The Western Sea
Deep beneath the waves a behemoth stirred.
The ocean was its domain, and all within cowered before its might. Few where those that dared challenge it, but at the moment its attention was drawn to something else, something it hadn't sensed in decades. Its bulging muscles flexed in anticipation.
A master of air and fire was approaching.
It slithered out of its resting place with deceptive ease if one took a moment to awe at its impressive size. Through the watery depths it swam, all the while keeping up with the flyer's pace. Hunger filled its every thought at the idea of feasting upon a lord of the heavens.
For near an hour it stalked its prey, but even it could not keep up with the aggravating speed the creature was achieving.
Anger filled its entire being at having lost such a potential feast, but ultimately it returned to the cavernous depths beneath the waves.
Waiting and watching.
The Western Sea
"I think we finally lost it".
"I should hope so, being nearly devoured by a Nïdhwal is not something I would enjoy experiencing a second time". Said Saphira, making her displeasure known to both men currently resting on her back.
"Me neither Saphira, me neither". Was Eragon's honest response.
Their position was not totally clear to either riders or dragoness, but Eragon and Saphira suspected that this arduous journey across the sea would soon be over. That is, if their memories of their first flight across the sea were accurate. Even though the winds had been kind this was still an incredible feat for a dragon of Saphira's size to achieve. They remembered Glaedr's stories of less experienced dragons dying on their way to Vroengard. A warning to both rider and dragon.
They all looked like a ragged bunch, even Saphira, though she would never admit such a thing. They had been flying without rest as soon as dawn had arrived, with both Brom and Eragon lending their strength to the dragoness when needed.
Their clothes had also begun to be rather worn out. As soon as the opportunity presented itself they would need to procure some new ones. Leather was good and all for flexibility, but Eragon had to admit that he missed his dwarven amour. Plate could always be relied on, especially when crafters such as dwarves and elves were concerned. Unfortunately no dwarves or elven kind were nearby.
His father's weary voice suddenly filtered across the air.
"I think I see the coast".
Eragon narrowed his eyes towards the horizon, and there in the distance land was indeed visible.
He did not doubt why the old rider's voice had held such a weary tone. Trying to explain the Rock of Kuthian was proving troublesome, so his father often felt quite confused as to their reasoning for flying to Vroengard.
Mind altering magicks really are a pain
Secondly, the island would probably cause painful memories to well up inside of Brom. Oh his father was a staunch rock that he could lean on whenever needed, and he did not doubt that the man would be there for his only son in the future, but still, the final resting place of his dragon was sure to bring unwanted pain.
A short while later they finally landed upon the final resting place of the riders.
It would still take an hour or so to reach The Rock of Kuthian, but Saphira had to rest her wings for a while. The journey had been rather a taxing one. Their time was not spent idly though. Every available moment was used to try and discern their true names. At first he had figured that the task at hand would be an easy one, but he quickly realized the folly of that notion.
His true name had changed, and Saphira's undoubtedly had as well.
The uttering of his former true self only left him with the feeling that something was missing, as if a piece of an otherwise intricate puzzle had been removed and changed.
He decided to wander the island as he had in another lifetime, whilst his father and Saphira simply continued their own ponderings where they landed.
For miles he walked, taking in the sights surrounding him. There was a sort of brutal but subtle beauty to Vroengard. On the surface the island looked like any other place in Alagaësia, but the more you looked, the more disconcerting the surroundings became. The island felt sick to the core, the invisible poison that Glaedr had mentioned no doubt the perpetrator.
Thuviel had definitely carried out his duty well.
The fauna was also something that sent a chill down Eragon's spine. Mutated animals roamed the land as was their want, but the thing truly bothering him were the unnamed beings inhabiting the island, how they wandered around even though the rider felt as though they shouldn't exist. So much felt perverted about the island. A beacon of hope reduced to nothing but a home for abominations and sickness.
If he ever defeated Galbatorix he knew that this could never house a new generation of riders.
The land itself felt sorrowful beyond consolation, as if the island itself knew of the splendor it had lost and would likely never regain. An order of noble beings and a race of dragons laid low in one single stroke, that was to be the legacy of Vroengard.
He paused.
And what of his legacy? Who was he and what was his purpose? What was he becoming?
Who was he kidding, his purpose was as clear as the sun shining down upon him. At first it might have been out of selfless reasons, but Galbatorix end had slowly become something personal. The man had taken, if only for a brief moment, everything from Eragon as he bled out on the throne room's floor. That feeling of loosing control as your loved ones suffered was something that Eragon had come to despise.
He would never experience that again.
And so his purpose, selfless in its core, was slowly becoming more selfish. He needed Galbatorix to pay for all the transgressions the man had paid Eragon and his family, in his past world or this one. It had at this point even become necessary for them to survive. Galbatorix would abide no challengers or equals, and loosing the last female dragon was not something the king desired.
Defeat would mean death or worse.
But what would happen if he simply slew Galbatorix without any official backing?
