Chapter XII: Celebration

"Eragon, Sir, I think you should take a look at this."

Eragon was in the library at Arkenea, though even after a hundred and fifty years it was still but a shadow of what it should have been. Some of the books on the shelves still bore the scorch marks from where they had been salvaged, some of the pages unreadable and the information lost forever. It was all they had, and for the last little while he and those who could spare the time were poring over the pages of anything they could look at.

So far, they had turned up nothing.

The idea that this thing could be looking for something had been tossed around the Council and then beyond. It seemed a viable suggestion, though there were many of those floating around. Someone suggested it was someone with a grudge against either dragons or Riders, or both, but no one had seen magic like that before. Another suggested that it was the product of some sort of disease or sickness, much like the snalgli on Vroengard and the poison that had leaked through as a result of the final battle that had been fought there. That seemed the most believable option but Murtagh had been very specific in his statement that it had not been similar at all, and the poison had never left the island. Eragon couldn't think of what would have caused it to do so now.

Presently they were looking through books and tomes to find anything that remotely matched the description of what they'd found, but everything had been fruitless. Perhaps if they'd managed to retain some of the old knowledge that would have been possible, but they hadn't. It was all gone.

"What have you found?" Eragon asked the elf who was looking. There was a distinct lack of excitement in his tone; he'd been told to 'look at this' many times.

The book that the elf was reading was unremarkable, and one that Eragon had been through at least a hundred times. The Domia abr Wyrda had been outlawed by Galbatorix, but other copies had survived in Surda and the Varden. As it stood it was a faithful record, but there was nothing new inside of it. Still, Eragon knew to give the benefit of the doubt, especially to an elf.

"I realise that this particular book is commonplace, but I wondered if a fresh look might prove useful," said Eldir, as if reading Eragon's mind.

"There is nothing in particular that stands out, but it records the origins of my people, at least, before they came to Alagaesia. The elves, and urgals with them, came from Alalëa."

"This is common knowledge, Eldir," Eragon told him, though he did not think the elf was patronising him.

"Indeed. But there are not many who remember that far back, and it has simply fallen to the wayside. However it says here that the reason they left Alalëa was to 'escape the aftermath of a terrible mistake.' We elves are a proud folk, and while we've admitted and corrected our follies with the dragons I doubt it would go much further than that," he went to explain.

Eragon was well acquainted with the arrogance of the elves. Generally it was with good reason; they were a wise and powerful race. It hadn't earned them many points with other races, but here in Arkenea they seemed to have hashed out a fairly good balance.

"You think that whatever this is has to do with that mistake?" he asked.

Eldir shrugged. "I think it's the strongest lead we have, though it's not much. I think that there would be more knowledge in Ellesmera."

Eragon tapped his fingers idly on the desk as he leaned over it. "I don't know if even Ellesmera has such knowledge."

"If it's anywhere, it's there. Otherwise we can keep trying to find this thing and deal with what comes."

Eragon nodded, hoping that this would prove true. "Thank you. I'll think about it," he answered, then took his leave from the elf.

Eragon departed from the library, having decided he needed a bit of fresh air. The heels of his boots echoed down the hallway as he walked with purpose towards his destination. At first he had thought to just go outside, but then sought Murtagh.

It was to his surprise that he found his half-brother with some of the training Riders. He watched as they sparred not only with swords but with magic, the dragons watching curiously on around them. It was a two-on-one battle as Murtagh crossed blades with both Ilia and Sorren, though he sensed the spell that had dulled their swords. Zar'roc would have cut clean through them otherwise, so that was smart.

"Don't let your magic get too much into your physical blows without realising. You'll use up your energy stores too quickly," Murtagh instructed them.

His words did nothing to interrupt the flow of the fight, however, as the two humans came at him. Murtagh had trimmed his hair and his beard so that he looked less like a homeless waif and more like a man himself, and he was wearing clean clothes and new boots. If the inside of him was as reformed as the outside of him Eragon didn't know, but for now he was abiding to the rules and that was what mattered.

The humans came at him with some skill and grace, but the both of them together were no match for Murtagh. Even now Eragon could see that the man wasn't using his full strength, and it would take only a moment of his full prowess to knock the two of them out. As it happened that's all it took, as Murtagh sensed Eragon's approached and sent the blades flying.

"You're a cheat," Ilia accused. "I felt that magic."

"I said without realising. I've done it intentionally," he explained.

