There are two types of mornings in Ellesmèra, Corrin had discovered.
On the first type of mornings, the sun rose slowly. The leaves on the trees filtered the light to a gorgeous green tint, and by the time it is light enough to wake one up, the forest is filled with the sound of assiduously protected animal life, mostly songbirds. On those mornings, a person could sleep late and spend time on a leisurely breakfast by the window.
Then there were the other mornings. Namely, mornings when the green-scaled dragon patriarch of Du Weldenvarden landed outside your door and roared loud enough to wake the dead. Unfortunately for Corrin, it was one of those mornings.
Lady Arya said that Firnen was very deep-voiced for a dragon, so when Corrin heard a sound like an avalanche, he knew immediately who it was. Awake! howled the dragon. We have much to do!
Yes, Ebrithil! The young Rider yelped. He heard a similar sound from the adjacent hollow where his dragon slept. Corrin lunged out of his bed, only to be tripped by the blankets still tangled around him. He only just managed to get an arm up between his nose and the floor. Kicking the blankets away, he scrambled back to his feet and grabbed his vest and belt, throwing them over the loose tan shirt and black leggings the elves had given him. He caught a glimpse of his own face in the mirror, a flash of tan skin and sandy, mussed hair, but he had no time to worry about his appearance. Quickly stepping into his boots, Corrin snatched an apple from the basket on the table before rushing outside.
Firnen and Kiera were waiting. The great green dragon stood in the center of the clearing which their house opened onto. Corrin, unused to being any higher than the top of a wall, had requested living quarters on the ground rather than a lofty aerie such as the one his masters inhabited. Now, he shared a ground level wooden structure with his dragon. Who, speaking of which, was sitting next to the much larger Firnen, with her sandy-colored head turned towards their master. Corrin jogged up to stand by Kiera's side. When she turned one red eye on him, he smiled up at her, before both of them turned back to Firnen.
We are starting with aerial maneuvers today, said their master. I expect that you will both also work on your mental shields: I will be testing them at random points during the exercise.
Yes, Ebrithil, chorused the two students. Corrin jumped up, grabbed a strap, and hoisted himself onto his dragon's back. Her growth was no longer at the same speed as those hectic first few weeks after she hatched, but Kiera still seemed taller every time he needed to ride. Having managed the jump this time, he settled himself in the molded-leather saddle and secured the straps around his legs. As he did, he reached out with his mind towards his partner in crime.
Within minutes, the trio were in the air, beating west towards the Crags of Tel'neaìr, where most of their training was conducted. At the moment, Corrin and Kiera were the only Rider trainees in Ellesmèra, or anywhere else in Alagaesia for that matter. Five years had passed since the defeat of Galbatorix and the exodus of the Riders, and a system had been arranged for the location and training of new Riders. Twice a year, Arya and Firnen traveled across Alagaesia, ferrying two eggs to the capitals of each of the realms. First Tronjheim, then the unnamed capital of the Urgralgra, then Ilirea and Aberon, and finally back here to Ellesmèra. At each city, young candidates from the race inhabiting that city were presented to the eggs in the hopes of a hatch, while dignitaries from each of the other races watched. He'd heard, before becoming a Rider himself, that a dragon had actually hatched in Tronjheim for one of the human ambassadors, but most of the time, the eggs simply refused to hatch, having deemed the candidates unworthy.
Corrin could still remember Kiera's hatching: the oppressive heat inside the castle at Aberon, the ever-shifting crowd of nobles, soldiers, and commoners alike, and the smooth cool surface of the ochre-tinted egg. That had been less than six months ago, but already it seemed a lifetime.
Agreed, said the young female, who had been listening to his silent reflection.
Well, of course it would seem that way to you, you big lump, he huffed at her, it's been your entire life! It did not improve his mood to hear her mental laughter as she banked to follow Firnen.
Oh, calm down, she told him. I'm sure in a few decades it won't seem that long. But then again, she continued in mock-thoughtful tones, I am rather hard to get used to, with my stunning personality.
Corrin sighed and covered his face with one gloved hand.
Firnen led them in a slow, wheeling descent down to the field next to Oromis's hut. Corrin knew from experience that the building was outfitted to hold hundreds of scrolls, many of which Arya used to teach him the ancient language. Kiera touched down and folded her wings neatly. Corrin took the time to double check his straps before Firnen began their exercises.
Arya and I have decided to adjust your training, said their master. Kiera will soon be strong enough to fly to Eragon, and both of you must be prepared for your arrival there. This will be your last day of aerial maneuvering: from now on all flying practice needs to be to increase your endurance. And both of you will be devoting every spare minute to studying the ancient language: you must have reached competency by the time you leave. Do you understand?
Yes, Ebrithil, said Corrin, suppressing the sudden flurry of questions and worry which rose up in response to that statement.
Yes, Ebrithil, echoed his dragon. Firnen nodded and paced away from them to test the wind. As soon as his attention was away from them, Kiera opened her thoughts to Corrin. Can you believe it! We'll be going to join the Riders soon, and from his tone it won't be long at all!
