Eragon was back in Ellesmera, and he was glad of it. The trees seemed to greet him as he and Saphira flew in over the heavy green canopy, and the elves in the houses in the trees also waved up at them. Eragon had not quite gotten over the scenes of carnage that haunted his mind still, but the presence of the forest and its inhabitants helped to ease his and Saphira's combined sorrow, and fear.
It is good to be back! I feel as if the world has been restored after the battle. Eragon smiled at the sentiment, and then agreed, Yes, it is good. But I wonder how long it will last.
Saphira shifted uncomfortably in flight at his last comment, but Eragon didn't need to speak with her to know that she agreed. The life in Ellesmera was good, but as long as Galbatorix ruled, peace would never be guaranteed. He only wished he could aid the elves and the Varden in fighting him, before the King destroyed all of Algaesia.
The emerald trees were a blur beneath them, and Eragon was almost glad that his preoccupation with flying prevented him from thinking or remembering to much of the horror that the previous days had brought. As Eragon was thinking, he felt Saphira slow her flight down considerably. He sent an enquiring thought, and waited for her answer, We are nearly there, young one. Eragon was mildly surprised; Saphira had taken much longer when they left the forest for the war. You have grown, he thought to her, You took much longer to leave the forest then to re-enter it.
Saphira sent a thought-smile, then replied, I have changed, my stamina seems to have increased greatly.
Eragon nodded, and then waited as they approached their tower, where they would rest and recover from the weary work they had done.
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Eragon woke. It had been two day since he had arrived back at Ellesmera, and he was close to feeling himself again. Whatever that is, he added cynically. He rose from his bed, and glanced at the nest that Saphira had made to sleep in. She was gone, and Eragon cast his mind around, searching for her.
She was flying near the Beor's with Glaedr, who was teaching her some refined hunting techniques. Saphira had almost left her attraction to him behind, and what was left of it was now only a deep respect for his wisdom.
Will you be with him all day? Because I plan to take a walk to the centre and greet, err, the elves. Saphira wasn't fooled, You mean Arya? When Eragon didn't reply, she continued, I am not a hatchling Eragon; I know that you wish to greet her. Eragon's feeling of foolishness radiated out of him, and he was thankful that no one was in the tower with him. Well, what if I do want to see Arya. Is that wrong of me?
No, Saphira replied, But you know that she is not going to respond to you in the way that you hope. Eragon sighed at the empty room, Well, I can always try.
He walked down the stairway of the tower, and set off for the practice courts, hoping to borrow a sword from the armoury. He felt naked without Zar'roc, and ever since it was taken from him by Murtagh he felt like he could not defend himself adequately without using magic. His bow was only so effective, and useless for close combat.
The courts were eerily absent of the noises of combat, the only one there was him, the rest of the elves seemed to be resting after the war. The door to the armoury was unlocked, and he helped himself to a sword as close to Zar'roc as he could find.
He entered one of the marked squares on the court, and began a pattern dance. He would have preferred to fight a proper opponent, but in the absence of elves, a pattern dance would do the job.
He quickly picked up the pace of thrusts, cuts, and blocks which were elements of the dance, and lost himself in them. The scenery seemed to blur, and the sword seemed to become one with his arm, but never to the extent that Zar'roc had been. He had not blunted the sword, expecting no interruption, but he was still semi-aware of his surroundings. When he saw another sword arc through the air towards him, he immediately shifted from the dance to an overhead block. He was startled to see Rhunon, the master forger, wielding the blade.
"What are you doing?" His only answer was an unnaturally fast thrust from her sword, and he stumbled backwards, sweat dripping in his eyes. The blacksmith used this moment, to give him a hearty swipe across the shoulder, and Eragon was surprised when he felt no pain. She had dulled the edge of her blade, but instead of striking again, she backed off, and then rose from her crouch.
She lowered her blade, and spoke quietly to him, her voice dripping fury, "You let Murtagh steal my blade. You should pay dearly for this, and it is only through the grace of the royal family that I don't kill you where you stand."
Eragon was baffled. He knew that Zar'roc was among Rhunon's best blades, but he did not understand why she should be so obviously furious about the loss.
"The sword may have been stolen from me, and I am deeply sorry for that, but why are you acting like this?" At the best of times the blacksmith was ill-tempered, but this was far beyond her usual brand of irritability. "Why do you attack me Rhunon Elda?"
The elf sighed, and after some hesitation looked at him and answered. "You know I swore an oath to never create another sword?" When Eragon nodded, she continued, "I made another oath, before I started giving my swords to riders. I swore that I would never let one of my swords do evil in the hands of another. Unfortunately the thirteen forsworn used my sword for evil, but only one is still alive, the greatest of them, Galbatorix."
She looked away from Eragon, through the gleaming foliage behind him, and continued in a softer voice. "For a while I hoped that the sword, Zar'roc, would be freed from its evil use, when you acquired it, but now it has been stolen by Murtagh, and its evil use has made me break my oath again."
Her gaze returned to Eragon, "I am sorry for attacking you. It was not right of me to blame you for Murtagh's evil."
She started to walk away, then paused for a moment. "The blade in your hand is not fit for one as good with the sword as you; it is a practice weapon, not meant for a rider." Rhunon looked him over carefully once more. "Perhaps, if you are interested, you could come to my shop on the morrow and I could supply you with a sword fit for you?" When Eragon opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off, "I would not be creating a new sword, I would be taking an older sword that I myself did not forge, and passing it on to one who needs it." At this the woman left, leaving Eragon somewhat stunned in the middle of the courts.
He searched for Saphira, who was still flying with Glaedr, I don't think I will ever understand the ways of elves, they are a very confusing race.
Saphira replied fairly promptly, Aye, we cannot understand them, but, be it good or no, they understand us far too well.
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The woman had moved back to the village, leaving behind her charge at the house of his parents, and the ashes of the Ra'zac smouldering on the hillock. She strode into the woods and started into the base hills of the spine. She strode through the woods, her steps lengthening as she broke into an easy trot up the sheer slope.
The woman kept running until she reached a small clearing about three or four hundred yards up the hills, and stopped as she surveyed the small log house that was nestled into the trees. "Home sweet home," she muttered as she walked through the door, her head nearly scraping the top of the frame, and sat down in a small chair.
She rested her head on her arm, though not as if she were tired, but merely felt a heavy weight around her neck.
The woman rested for a moment, then stood again, her strange golden eyes gleaming like a cats in the gathering darkness. She walked over to the door, and yelled a name into the air. The word echoed around the clearing, and she leant against the door frame, and waited.
The world above the house seemed to shift as a heavy wind broke swept through the darkness, and the woman stepped outside, the strong wind giving her long black hair a life of its own. The wind grew stronger, and just as it seemed the woman would be lifted from the ground, it stopped. An enormous, heavy something the size of a small mountain hit the ground, and turned its head towards the young woman. She smiled, and spoke silently with it for several minutes before reaching out to stroke the silver scaled nose.
"The Ra'zac was thin, it hadn't eaten in several days, and a Ra'zac never starves by choice. There was a war, at last, and I think it's time that we went home at last."
A snort, and a small spout of flame greeted the remarks. The woman gave a small mirthless chuckle, "Oh, yes. They may need us, but I don't think they'll be pleased to see us nonetheless. But, pleasing them was never my prerogative, nor yours I think."
The mouth spurted flame again, and she smiled. "Well, let's be off then, shall we? Its time we revisited Ellesmera."
A short time later, two pairs of strangely glowing amber eyes could be seen flying through the dark.
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Sorry for the lack of updates, but I hope to fix that. As always, please review and thanks for reading!