Author's note: So, next week… *yawn* ...will be the Blood-Oath Celebration. So this is half-filler, I guess. Oh, and I don't think I've said it much recently, but thanks to everyone who's stuck with Cade's saga so far. Every follow, favourite, review, or even simply a view really mean a lot to me. So while I do write primarily for my own enjoyment, thank you for taking the time to keep reading the mad stuff I come up with. Enjoy this chapter! Also, sorry for uploading this a day late.
With thanks to my Patrons:
Regal Eagle, Drake Razgriz
In response to reviews:
d8rkforcen1ght7: Yep, we have a new Primordial. Yeah, while someone has called dibs on the MCU, you're perfectly welcome to use a universe with the comics instead. Also, yeah. I'm trying my best to ease into the StormScales stuff, but I've never written romance, so I'm just taking my best guess on what to do.
Blaze1992: Perhaps, but Cade needed support then more than anything else. Saphira managed to give him that.
MoosHeadFamLit: *Cracks knuckles.* You want more Snorri? Request granted. And yup. Although Null is a Primordial. Primordials are categorised as beings that either created their own realms, or have ascended to a level of power in which they could have near-total control of the realm they live in. They're above gods in the power hierarchy.
Guest: I'll take that as a positive. :)
blazer0199: Thank you, and I'm glad you've liked things so far! I hope that I continue to maintain, if not improve, the quality of my writing.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle.
Thanks to the betas for checking everything, and extra thanks to Wizz for helping with this arc of snapshots.
Chapter 18: Not quite party time.
Training quickly became highly intensive after the first time we'd managed to shut our Rinjai down without taking a chunk of us with it. The days had rapidly passed with us learning how to use more and more abilities, with more and more thunderstorms present to give us enough of a boost to safely end our Rinjai. We went to train, wore ourselves out, charged up again on lightning, trained more, then went home and practically passed out on our bed. Then we'd repeat the process.
Learning was… easy, really. Once we understood the concept of what we were supposed to do, and did whatever it was it was for the first time, we could easily call on the ability. It was just a question of strength and control. Strength was easy. The rift gave us all the power we needed. Control was… more difficult. Every time we were introduced to a new skill, we massively overdid it. Using a tendril of rift energy to drag around a weight? We accidentally crushed it into powder. Yeah… we weren't great at fine control, but after a dozen or so tries, we usually got the hang of whatever skill we were practising.
We hadn't really given it much thought, but we discovered that we didn't have to go Rinjai to use some of our powers. That had been proved by past instances of our size changing and what pretty much everyone labeled as Riftbending- for obvious reasons- was simply moving the rift around in a specific way, and wasn't that difficult.
Of course, incorporating the rifty powers we had into our own moves was expected of a Riftheart. Shell did it, Hide did it, hell, even Ragnar probably did it, even if he claimed that he was the weakest of us. Still, after going Rinjai, we got a pretty sweet package. Gravity Beam ubercharges, punches encased in fiery rift energy, and a significant boost to physical and mental strength were all very welcome, as well as a massively better connection between us and our Eldunarí, which was great for communicating with the two knights we had in Alagaёsia.
Honestly, by the time that Shell said we'd got to the point where, apart from the truly advanced stuff, our best teachers would be us, we were proud of what we'd achieved, and rightfully so. We'd repeatedly exhausted ourself, only to charge up again and again by summoning thunderstorm after thunderstorm. Someone had offered to make us a device that would rapidly discharge electricity into us, but we'd refused. We wanted to be as self-sufficient with our Rinjai as possible.
Anyway, sleep hadn't been something we'd gotten much of recently. Even though we could have just kept renewing our metaphorical batteries, we still had to sleep to not let our brains shut off. Plus Shell had to sleep too. We couldn't have our teacher too tired to pick up on any mistakes we made. Still, we'd finished our intensive training. Now we could nap for however long we wanted.
There was no ceremony or anything to say we'd graduated to being a Riftheart, but three of the Elders came down to confirm that we had control of our powers through a fairly long series of tests. Thankfully, none of them were Ragnar. Even though he seemed to be a mostly okay guy- he'd taken us to space that time and explained the multiversal schism between Rift and Void after all- what with recent events, we didn't feel like we'd be able to do much more than glare at him.
