That afternoon Arya gave them a deadline of two weeks until they needed to fly, and the days seemed to race past, each faster than the last. Every day now started with Firnen wakening them, and every day went by in a flash of letters and conjugations as Arya hammered the ancient language into his brain. Corrin hardly saw Kiera anymore except at night and first thing in the morning: Firnen was spending every waking moment pushing her endurance in flight to higher levels.
A week into their preparation time, Corrin had taken a mid morning break to eat something, and on a whim was sitting on the grass outside. Nearby, Arya had brought out a table and chair and was using the break to tackle official paperwork required of the queen of the elves, which she had lately been neglecting to help him. Occasionally a shadow passed over them as Firnen and Kiera's exercises brought them overhead.
He was regarding the apple core sitting in his hand when Arya looked up from her work with a frown. Even as Corrin noticed the change in her demeanor, she stood and maneuvered around the table, walking towards the other end of the meadow. By the time he'd managed to get up and follow her, he was almost batted over by the wind from Firnen's wings as the dragon soared in to land by his Rider. Corrin sensed Kiera landing behind him.
He was only at the edge of the meadow before an elf on horseback burst out of the treeline, spotted them, and rode at breakneck speed towards Arya. Corrin broke into a jog to catch up, then immediately had to switch to a sprint when Arya started running.
The horse skidded to a halt and the elf all but threw himself out of the saddle. Corrin was close enough now to be shocked by the elf's appearance: he had grown used to the reserved and sometimes emotionless älfykin, but the dark-haired individual before him was wide-eyed and wheezing with panic.
Arya seemed just as disconcerted as he was. "Nari?" she questioned, frowning.
"Lady Arya," gasped the elf, "There is a dragon, a red dragon, approaching from the north, and it is headed straight for Ellesmèra!"
Arya froze. "Red?"
Dragon? Firnen hissed
"North!" repeated Nari, pointing.
Corrin whirled and threw himself into Kiera's saddle. In that moment, they were of one mind, and that mind was the mind of a dragon and rider who had only ever met one other of their kind before, and who further had sworn to protect the people of Alagaesia barely a week ago. Friend or foe, they would face whatever stranger had come to Ellesmèra.
With that heroic impulse in mind, the two of them lunged with one mind for the sky.
Firnen whirled on a dime and snapped with all the power he had, but he still reacted too slow to stop Corrin and Kiera from launching over the heads of the equally shocked Arya and Nari and taking flight over the forest.
"Corrin-" cried Arya belatedly, "-oh it's no use." She dashed back to Firnen and leaped for the saddle. "Nari! Get back to Ellesmera and aid Lord Dathedr in arranging a defence. I will attempt to parley with the newcomer, but if it fails you must be ready to attack." She secured the final strap. Catch them, Firnen! She thought to the great green dragon, and his powerful wings flung them into the sky.
*dragons*dragons*dragons*
Corrin had seriously underestimated how much Kiera's speed had improved. They both had.
Or maybe it wasn't that, maybe it was just that Firnen was far older and his greater wingspan and experience gave him all of the advantages.
Either way, they were no more than halfway back to Ellesmèra when Kiera suddenly folded her wings to drop out of the way, and a great mass of green scales flew over their heads. Corrin feared for a moment that the older dragon would turn on them as retribution for their impulsiveness, but Firnen did not so much as slow down on his headlong rush to the capital, leaving Kiera to flounder along after him.
They finally located both their masters, sitting at the south side of the large field which the elves used for weapons training. Firnen was sitting up on his haunches with an unblinking gaze fixed on the north horizon. Arya sat in his saddle with Támerlien lying across her lap. The clearing appeared deserted, but as they made their final approach he glimpsed elves hidden in the shadows or perched on branches, where they were concealed from above.
Kiera landed uneasily beside Firnen, immediately folding her wings to make herself as small as possible. Arya turned her head enough to raise an eyebrow at Corrin, who flushed and grinned sheepishly. Arya shook her head, but he thought he could see a smile hovering around her lips. Full points for bravery, she said to both of them, but perhaps you ought to wait until the stronger dragon can aid you, at least until you are older.
Yes, Ebrithil, Corrin mumbled. Kiera bobbed her head.
There, said Firnen, thankfully interrupting any other embarrassing comments. Everyone turned their focus to the north, but Corrin, with his weaker human eyes, had to receive direction from Kiera before he saw it: A red glint against the clouds, rapidly getting larger. As they all watched in silence, the light split again and again until it was visible as sunlight on dragon scales. And what a dragon! They seemed to be nearly there, but as the dragon continued to grow larger without landing, Corrin realized that the dragon was at least as big as Firnen, and his apparent proximity of a few moments ago was merely an illusion.
He faintly heard Arya whisper a word in the ancient language which he hadn't learned yet.
By the time the great red dragon pulled to a hover above the north edge of the field, it was apparent that he was even larger than Firnen, though by only a few feet, a mass of scales and muscles as large as three houses. Corrin swallowed nervously.
So focused was he on the dragon, that he did not notice that the red had a rider until the armored stranger slid down his dragon's side and stood next to a bloodred front leg. He was completely unremarkable, save for the red, wire-wrapped sword hilt which was visible slung over one shoulder. Corrin suddenly felt a growing certainty as to the identity of the stranger.
