Chapter Twenty-Seven: Flames

Iron sole boots stomped heavily upon the cobblestone path with each step. The streets of Aberon were not to his liking, but they would suffice for his purposes. The city was his—all of it.

Morzan, last of the Forsworn and the second in-command of King Galbatorix himself, had no need for guards or soldiers to keep him safe. The residents of Aberon shied away from him, and if they lingered too long, a glare from his bicolored eyes would send them fleeing.

Ahead of him, his dragon was curled up in the massive square. He very nearly took up the entire space, but there was room enough for him to stretch and make himself comfortable if need be. All the shops in the square had been vacated since the dragon had chosen to make his nest here. Anyone who was stupid enough to venture to close to him was eaten. It was hard to tell if there was blood on his muzzle, for his scales were the color of freshly-spilled ichor, and his spikes were black as coal.

Morzan stalked up to the dragon's enormous head with a cloth in-hand. The predator opened a bloodshot, crimson eye and glared at him in annoyance. He hated having his sleep disturbed.

The Forsworn held the cloth up to the dragon, who turned his head just enough to breathe in the scent of the material. He watched as the great creature lifted his skull high into the air, opening his jaws to catch the smells on the winds better. Morzan waited somewhat impatiently for his dragon to come back down.

"Well?" He demanded gruffly.

The dragon snarled; a sound that brought a scowl to Morzan's face. That was a no, then.

They'd gone to Carvahall after conquering Surda just to raze the place to the ground and take some of their frustrations out. Galbatorix had insisted they not obliterate Aberon or the other Surdan cities—they were more valuable intact.

Carvahall had no such value, and it had become a thorn in Morzan's side for too long. Oh, how he had relished the shrieks of horror and death as his dragon bathed Palancar Valley in bloody fire. One less place for Brom to conceal his cowardly hide.

He remembered the two lovers fleeing into the trees with his dragon in pursuit. Those two he'd decided to chase on foot. While his dragon had its fun annihilating the valley, Morzan hunted the stragglers for his own enjoyment.

They couldn't hide. There was no escaping him, he who carried the souls of maddened dragons with him and used their strength for his own purposes. He would let them gain some distance as he walked at a leisurely pace, then lunged forward with supernatural speed and appeared much closer to them. Morzan slowly drove them to the edge of the valley and when they seemed to hope they could lose him, he finally leapt before them and blocked their escape.

The boy—barely a man—threw his arm out to put himself between Morzan and the girl, and she clutched his hand as if to pull him away and run elsewhere. He'd seen the look of panic in their eyes before and felt delighted; they were lovers, fearing for each others' lives.

"Why are you doing this?!" The man shouted, anguish and fury on his face.

"Why?" Morzan cocked his head lazily, like a cat, and then his smile was all teeth. "Because it amuses me."

The man yelled, brandishing a hammer, and charged. "Katrina, run!"

"NO!" She screamed.

Morzan grinned and didn't even bother to unsheathe his sword. He simply caught the hammer blow and twisted it out of the farmer's hand. The man cried out in pain as he twisted until the bone cracked, forcing him to his knees.

"LET HIM GO!" The woman shrieked and actually lunged at Morzan, briefly surprising him. It had been a while since he'd met a woman willing to actually fight and die for her lover. He caught her hand and spun her around, wrapping his arm around her throat and pulling her against him.

"Now, now," he whispered to them above the din of dying screams and crackling dragon-fire. "Play your cards right and I might just let you go. I want to know if you're familiar with certain names."

"Who? What names?" The man gasped, glaring up at Morzan for a moment before locking eyes with his terrified lover. "I'll tell you anything, just please don't hurt her."

"That's better," Morzan praised, lips curving into a smirk. "Did you ever know someone named Brom?"

"Brom? He was a storyteller in town," the man said. "He was strange. Kept to himself, but stayed out of trouble."

"That sounds like Brom. Good. Now, what about a boy called Murtagh?"

