(Lavel)
Lavel checked and double-checked all of the straps and buckles on Vasem's saddle. All of the saddlebags full of his provisions, the tethers around Vasem's arms, the bindings securing his own legs. Their first teacher had imbued the leather with spells to prevent wear, and so far the saddle remained unblemished. A far contrast to Vasem's Dosjoryan saddle in the same period. He also fully buttoned up his coat, knowing that while it was cool here at ground level, it would be colder higher up.
Saphira sat nearby, saddle secure from her flights yesterday but still empty of any signs of her Rider. She watched intently, occasionally asking Vasem questions about what he knew about the Spine or other land features vaguely close to the route they would take. Lavel listened just as much as Vasem did whenever Saphira described any unfamiliar landform that she and Brom had seen during their travels.
"It seems my Rider forgot to wind his waking bauble in his irritation last night," Saphira said after all had been silent for a while. Cold water dripped from outside the stable, catching the sun's first bits of light shining down into the valley. The sun would soon cross over the horizon, fully lighting the massive valley and warming the air to a pleasant temperature. "I beg you two to not fool with him about being late. This assignment is hard enough for him and he has suffered a bit of bullying since becoming a Rider, coming from the odd city of Kuasta."
"You have our word, Saphira," Lavel said, nodding.
"Good. I believe he will soon be ready."
A Rider then burst into the stable, but it was Nierya, not Brom. She wore her battle armor, not the ornate polished set she often wore when meeting with leaders. On her back, pommel sticking up above her left shoulder, was her lavender-hued longsword, Domia.
"Saphira Skulblaka, I release you and your Rider, Brom-vodhr, from your vow to me. Sharjarth and I shall escort our sons to the mainland and hopefully beyond. Go." Nierya spoke with apprehension, very unlike the calm demeanor she and the other old elven Riders typically had.
"Is something amiss?" Saphira asked, beating both Lavel and Vasem to the question.
"Galbatorix and his Riders have been sighted crossing the ocean. They are nearly here."
Saphira growled and left the stable. Lavel watched her, a little saddened. They would get their chance to save their friend. But what went unsaid yesterday was that several other Riders willingly joined the mad Rider and that if Ilirea was anything to go by, Brom and Saphira would have to be careful to not get killed by them. They had no experience in war. Lavel and Vasem had no experience in Alagaësian war, but they knew what was to come could be very bad. Nierya would not change her plans like so if she thought the young pair could defend them effectively.
"We are ready to go, Mother," Lavel said.
"Hold on," Nierya said, placing her right hand, gëdway ignasia glowing hot, on Lavel's leg. For a minute, she whispered in the ancient language, using words he did not recognize, casting what felt like protecting wards. Lavel could not determine their purpose but felt better having them.
"Now you are protected from unseen threats, and your mind is further shielded from those who would kill you. Sharjarth is waiting nearby. I'll follow."
Lavel held onto Vasem's lowest neck spike tightly as the dragon bounded out of the stable. Nierya easily kept to the same pace, leaping into the air and grabbing Sharjarth's saddle as Vasem took to the air. He looped above to gain height as Sharjarth followed them into the air, head adorned in a plain dragon helm. When both dragons had reached a height above all buildings, Lavel looked to the east.
A black dragon rose from the horizon, silhouetted by the early morning sun. The dragon was flanked by others on either side. They were here.
"Go! Go!" ordered Sharjarth, roaring to the city below. "Veer northeast and fly! Head to where the ocean is closest to here."
"I'll keep watch," Lavel said to Vasem, then closed his mind. His least favorite part of Alagaësian magic was the ability to invade minds. In Dosjorya, he could speak mentally to his bonded partner, as all Innena could do, but only a rare few people with the right magical skills could even read another person's mind. Mental defense and having one's mind invaded were not ideas anyone knew of. Even now, the idea unnerved him and mental defense had been one of his self-imposed training priorities.
Vasem continued to gain altitude as he flew. The mountains that ringed Doru Araeba still towered above them, but it would cost them too much ground to rapidly ascend. Ground that they did not have much of.
