First Rider
Eragon lay awake long into the night – long after his two companions – Roran, his brother, if not by blood, then by the bond they shared, and Orik, whose tears still stained his beard – had fallen into the deep sleep of exhaustion. What is wrong, little one? Eragon laughed bitterly in his head. Did you really need to ask? He got up, and left his tent. He thought perhaps the night air would clear his head. When he was several tents down, he was met by Arya and Saphira. The saddle Oromis had given Eragon sat on her back, along with several days rations for three people. "what's going on?" he asked, neither sarcastically, or particularly curious. Arya fixed him with a perhaps too harsh stare. "you've no time to help your cousin, Eragon. You have a responsibility to the varden, the dwarves, and the elves that, as shur'tugal you will stand and fight against the tyranny that is Galbatorix." Eragon was in no mood to shrink back at a glance, and his "infatuation" with her, as she considered it, did little in his current state to keep him from returning an angry, biting retort. "As if I can do anything against Galbatorix or Murtagh. I'm about as useless as a four year old girl. And Saphira, you, the dwarves, the elves, the urgals, and the varden combined are just as useless!" with that, he stormed off.
As he left their sight and senses, having blocked his mid from Saphira, he was met by a voice from the shadows. He had sensed it long before he reached it, and recognized the power of his magic on it. "You know, some four year old girls are more useful than others." "Elva." "Come, Eragon, and we shall go and find truth, and see if you cannot be convinced to go and apologize to your friends." Knowing that Elva's power was that of bringing aid to those who needed it, and knowing how to guide them to that aid, Eragon could not see how she could steer him wrong, and followed. They traversed the camp at a speed Eragon would not have expected from the small feet of a child, be that child Elva or not. He sensed their destination long before reaching it, but kept to the path Elva laid before him, knowing it would cause her pain not to be able to help him. When they arrived, Angela was waiting at the door to the tent, Solembum, in werecat form once more, sat at her feet. "Ah, Eragon. Just the one I wanted to see." He waited for the cackle that never came. Angela still possessed that "difference", as he and Saphira called it, that made her unique, yet, there was a solumness about her. She smiled a slight smile, and bid them to come inside. "I think it is time," she said, "that you learn what I can tell you of your mother, that one day, perhaps you can find her."
Eragon was quite astonished, to say the least, as he was led inside to a rather comfortable armchair – the kind you are least likely to find in a war zone – where he sat and composed himself for an explanation that he hoped would ease his mind and perhaps mend the tattered remains of his curiosity. Elva, looking pale, took her leave to go aid someone else. Angela sat down in front of him, on an equally comfortable looking armchair, and sighed. "Where to start." It is usually best to start at the beginning. Said Solembum. "the beginning it is then. First, there was nothing, then, by some means unexplainable to mere mortals, suddenly, there was something. Skip forward who knows how many years, and your mother is born in Carvahall. She seemed to have an oddness about her that no-one could place. At age seventeen, she simply left. Where she went, I could tell you not. When she came to me, several years ago, she had a look of unbound sadness in her eyes. As she stayed with me, I could not understand why she carried such sadness. It was very recently when I came upon the truth, when meeting you.
"You see, Eragon, your mother had a very unique ability – one never seen before in this world. Like you, she had certain visions of the future while she dreamt, but more importantly, every night she had such visions, and, still more importantly, she could control the flow of these "prescient dreams". In other words, she had the ability to scry the future." Eragon's mind was thrown into a tumultuous chain of thought leading up to the answers to many of his questions. "so, she knew of me… and Murtagh. And she fled with me not to Carvahall, but to Brom, because she knew…" "yes, she knew that you and your brother were to become the next riders. She also must have known Murtagh's fate, or she would have tried to save him. She was bound by the power of fate, you see, just as Elva is bound to the protection of others. She could not change what was to be, and it pained her. Then, several days later, while still in her second month of pregnancy, she left, saying only that she had to go, as so many times before, to the rock of Kuthian." The name echoed in his head. He knew the name. When all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls.
"The rock of Kuthian…" "indeed. Perhaps, if ever you need to go to the rock, you shall meet your mother. Perhaps, as fate had laid out before her, that path lies on your trip to Ellesmera with Arya and Saphira." Eragon thought on this for several minutes before a dwarf burst in. "master rider. You must come with me." He looked to Angela, and she nodded, so he followed the dwarf outside.
The dwarf led him to a group of around twenty other dwarves, led by a recently awoken Orik. "we've just received word that the Isidar Mithrim has been completed." Said Eragon's dwarf companion, smiling. Eragon stood, slightly astonished. "I know, you'd think such a feat would take years, but when our architects heard of Hrothgar's death, they were empowered by his sacrifice, and worked infinitely harder to fulfill his wishes!" Eragon smiled, but behind the veil of happiness was a great sadness. I will not be able to go with Roran to save Katrina.
Fear not, little one. I have brought him. He will ride with us to Farthen Dur, and we shall repair the Isidar Mithrim. Arya has explained the importance of going to Ellesmera to get you a weapon as well. He has agreed to come.
Yet we are still left with one more problem. As a member of Durgrimst Ingeitum, I have an obligation to my clan to bury Hrothgar, and if we all go together, we cannot fly, and there will be no chance of us returning in time to defeat Galbatorix.
Fear not so small a task little one. We need only carry you, Roran, and Arya. I shall carry Hrothgar in my talons, and we shall reach Farthen Dur in time enough.
Eragon explained this plan to the dwarves, and they agreed.
