-ELDEST CHAPTER NINE-
Eragon was greeted by pale stone buildings with diamond pillars. He saw clean streets with cobbled roads, each perfectly placed rock entrusted with a glowing gem. Statues of various elves stood over the city, while the main palace sat atop a high green hill. Above it, a gargantuan likeness of an elf that bore the same square face as Arya loomed, holding a spear that was raised over the elf's head. Eragon could feel the awe ebbing from Saphira, who walked beside him. She had grown nearly as tall as he, and her bright eyes glowed as she turned to face him.
So this is Gillendel of Ellesmera. She said, a tone of approval in her voice.
Yes. Apparently this is where Arya was raised. Gillendel is a sight to behold, to say the least. Eragon responded. Before him, Arya lead the way. She was dressed in white trappings: A bleached tunic hugged her torso while her arms were held behind her back. Long and sculpted legs found themselves in milky silk trousers, and her sword hung brilliantly from her belt. Around them, Laen Elves watched politely, none of them even coming up to marvel at Saphira. Eragon had learned that Elves were a people of respect almost to a fault, and would not approach you unless they had good reason to.
That, or they were blinded by their own arrogance. Eragon learned from his time with Arya that there were very few beings as arrogant and borderline racist as Elves, and under their beautiful and polite exterior hid an xenophobic zealot.
And now Eragon was in the heart of their land. Prince Orik towered behind him as Cambion lurked to Eragon's left. His head was down, but Eragon could see the Shade watching him from the side of his eyes. The spirit within Eragon had stilled for most of their journey, but upon entering the Elf Lands, Eragon began to feel its presence. He curled his hands into fists, passing through neat courtyards, bubbling fountains, and modest bakeries. The Laen Elves dressed themselves in billowing robes, and the males often left one breast exposed, while draping a red scarf over their shoulder. The women wore light dresses, and many of them bore exotic-looking earrings. For the most part, they had bright blond locks, but there were many raven-haired Elves, and some even with red coloring. They all looked to be in their early to middle twenties, but Eragon knew that the Elfkind he walked among now could easily be over one hundred years old.
"I've never been to Gillendel. Or any of the Ellesmera districts." Elonubum said wistfully.
"It is a grand place." Orik muttered in response, and Eragon could picture the Dwarib prince's massive head bobbing in approval.
"Gillendel was built after Aryan Valbhorethlian defeated the Talin Clan and the half-elf Langfeld Belon many years ago. That is his likeness behind the palace." Cambion said. Eragon allowed his eyes to drift to the statue again, finding Arya's features in that of her ancestor.
"Aryan was our first Emperor. My great grandfather practically built Ellesmera, and was able to subjugate the Xoshan Elves and the Sealed Elves. He set up the Triumvirate, so every race was represented equally before him on his Thorn Throne."
Elonubum scoffed at that, but Arya paid the Xoshan no mind. As they walked, Elves bowed gracefully to Arya, to which she responded in kind. They greeted her in strange tongues, a quick and soft language that reminded Eragon of the sound coming from a flute. White birds sat upon rooftops, chirping as an Elf man played a harp before a small stone dwelling.
"Music is a central part of Laen Elf life." Arya informed.
"It is almost a magic within itself." Prince Orik said behind Eragon. Arya turned then, beaming at the Dwarib Prince.
"Perhaps I will request a harp be given to you, in thanks for brining men to assist us in fighting the Sealed."
"With these thick six fingers, I do not know how successful I would be in playing such a delicate instrument. Perhaps the sound is enough for me for now." Orik responded. Arya nodded, turning back around as they began their climb up the large hill that lead to the palace. As they walked, Cambion leaned into Eragon's shoulder.
"Be wary." He said silently. Eragon and Saphira both turned to regard the Shade.
"What do you sense?" Eragon asked, placing a hand to his chest.
"The Spirit within you seems to dislike Elves. It was fine before, but this many . . . I may be able to control it, but if it lashes out, I fear that I will only be able to calm it after it has caused you pain." Eragon nodded mournfully, lifting his still-healing arm as he was reminded of the battle that had gifted him this wraith.
They walked up a series of stairs. After that, they came to a large golden gate, of which was opened by two armored guards. Eragon was greeted by a garden with dozens of statues holding bouquets of red flowers. The statues were of elf-women frozen in various states of dance as they followed the curved pathway towards the entrance to the palace. The roof of the manse was inscribed with archaic-looking Elves wearing studded armor, singing some sort of treaty. Above all that, the grim expression of Aryan stood, watching over the land he had created, ever vigilant, even in death.
They entered the palace, Saphira's claws clicking against the smooth marble flooring. Eragon saw Sealed Elf servants scurry about, and was reminded that not all of them had joined in the rebellion. Still, he pitied them somewhat- He had come to the understanding that Sealed Elves were little more than slaves. They followed Arya underneath a curved archway which lead to another long hall, with two more statues of Aryan, nearly twelve feet tall, standing at either side of a massive oaken door. Flags of House Valbhorethlian were hung about the walls of the hall, fearsome and bright in appearance, the red raven on a black field.