Gazing at the scene around, Lavel noted that not only were Sharjarth and Nierya keeping up but that Nierya now had her sword in her hands. Gone was the calm or the fear from her face; she bore the expression of a warrior who would stop at nothing to kill her enemies. Stop at nothing to protect her son and his dragon. Rather than reassuring him, the look unsettled Lavel further.
"They are keeping up," he yelled at Vasem. In response, Vasem picked up his pace. With the enemy so close to the city, they needed to fly as fast as possible, faster than any other dragon so that they could escape unscathed and make it to Ellesméra.
Roars of anger and cries of pain began to echo through the curved valley. Lavel risked another glance backward, fearing the sight he might find. Many dragons already had bloody gashes, mostly on their wings, but a few had worse injuries. More than one fell from the sky, chased by another dragon either to save them or to ensure their death. Spells of fire and lightning lit the early morning sky, not for the purpose of light but death. More magic seeped into the air, less visible but no less deadly. The dragons on either side of Galbatorix's stolen dragon had already begun to spread out, one of which turned towards them.
"Faster Vasem!" Nierya called out, voice amplified. Neither Vasem nor Lavel turned back. The Rider could feel the muscles beneath the saddle strain with the additional haste. Lavel held on tight and bent down, streamlining himself as much as possible, but stopped himself. He needed to keep watch, just as he said he would.
Sharjarth was falling behind, turning her head to survey her surroundings. The enemy Rider was closing in not only on Sharjarth but also Vasem, its red scales bursting into flames when the sun's rays hit them. They flew so fast, faster than Vasem, that magic had to be involved. The man on the red dragon's back held his sword high, pointed at the sky.
This dragon had red scales. Morzan's dragon had red scales. Lavel did not know if any of the other traitors or their unwilling servants had red scales but he doubted this pair was anyone else. Blood red was the description he had heard, and blood-red fit this dragon.
It made him wonder where Brom and Saphira were. Here was their friend, giving chase to him and an elder Rider and they were nowhere to be found.
Tearing his gaze from their pursuers, Lavel looked forward at their trajectory. With Vroengard's size, they still had a long way to go before they reached the ring of mountain peaks, Aras Thelduin, much less the ocean.
"Dive into the ocean as soon as you can," he called out to Vasem. The dragon snorted smoke to confirm he heard. Water was the element given to both Lavel and Vasem by the Maker of Gods in Dosjorya. Vasem completely lost his ability to control water but Lavel retained some familiarity, sometimes only having to say "adurna" to get water to do what he wanted. He could give them air pockets to breathe while swimming underwater, out of reach from the enemy Riders. Both remained strong swimmers. Sharjarth knew that when she suggested heading to where a finger of the ocean reached close to the ring of mountains. But they had to get there first.
Minutes passed before Vasem passed the top of the mountain ring, beginning his gradual descent towards the distant waves. Lavel took that moment to look back, having not heard the wing flaps of other dragons getting any louder or hearing any cries of pain. Minutes where he thought they might be safe.
He wished he had not looked back.
Sharp elven eyes revealed a horror-filled landscape. In the distance, a titanic struggle not in the Order's favor was devastating not only the combatants but also the city below. So far away, Lavel could not make out much detail. Even farther away, some dragons fled the area, being chased by two others.
Several other dragons, mostly wild, had joined him and Vasem in fleeing in this direction as well, eyes wide with terror. Many already suffered severe injuries, though not to the point where they could not fly fast. Many were keeping up with Vasem, whose wingbeats were beginning to slow down. He did not see Sharjarth.
Still, the red dragon and its Rider pursued, unaided by the other traitors, red sword now painted deep crimson with blood. His gëdway ignasia glowed, pointed at one fleeing dragon and shooting a red beam of light. The targeted dragon soundlessly fell from the sky, dead. The man smiled with glee. His lips moved, and another dragon fell, this time with a sickening crunch. In no way did it look like Morzan was fighting against his will. No, he was enjoying this, slaughtering defenseless wild dragons.
