Chapter Six

Fulfilment

So this was the land of men. Ravana flew over it at night, observing much through his metallic eyes. It had taken days of flying to reach it, over plain, hill and sea to get there. He had seen no other dragons during that time. Nor had he seen elves. All he saw were animals. But that meant good hunting and a lack of enemies to attack him. Still, he only flew at night. It was his way now. The Night Dragon, people would call him one day. He liked that idea.

Everything made sense now. The rage of the dragons. The fear of the elves. The horror and the malice that everyone had shown toward him. All those attempts to end his life. Now they all had meaning, now they had a context. Now, his life had context. His parents. Both dead because of his birth. His father's anger had killed his mother, and he himself, still locked within the egg, had called up the storm that killed his father. So his first victim had not been the blue dragon, but his own parents. Perhaps, once, he would have been sad about that. But he was not sad now. He did not know how to be sad. But he was… weary. He was an orphan, left to face the world alone and without the support that his parents should have given him. But that was nobody's fault. He was the one who had so savagely removed that chance. He had been orphaned by his own claw, his own will. By being born as he was, he had doomed himself and everyone else.

There was no resisting it, though, and he didn't. He had heard the prophecy now, and he accepted it as his fate. Somewhere deep in his soul, he knew that there was no escape from prophecy's force. Once something was foretold, there was no way it would not come to pass. In any case, he no longer cared. His innocence was gone. All that was left was his fighting will and his hatred toward his enemies. His purpose now was clear: to find this man the elf and dragon had spoken of, and fulfil the prophecy.

But there were a lot of men in this place. They looked much like the elves, only heavier, dimmer, less graceful and pure. Their clothes were in dull shades of brown, green and grey, and when he got close enough to look at some in more detail he saw their ears were not pointed and that their hair was coarser. He was curious about them. Were they enemies as well? Wanting to find out the answer, he allowed some to see him. They fled at once. None attempted to fight him. He was a little disappointed. If they must be enemies too, then at least they should show more courage.

After that he ignored them, and made little effort to stay out of sight. Still, since he flew at night, few did see him. He was uncertain whether they would be any good as food, and instead settled for eating the flocks of animals that lived near them. There was little point in going to the trouble of catching a human for food when there was so little meat on it.

He was interested by their language, or at least the little he heard of it, and regretted there wasn't some way to learn it. As it was, his own attempts at speaking the language of dragons were bad enough. His words were clumsy and ill-formed, so much so that it would have seemed comical to any other dragon who could hear it. But he would speak to himself, trying say words as he'd heard them said, though often he didn't know what they meant. Still, if he ever found this man he sought, he could try to speak through the mind. He had done it with Eragon and Sunlight, and he was confident that he could do it again with a man.

If only he could find him.

Mostly what he flew over was farmland; flat plains interspersed with hills, dotted with small villages. Despite what Eragon had told him, humans had in fact existed longer than elves. But, since they were so primitive, the elves had assumed they were a younger race than themselves, and in fact looked upon them with a certain amount of disdain. Humans were so rough and graceless, and lived hardly any time. Better to keep away from them. The humans were aware of the elf and dragon war, if only vaguely, but had chosen not to take sides. The affairs of those two races were their business, and if they wanted to fight each other it was no concern of the human race. Living off the land produced a certain practicality and lack of imagination. Why worry about elves and dragons feuding when there were crops to bring in? In any case, they had their own problems.

After several long weeks of journeying, mostly over extremely dull and changeless landscape, Ravana encountered something extraordinary. It was a city. A human city. Very small, by city standards, but a city nonetheless. It was built by a coast, which was another source of wonder for Ravana who, after all, had never seen the sea. The city itself had been built out of stone rather than the wood of the villages, and featured a large building at its centre. That was the habitation of the human leader, though of course Ravana didn't know it. He circled overhead for a time, wondering what to do next. Clearly he couldn't just fly on over the sea. There looked to be a lot of it, and if he got tired he would have nowhere to land. Also, the city called to him. He had a feeling that the man he sought might be living there. But how to contact him? Did he even know about the prophecy, or was he as oblivious as Ravana himself had been?

In the end he elected to take up temporary residence in a small forest just outside the city walls, and wait there while he considered his next move.

There he stayed for several days, only leaving at night. There were few animals in the forest, but he quickly found that humans would often visit the forest, to hunt and gather firewood, or just to enjoy some time outside the city. Before long, the city's inhabitants began to be nervous. Footprints had been found among the trees. Big, clawed footprints. Clawmarks on trees. They also found heaps of dung, and burnt patches. Nobody had actually seen what was causing it all, but the signs were clear enough. More accurately, some people presumably had seen the thing hiding in the forest. That would explain why so many had gone into it and never been seen again. In spite of what most of the elves thought, humans were not stupid. There was a dragon in the forest, and it was a maneater.