And then we were done. Punishments served, training complete. And the Blood-Oath Celebration was rapidly coming up. And we still had no clue on what to give for that. Oh well, we'd come up with something… right after we found our bed and activated blankie mode.
Fast forward about three or four days, to the day before the evening that started the Blood Oath Celebration. We were rifting back to Alagaësia, Skölir donned, and the Knight that Sparta had used to repair it with Iorek in our claws. We had our armour because we remembered that in the book, the Blood-Oath Celebration had a habit of messing around with the mind, and Skölir was literally forged to stop magic from affecting us. As for the Knight, we hadn't been able to find Angela since she'd guided the unit back home, so we couldn't get it back to Surda as our key would portal us in at Ellesméra... Well, we could fly it to Surda, drop it off, and then return, but we couldn't be bothered. Not if we were going there in a few weeks anyway.
Nearing the end of the rift, we dropped our Knight, landed just before the border into Alagaësia, and poked our heads out. Our memory was intact. We'd left on the ground, and there wouldn't have been enough room among the trees for if we'd flown out. That would have pretty much been a car crash, with us as the car.
"Sooooooo." Kevin hummed happily as we and our Knight left the rift. "Back here again."
"Man, does it feel good." Driscol smiled.
Sparta just yawned and nodded in agreement as we clanked our way through the forest, mentally searching for Amara. If we haven't made it clear by now, we were tired. And we'd overslept. And we were still tired. Not as mentally exhausted as a few days ago, but still not quite 100%. Nearly there, but not quite.
"Morning, Cuz." we yawned.
"Sup." Amara replied, as if we were meeting for drinks or something, not dropping in from another realm. "About time you three came to work again."
"Technically, some of that was sick leave." Sparta argued.
We sensed a brief pang of annoyance from her end of the connection, and a faint nick of pain. "Get to the training field sharpish, would you? I need help to vanquish this elf. He's annoyingly good with a sword, and he knows it. Both Eragon and I think he's an asshole."
Grinning wolfishly, we homed in on Amara's mind as quickly as possible, weaving through the trees like a giant, gold snake. Our Knight clanked behind us, it's engine humming in anticipation. If the elf Amara had mentioned was the one we were thinking of, we'd enjoy this. Some people needed a little sense knocked into them.
We arrived at the training field as quietly as possible, sneaking up behind Vanir as he stood over Amara, who was just lying on the ground, panting with exhaustion. Saphira, Eragon, and the crowd of elves who were watching them turned their gaze to us, although we quickly shot them a shushing motion and nodded to our friends.
"Sup."
"Welcome back." Saphira smiled.
"Thanks."
"How did the rest of your training go?" Eragon asked.
"Eh, we're officially a Riftheart now, so yay for that, we guess." we said. "But what's happening here?"
"Vanir is-" Saphira started.
"-being a dick, like usual." Eragon finished.
Saphira gave him a mock-scandalous look. "Little one, that is horribly rude. And very much true."
We smiled. Saphira and Eragon had never acted like this in the book. There, they'd been portrayed as having a slightly more… formal relationship, where the banter only came later. When they goofed off like we often did among ourselves- a rather similar comparison, actually- we couldn't help but grin.
We were pulled from our thoughts by Vanir taunting "Even though you strike first, you always fall before my blade."
Amara muttered something about rolling high initiative, but not high enough to hit well, and weakly flipped him off, not bothering to reply verbally.
"For one who is truly a dragon, I expected more." he tutted. "Although it must be from the… limitations of a frail human body."
"Go kiss an Urgal, Vanir." Amara scowled as she finally started getting back up. "Oh wait, the only one said that you were too ugly for her, what with you being born on a highway and all. That's where most accidents happen, right?"
Vanir tensed up, his voice icily cold. "How dare you, abomination. You are just the mind of a weak, feeble human in the body of a freakish, five-headed mockery of a dragon. Even the… no, I cannot even compare you to them. And that three-headed one… Three consciousnesses in one body; a most vulgar fusion. We should kill it and be done with its presence."