The man froze. His lover's breath hitched. Morzan knew immediately they were more valuable than he'd initially thought. His arm tightened around the woman's throat and she gasped, prompting the man to cry out.

"No! Murtagh—he was my cousin! Him and Eragon! They disappeared almost a year ago!"

Morzan grew still. "Your cousins."

"Yes!"

"You had an aunt, didn't you? What was her name?"

"Aunt? You mean Selena?"

"Yes! What happened to her? Did she ever visit this place?"

"I only met her once when I was but a few years old. She gave birth to Eragon and was gone just days afterwards."

Eragon. Selena was Eragon's mother. Though Morzan knew for a fact he was Murtagh's father, he had certainly not fathered another child by her. But the timing, the obvious transformation of his greatest asset into his most treacherous servant by the changing of her True Name, and the fact that Brom had been hiding out at his estate for gods knew how long…

Morzan put the pieces together and felt raw fury course through his blood. Brom hadn't only stolen his son and turned his Black Hand against him; he'd fathered a child by her.

A child who was now the Dragon Rider of the only female dragon in Alagaesia. A child he could not kill to torment his old enemy. A child who was untouchable.

But he looked at that spawn's cousin and knew he could hurt him.

"Slytha," he hissed, and the two of them passed out. He debated keeping the woman alive at all. He could feed her to his dragon and be done with it.

But Morzan had learned much of torture under Galbatorix's tutelage, and he knew the worst pain was caused slowly. He would keep her alive for now.

He summoned his dragon with a thought and strapped the pair of them to the saddle. Mounting the creature, they soared into the air and he looked down on the inferno below him. It wasn't enough.

"Burn it all."

The dragon did.

He'd thrown them into Borromeo Castle when he returned to Surda. They were spellbound and unable to leave, but could mostly do as they pleased. He wanted them to get comfortable. Maybe taste some happiness.

When the Riders inevitably came to liberate Surda, he'd have a terrible surprise waiting for Brom's spawn.

Morzan shoved the cloth into his pack. He'd thought perhaps it had belonged to Selena as he searched Surda for signs of his former servant, but his dragon knew her smell and he did not think it was hers. She was going to make this difficult for him, it would seem.

No matter. He would find her in time.

Solembum watched Morzan and his dragons, fur on-end as he backed around the corner and into an alley. He jumped onto a wall and padded down its length until he reached an open window, then dove inside.

He changed halfway through into the form of a boy and shook his shaggy hair. Angela was studying a dagger they'd discovered the other day and looked up as he arrived.

"Well?"

He bought it, Solembum said. I left a few other breadcrumbs to keep him off her trail. He's not the greatest tracker I've seen. It'll take him some time to find them.

"Good, because Selena is not going to make this easy on us," Angela sighed. "I never thought I'd see the day when we would have trouble finding someone."

She is elusive, the werecat agreed. This will be a long hunt if she decides not to reveal herself to us.

"Why wouldn't she?"

The fortune you told for her was hardly pleasant.

"And while yes, you are technically correct, I think my charming personality is reason enough for her to reach out to us."

Solembum snorted. We shall see.

Angela massaged her brow with her fingers. "The only good news is that Morzan will never find her. If she is this difficult for us to track he's as likely to find her as he is to develop proper manners."

The werecat smirked, grinning toothily, and began to walk to the window. I shall see if I can find anything. Night will fall soon. She will emerge then if she means to hunt.

"You think she might go after her old flame?"

I think the wrath of a mother is not something to be dismissed.

Angela inclined her head as Solembum left the room. That was certainly true.

Eragon stared at Oromis dubiously.

"A project for the Agaeti Blodhren?"

"Yes," the elf nodded. "The Alfakyn craft works of art or magic to be shared during the celebration. As a Rider, you will also participate, as will Orik and Garzhvog. Your dragons, too, shall display their own projects."

"I wouldn't even know where to begin!" Eragon protested. Murtagh grimaced in silent agreement with his younger brother. "I've never done anything like that in my life."