When all preparations were made, he, Roran, and Arya mounted Saphira, and she leapt up onto the wooden casket that would hold Hrothgar's body during their flight. The wood groaned under the tremendous weight, but held. They said their goodbyes, and flew for Farthen Dur. With the added weight, it took them three days to reach the great mountain. They followed the tunnels to the mountain-city within. In the center of the city lay the great star sapphire, a shadow of its former glory. Throughout the gem cracks veined, giving it a streaked appearance. Are you sure you can repair it? Saphira didn't respond. When they dismounted, Saphira immediately flew to the gem. She hovered in mid air at the middle of the gem, and lightly touched her nose to it. A ripple of energy went through the gem, and then it began to glow with the fiercest light. A great blast of wind emanated from the gem, blowing several dwarves from their feet, which is saying something. When the blast subsided, the gem rose to it's place high above, glowing in all it's great glory. Saphira floated to the ground like a dead leaf leaving a tree. When she landed, she stumbled slightly. Saphira!
Eragon ran to her. It is alright, little one. I am fine. The restoration took a lot out of me, and I shall need a day to recover.
It did indeed take her the day to recover, but when the night dawned, at Saphira's behest, they mounted up, and flew for Du Weldenvarden. Roran marveled at the sights of the things he passed. He had seen the largest mountain in alagaesia, and on the second day of their flight, the largest forest. Eragon and Arya were more amazed by the time they were making. It seemed as if Saphira had twice her normal speed. Regardless of their wonderings, they reached ellesmera by day two of their journey. They landed on the outskirts of the Crags of Telnaeir. Eragon did requested that Saphira wait with Arya and Roran, while he went to see Oromis. Normally, he would let his friends accompany him, but his vow of secrecy in the ancient language prevented him from bringing Roran, and he didn't want his brother attacked by elves during his visit. When he arrived outside oromis' cottage, he came in time to see queen Islanzadi exit. He ran up to her, performed the proper greeting, and asked her what had happened. She bore a look of great sadness on her features. "I am sorry Eragon, but Oromis has reached the end of his time on this world. He will leave us shortly." A single tear that possessed all the sadness in the world left the queens face, as she turned from him, and left the clearing. Eragon ran into the cottage, to find Oromis lying on a small cot in the middle of the floor. "ah, Eragon… I am sorry to say I had not the strength to tell you of my current condition, nor to apologize for failing to tell you that Murtagh was your brother… if you have come to complete your training, I am also sorry to say that will be impossible. I can tell you only that you will find what you seek at the vault of souls – a realization that came to me recently. I can speak of it no more, for my strength to speak leaves me… you should tell Saphira to see Glaedr before he joins me in my death…" Eragon could think of nothing to say, for he had never been given the knowledge of what to say at the death of an elf. Nonetheless, the knowledge came to him from an unknown source. He spoke the words in the ancient tongue. "may the night winds carry you to peace eternal, my master." And with that, Eragon fled the cottage to find Saphira. He told her what happened, and she flew to find Glaedr.
Drained of emotion, Eragon had no idea what to do. He felt as if he wanted to go in all directions at once, yet stay in the same place. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Arya, a comforting smile on her face. "come, Eragon." He simply followed, as she led him through the forest. His mind was far too clouded by grief to sense the life around him. Yet, when they reached their destination, the grief flew from him, in awe of what he now saw. Beside him, Arya too stood in awe. As to Roran, who had followed, he was in greater awe. Never had he thought that in the course of one week, he could see so many marvels of nature and magic. Before them stood the Menoa tree, yet not the Menoa tree. This tree glowed with an energy so strong, it could be seen as well as sensed. The tree's trunk and boughs were a shining white, the needles of the great pine a white jade color. Eragon knew what he must do. He took a few steps towards the roots of the tree. He knelt before the roots, and spoke the words "eka neidde ai sverda, orim eka se letta zar'roc!" I need a sword, that I may stop misery. The phrase had a double meaning, yet both meanings were truth. A face of an elf woman appeared on the tree. The voice of the tree rang out strong and true. "vel du yawe abr Skulblaka un Shur'tugal, se du sverdar gala unin onr lam!" three of the roots uplifted as a blinding light emitted from between them. The light subsided to reveal a glimmering blue-white sword. It had a two handed handle, a perfectly curved blade, and a perfect white diamond set in the hilt and pommel. Beside it lay it's sheath – light blue with white gold inlay, with three more diamonds in it. Eragon drew the sword and sheath from their resting place. The roots sealed up as he stood, and, in the eery light of the glowing Menoa tree, Eragon swung the sword, and the blade sang. The song was beautiful. He danced with the blade for what seemed like hours, but could only have been minutes, perfecting his form with the curved blade. He saw Saphira return from glaedr, great dragon tears in her eyes, but Eragon, too caught up in the song of the blade, concentrated only on focusing the power that emanated from the melody.
When the song ended, and he stopped, he turned and looked at the awe that rested in his companions' eyes. "The sword…" said Arya, "that is the sword Gedwey Garjzla – shining light – sword of the legendary first rider. As to the sword forms you just performed, they were the ancient form of the elves of old, as that sword is shaped in the same fashion as the elven swords during the first Eragon's time. I have seen such skill with a blade only once, with the eldest master of our swordsmen, who died when I was still a child. Moreover, you performed the forms perfectly, though the how of it is beyond me." Eragon nodded as he buckled the sheath to his swordbelt, and sheathed the sword. He turned to Saphira, sadness in his eyes, and put a hand on her head. They're gone, aren't they?
Indeed, little one.
He wrapped his arms around her great and noble neck, and the two wept openly at the deaths of their masters.