"I'd like to see things from your point of view, but I can't seem to get my head- or heads- that far up my own ass." our cousin said sweetly as we shank down to the size of a human. "Now run back to your little cardboard box and fuck yourself in it, would you?"
A flash of silver later, and we grabbed Vanir around the neck and jerked him backwards, his blade tracing a light scar across Amara's armour. If we hadn't intervened, well… our cousin's armour might have tanked it, but we didn't know how strong it was, or how strong Vanir was. So… yeah, we were pissed, and the elf was pretty much crapping himself as we threw him to the grass of the training field, his blade spiralling away before physics thrust it into the ground at a jaunty angle.
"What. The fuck. Were you thinking." All three of us growled as one, mentally projecting to everyone on the field as our eyes narrowed and thunder boomed in the distance.
"I… I…" The elf stammered, cowering beneath us as we reigned in our anger.
"Get out of our sight. Now." Driscol half snarled, half warned. Sparta was more than ready to blow the elf's head off.
Vanir did as we recommended, leaving his sword behind in his rush to get away.
"You okay?" Kevin asked Amara.
"I'm fine." she nodded. "Thanks for the save, by the way."
"No problem." Sparta said. "Although do you and Eragon mind sparring with us? I want to burn this anger out of us."
"What do you think?" Amara asked Eragon.
He shrugged and drew Zar'roc. "I'm game."
"How's your back, by the way?" Driscol queried.
"Better than ever before." Eragon smiled.
"And what am I to do while you five whack each other with metal sticks?" Saphira questioned.
"Make sure nobody's cheating." Amara said, grinning at us. "However, the participants must name the terms of the engagement."
This was unexpected, but we just went with it. "Then we ask for no usage of spells from you two. This is a swordfight. Nothing more, nothing less."
"Then you get no abilities either, and you have to take your armour off. You three don't need it."
A little too restrictive for our liking, but fair enough. "Then we demand that both of you go all-out. Fight us with the intent to kill. We can heal whatever you're able to do in a matter of seconds."
Amara nodded, then turned to Eragon and Saphira as we started taking off Skölir. "Do you two have anything to add to that?"
The young Rider tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Wouldn't it be fairer on you three if you had a secondary weapon?"
We glanced amongst ourselves, then shook our heads. "If you think about it, we've only ever trained with a sword, and a sword alone. While we'd love to learn dual-wielding, and using a shield is a handy trick that we also want to properly get down, it'd be counter-productive. Let's master- or at least be competent at the sword first, then move on."
Eragon nodded. "That does make sense. So, how are we going to do this? Tag team, or two on three?"
"It's fairer on you if both of you are coming at us at once, so go wild."
As Saphira shifted her position to make herself more comfortable and said "Ready yourselves", we did as she advised.
Amara slipped into a combat stance, ready to do battle. Eragon simply stood, Zar'roc pointed towards the ground at his side. We drew Omen, whirled it around in like a cowboy would do with a revolver, then extended it to full length and adopted a 'ready' pose.
For a while, nobody spoke, and we realised that the entire training field had paused to watch. So, no pressure then.
With Saphira's cry of "Begin!", three swords flashed, and all hell broke loose.
About half an hour later, and we were done. Zar'roc was embedded into our stomach, and Amara's sword, which she'd named Crit- dammit cuz, not everything's D&D- going straight through one of our legs. We won't lie, they hurt like shit, but after blowing ourselves apart, we'd found that we could deal with more pain than usual. And having Omen pinning Amara and Eragon's necks between them and the ground was rather satisfying.
However, our victory didn't feel like we'd earned it. Stabbing Omen into the dirt as we did our best not two scream that there were two swords sticking in us, we offered both our hands to Eragon and Amara. They took our outstretched limbs and we pulled them to their feet.
"I'd honestly say that you two won that." Driscol grimaced.
"But you three were the victors." Saphira pointed out.
"Yeah, but only because- owww- because they managed to get their swords stuck in us." Sparta pointed out. "Then they were both disarmed, and it was easy from there."
Amara and Eragon high-fived, which made us blink in surprise. We'd never taught Eragon that. However, we'd left him and Saphira in Amara's hands for the past few weeks. It would make sense that they'd pick stuff up from her, just as they had with us.