"Which is why I will provide you with some options and you can decide what you'd like to do," Oromis said patiently. "There is time enough. The event will not take place for a few months, yet."

That made it slightly better, but not much. Eragon didn't like crowds, let alone having their attention all focused on him.

"I'd generally advise against experimenting with magic for you two," Oromis told them. "If you have an idea, run it by myself or Glaedr first. You already know how risky it can be."

"Yes, Master," Murtagh agreed.

"Art pieces will likely be simpler for you, anyways. Poems, sculptures, art—there are plenty of choices."

"I know absolutely nothing about any of that," Eragon stated.

"There is time enough to learn," his teacher seemed far too amused. "We shall start with an easy one today. Creating Fairths. Fairths are images or the likeness of an image produced by magic. You mentally capture an image in your mind and use magic to transfer it onto a surface, such as a slate. It's a valuable exercise for you, as well—it will improve your ability to control your minds with precision."

Oromis retreated to his hut and came back with a pair of blank slates, handing one of each to the brothers. As a reference, he also showed them a Fairth he himself had created of Doru Araeba.

Murtagh took a seat near the edge of the cliff, looking out over the forest to watch the dragons as they practiced with Glaedr. Eragon, however, climbed high into a tree and sat himself on a branch, frowning at the slate.

His mind wandered for a while and he managed to conjure a few images that were shoddy and little more than swirls—barely recognizable for what he was thinking of. An hour passed and he scowled, aggravated with his failures.

He was very close to throwing the slate as far as he could when he was distracted by the sight of Firnen making a powerful twist in the air some distance away. He could see Arya astride her dragon, flying with him in his lessons for the first time. She'd made him a saddle the day before now that he was finally big enough to ride, and Glaedr was teaching them the basics Eragon learned months ago.

Arya's words came to his mind and he took a few deep breaths to control the anger burning hot in his chest. He would get nowhere like this. He needed to focus.

Eragon closed his eyes and thought for several moments before deciding on an image. His brow furrowed as he channeled magic as Oromis had told him to, and when he removed his hand, the image was a little more intact.

Progress.

Two months passed in the blink of an eye. Arya had once told Eragon that time could pass in Ellesmera without one even realizing it, and the longer he was here, the more he found that to be true.

Saphira soared high with her Rider atop her back. They didn't get as many days to just fly together since their training with Oromis and Glaedr began, so it was nice to have some time alone. The climbed high into the sky until Du Weldenvarden was a sea of green beneath them, with Ellesmera hidden from sight.

The Agaeti Blodhren was just days away now. The whole forest was growing excited; elves were pouring in from distant cities to their capital in anticipation of the celebration.

All the noise and boom in the population had driven Eragon and Saphira away. Oh, they were fond enough of the elves, but they needed a little space before the Blood-Oath Celebration came to them. Murtagh and Thorn had contented themselves by holing up in the treehouse and reading together. Arya, of course, was with her mother helping with preparations, and Firnen accompanied her.

But Eragon needed to be free of the trees. For all that he loved Ellesmera, he needed to have open sky above him instead of the enclosing canopy.

His Eldunari was now kept as a part of a necklace hidden within his tunic. He was grateful it was small—not just because it hadn't been big enough to kill him, but because it made the gem much easier to hide.

Eragon smiled as Saphira spiraled upwards and loosed a powerful roar. She was almost a year old now and slowly but sure, she was pulling ahead of Thorn for size. The red male was bulkier and more muscular, like his sire, but Saphira was larger for length and height.

She brushed his mind with hers as they drifted into a steady glide just below the clouds.

Happy?

With you? Always, Eragon confessed lovingly.

Bah, you and your honeyed tongue, Saphira laughed. If I didn't keep a firm grasp on you, you'd woo the women of Alagaesia without even realizing it.

You're no fun, he teased.

Speak for yourself. You may not mind having more dragon hatchlings around, but I most certainly am not ready to babysit little Eragons. One of you is difficult enough!

I'll have you know fatherhood is very, very low on my current list of priorities in life.

I should hope so!