"My mother is waiting inside. As is Oromis. My uncle." Arya whispered as they came to the doors.
"Eragon, remain silent. Do not speak unless you are addressed. Say nothing but what is required. Oromis is quick to judge, and once he has made an opinion on someone, little will change his mind."
"Where is his dragon?" Saphira asked, using her actual voice. Arya, surprised by Saphira's outburst, widened her eyes.
"I do not believe he is here. If Oromis agrees to train Eragon, you will meet him soon enough."
Eragon sensed a mixture of emotion from Saphira, and the sensation made him uncomfortable. None the less, as Arya opened the doors to the throne room, he followed, his party behind him.
Eragon's boots clacked on the ground as he walked in Arya's wake, her slippers making no sound. The throne room was adorned with Valbhorethlian sigils, while two guards stood at the feet of a massive throne. Thorns twisted and curved from the black wood of the throne, standing nearly twelve feet tall. Empty chairs flanked the throne, while a young-elf that looked like the statue of Aryan stood facing them. He had long black hair stripped with gold tint, and wore a silver chest plate over his torso, rope crossing his shoulders, making an x at the center of his body. Layered greaves hugged his legs, and a red cape was clasped to one of his shoulders, and it draped over half of his body. Blue eyes beamed from a sharp-featured face that looked like a masculine version of Arya's, while a sword with a jeweled pommel hung at the elf's belt.
Oromis Valbhorethlian.
"Uncle," Arya bowed. She then did the same for her mother, who sat high atop the thorn seat. Islanzadi peered down at them like a goddess watching the lives of mortals, her hair pinned back into a bun. She wore an overflowing dress the color of deep green, and her fingers thrummed the thick armrests of her chair.
"How do you like Gillendel, human?" Islanzadi asked.
Eragon reddened.
"It is a fine city, High Queen Islanzadi."
Islanzadi gave an amused smirk.
"I see Arya has taught this human some manners." She chuckled to herself.
"But you are not a human, are you? Not anymore. A Rider, now. No doubt you have realized the being standing underneath me is Oromis."
Oromis stepped forward, his armor clinking.
"What is your name, dragon?" He called out. His voice was eerily soft, almost womanlike, but strength ebbed from the crevasses of his words. He was power incarnate. Eragon could see why Oromis had survived the Rider's Rebellion.
"Saphira." Eragon's dragon answered. Oromis turned his head to Eragon.
"And you are the boy called Eragon Drakefyre.. A fearsome name." He said coolly.
"Eragon has defeated a Shade, Oromis. And held his own against a Raz'ac wraith. I believe he is living up to his title." Arya mentioned quickly.
"And the others? An Xoshan elf, a kind-hearted Shade, and a Dwarib prince." Oromis called out. Silence took the room again.
"Sealed Elves burn Xoshan forests. Galbatorix stirs in Uru'baen. Morzan marches North. And Islanzadi has allowed Caomhim to stay at the border, in order to train to kill her own firstborn daughter." Oromis said carefully.
"Eragon Drakefyre, you wish to learn from me? To gain power?" Oromis asked. Eragon nodded his head a little too quickly.
"Yes . . . my . . . lord." He stumbled. Oromis gave him a quick disdainful smile.
"I sense the being within you. I sense your confusion. If it were up to me, I would have you killed. But it seems that is not a viable option. I saw Galbatorix grow in Doru Araeba, I watched his accomplices, Morzan and Caomhim. I will not train another of their human ilk in the ways of the Riders, so that you may in turn betray me."
Eragon's heart fell into his stomach as he stood, speechless. The fact that Oromis said that with such calm somehow made the statement harder to bear.
"You must train him! No one, not even you, can fight all of the Forsworn. We need him." Arya stressed. Oromis looked at Arya with cold eyes.
"You do not know what he is? Who he is? His line has caused enough bloodshed already. The Ceryani seers were a race of near-men prone to violence and horrific visions. That is what his Father and his mother was. I sense the Ceryani blood is strong in this boy."
"The Talin clan wiped out the Ceryani eons ago." Arya challenged.
"And they fled west into human lands. This boy is most likely one of the last vestiges of their blood, but that does not change what he is. "
"Oromis, you must think about the future," Islanzadi said above them all.
Oromis Valbhorethlian gave her a grim smile.
"There is no future. Regardless of what I do, there will never be anything but sadness and death."
Oromis walked away from the Throne, brushing past Eragon and his friends.
"We shall train him ourselves, then." Islanzadi called out. Oromis turned, his blue eyes burning.
"Then he will die."
Oromis left them, leaving a screaming Arya in his wake.
He knows my father. Eragon thought to himself as he looked at his hands.
My father was a Ceryani? . . . what am I? who am I?
(A/N) SOOOOOO THE WEBSITE IS DONE, LINK IN MY PAGE. I will be posting the map on the facebook page I made, which can be found on the website. ALSOO you will find my Primary Bloodline book in full for free on the "books" tab of the website. SO go and check it out! Also, I will finish Eldest on this thread so people don't have to re-find another thread and re-follow etc etc. So if you don't like that, I'm sorry and I hope that the story itself will make up for it.