There was a huff from the girl but no further words. She noticed Eragon just after Sorren did, who had already collected his blade and was returning it to the wall. "Your brother is just as annoying as you are," she told him.

"I think you'll find he's more annoying than I am," he returned.

"Not possible."

"I'll see you at dinner," he said, though there was a look of amusement on his face as she rolled her eyes and made her way off with Sorren.

Murtagh watched, sheathing his blade. "She likes you," he stated.

Eragon approached him. "Which is a vast improvement from when she first arrived. She couldn't stand me," he explained casually.

Murtagh raised an eyebrow at his brother. "You are either daft or extremely cunning, and I haven't worked out which."

Eragon made a face that said he had no idea what Murtagh was talking about.

"Hm. Daft, then," Murtagh decided. There was no humour in the man's tone, despite the words.

"At any rate, I didn't seek you out to discuss trivial things. One of the elves spotted something of interest in the library."

"And you sought my council?" Murtagh asked, disbelieving. Eragon may have eased their fears around him, but Murtagh knew he wasn't about to be inducted into their secret club.

"You know Alagaësia as well as I do. Maybe better."

"Yes. Better, I would say."

A sigh escaped him, but he pressed on. "Eldir mentioned something about a mistake the elves had made in their homeland. He thought perhaps it could be linked."

Murtagh looked thoughtful as he contemplated. It was possible, but he wasn't sure how it could be connected. "I suppose it did feel rather ancient. If it really is a creature and it is hunting dragons, it can't be something new. They've never had predators before, for obvious reasons."

"None of the elves here carry that knowledge. They are not ancient enough, and our records do not go that far back." Eragon said.

"What of the urgals? Have you spoken to them?" Murtagh asked.

At first there was confusion but then understanding dawned on him. "Of course. They came from Alalëa as well, after the elves."

"Perhaps whatever this 'mistake' was drove them from their homeland to seek out the elves. Urgals are not a forgiving bunch."

"But they are not immortal. Their memories would not go as far back as the elves. They don't have archives or storage or anything of that sort," Eragon responded.

Murtagh shrugged. "Are you certain? It was thought that they couldn't wield magic, and now we know that they are very capable of it. They are nomadic, but perhaps there is something."

Eragon looked to his half-brother, resolution in his gaze.

"No," said Murtagh. "I know what you're thinking and it's not happening."

"You know the lay of the land. You know the outskirts and you could get information far more easily than I or any of my Riders could. It would help us immensely."

Murtagh shook his head; he was resolved not to. "No. I came here out of a gesture of goodwill, and because I was curious to see what you've made of yourself. If I return to Alagaësia I will resume my old life there. I'm sorry, but I've given you all the help I'm willing to."

Eragon knew there would be no convincing the man so there was no point trying. Murtagh would be sacrificing everything to do that, and he knew the man wasn't willing. It was the very thing that had given Eragon the upper hand so long ago. While he didn't have much Murtagh had his freedom, and while Eragon did not think this empire was oppressive Murtagh would not see it that way. He was far more jaded on the subject than anyone he had ever seen, and there was no fixing this one. There would be no facing his pain and dealing with it; he had gone too far.

"I know," Eragon said finally, "and I am grateful."

Murtagh was satisfied that Eragon wouldn't press him for anything further.

It was late afternoon by this point, and the area was quieter than it usually was at this point. The reason for that was because of the celebration tonight; it was the day that marked their arrival here. There had been many talks of cancelling the celebration or at least postponing it, but they had eventually decided to go ahead. With everything that was going on, they could use a little bit of cheer.

"Are you coming to the party tonight?" Eragon asked Murtagh.

The elder brother pursed his lips. "I'll think about it," he said, and then turned and left.

The celebration itself was to be held in the Great Hall. While the hall itself was certain big enough to handle the occupants of their little establishment the large double doors were wide open to allow the party to spill out onto the stone dais and steps out front. Floating lanterns held in place by magic lined the outside of the hall and down each side of the double stair case that led to the doors. Each area was big enough to hold a number of dragons, but tonight most of them would remain outside.

There was a large table towards the back of the hall and on it was the most incredible display of food, and outside there was one for the dragons. Not one creature would go home hungry that night, for each plate was sustained by magic and would refill as needed. The food itself was anything but; it had been painstakingly prepared over the last couple of days by a dedicated and faithful few. There would be music and lights and dancing, which was just what everyone needed at a time like this.