Eragon smiled. What about you? Any plans on being a mother?

Saphira pondered the question longer than he'd expected. He tilted his head. Are you really thinking about it?

I am…considering it, she admitted slowly. Thorn has been cautiously persistent, and I must admit after watching him progress over the last few months, I am tempted to accept his advances. It's not as if dragons mate for life. Should we not match well…

She trailed off and Eragon rubbed her scales. It's complicated because there are so few of you, right?

I hate to admit it, but yes, she sighed. I have another option in Firnen when he matures. Thorn…his only hope would lay in the remaining egg. If we don't match well, I truly don't know how he would handle it. Being at the edge of extinction is…frightening at times.

Talk to him about it, he encouraged. You know I want you to be happy—both of you. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work, but if neither of you are ready for the consequences that could follow, shouldn't you make sure of that beforehand?

Saphira looked back at him for several moments. Sometimes, little one, you provide surprising wisdom on matters you are lost on when it comes to yourself.

Eragon rolled his eyes. I learn these things from you.

Ah, that would explain it.

They both laughed together and Saphira was quiet for a little while longer. She finally broke the silence. I think I will speak to him about it before I make a decision.

When?

Would you mind…right now?

Eragon lifted an eyebrow. He could feel the trepidation building in Saphira's belly and knew she'd be tense until she worked it out of her system. They'd been flying for a while now, so…

Alright, he agreed. She banked towards Ellesmera and began to lower their altitude. Saphira, if it doesn't work out, don't blame yourself for it.

I know, little one, she replied softly. But Eragon—thank you. I needed to hear that.

Of course, partner-of-my-heart.

Thorn and Murtagh had been reading together when they heard the beating of wings approaching.

Saphira landed close to their tree and greeted them briefly. Eragon dismounted and after removing her saddle, went inside to speak with his brother while the dragon-lady fixed her gaze on the red male.

We need to talk, she said.

Thorn tilted his head at her curiously, but nodded. They flew out of the trees and towards one of the cliffs away from Ellesmera. Out of sight from all but the creatures of the forest. A short flight at speed, but a good distance from prying eyes.

The dragons landed at the cliffside and Saphira lay down with her front paws crossed over the edge. Thorn joined her, sitting a healthy distance away.

Saphira's tail flicked for some time in silence before she addressed him again. I know you have been trying to court me.

Thorn's whole body froze. This was not the conversation he'd been expecting, but one he'd been anxious to have for some time now. Yes.

Obviously, I've noticed. And I admit I've been considering the possibility, she said. But as you know, things for our race are…complicated at the moment. More complicated than either of us are happy about.

Saphira turned her head to study him sharply. Before I make any sort of decision, we need to be clear about a few matters. I need to know—if we do not match well, regardless of whether our courtship is successful, how will you respond? There is only one other female dragon in existence, and she has yet to hatch. I may have another option in Firnen, but you will be even more restricted than I am.

Thorn considered the question for some time. It was a serious concern. One of the qualms of being a species on the edge of extinction.

We are friends first, I think, he said at last. Saphira nodded in response. And I believe that is a good thing before we consider courting. Of course if we didn't match well—if our courtship was unsuccessful or we decided we weren't meant to be mates for long—I would be disappointed. I have no illusions about that. But I do not believe it will destroy our friendship. We have grown and been forged in fire together. Even if we need distance for a time, neither of us are truly alone. I would not begrudge you should our union not succeed.

Saphira's tail tip thumped the ground a few times in thought. She found that answer to be satisfactory.

I felt similar, but I needed to be sure. We cannot afford ill will between us when soon we will be facing the Nameless One and Shruikan, she told him.

I agree.

She became pensive again. If we court successfully, what will we do with any eggs?

Should we bind them to the Riders, you mean.

Yes.

Thorn gazed past the cliff and over the forest. If we were speaking after the Mad King fell, I would say they could be free. Wild. But as things stand now…it boils my blood to admit it, but wild dragons are not safe. We ourselves are not truly safe, but at least we have our Riders. Unless we hid them in lands beyond Alagaesia, where the King cannot find them…

They would not be safe.