Ravana hadn't made much effort to conceal himself. His hope was that, if the humans figured out he was around, then maybe the one destined to team up with him would take it as a signal and come to find him. He wasn't afraid that they might attack him; he knew how to fight. He'd been practising with his fire, seeing how long he could keep making it, and how hot it could be. And he practised with his claws, striking at handy trees and trying to improve his accuracy with them. During the day, when he rested, he thought of what it would be like once he found the man. If they could talk with their minds, it would be good. They could even be… friends. The idea was strange, almost alien to him. Never, not once, had he ever even considered that someone else might like to be with him. That someone might like him. He remembered Eragon and Sunlight, and the absolute trust and affection he had sensed between them. Would it be the same for him and this man he sought? Would they, too, look to each other with happiness and share their minds? Would it be like that?

He dreamed of all these things and more, and decided that, once he had found the man and joined with him as a partner and a friend, they would go together back to the mountains of the Spine and fight the elves and the dragons together. To fight alongside someone else would be better than fighting alone.

And then, one day, a man came to the forest. He came alone. He wore black, of an elegant and expensive kind, and his hair too was black. He wore it in a braid down the length of his back. His face was pointed and intelligent, rather foxlike, and he carried a sword on his back. The sword was made of black steel and had a hilt of dark silver. A shining stone was set into the hilt, deep green like the man's eyes. The man walked quietly, like a predator, and with total confidence and fearlessness. He easily found Ravana, heading straight for him as if he already knew where the dragon was.

Ravana was asleep, half-hidden amongst some tall ferns with his head resting on his forepaws. The air vibrated with his deep, rumbling breaths. The man examined the dragon, walking around him to get an idea of how big he was. He whistled in admiration. Ravana wasn't yet as big as the gigantic blue dragon leader who had scarred him, but he was getting there. Elephants were unknown in Alagaesia, but the black dragon was now larger than one. He was half again as tall at the shoulders as the man was, and powerfully built. The man watched him for a while, and then reached out with his mind.

Ravana was dreaming about horses. They were pure white and glowed like moonlight. In a great herd, they ran over a landscape of bright grass beneath a golden sun. He too was a horse, but black. He ran to join them, and they shied away from him, flowing around him like water around a rock, their beautiful eyes wide and afraid. He reared up and screamed aloud in his loneliness, and at once dark clouds gathered in the sky. They blotted out the sun, and night came. The grass withered and died, leaving only poisonous toadstools behind. Ravana jumped into the air, his wings opening as his true form returned. Lightning flashed from his talons and struck down the fleeing horses, and as he laughed a booming laugh, death overtook the herd. Then the dream was interrupted by a voice. It came from all around him, loud and strong, and commanding.

'Dragon…'

Ravana looked around, but saw nothing.

The voice again. 'Wake up, dragon. I wish to speak with you.'

Then Ravana woke up. He raised his head, shaking it vigorously. He focused on the world around him. It was still day. And there was a man standing in front of him. Legs planted firmly on the ground, arms folded, face calm. Ravana eyed him with interest. Then he heard the voice in his head again. 'Hello, dragon,' it said. 'What brings you to this place?'

The voice! Ravana's heart leapt. The man was speaking to him! 'I came to look for something,' he answered. 'Who are you?'

'I am called Taranis,' said the man. 'I am the chief warrior of the king.'

'What is a king?' said Ravana.

'A leader of men,' said Taranis. 'Don't dragons have kings as well?'

'I do not know,' said Ravana.

'You lack knowledge about your own kind?'

'I am an outcast,' said Ravana.

'What is your name, outcast dragon?'

'Ravana. I am called the Night Dragon,' Ravana added the title proudly. If it was right for him, why not?

'What are you looking for, Ravana?' said the man.

'A man,' said Ravana. 'A special man. Are you that man?'

'Maybe,' said Taranis. 'Do you know what this man is like? And why are you looking for him?'

'I was born on a cursed day,' said Ravana. 'They tell me that it is my destiny to join with a certain man. I came here looking for this man, but I do not know what he looks like or where I can find him.'

'I have heard of this prophecy,' said the man. 'They tell it amongst our race as well. But your search is in vain.'

'Why?' said Ravana.

'You have come too late,' said the man. 'The prophecy is meaningless. But there could still be a place here for you.'

'The man is dead?' said Ravana.

Taranis appeared to consider the question for a while. Then he said; 'You have seen the mountains to the north?'

'Yes.'

'Come to the peak of the tallest one tonight at dusk. I will explain everything there.'

'How do I know I can trust you?' said Ravana.

Taranis appeared amused. 'You have my word for it,' he said.

Ravana hesitated. 'Very well,' he said eventually. He had no idea what it meant to have someone's word, but he didn't want to look ignorant in front of the man, who impressed him. Nobody else had ever spoken to him without showing fear.

The man nodded politely, and departed as silently as he'd come.