Ilia was not the last to arrive at the party, but nor was she the first. Apparently there were no limits to magic as some of the spellweavers had so graciously spun for her an elegant dress. The main body of the dress was a midnight blue, accented with the colour of Luan's scales. The underskirts were this same silver colour, and Ilia wondered if everything had to match her dragon. She considered asking someone to conjure up some red jewels to wear for the evening just to be different, but decided against it.

Most of the riders were wearing something that was reminiscent of their dragon partners in one way or another. Even Narqa, who would be remaining outside with her kin (urgals were not avid dancers), was wearing a sleeveless tunic that was the same earthen shade as her dragon. At the sight of her Ilia teased the dam (for she'd since learned the correct way to refer to a female urgal) by saying that the rams in the crowd would likely find themselves overcome by her appearance and begin fighting. Narqa had grunted in response, but the softer nature of the response told Ilia that she was rather amused by the prospect more than anything else.

Upon entering Ilia struck up a conversation with some of the other Riders whom she had come to know a little better. Other than Narqa she was spending more time with Ailara, who was being courted by the elf Eldir. Ilia hadn't had much to do with him but from what she did know he was a younger elf by their standards, and was humble but smart and preferred learning about magic more than casting it in battle. As she drifted further through the crowd she spoke to others, dishing out and receiving compliments as the moments suited.

Eventually they were all called to attention as Eragon entered the room. His own tunic was the deep blue of Saphira's scales, though thankfully he'd gone for a more sensible grey colour for his pants. "Welcome, to the annual feast of Arkenea!" he greeted them.

A cheer rose up from the crowd and there was roaring from the dragons outside. "We gather to commemorate the arrival of the first ships across the seas. Atra esterní ono thelduin. Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr, un du evarínya ono varda, Shur'tugalar, and let the feast begin!"

The moment he stopped speaking the festivities started. Music filled the hall and instantly the smell of food wafted through the air. Some chose to ignore the food until later and took to the dance floor, but Ilia would not be one of those people. She was hungry.

Her plate was piled with food and she was working out how to balance another fresh roll on the top when she heard a familiar voice.

"You look beautiful tonight," Eragon commented, and he really did think that. Her hair, which was normally pulled back out of her face, was down save for a few strands that had been pulled up and twisted into a knot at the back. It wasn't the most intricate of hairstyles, but he thought it suited her.

"And you look devastatingly handsome, as always," she returned.

Eragon started gathering his own plate of food. "You were training with Murtagh today," he said to her.

"Sorren and I have been doing that over the last couple of days. He's bored and he's willing, and he's strong. And he doesn't give me bruises or try to take my head off."

"We can't all be perfect teachers."

Ilia scoffed and popped a piece of cheese into her mouth, having decided to forsake the second roll for now.

Deciding that their conversation was done Ilia waved with her free hand and moved to the side of the hall where she could eat in peace. To her surprise, Eragon followed her.

"You don't have more important people to hang out with?" she asked him as he took a seat beside her. The tables and chairs lined the outside of the hall to give people reprieve from standing and a chance to eat.

"I can hang out with the important people whenever I want," he told her. "And, believe it or not, I do enjoy your company."

"I don't believe you."

"How is Luan?" he asked.

"Luan is fine. He fancies Elen but she's ignoring him. Narqa says she fancies him too but is being difficult about it just because she can."

"Sounds about right. Dragons can be fickle sometimes."

"Are there any wild dragons out here? Surely some of them have…procreated."

Eragon nodded. "We have a few of the eggs set aside for Riders, but for the most part they leave once they're big enough to fend for themselves. Most of them dwell in the mountains now, which is why we don't go there. They aren't hostile, but we figure its best to let them be."

"None of them just hang around close by?" she asked.

"No, they go away. I wouldn't be surprised if some of them have even left this island to go elsewhere. We don't keep track," Eragon explained.

Ilia considered this and a few other things that Eragon had said during her time here. "Sounds like you're not planning for many more Riders," she commented.

Eragon nodded. "The dragon population is stable now, and there are enough Riders to protect the Empire. A few more will likely head out soon. I'd like to set up a headquarters in the East."

Ilia's eyes went wide, then her gaze softened. "Who will go?" The people of the East would not trust any Riders so easily, but Ilia thought that if the right people went, it could make a huge difference. They were not rebellious or uncivilised; just forgotten.

"I have a few in mind, but actually I was hoping that you would help me choose. You know that part of the Empire and its people the best, and your insight into who would be most suitable to send would be valuable."