"Hurry," Lavel called to Vasem.
One dragon fleeing turned suddenly and swiped at the murderous beast carrying Morzan. Morzan's sword slashed upwards, impaling the attacker in the chest. That dragon did not cry or roar; it growled a little as it fell, life streaming out of an angry red wound. Then a scream from that direction, the sorrow of a Rider who just lost their partner, piercing the sky.
During that moment, Sharjarth appeared from below, fury boiling in her every movement. Blood ran heavily down her side, dripping to the distant ground as she passed the mountain peaks. With the red dragon slowed a bit by the now-dead dragon, Sharjarth caught up quickly and dove below, rotating to grab from below. In that motion, Lavel nearly screamed, as Sharjarth's saddle was empty.
No!
Maybe she dismounted to help elsewhere. But that would leave Sharjarth vulnerable to enemy spells. She unleashed a torrent of white-hot flames, tinged with lavender, but they parted around Morzan's wards by a wide margin. Her paws frantically tried to grab onto Morzan's dragon before she lost height, but could not. Sharjarth clamped her eyes shut, roaring in pain, but her fall was halted. Lavel guessed she and Morzan were in mental combat and that Morzan was using magic to carry her along.
How can one Rider be so powerful? Lavel fearfully thought. To have wards that keep others from even touching you requires a lot of energy. Fighting against a dragon mentally took a great deal of concentration, especially against one so old. Carrying a dragon along with magic as one would something small and light, with no strain evident on his face, Morzan had to be exceptional. Other dragons that fled were starting to catch on to the fact that he was occupied, with only two continuing to flee alongside Vasem. Yet none of the attackers managed to inflict a scratch, all bouncing off or wards or stopped before they could get close.
Vasem's wings beat even faster and shallower, and fatigue seeped through their closed link. Lavel's fears must have spread as well. That a young human could display such strength that even a thousand-year-old elven Rider might struggle to replicate, shook Lavel to his very core. No wonder Ilirea fell. Even if only Morzan harnessed unnatural powers, the Order had little chance of defending a city with reduced numbers.
Morzan's mismatched eyes locked on Lavel's, and the red Rider smiled further. His bloody sword flew, seemingly on its own accord, and buried itself deep in Sharjarth's throat, killing her. The magic holding Sharjarth let go, hot dragon blood leaving a momentary trail through the air.
No!
Sharjarth just died. Lavel could not distract Vasem by telling him. They had to get away.
But Morzan and his beast were getting closer, and fewer dragons were fleeing, all falling out of the sky. The human's mind began to dig into his, a painful spike attempting to worm its way through Lavel's defenses. Except that it did not feel like the kind of a human. It felt wild, mad, and alien, more akin to a dragon or other such beast rather than a human. Morzan, not at all strained by the effort, raised his hand, pointed his gëdway ignasia at Vasem, and spoke without breaching Lavel's mind.
Lavel's own wards, placed around himself and Vasem, drained his strength at an alarming rate. The pressure on his mind lessened completely. Vasem cried in pain and started falling to the cliffs below. The red dragon swerved, ignoring them in favor of the other, more powerful Riders heading this way.
No.
Finally, the ocean was close, but not close enough. They would not make it to the shallows with their current trajectory. Vasem's wings collapsed and were pulled backward by the wind. Blood oozed from the base of each wing, splattering Lavel with drops of searing hot liquid. His own shoulders burned with agonizing ghost pain.
Desperate, Lavel forced his way into Vasem's mind. Many combined years together allowed Vasem to do exactly as Lavel needed, giving his Rider every bit of strength he could spare. With the added power, Lavel shouted "gánga fram," propelling them farther out as they fell.
"Hold your breath," Lavel said, having only enough time to say one more word, "adurna," before they hit the ice-cold waves.