Corrin grinned. Yeah, we've almost made it, Kiera. Just imagine being with so many dragons!
It'll be like nothing we've ever seen, she agreed. I can't wait.
*dragons*dragons*dragons*
Corrin focused as hard as he could on an image of an oak leaf as Firnen assaulted his mind, even as Kiera dropped one shoulder and twisted into a barrel roll. Corrin had gotten much, much better at flying since they'd started, but that particular move never ceased to make his stomach roil, and in this case the distraction was enough for Firnen to slip past his defenses.
Focus, Corrin, he bellowed, you cannot always count on a sterile environment for a fight. Corrin gritted his teeth and put up his mental shields again, this time focusing all his intent on a pattern of cobblestones. He could feel the mind of the green dragon probing at his consciousness, trying to find a weak spot.
Sands and stones, but he hated mental training. By itself, the flying was exhilarating, any and all work with the sword was his joy, and even the reading and the meditating could be enjoyable. But the attempt to ward off the mind of the infinitely more experienced Firnen was an exercise in futility and frustration. Doing so for hours sapped the strength and made both him and Kiera irritable.
He was saved by the bell, or in this case Arya. At her whistle, both Firnen and Kiera spiraled down to land on opposite sides of the meadow. Arya was standing in the doorway of Oromis's hut, with one hand on her hip and one on the pommel of her sword.
"Good morning, Ebrithil," Corrin called out as he dismounted.
Arya glanced up at the sky. "Nearly afternoon, come to think of it. Did Firnen discuss your adjusted schedules with you already?"
Yes, Ebrithil, responded Kiera.
"Good," said Arya. "I'm going to assess both of your abilities in the ancient language this afternoon. We'll settle on a departure date based on the amount you still need to learn. In the meantime, you both could probably use something to eat. We'll talk while we eat. Kiera, if you would go with Firnen to hunt, Corrin will help me make lunch." Arya beckoned Corrin to follow her inside as Kiera and Firnen took off once more. Corrin waved to Kiera and ducked over the threshold.
Arya offered him a chair, safely distant from the honeycomb shelves of scrolls that occupied one wall, and set him to peeling vegetables while she readied several different fruit-based dishes.
"So," she said as she carried a basket of strawberries over, "I presume you and Kiera have been discussing our plans to send you off?"
Corrin shrugged ruefully. "A little," he conceded. "Going to join Eragon and continue our training as Rider and Dragon? It's exciting news."
Arya smiled softly. "It is that," she agreed. After a moment's silence, she added, "Shur'tugal"
"What?"
"Shur'tugal. It's the word for the bond between the Rider and the Dragon, but it also refers to the pair. A Rider is Shur'tugal where his species is not, and their dragon is Shur'tugal even though a wild dragon is not."
"So…" Corrin hazarded a guess, "You and Firnen have decided to send us east to continue our training as Shur'tugal?" Arya nods. Corrin considered for a moment. "Why did you decide to send us now?"
Arya sighed and put down her knife for a moment. "Because we need you to move on into the next stage of your training." She stood, walking over to the window as she continued speaking. "It has been five years since Galbatorix was defeated, Corrin, and do you know how many Shur'tugal I have sent to Eragon during that time?"
"No," replied Corrin, "Firnen said the secret was safer if as few people as possible knew."
"And he was right, because if it was widely known how few Riders there are, there are groups in Alagaesia who would be encouraged to cause trouble, and Firnen and I can only be in so many places at once. The dragon eggs, they haven't hatched at the speed we need them to. A dragon and rider may be connected for a thousand years or more, so they have a right to choose carefully, but it means that a dragon-in-egg is extremely picky. In five years, I've sent only two dragons and two Riders to Eragon."
"Two?" Corrin was aghast. In his wildest suspicions he'd never imagined that they were so few. On the streets of Aberon the supposed number had ranged between 20 and 200.
"Two," confirmed Arya. "You see the problem we face. The only action I can take at the moment to bolster our numbers is to send any new Rider to Eragon as soon as their dragon can bear the journey. I am sorry to send you alone- I had hoped another dragon would hatch that could travel with you- but it can't be helped. Kiera is ready, you will be ready by the time you leave, and Alagaesia needs you too badly for me to keep you any longer." She turned away from the window and sat down across the table from him. "All is not right in the lands of the other races, Eragon. Nasuada faces dissent and rebellion all over the Empire, Orrin is as belligerent as ever, and Orik has all he can do to keep his people from war over their lack of a Rider. It's only a matter of time before the situation descends into outright conflict."
Corrin had to think about his response for a moment, first to assimilate this new knowledge, then to translate what he wanted to say into the ancient language. "If Alagaesia needs us, Ebrithil," he said hesitantly, "then Kiera and I will do everything in our power to aid our homeland." He was thrilled that he made it through the whole thing, for to say it in a language which compelled truth assured him of his own self-confidence.
Arya smiled brilliantly. "Good," she exclaimed in his tongue. "Such an attitude will make for a great Rider indeed."
A red eye unexpectedly appeared in the window. And a great dragon too, I hope? Kiera queried.
"Oh, but of course," Arya responded.