"Speaking of being disarmed, I think that these are yours." Kevin groaned to Eragon and Amara, pointing at Crit and Zar'roc. "Get them out, or I will start screaming bloody murder."
"Sorry." Eragon winced as he grabbed the hilt of Zar'roc and yanked it out as quickly as possible.
The ruby-red blade gleamed, slick with our blood, but we were more occupied with the slightly blissful feeling of the wound healing up. Our organs knitted back together, our flesh grew back to meet each other, and our scales flowed over the small puncture, making us whole again. Amara did the same with her sword, making us wince, although having it out was better than leaving it in.
"Do you think that our scales would deflect regular blades?" Sparta wondered. "I know that Zar'roc doesn't need sharpening, isn't affected by magic, and can cut through almost anything, so it's several times better than normal swords. But if you got a normal sword and hit us with it, then what would happen?"
"I'd say it would bounce." Saphira remarked as we shrank Omen back to it's dagger form and sheathed it on one of Skölir's components. "During the battle of Farthen Dûr, I was hit with several different types of blades. My scales were able to repel many, though not all of them, and yours are harder than mine."
"Thank you?" Driscol said, wondering if having hard scales was a complement among dragons.
"So, what now?" Kevin asked.
"Training." Saphira, Amara and Eragon all groaned.
"It can't be that bad." Sparta smirked.
"You try conjugating the terms of the Ancient Language for days, forgetting most of them in the process." Amara grumbled.
"Parts of it are hard, but it's supposed to be difficult, isn't it?" Eragon pointed out. "You can't just expect to be good at something overnight."
Our cousin nodded, and returned Crit to its home before transforming back to her regular, draconic form. "Fair point."
"What happens if you transform without your sword?" Saphira asked as Eragon climbed onto her back. "Is part of you left behind, or will it disappear from where it lies to form as part of you? And what of your armour, for that matter?"
"You know," Amara said, gazing down at the blue dragoness as we grew back to our regular size, "I'm not entirely sure if I want to find out."
With that, all of us took off, and we ordered our Knight to gather up the littered pieces of Skölir and return them to the treehouse we'd used before having to go and train up our riftheart abilities. After all, we wouldn't need it until the Blood-Oath Celebration.
Landing on the Crags of Tel'naeír, we couldn't help but smile as we saw Glaedr almost playing with his replacement for his leg, flexing its claws in something close to childlike wonder. As far as we could figure, it was a complete, living replacement of what he'd had before, golden scales, razor sharp claws, and all.
Oromis also seemed to be enjoying not having to deal with his infirmity, although he was a little harder to read. Elves seemed to like hiding their emotions, it seemed. Still, he was sitting on his front porch, simply enjoying the day.
"Ebrithilar." we all said, although each of us had slight variations like 'good morning', 'greetings', and the simple 'sup'.
The golden dragon and grey-haired Rider greeted Eragon, Saphira and Amara first before regarding us.
"Welcome back to Alagaësia, Cade-finiarel." Oromis smiled. "I presume that your arrival means that you have completed the training set to you in Locostral."
We were a little disgruntled that he'd grouped us together to apply the honourific, but Driscol smiled and nodded. "Yeah, we've got our powers worked out, thankfully enough."
"Then you three shall rejoin our lessons, for there is still much for you to learn." Glaedr announced, before turning to Amara. "We expect you to ensure that after we instruct Driscol, Kevin and Sparta on the basis of the Ancient Language, that you will tutor them until their skill matches yours."
"Of course, Ebrithil." Amara nodded as our hearts sank. We were terrible at other languages.
A thought struck us, and we privately asked Amara "What if we got the Knight we have to learn the language, and then prompt us on what to say through our Eldunarí?"
"That's a short-term fix." our cousin privately replied while simultaneously asking Oromis whether we'd have tomorrow off because of the Blood-Oath Celebration starting that evening. "We're gonna be staying here forever, so we might as well learn the languages, from the Ancient one, to that of Dwarves, and the one the Urgals use. We need to be fluent in speaking, reading and writing every language in order to prevent any possible issues with miscommunication."
We groaned internally.
"Hey, cheer up." Amara consoled us. "Dwarves and humans use the same letters to write, so that's one less thing to learn. Although I intend to kill whoever invented the Liduen Kvaedhí."
