ERAGON
THE city of Pulin...
Was far more quaint than Eragon had expected. Behind those giant walls hid a small, low rising settlement clustered amongst fields of gold.
The buildings themselves were light brown and drab, devoid of decor or striking architectural ingenuity.
What was beautiful were the mountains.
Giant behemoths loomed over Pulin, gracing the land with a protective shadow. Snow caps poked into fat clouds high above in the heavens.
"The Dwarves live almost directly below those Old Gods." Aerion informed, catching Eragon's gaze.
The group rode directly into the city. A waiting pair of guards took the lead, guiding the way through a confusing maze of interlocking streets. Sound was everywhere at once as people shouted and hawked wares or insults at one another.
Eragon saw processions of monks walk about the city.
"They're worshippers of Eä." Brom answered when Eragon asked.
"Eä is a First Men goddess of creation. They believe that she's the mountain above us now." He said while pointing upwards.
They came across a regal-looking estate, standout from the plain surroundings of Pulin. It bore three spires that lined across its two-story body vertically, interposed between blocks of stone housing.
The surrounding courtyard was decorated with a bubbling fountain, shaped in the likeness of a woman pouring water between raised stone.
The mounted horsemen brought them to the estate's entrance.
"Lord Azanen is within. He is joined by His Grace King Orrin, so be on your behavior." One of them warned as Eragon passed. Saphira ducked between legs while the group entered the estate.
They were immediately met by an assembly area, a large and empty room curled about on either side of Eragon. Paintings of classical figures lined marble ceilings, while red tapestry lead to a waiting throne.
A young man sat proudly, legs crossed. He was a handsome sight, brimming with energy and cocksure vigor. Beside him another stood. This one was older and far more plain looking.
He was dressed in strange robes that wrapped his body in segments, giving him the appearance of a mummified cadaver.
"These need no introduction!" Orrin clapped his hands together, jumping from his throne. The young King knelt gracefully before them.
"Lord Azanen, please join me in greeting our guests!" Orrin said enthusiastically. The mummified lord shuffled forth. Eragon had to keep from laughing- it looked like the man was tired of Orrin's antics.
"King Orrin, it's an honor." Brom returned Orrin's bow.
"Ah yes! You must be..The old warrior.. though I was told you were older.."
"The name's Brom. The boy is Eragon. He's the Rider." Brom pointed towards Eragon.
The boy felt Saphira push past his legs.
"I'm Saphira, his dragon." She greeted confidently.
The King's eyes gleamed, truly enraptured by Saphira's beauty. The small dragon hummed in Orrin's obvious appraise.
"I am Arya Valbhorethlian, Princess of the Laen Elf." Arya's powerful voice broke through Orrin's fixation on Saphira.
He bowed once more as he greeted her personally.
"Ah yes, daughter of Queen Islanzadi. It is unfortunate that she does not wish to join us.. but perhaps your example will move her heart." Orrin grinned.
Arya rolled her eyes.
"Enough of this. I have no desire to engage in this game of introductions." Arya said harshly.
Orrin chuckled, but kept his gaze with her.
"I concur. Though, I would be still, Elf. Despite my joviality I am King." Orrin walked away from the group, turning his back to them as he faced the borrowed throne he sat upon.
"It has been an arduous journey, Kingship." Orrin started.
"My reign is precarious. My people are fearful. The realm is divided, reared by a Dark King."
Orrin turned, setting his eyes directly onto Eragon.
"But now.. we have something. A beacon, a hope."
It was Brom who spoke next. Within the empty amphitheatre-like hall, his voice resounded between curved walls.
"Eragon isn't your hope. Right now, he will only get himself and others killed. He needs training." Brom said.
Eragon reddened.
"Ah yes. Training requires time, however, and that is time we do not have." Orrin fell back into his throne.
"If you do not have time, then make it. Eragon is useless as your symbol if he is not up to task." Arya hissed.
Orrin regarded her coolly.
"I have warned you once Elf. You speak far too brusquely within my halls. Though I will say.. the dragon is a bit small."
Saphira fluttered her wings.
Arya inhaled deeply, exhaling from her nose slowly and deliberately before she spoke.
"Oromis is the only surviving Rider with a dragon. He is the only one who can hope to train Eragon, and even that won't be enough."
Orrin crossed his legs, adjusting the position of the crown that rested on a golden haired head.
"So it's true. You seek to run to the Elves.." he ventured.
"And what if your people decide to keep him? What then?" Oromis questioned.
Arya clenched her fists. "No one is keeping the boy."
Orrin smiled quaintly.
"I'm sure." He said derisively. The King rose again, long legs crossing the distance between his throne and Eragon in a matter of seconds.
He stood taller than the Rider, looking down on him with an impetuous grin.
"And what do you think should be done, Eragon? Do you agree with the forces dictating your life?" Orrin asked.
Eragon felt Arya's eyes on him as he answered.
"...it's not my choice. Not anymore." Eragon raised his eyes to met Orrin's own.
"I have a duty that I need to fulfill."
Orrin laughed softly.
"So you would go running into the woods to break bread with Elves?"
The Rider nodded.
"Your resolve is stronger than most, I'll admit." Orrin congratulated.
"I was curious to see what you would say, boy. Your feelings are resolute- I can hear them within your words. If you possessed anything less, I wouldn't trust you to the Elves."
Orrin clasped Eragon on the shoulder.
"It would appear you do have some lowborn courage. I will allow you to leave for the Elven provinces."
"We will need provisions, horses." Brom said. Orrin waved his hand.
"Yes, Yes. All will be provided. But.. not tonight. I want Eragon to be presented before the Dwarib and my generals. They are to see his face before he leaves. You will stay here until the morrow." Orrin smiled at Arya then.
"Is this acceptable, Princess of Elves?" He asked.
Arya glowered but nodded all the same.
They were swiftly brought to their modest lodgings. Aerion told them that the building Orrin adopted was an ancient Pulin keep- built by First Men and Dwarib. As such, there were many rooms, even complete housings.
It was not uncommon for the first Lords of Pulin to retain their entire families within the quaint rooms, a prisoner of nobility.
They were given time to eat and freshen up-a brief respite before being paraded to Orrin's allies. A small meal of bread and fish was provided to Eragon and the others as they waited within their temporary quarters.
"This Orrin..he's.." Eragon began.
"He should be executed." Arya hissed, angrily biting into her bread, sitting away from the group.
"He did have a point." Brom said.
"You may be a Princess, but Laen Elf authority isn't recognized outside of Du Weldenvarden."
Arya glared at Brom, who raised his hands in defense.
"You just need to be careful," he finished. The Rider then eyed Eragon from across the table.
"And you."
Brom smiled.
"You did well." Brom's voice seemed softer.
Eragon smiled sheepishly.
"I did nothing-"
"Nay," Aerion interrupted.
"You stood your ground." The captain raised a glass to Eragon.
Arya smirked.
"I see humans are easily-" she suddenly stood, knocking over her plate of bread and vegetables. Confusion was written over her face.
"What is-" Brom began, before shock wrote itself over his contorting snarl.
A howling, whistling boom shook the manor as screams quickly filled the air. Eragon rose, running to the nearby windows.
The markets within Pulin were ablaze with orange fire that licked at fleeing merchants. Beyond the smoke he saw streams of fire falling from the skies, and even further, giant stones, blazed with flames, hurtling into Pulin's walls.