Dusk, and sundown, came in a glorious spray of red and gold on the horizon. Clouds glowed at their lower edges, proving that, if every cloud doesn't have a silver lining, some of them at least have gold. By the time the first stars lit, Ravana was at the top of the mountain which Taranis had specified. It was a high, rocky place, and though he got there easily enough he wondered how the man planned on getting there himself. Surely he would be too small and weak to make the climb. A lower place would have been more practical, surely. Still, this was the place he'd said to go to, and Ravana was content with that. He settled himself comfortably at the flattish spot on top, and waited.

About an hour later, Taranis did indeed come. But he was not walking.

Ravana heard a rush and whoosh of air, and looked up. He was in time to see… another dragon. The same size as him, flying toward the mountain. Ravana hesitated but did not flee. The other dragon landed neatly on a place a little higher than him, and Ravana stared and stared. He was simply astonished.

The other dragon was female, and… black. Just like him, she was jet black from nose to tail. But her eyes were silver, and her fangs jutted from her upper jaw rather than her lower. Taranis was seated on her back. He jumped down and approached, holding up a hand in greeting. Ravana heard his voice once again.

'Greetings, Ravana. Thankyou for coming. This is my steed, Silarae.'

'Hello,' said the female's voice. It was soft and musical, but subdued.

Ravana said nothing, but Taranis carried on smoothly. 'As you can see, it's too late,' he said. 'The prophecy is already fulfilled. The true black dragon and I have been together for many years since I found her egg and raised her from a youngster. Until today we thought she was the only black dragon, but you're proof that we were wrong.'

Ravana was thunderstruck. He tried to speak but failed. His eyes widened, and a weight pressed down on his heart. He looked at Taranis' glittering eyes, and at the harshly beautiful form of Silarae. Silarae, the other black dragon. Silarae, the one who had stolen his destiny from him.

'I can understand this may be something of a shock for you,' Taranis said more kindly.

'But I-,' Ravana faltered. To his horror, he found his eyes were burning with unshed tears. 'It can't have…'

'Don't despair,' Silarae's voice said softly.

'Silarae's right,' said Taranis. 'This isn't something to despair over. You can stay with us and help us. You can be our friend.'

'But I must have a rider,' Ravana said desperately.

'You can't,' said Taranis. 'The bond between rider and dragon is formed when the dragon first hatches. Once the dragon is already adult, it is too late for that to happen. You are a wild dragon, Ravana. A riderless dragon.'

'Then what can I do?' Ravana almost wailed.

'Be calm,' said Taranis. 'You can be our friend, our helper. Silarae needs another dragon for company, and I think you do, too. You can stay with her in the dragon roost, and fly with us when we go to war with our enemies.'

'You have enemies?' said Ravana.

'Yes. Other humans. We are fighting for supremacy over this land, and I am King Paelis' greatest ally. With another dragon helping us, we would have no choice but to win.'

'I have enemies too,' said Ravana.

'We all have enemies,' said Taranis. 'Help us fight ours, and we will help you fight your own. But tell us who they are.'

'Elves,' saidRavana. 'And other dragons, the ones who are not black. They have all tried to kill me because they didn't want me to find you.'

Taranis nodded. 'That is a fight we can help you with,' he said. 'We already have plans for the dragons.'

'What plans?' said Ravana.

'We can tell you of those later,' said Taranis. 'First, let us fly together. There are few greater joys in life.'

He climbed back onto Silarae's back, to sit in the hollow of her shoulders. For the first time, Ravana noticed that there was a leather pad strapped in place there. He assumed it was to protect her rider. There was also a loop of strong rope around her neck, which Taranis took hold of. There weren't any reins, of course. To meld your mind to your steed is a far more powerful instrument of harmony than mere reins.

Silarae leapt into the air with a quick flick of her wings. Ravana followed. They flew together up into the night clouds, the stars shining on their scales. Then, side by side, they flew. Not to anywhere. It was aimless flying. The two dragons wove in and out of the clouds, first with slow and lazy motions, then faster and faster. Then, their blood pumping hot and fast, they started to chase each other, first with Ravana leading, and then Silarae. The moon rose, and the two black dragons played. They mock-sparred, testing their strength against each other, showed off loops and whirls in the sky, spat fireballs straight upward to watch them billow against the starry sky. They even laughed. In time they half-forgot that Taranis was even there, and he often had to hold on tightly to avoid being thrown from his seat. But they could feel his exhilaration, its different flavour mingling with their own and adding to it. It was a shared experience.

Later, when the moon was high overhead and the sea hissed and sighed at the shore, they had shed a little of their earlier energy, and slowed their flight. But anyone who was watching from the city below would have seen a sight their would never forget, as Ravana and Silarae turned and twisted in perfect harmony. High above, feeling their strength and knowing a freedom that had never been there before, the two dragons danced.