"The what now?" Kevin asked, half convinced that Amara had mentally sneezed.
"It's what the elves use to write in the Ancient Language." Our cousin explained. "They have forty two fucking letters that you can arrange in an infinite amount of glyphs. And then you combine them to form words and sentences!"
"They're mental." Sparta sighed, shaking his head. "In the books, the Ancient Language was written using our letters! If it ain't broke, don't fix it!"
"I know." Amara nodded. "I know. But it's what they use, and it's polite to learn it. Not everyone is gonna know English."
Oromis snapped us out of our thoughts by saying "Yes Amara, you will all be granted tomorrow off, as you will for the days of the celebration itself. However, I do insist that you all come here tomorrow morning. As you have discovered, our festivities can penetrate the mind and soul, and unprotected, you risk losing yourselves amongst the web of magic. I have seen it happen, even among members of my own race. However, I've been told of your adverse reaction to the magic present at Sílthrim, and I have prepared at least a dozen wards that I will cast over you, Driscol, Kevin and Sparta to protect your sanity. Eragon, there are also wards that you must cast upon yourself, Saphira, and the dwarf Orik. I will instruct you upon them this evening."
Ah, good. So we didn't have to wear Skölir for the whole celebration. That would have been a bit of a pain.
"Thank you, Ebrithil." Amara nodded in appreciation.
"I understand, Master." Eragon added.
"Wait, so you have your magic back and everything?" Kevin asked excitedly, before remembering to add on "Master."
"Not entirely." Oromis said calmly. "I am far stronger magically than before I underwent your people's healing processes, although I still have less power than Eragon does."
"I'd have thought that you'd be a little resentful of that." Driscol commented.
Oromis shook his head. "Nay, I am content. I welcome any improvement of my condition with open arms. Though I cannot utilise magic as I did before, I am still satisfied with being able to live without risk of my malady affecting me. I am indebted to your people."
We just shrugged and smiled. "We're just doing our best to help out."
Our teacher nodded then announced "Eragon, Saphira, Amara, you will go with Glaedr today. Driscol, Kevin, Sparta, you shall remain with me. It is time for you to learn the basis of the Ancient Language.
Snapshot 29B:
Snorri almost couldn't believe what he was seeing. The woods had opened out slightly, not quite forming a clearing, just a less forested area that was dotted with patches of flowers of every colour that were illuminated in the orange twilight of the setting sun. More of the strange, paradoxical sculptures stood here, surrounded by bushes of green, amber and red. Paths weaved around the sculptures and patches of flowers, leading away into the woods.
A wide but shallow stream cheerfully bubbled through the area, giving a friendly, reassuring tone to what had been a creepy silence, only broken by the rustle of the trees in a gentle breeze. Looking past the house that Null had mentioned, Snorri could see that it was fed by a rather sizeable lake; easily big enough to sail a longship on if you really wanted to, but not large enough to not be able to see the other side. A small, wooden bridge allowing him to cross the burbling, crystal-clear water, leaving him in front of the house that Null had mentioned.
It was mostly wooden, but not how he vaguely remembered wooden buildings to be. It was no hall, and no kind of building that he'd seen other people build when he'd gone a-viking with his Father and friends to gain wealth and glory, usually by force. Instead of looking like an upside-down longship, it was a lakeside log cabin. The foundation of it was stone, but the rest looked like it was made out of a wood that seemed to have come from the surrounding forest. The place had some relatively big windows and he could see them emitting a warm, flickering light that he knew came from a fireplace. Smoke puffed out from a stone chimney emerging from the roof, confirming the theory.
Upon looking at it, Snorri felt a strange feeling, one that he hadn't felt in a long time. A welcoming, homely one. And after so long in isolation on the seafloor, simply lying in solitude among the silt and strange creatures that made that world's oceans their home… he wanted to cry. Of course, because he was effectively a snake, he couldn't do that.
Snorri slowly slithered his way up, onto the porch and coiled himself up before the door. Snaking his head up to be where he thought that most people's eyes would be, he awkwardly thumped on the door with the end of his tail.
And he immediately regretted doing so.