Chapter VII: Progress

This time, Eragon didn't have to get her out of bed to show up to training. Something told Ilia that he wouldn't have done it anyways, and that the days of that happening were over. It was a humbling experience, and while she was still struggling with the conflict maybe it was time for a change.

Ilia hadn't always been jaded and bitter. Once, she had been a bright young girl who occasionally got upset with her parents but generally appreciated them. They had been wealthy but generous, and the little town that her father governed had been quaint but prosperous. She had been matched with a boy from a neighbouring town who'd had a few older brothers. Initially she'd been indifferent but not unhappy, and then as they got to know each other she'd found that he was gentle and kind, but also strong and a force to be reckoned with. She'd had friends and family and everything had been perfect. Losing all of that had been difficult.

When she turned up to the training grounds, Eragon was waiting for her. There was a smile and a nod of greeting, and no pretenses were held as he motioned for her to take a sword.

"That's a sword," Ilia stated flatly.

Eragon nodded, raising his eyebrows. "Excellent observation. Your teacher has been training you well," he told her.

Ilia huffed and rolled her eyes, not bothering to give him a response. She did then as she was told, and found a sword that she thought wouldn't be too difficult to wield. It was a steel short sword and there was nothing remarkable about it, but it felt balanced enough and so she picked it up.

"Practising with wooden sticks is not as good as the real thing. The weight is all wrong," Eragon explained once she'd chosen her weapon. "Once a rider completes their training they are given a sword of their own, one that will suit your skills and preferences perfectly. For now, we use these."

Despite his words, however, Eragon drew the sword from the hilt that was hanging off his waist. The blade itself was a brilliant blue, a perfect match to the scales of his dragon. Ilia didn't have much experience with swords but even she had to admit that it was a beautiful thing, and also highly unfair.

"That sword's going to slice mine in half," she grumbled.

Eragon grinned. "I never said I would be using a training sword."

"That's not fair," she insisted.

"Battle is not fair, I'm afraid," he countered.

For a moment Ilia faltered; she knew that. She knew very well that battle was not fair, because that's how she'd lost everything. And she'd lost it to those who were supposed to have been their protectors.

Eragon watched her carefully, for this was usually the moment when she would grow angry and charge. She didn't, this time, instead just looking a little pensive and almost sad. While it wasn't nice to see her that way he thought that it was an improvement from her usual aggression. Perhaps they really were making progress.

It was only a few seconds of thinking and Ilia poised herself to attack. She wasn't sure how this was going to work; Eragon had given her a few very good hits with the wooden sticks, and she didn't really relish the idea of being hit with a proper blade. The one he held now was unlike anything she'd ever seen, though she'd heard about it in the stories.

To her surprise, Eragon shook his head. "You're right, your blade will snap and I'll run you through. So the first part of today's lesson is learning how to enchant a blade in such a way that this does not happen."

"Gëuloth du knífr," he said, though Ilia did not perceive any difference.

Eragon turned to some pumpkins that he'd procured from the kitchen, swinging his blade towards them. There was not a lot of force but Ilia knew that it should have been enough to give it a clean cut, however as the blade struck it the pumpkin rolled along the ground, dented instead of sliced. "Your turn," he said, raising his gaze to hers.

Ilia looked to her blade, turning it over a few times in her hands before sighing. She hadn't ever wielded spells like this before, and she supposed that this would be a relatively harmless one. At first she hesitated; she didn't want to look stupid. Ilia was suddenly very aware that in front of her stood the man who was very likely the most powerful magic-user in all of Alagaesia.

Drawing in another deep breath she let it out slowly, then began to speak. "Geuloth du knífr," she said.

Nothing happened, and she wasn't sure if it worked. With a questioning gaze she looked to Eragon, who motioned towards the pumpkin.

As he had done she swung her blade towards it. Her blade struck the pumpkin and stuck into it, which was an indication that the spell had not worked. She deflated, but Eragon was not fazed.

"Be careful of your pronunciation. It is very important with the ancient language, as is your wording. You can make powerful alterations by changing a single word or emphasis," he explained. There was something in his voice that made Ilia think he had some experience with this.

"Try gëuloth instead of geuloth," he continued.

"Gëuloth du knífr," she tried again, paying special attention to the way in which he'd said it. This time she felt the pull of the magic as it drained from her, creating a feeling she wasn't familiar with. Eragon motioned for the pumpkin again, and this time her blade knocked it instead of cutting through.

"Good. We will practise that spell each time we meet. All spells are casted in the same way. What varies is the cost and toll on you," he explained to her.

