saphira launched into her own iteration of her True Name. She'd finally cracked it on the voyage over. Turns out she'd forgot to account her obsession with growing fast, something that was purely hers and not the old Saphira's.
When Saphira finished, an invisible seam appeared in the stone and opened, revealing a downward-sloping tunnel into darkness. Conjuring a werelight, giving Brom one last wave, Eragon and Saphira began their descent.
The deeper they went, the more uncomfortable the silence of the tunnel became apart from their footsteps. And the hotter it got, as they came closet and closer to the geothermal pocket that was the Vault of Souls.
Finally, passing under an archway brimming with memory magic that Eragon refused to let touch him, he and Saphira came upon the Vault of Souls, the secret weapon the old order had tucked away for those that would rise against Galbatorix decades after the initial war was lost. A cache of 136 Eldunari and 243 eggs, all guarded by the automaton Cuaroc.
Eragon gazed around the room, lit and heated by the bubbling magma pit in the center. Then he bowed. "Honored ancestors, you are found."
He could all but sense the noise as over a hundred draconic ghosts conversed silently. Finally, one in particular touched Eragon's mind. You have found us, Traveler of Time.
"Eragon Bromson is my preferred name, Umaroth-elda," Eragon replied out loud, just to differentiate between the living and the undead in the chamber.
We must confess, we never anticipated this. Wild magic is truly capable of miracles. The spokesman of the Eldunari mused.
Eragon shrugged. "What matter is it what future I came from? What matters is the future we build now."
Saphira paused in surveying all the unhatched eggs, oddly maternal instincts rushing to the fire. The eggs can't handle much more of this darkness and stagnance. We have five years at most before they start dying inside their shells. This war that's about to start has a deadline.
Well-observed, daughter of Vervada, Umaroth stated calmly. We were planning to let ourselves be discovered near the climax of the war, so that it would be decided swiftly and their fate determined one way or the other. But your Rider has decided to claim us early.
Eragon shrugged. "Why deprive myself of your power and wisdom until the final battle is on the horizon? Best to have you with me, on the frontlines, from the very beginning. That gives us the most chance to do good."
Well, you are the one who opened the Vault. We will defer to your wish to use us sooner than we would prefer, Umaroth stated, speaking the consensus of all the Eldunari.
Eragon nodded and spent the next hour setting all the Eldunari in a pile on the ground. Then he used the space-folding spell to tuck the dozens of living crystals into a tiny spot behind his head. With a last, longing look at the unhatched eggs, Eragon and Saphira walked out of the Vault. Eragon felt the magic of the archway try to erase the knowledge of the eggs from his mind, but Eragon's millenium-old mind resisted. In the event they lost, Eragon wanted Galbatorix to learn of the Vault of Souls. At least then the Dragons would be resurrected from the edge of extinction. In a world crafted in his own mad image, but at least they'd be alive.
Brom was waiting impatiently for them as he and Saphira emerged from the Rock of Kuthian. "Do you have them?" He asked sharply.
Peace, Brom Holcombson. Your son was successful in his endeavor, spoke Vrael's dragon, the chorus of draconic growls and roars in the background lending music to his thoughts.
Brom visible sagged with relief. "Thank every god and demon listening. Galbatorix isn't the only one with more than one heart on his side anymore."
Eragon nodded. "Well, no time like the present. I had some ideas for some spells we could work straightaway, Umaroth-elda. Especially while we're here, and I can work an enchantment allowing you to harness the lingering energy from the nuclear explosion during the war. We'll essentially have unlimited energy to work with, the difficult part will be harnessing it all usefully."
Such as? Asked the Eldunari.
"First, transforming me. Second, transforming Saphira. Third, getting Thorn and Firnen's eggs from Galbatorix. And finally, transporting us and our horses back to the mainland so we don't have to bother with a return voyage," Eragon listed matter-of-factly.
… These seem simple enough, and seem to serve our joined purpose well enough. Did you have any ideas in mind for your new, finished form apart from the standard Human Rider? Umaroth inquired.
Eragon hesitated. "Well… the truth is I want aspects from all five races for my body. I want to resemble the finished Riders of my own time, after Dwarves and Urgralgra were added to the original pact. It got to the point that Riders ceased to identify as just their birth race, but as a new hybrid race unique to the New Order: Alagaësians. Simple as that."
Brom frowned. "You're sure you want to look like you have Urgal heritage? Keep in mind you're to be the face of the Varden once we get to Tronjheim. Might be hard to get the masses to rally behind a man with horns, regardless of whether he's riding a dragon or not."
"I won't have horns, only born Urgralgra had those. But grey flesh, possibly yellow eyes… I see nothing wrong with that, but I recognize it would give most Men, Dwarves, even Elves of this time pause. Still, I vowed to lead and represent the New Order of Dragon Riders, which included all four of the Rider races. I won't shake from that duty over some cosmetic details," Eragon said passionately. "At worst, we can claim I mutated my appearance like an elf for aesthetic reasons."
Brom puffed on his pipe and sighed. "Your body, your decision son. I'll love you even if you looked all an Urgal. And I'd still proudly claim you as my son, whatever ideas that would put in other's heads."
If you serious about doing this forthwith, then kindly lend us the knowledge we need, Umaroth asked of Eragon.
Obediently, Eragon fed the Eldunari the full biology of Urgralgra and Dwarf males, to mix with their own familiar knowledge of Elf and Human males. He didn't bother with knowledge about Dragons, figuring the Eldunari knew more on that subject than even he did after a millenium of study.
That will be sufficient. Now, what is this enchantment to harness the poison energy in the air? Umaroth asked.