Stay here, ordered Arya, as she herself slid down Firnen's side and moved to where the armored man could see her. Corrin bit his lip, but Kiera wordlessly communicated to him what she thought of him putting himself in danger, and he obeyed their combined opinion.
As Arya moved out in front of the two dragons, the stranger unbuckled the sword belt which crossed over his chest, unslung the sword in its red scabbard, and laid both sword and sheath in the grass before him. He repeated the process with the knife at his hip, as well as a hidden one in his boot. In response, Arya laid Támerlien in the grass before Firnen's feet, and then crossed the field with a confidence that Corrin found incredible, given the circumstance. The red rider walked out to meet her in the center of the field, as Firnen and the other dragon regarded each other over their Rider's heads.
To Corrin, their inaudible conversation seemed to last lifetimes. He, Kiera, and the uncounted elves hidden on the outskirts of the clearing watched with perfect silence. It seemed that even the wind had paused to wait for their verdict.
Do you think Firnen and the red dragon are listening in? Corrin asked Kiera.
I have no doubt of it, she responded, Lady Arya told us that a dragon and Rider should think of themselves as one entity.
I wish we could tap in, but-
Firnen probably wouldn't appreciate the distraction, Kiera agreed.
Seemingly eons later, the two conversants in the center stepped back and bowed to each other. Then Arya shocked Corrin (and Kiera) by kissing the stranger on the forehead, and still more by turning around with a smile and calling out something in the ancient language of which he caught about two words in three. Corrin and Kiera turned in unison to Firnen: What did she say?!
She said to bring food and drink for our guests, Firnen rumbled. Follow me, he added, as he got to his feet again. Arya was walking back in their direction to fetch Támerlien, while the stranger returned to his dragon for his own weapons. Firnen struck out across the field straight for the red dragon, while Kiera followed at a more hesitant pace.
"Ebrithil," Corrin called out as soon as she was within earshot. The elf looked up at him querying. Corrin nodded towards their visitors, and asked, "Who are they?"
Arya gave him her trademark raised eyebrow. "You can't guess?"
"I have a theory, but I'd prefer the truth."
Firnen turned a great yellow eye on the both of them, and answered for her in his deep voice. The red dragon is Thorn, he said to them, and his Rider is Murtagh Kingkiller.
Oh my, responded Kiera.
At Arya's direction, Corrin slid down out of the saddle, but not without some serious misgivings. Over the years since Galbaltorix's defeat, the stories of the Riders who fought against him had receded to almost mythical status, and there was no more complex myth than the Red Rider. Son of Morzan, brother of Eragon Shadeslayer, and of Galbaltorix both servant and betrayer.
"Are you sure it's safe for him to be here?" Corrin asked Arya. "I mean, he did fight on Galbaltorix's side for a long time…"
"Not so long for an elf. And he served Galbaltorix only because the king used his true name to force him." Arya looked sideways at him. "What do the Surdans say of him?"
Corrin shrugged. "Depends on who you talk to. The soldiers still curse his name, the craftsmen seem to just accept him as the product of unreliable storytelling, and the bards sing his praises, or the mad ones do anyway." He thought for a moment. "Come to think of it, the mad bards might be why the craftsmen view the stories as exaggerated."
"I don't doubt it," Arya laughed, "but the truth is as strange as anything a bard might come up with."
"Now that," said Murtagh, evidently catching this last sentence, "I can agree with." Corrin jumped, and looked at him with wide eyes, suddenly curious to see a human Rider for the first time.
It was an interesting experience. Corrin hadn't realized how he'd become used to the delicate and clean-shaven elves until he was shocked by the appearance of a fellow human. Murtagh was a good two handspans taller than him, and a bit broader in the shoulders. His dark hair was cut short, more or less neatly, and he wore a layer of stubble, as if he normally went clean-shaven but had neglected a razor for several days. The shape of his face was far stronger than the norm among the elves, and his eyes far more level, but when he turned his head, Corrin caught sight of a pointed ear tip, confirming that Murtagh had been a Rider long enough for the magic to alter him.
"Murtagh," Arya said, taking Corrin by the arm, "This is Corrin, our youngest Rider. Corrin, this is Murtagh Kingkiller."
"Ah, I suppose it was too much to hope you'd forget the title." The older Rider offered a gloved hand to Corrin, who took it gladly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, young Corrin; I'm glad to see the Riders gaining a few more members. Although gods help you if my brother is to be your teacher," he grinned.
Corrin smiled despite himself. "It's an honor to meet you," he replied, and added after a psychic nudge, reaching back to the impatient dragon who had moved her head towards him, "and this is Kiera, my dragon."
It is an honor to meet you, Murtagh-Thorns-Rider, Kiera interjected.
Murtagh bowed to her, and spoke in the ancient language: "An honor indeed, Skulblaka." Gesturing towards Thorn, he continued, "This is Thorn, with whom I am unfortunately stuck for eternity."
Thorn leaned down and shoved Murtagh with his nose. Corrin and Kiera tried very hard to maintain straight faces. Arya didn't even try, grinning as she caught Murtagh's arm to keep him from falling into Firnen. "Anyways," she managed, as Murtagh regained his footing, "I'm sure you both must be sick of travel fare. Fly with us back to Tialdarí: my people will show you a feast like none other in Alagaësia."
I look forward to it, chuckled Thorn.