Whether Eragon knew what he was asking or not, and what it meant to her, Ilia didn't know. It was probably showing on her face, as she'd never been really good at hiding emotions. "I would like that," she answered softly.

The man nodded, deciding that was for the best.

A few beats of silence followed, and Ilia filled it by putting food into her mouth. Usually she had a lot to say to Eragon, but right now she seemed to have run out of words. She was still confounded by the fact that he was actually standing here with her; he didn't seem to willingly spend time with her when he didn't have to.

Eragon, for his part, found himself a little more on edge than he was used to. He couldn't quite name the feeling; he knew he wasn't worried about something going wrong. He wasn't hungry either, since he was eating now, but the unsettled feeling wouldn't go away.

They stood in silence until the food was gone, though Ilia still found herself at a loss. Eragon was still standing there, though he was finishing off the last bites of his meal. Perhaps he wanted more.

"Shall we get more?" she asked, though it came out a little more awkwardly than she had intended.

Eragon, since he had been preoccupied sorting through his own feelings, gave her a perplexed look. "More what?"

Despite herself, Ilia felt her face heat up. "Uh, food," she answered.

Eragon felt his own face redden to match, which was a cause for concern as his distress levels also seemed to heighten. Ilia looked uncomfortable now too, however, and he wasn't sure why. "Not at the moment, I think."

"Oh," she answered, shifting awkwardly on her feet. It was probably time to excuse herself.

To his credit, Eragon realised he'd probably said the wrong thing. "I mean, maybe later, but do you want to dance? Instead?" he asked.

Ilia's lips formed a grin, and she used it to mask the nerves she was currently feeling. "Sure," she answered.

He took her plate from her and placed it on a nearby table, then took her hand to lead her to the dance floor. There were others out here already, and this was hardly the first time they'd danced. It was the first time she'd done so willingly, however, and Ilia found that she was enjoying it.

The night continued on, and Ilia allowed herself to have fun. She danced with Eragon a few times, but also with Sorren and a few of the other men. Even Murtagh, once, who had made a brief appearance. At first people seemed to give him a wide berth, but her dragging him to the dance floor seemed to have eased some minds.

Eventually the party did end, though Ilia thought it was a shame. It was not often that they got together and did things like this, and she thought they ought to do it more. Tomorrow it would be back to business again, and with everything going on she wasn't sure she was ready for it.

With the wonder that was magic, there was no need for cleanup. A few of the Riders were in better spirits than others, which likely had something to do with some of the drink that had been on offer. People were slowly drifting away to bed, but some would likely linger late into the night. Ilia, having filled her quota of people for the night, decided that it was time to head off. Before doing so she found herself looking for Eragon, but once she realised what he was doing she quickly scolded herself. Presently he was dancing with a woman she'd seen but didn't know, and decided it was for the best to leave him.

'Done already?' came Luan's deep voice as she made her way out onto the lawn. There were a few groups of people and dragons conversing out here. She waved to a few, but otherwise kept moving.

'I've had my fun,' she told him.

'Indeed', he returned.

Ilia's brow furrowed, and she descended the staircase and rounded a corner to see him. 'What's that supposed to mean?' she asked him.

Seeing her, Luan lifted his head and turned so that he could gaze at her with one of his blue eyes. 'Simply that I could sense you were enjoying yourself,' he told her, but his countenance spoke otherwise. Rolling her eyes at him, Ilia let it drop.

'Were you cavorting with Elen?' she asked.

Luan's scaly lips turned upwards into a smile and there was a particular glint in his eye. 'Never', he responded, but Ilia knew he was lying.

'Fine. You keep your secrets and I'll keep mine,' she told him, rounding the side of him to pull herself onto his back.

'I'll find out your secrets,' he told her, opening his wings to fly.

'Not this time,' she countered, but Ilia knew it wasn't true. The bond between a dragon and a rider was too strong for that.

With a few beats of his silver wings Luan was in the air. Ilia had no real destination in mind, but she decided she wasn't tired just yet. Before she could communicate this to her partner there was another presence in her mind. Both dragon and rider turned their heads to see the form of a large dragon, surprisingly invisible in the night sky.

"Thought you were escaping the fun?" Eragon called out.

Ilia rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the grin from spreading across her face or the slight quickening of her pulse. "The fun's just getting started," she called back, and before he could respond Luan shot forward into the night. He was much smaller than Saphira but he was fast and incredibly agile. Not one to be left behind Saphira gave chase; she wasn't going to be bested by her son.