Eragon fed the spell to the ghost and physically felt the moment the Eldunari all enacted it. The pocket of space behind his ear began to all but glow with heat and light as the nuclear energy was absorbed by the hidden heart of hearts.
The Eldunari kept the language of the spell simple. Flesh of Urgal. Bone of Dwarf. Blood of Elf. Heart of Man. Soul of Dragon.
And then Eragon felt like he was struck by a lightning bolt. It wasn't even pain so much as a strike of pure energy and sensation.
When he blinked himself awake, it was to Brom wiping a wet cloth on his forehead, Saphira visibly craning her neck to keep a firm eye on his face. Eragon stirred and felt curiously bare. "Am I naked?" He asked, only to blink. That morning he'd had a teenager's wobbly tenor. Now he had a baritone, almost a bass rumble that reminded him of barrel-chested men like Horst and Fredric. Had the Eldunari sped him right through puberty as well?
"Apparently, you took after a Kull rather than just a plain Urgal," Brom said simply. "You're a good foot and a half taller. Your clothes didn't survive the transition."
Eragon gathered himself and came to his feet. He felt an odd sturdiness, as if his bones were reaching down into the Earth to anchor him. That would be the Dwarf aspect. Looking down at Brom from a height of over 7 feet, he mused that was the Urgralgra part. That and the greyish tint to his skin. Gathering himself, he kept a good 10 feet into the air. That would be the Elf aspect. And he still felt like himself, so he guessed he'd always be Man on the inside. He wondered how the Dragon aspect would emerge, or if his bond with Saphira had that part covered.
Casting a spell to turn thin air reflective, Eragon admired his new body, the one that he'd theoretically have for the rest of eternity. Other than his height and skin tone, he could easily be mistaken for a simple Man, though his features had the aristocratic tilt of the Elves. His musculature reminded him of a statue one of his students had made depicting a god mid physical labor. He looked as deadly as he did beautiful. Eragon even noted with hidden glee that his manhood had grown larger too.
Turning and finding the rags he'd grown out of during the course of the transformation, Eragon used magic to repair and expand them. Even then it was a tight fit. Once he was decent, Eragon turned to Saphira. "Your turn, girl."
Saphira perked up. She'd been looking forward to this.
This spell was much simpler than altering Eragon's basic physical make-up. They just had to speed up Saphira's growth by a couple years. At that size, she'd be the right balance between small enough to maneuver around others and fit in the tunnels of the Beor Mountains, and large enough to strike intimidation into the armies of Galbatorix. They didn't have a prayer of making her as big as Shruikan or even Glaedr, but they could get her past gawky adolescence and into full adulthood.
The Eldunari gathered and molded the energy, and in a flash Saphira's size had increased over fivefold. She blinked dazedly. That felt… wow. She shook her head and happened to spy a nearby snaglí. In a quick lunge and jerk motion, she'd grabbed the slimy flesh of the overgrown snail and swallowed the thing whole. The thing would have been a decent meal for Saphira not two minutes beforehand. Now it equated to a light snack.
Eragon admired Saphira's adult body, at a size that was only reached by dragons and no other living creature. "We'll need to grow the saddle again. That or just make a new one given our new sizes."
Saphira paused in eating the empty shell. I've no idea why the Saphira of your memories was so against artificial growth. This skipping months and years at a time of boring old-fashioned growing is most delightful.
"She was a bit of a purist. She found the more eccentric Elves to be touched in the head for altering their bodies so extensively. She seemed to have a preference for old-fashioned nature rather than magical enhancement," Eragon answered his dragon. "Plus, the one getting artificially grown was a rival dragon that was mentally stunted by being a Name-slave. She probably didn't like the disparity between Thorn's insides and outsides."
Her loss, Saphira shrugged, finishing her little appetizer.
Feeling on a roll, Eragon began to word the spell to magic the eggs from Urû'baen when Brom coughed. "It occurs to me… while you're magically reaching across the land to the capital, and you're capable of removing wards with a word… what's stopping you from killing Galbatorix from here?"
Eragon froze, the enormity of the thought striking him dumb. He soon saw the problem, though. "Absolutely nothing, apart from the rampage an unleashed Shruikan could inflict on the world."
Brom winced. "Forgot about that part. Very well, settle for swindling his prize possessions out from under his nose. Just would have hated to waste the opportunity while we're here."
Working in tandem with the Eldunari, Eragon invoked the Word and, feeling mischievous, removed every ward in Urû'baen, not just those guarding the dragon eggs. Let Galbatorix and his Black Hand of magicians deal with that mess. Then Eragon cast the teleportation spell.
In a flash of blue light, sans any explosions or wasted energy, the eggs containing Murtagh's and Arya's dragons appeared on the ground. Eragon soon scooped them and added them to the space-folding spell where they'd be perfectly safe.
After that, it was a simple matter of cleaning up after themselves. Summoning Holcomb and Snowfire from the hold of the Sapphire Sea with barely an effort, Eragon gathered the lot of them together and cast, the Eldunari fueling the spell, "Transport us to the forest outside Teirm."
There was a feeling of weightlessness before being swiftly and harshly reclaimed by gravity. Eragon and Brom and even the horses toppled to the ground. The only reason Saphira didn't fall was she was too large and grounded.
"No wonder that spell isn't used for living things. It's bloody uncomfortable," Brom groused as he got to his feet and dusted himself off.
Eragon had his eye on Teirm, just visible in the distance. "There would have been a flash of light. We need to move."
Quickly mounting the horses, Eragon having to majorly let out the stirrups to account for his new height (Holcomb bearing his new weight stoically), they made for the Spine while Saphira took off into the sky.