Ilia nodded, filing this away for later. It was a spell that she could, at least, practise on her own since it wouldn't be doing any damage.

"Right. Now that that's out of the way, we can begin," he said, and he swung at her with his blade.

When the training was over, Ilia found herself tired and spent. She was sweaty and sore in a way that she had not experienced since she was training with him regularly. It was not quite dinner time, and usually they didn't finish this early, but it was the time when everyone else was supposed to be done.

"Good work today. You've made progress," he told her as he sheathed his sword.

Ilia returned the sword to the wall, quiet as she contemplated his words. "You hit me more times than you have before."

Eragon shook his head. "You were less emotional, easier to teach. We did more today than we managed in a week before," he explained.

Ilia wasn't sure what to think about that. Part of her still wanted to be upset and difficult just because she'd just always been that way with him, but she also knew it was stupid. Eragon was a patience teacher, but she knew that eventually even he would wear thin. "Why did you want to train me?" she asked. It was not the first time she'd asked, and the last time she had not liked the answer. Perhaps she could understand it better now.

A soft smile crossed the man's face at her question. "I saw the pain you were in. I saw how it was affecting you, and a Rider who doesn't deal with pain properly can become very dangerous. We are powerful beings to start with, and pain has a way of twisting even the best of us. But I also knew that, if you could overcome that pain, you would have potential to become a great rider." This was the true answer, and he figured she was in a position to better understand that.

Ilia nodded slowly, thinking about what he'd said. There was still a great amount of pain there, but now it simply made her sad instead of just angry. She hoped that this too would change.

"Thank you," she said at length. "I…I haven't always been this way. I used to be a nice person."

Eragon snorted. "It's easier to allow pain to consume you than to deal with it. And I'm not convinced that all of your more charming traits stem only from the last few years."

Ilia raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips. "My people adored me," she insisted.

"Too bad there is no one here that can corroborate that."

Rolling her eyes, Ilia decided to retaliate. It was a quick motion, but she removed one of the hidden daggers from her thigh and flung it in his direction. She was astonished to find that Eragon's reflexes were as lightning, and he moved and caught the knife by the hilt even as it spun towards him. After tossing it in the air a few times and catching it in his palm he stepped forwards to give it back. "You've been hiding things," he told her.

Ilia gave a casual shrug. "No one asked."

Well, he supposed she did have a point there. For the most part the Riders that joined them did have some sort of combat training, and he'd figured she'd had none at all. That assumption was probably still true, but he suspected that she'd learned a few things during her time before becoming a Rider that he hadn't thought to consider.

"Perhaps we'll look at that next time. I won't be training with you tomorrow, but practise that spell and I'll see how you're going the day after," he told her.

Eragon seemed to be disappearing a lot lately, and Ilia wanted to know why. "Secret tryst?" she asked, goading him a little.

"Patrols," he answered without missing a beat.

"You're lying," she accused. When he looked at her she continued, "a leader never goes on patrols. Not even the best soldiers go. Not for something so menial. And you've taken all the best with you."

Eragon chuckled; she was more perceptive than he gave her credit. "Yes, I'm lying. Now I'll see you in a few days' time," he told her.

"No, you don't get to leave like that. You have to tell me what's going on."

A smirk crossed his face. "I am the most powerful magician in all of Alagaesia. I don't have to do anything. I'll be going, then, and if you try to follow I will know about it and there will be consequences. Be a good trainee and perhaps I'll put you on some patrols."

A frustration rose within her but before she could launch any more daggers in his direction the large shape of a dragon appeared above them. Saphira landed gracefully on the ground behind him, and without missing a beat Eragon was climbing her leg and expertly landing himself in the saddle. The dragon had barely been on the ground for a single beat of her wings and she was off again, leaving Ilia to storm away to dinner on her own.

'Progress?' Saphira asked him as they flew towards the meeting place. There were six other Riders and their dragons waiting for them. They would be gone the night and well into the next day, and the charge of the place had been left in the capable hands of a Rider called Torian. He had been among the first to join Eragon with the first set of eggs from the Vault of Souls and was a kind, level-headed man.

'Yes, I think she'll turn out just fine,' Eragon responded. He'd had his doubts initially, but it seemed that she had in fact wanted to make some changes. Initially he'd been regretting his choice to take her on, but somehow he'd managed to persevere and do the right thing. Hopefully he'd be able to do the same in future circumstances.

Calmer of the Storm: I've got some ideas for the future of the story, so that's good. Would be nice to hear what y'all think of this thing though. I know I left it a very long time…reviews are still a nice thing to wake up to though!