He would hunt them for their hearts or enslave them to lay eggs for his own ranks, Thorn's lip curled. Saphira growled in agreement as he went on. And I will not subject any of my offspring to the whims of a madman.

Neither would I.

Thorn looked at her. Do we take the risk, then? Even if we gave our eggs to the Riders…Durza came very, very close to stealing the two of us back to the King.

Opheila is allowing her egg to be ferried as we once were.

That is true, he admitted. There is always going to be a risk, isn't there?

Yes.

Then the question comes down to if we have the iron in our bones to face that risk.

We both have that, I think, Saphira hummed.

There is yet another concern, Thorn said, causing the dragoness to tilt her head. Our Riders. They are siblings. To an extent, we share their emotions and that sense of family between them.

Yes, she conceded quietly. That could affect how we respond to each other as mates, couldn't it? Even though we are unrelated, it still feels…awkward.

To be bonded to family, Thorn sighed, and Saphira nodded.

They were silent as they considered their situation, and all the good and bad that would go along with it.

He turned away from the forest and went still as his eyes met hers. The tension between them skyrocketed as he took in the fire in her gaze. Thorn snorted a plume of smoke and flames slipped out from Saphira's closed jaws.

Slowly, he stood, never breaking eye contact with the larger female. Saphira watched him approach with steady footsteps and waited until Thorn's snout brushed hers. He didn't move any further—Saphira would make the next move, or not at all.

The blue dragoness regarded Thorn in silence for some time, but she did not stand to challenge him. She pressed her head against his and made a low rumble from deep in her chest.

Not today, she decided, still rubbing against him. But, I think—soon. I will not take you half-heartedly, Thorn. We cannot afford to act on instinct alone.

I know, he answered. He forced down the fire building in his belly when it became clear she would not accept him today. I would not court you with uncertainty, either.

Good, she hummed. Now, would you spend some time with me? I think we could both use some grooming to cool our fires.

Are you trying to cool them or heat them?

She whacked his flank with her tail good-naturedly, amused at his teasing. Thorn lay down closer beside her and shifted his head to begin grooming her closest wing while Saphira did the same to his shoulder. Occasionally, their tail-tips would lay over one another and they flicked them lazily throughout their time together.

Eragon left Murtagh's residence after their dragons told them they intended to spend most of the evening bonding together. Murtagh was occupied with his research into Zar'roc's true name and his younger brother was growing tired, so after a brief conversation, the pair of them went their separate ways.

The crisp, cool air was refreshing to Eragon, he thought. He saw a number of elves as he made his way back to his treehouse. A few greeted him, but most blinked and regarded him with silent curiosity. Even though there were elves who had changed their physical appearance with magic, some in ways that were startling and even frightening, he seemed to be an oddity even amongst them.

Though he was slowly growing more used to the scrutiny of others from the sight of him, it still made Eragon uncomfortable. He raised the hood of his cloak soon enough to hide from the stares and quickened his pace.

When he made it back to his treehouse, he let out a breath of relief. Eragon removed his hood and looked up at the pleased whine he heard from Arget—who had clearly decided to nap in his residence—but did a double-take at the sight of her companion.

It was a werecat, with shaggy white fur and pale green eyes. It was curled up on top of the huge Shrrg, who only seemed too happy to have someone to cuddle with. The size difference was somewhat amusing; though the werecat was just as big as Solembum, it looked like a kitten sinking into Arget's thick fur coat.

Eragon respectfully brushed his mind against the werecat's, and it willingly opened up to him. Greetings. We are well met, werecat.

That we are, dragon-child, she—for her voice was clearly female—agreed. Her tail twitched and she blinked lazily. I am The Watcher, Quickpaw, as well as The Dream Dancer. You may call me Maud.

It is a pleasure to meet you. I didn't know there was a werecat residing in Ellesmera.