Despite his spell keeping water away from his and Vasem's faces, the frigid sea knocked all breath out of him. He released his first spell, the one propelling them forward, once Vasem bottomed out, within sight of the jagged rocks lining the shallows. He had so little strength left that he could not maintain it for long regardless.
He tried to comfort Vasem as the injured dragon swam horizontally, staying beneath the surface in case Morzan wanted to finish them. His blood left dark trails on either side of Lavel, diluting and dispersing with the motions from Vasem's legs and tail, but not disappearing. Lavel's heart clenched at the sight; Vasem was slowly bleeding out.
Lavel did not dare speak further to try to heal Vasem yet. The bubbles of air they had would not be refreshed. There was not enough time before the end of their dive for him to word a complex spell, and he did not have enough air to risk trying now. All he could do is trust Vasem that he knew where he was going.
"Just a little longer. I know of a cave," Vasem said through his pain.
"Hurry so that I can heal you. Our air will not last. Nor will you."
Through their bond, Lavel felt every stab of pain whenever Vasem's injured wings moved; the constant burn from saltwater touching tender flesh; the heartache that his closest friend was suffering far worse. It took all of his elven mental fortitude, as well as all of his Dosjoryan war and torture experience, to block enough of the pain so that he could focus on the spell.
Vasem made a sudden turn, and Rider and dragon found themselves under an overhang. With a single whispered word, Lavel created a small werelight in front of Vasem's snout to light the way.
In front of them, a natural air pocket beckoned. Large enough for a small dragon like Vasem.
"There," Vasem said with a voice laden with fatigue. "You may need to pull me out of the water. This cold, it saps my remaining strength."
It was getting hard to breathe. But the air pocket was close. Vasem broke through first, running aground just far enough for Lavel's head to break through the surface. He stared up in wonder.
During their first trip to Vroengard, they were taught about the volcanoes that helped to build the island long before the Riders existed, about how lava shaped the island inside and out. They had found more than just an air pocket or a cave. They found a lava tube. Cold as if dead, but still bearing many formations shaped by the molten rock that once flowed through to the ocean. Much of the cave was smooth black basalt, punctuated sparsely by stalactites and plant roots.
"We made it. I found this during one of my fishing hunts. Help me, my dear Rider, I cannot move further."
Holding his breath to undo his tethers, Lavel swam to shore, fixing the werelight to a single point on the ceiling above. Shivering, Lavel again borrowed Vasem's remaining strength to drag him out of the water with magic. The effort forced him to collapse to his knees and made his vision blur.
"Don't overdo it," Vasem warned when only his tail remained submerged. Lavel cut his spell and crawled to Vasem's side for warmth and comfort. The dragon sent billowing flames towards a nearby rock, turning it into a glowing heat source.
In a day their lives upended nearly as much as they did that one terrible day in Dosjorya. At least they still had each other this time.
"We made it," Vasem whispered.
"We did. But others did not."
Slowly, Lavel showed Vasem what he had witnessed. The horrors, the reasons for his fear.
"They are... dead?"
"They are."
Pain and numbness claimed Lavel's body as he curled up tighter. He could not stand or heal Vasem in his state. He did not have the strength left to confront the reality that Nierya had likely died. That Sharjarth did die. That so many others died fleeing from a terror bent on sowing chaos and death. He closed his eyes when Vasem's snout came to rest in front of his face. Vasem had nearly died again. That hurt just as much.
"Vasem, I am scared that so many others will follow Nierya's and Sharjarth's fate. I fear Brom and Saphira were very wrong about Morzan, and that Galbatorix and his other followers might be just as strong. We are much more powerless than we were in Dosjorya."
"Then we must look after ourselves. We shall hide until the coast is clear. No one shall find us. Sleep, and when you are rested enough, you may heal me. Rest and regain your strength so that we may face this together at our best."
Though his words were brave and wise, Lavel could easily hear Vasem's sorrow and fear. And he worried about leaving Vasem's injuries unhealed. Hopefully, the saltwater will not cause infection. That was something he could do little against with his early training.
"Rest, Lavel. Rest so that you can heal me sooner. Please."