My race keeps to themselves. I felt no need to announce my presence, Maud told him, and Eragon nodded in understanding. You have an excellent companion in this one. Very warm and well-mannered.

He walked over and scratched Arget's ears, smiling. She's a good friend. I suppose we're her pack now. She doesn't seem interested in returning to the wilds of the Beor Mountains.

Maud sounded amused. I could not possibly imagine why.

Eragon grinned at her. Well, she seems to like you. Though I'm sure you'll do as you please regardless, you're welcome to come here as often as you wish.

She tilted her head at him curiously. That is rather generous of you.

Is it? He pondered for a moment, then shrugged. Perhaps. I enjoy Solembum's company, and I confess that I miss having him around. Do you know him?

Maud's eyes widened and she began to purr very loudly, indeed. I do. How is he?

Solembum has been his usual self, Eragon smirked.

He felt her amusement rising. I am grateful to hear that. It has been a long time since I last saw him.

There was longing in her voice, and Eragon wondered on it for a few moments before he walked to a small pile of slates on the table, which he kept to practice making Fairths. He still wasn't a master by any means, but he was a lot better at it after a few months of practice.

He closed his eyes and lay his hand on one of the smaller slates. Focusing on the memory of Solembum in Tierm, he channeled his magic into the stone and when he opened his eyes, he had captured the likeness of the werecat. Though the background and objects from Angela's shop were a bit rough, Solembum himself was clear to see.

Eragon walked back to them and showed Maud the image. She brightened visibly as he spoke to her again. This was about six months ago, give or take. He was in Tierm at the time, though right now I believe he is in Surda with Angela.

Maud took in the sight of the other werecat and her purring increased. You have a kind heart, Dragon Rider.

Feel free to take it with you, he told her. Eragon set the Fairth down on the table, unlaced his boots, and began to walk upstairs. I'm going to read for a little while. Let me know if you need anything.

I shall, Maud acknowledged, then curled up deeper into Arget's fur and settled down for a nap. Eragon watched the pair of them fondly before he retreated to the privacy of his room.

On the eve of the Agaeti Blodhren two nights later, Eragon stood with Murtagh, Brom, and Arya near the roots of the Menoa Tree. At his side was Arget, and curled up between the Shrrg's huge front paws was Maud. She'd become a frequent companion of the great wolf in recent days.

Their dragons were lying down with Glaedr, in a line of glittering colors that drew much attention from the enormous host of elves. The black and silver hair of the fair folk glittered in the lamplight. Eragon recognized a few of them. Unsurprisingly, he saw Oromis near Glaedr with Garzhvog—the latter of whom looked most bewildered by the sheer size of the gathering. He spotted Vanir amongst the crowd briefly, but chose not to focus on his sparring partner for long. Orik, of course, was with Rhunon, whom Arya had managed to persuade to leave her forge.

That had been far too entertaining to watch, but the elf-woman's fierce scowl kept Eragon from outright laughing. Of all the elves he knew, Rhunon was probably the very last one he wanted to displease.

Arya and many of the other elves were dressed in black and red. As they watched, Islanzadi leapt onto a raised root at the base of the Menoa Tree. The gathering fell silent to watch the Queen, who stood with the white raven, Blagden, perched upon her left shoulder. Eragon could feel the tension growing in the elves as midnight approached.

As soon as the time came, Islanzadi raised her bare left arm so that it was aimed at the new moon, and a soft, white orb of light gathered itself above her palm from the lanterns that dotted the branches of the Menoa Tree. She then walked along the root to the huge trunk and placed the light in a hollow in the bark, where it found its home and pulsed.

The elves cheered. Glaedr roared, and he was matched by Saphira, Thorn, and Firnen. Eragon winced at the onslaught of noise, but he looked at Arya as the excitement in his blood began to boil.

"It is begun?"

"It is begun!" Arya laughed.

A/N: It is begun!

Smaller chapter, but there's a lot coming. When the next chapter comes, we dive into the Agaeti Blodhren in-full! Look forward to it!

As always, please review and thanks for reading!