Chaos he thought to himself, chaos would engulf the Broddring Kingdom if the king was slain without any clear successor. The kingdom would split with every eager lord willing to put forward their claim to the throne.
The question was if he at this point in time even cared? He craved the death of Galbatorix above all else, but could he truly put his own needs before the needs of all the denizens of Alagaësia?
What kind of rider would he be then?
The suddenness of Saphira's thoughts within his mind almost made him jump.
"Above all else you would be my rider little one, wash these doubts away for now and return, our journey is not over yet".
Warmth followed her statement, he was truly blessed to have Saphira as his partner through all this. She along with his father would be the anchors necessary to see this through.
At least he hoped so.
It did not take him long before he stood before the great dragoness, ready to depart for the Rock of Kuthian. It would not take them long to reach their destination, Saphira's strong wings were sure to carry them there within the hour. Her growth was truly astonishing.
Edur Ithindra
He had hoped that this search wouldn't prove too overlong, but his former mentor was proving particularly elusive.
Two other potential hideouts had already been examined by the Black Hand with no success whatsoever.
Marwyn let his senses flow throughout the abandoned elven outpost. Yes, Tenga had definitely been here, and for quite a long amount of time apparently.
He silently wondered what would cause the man to uproot himself from a place as concealed as this.
He noncommittally shrugged his shoulders, it ultimately didn't matter, he would simply return to one of his villas in Dras-Leona before setting out again. Agents had been sent to three other potential locations, so all he had to do was wait and see which agents did not return.
He smiled ruefully.
Personal experience had taught him that Tenga did not like being disturbed by unruly magicians.
Vroengard.
They had been camped outside the Vault of Souls for almost a day and dusk was upon them. Of the three beings trying to gain entrance only one remained in trying to find his true self. To know ones true name was to understand oneself on such an intricate level, that the processes of finding it could not be rushed. It was a double edged sword, the power of knowing oneself was empowering, but accepting who you were could prove maddening to lesser individuals.
Eragon was not one of these individuals, he simply had a hard time putting the changes wrought unto him by time travel into words.
He looked across the small campfire towards his father, who as usual was sitting with a pipe in his mouth. Where he procured all the necessary tobacco was a mystery to Eragon, but somehow the man managed it.
Perhaps he should start smoking a pipe himself, if only to relieve the stress of feeling like the world rested on his shoulders.
He continued subtly looking at Brom. The sadness that Eragon had expected to well up inside of his father was well hidden, but there was just something about the man's eyes and facial expressions which gave it away. In the same way that Oromis looked weary through his eyes, so too did his father's eyes look weary, heavy with loss and sadness.
He suddenly felt guilty for bringing him here, but quickly dismissed the thought. A mental image of his father rapping him with the butt end of his sword came to the forefront of his mind. He chuckled lightly. That would be the only reward he could possibly receive if he even suggested that his father stay on the mainland.
Those thoughts aside, sympathizing with his father was something he found rather easy. They were quite alike in some ways, both of them had lost everything dear to them before being given a second chance, and both men were driven by their loss of-
His mind stopped working at the realization.
Was it really that simple?
The final piece slid into the puzzle and Eragon knew he was ready.
The others must have noticed, considering that both Saphira and Brom were watching him curiously.
He stood up, his every move exuding a new subtle confidence. Confidence that one could only gain with true enlightenment of one self.
His father too stood up. "I suppose we're ready then" was his astute observation. This was then followed by the old storyteller muttering something about "Whatever the hell it is that we are here for". His confusion was understandable.
He smiled at his father.
"Trust me, you'll understand once you see what lies within". And then they were off.
He didn't notice his father's quiet "Within what"?
A couple of minutes later found them standing in front of the Rock of Kuthian. Eragon had made sure to ward their surroundings, so that none except the beings inside the Vault of Souls could hear their words. He still remembered the strange people wandering the ruins of Doru Araeba, the supposed servants of Galbatorix, if one was to take the kings word for it.
He dared not test their luck.
"So we simply utter out true name in front of this rock?" His father looked as him as if he had caught brain fever, but he simply returned his father's incredulous look with a confident smirk.
"I will gladly go first, should you have lost your nerve old man".
His father snorted in light humor before sobering up.
"No son, though I do not understand the complete reason for being here, I will be the one to go first, should any trickery be at play". His expression darkened. "My son shall never know the torture of chains in perpetuity".
Warmth spread throughout Eragon's body at his father's proclamation. The protectiveness and love that Brom showed was undeniable for anyone to see.
"You have been blessed with a great sire little one"
He smiled at his partners words and sent his own love back across their bond.
"I'm sure that Iormúngr or Vervada would have equaled him Saphira".
His dragon was silent for but a moment before sincerely replying.
"Thank you Eragon"
The warm loving feelings doubled in intensity.
He brought his attention back to reality, only to notice that his father was looking at both of them with a content expression, as if they had broadcasted their thoughts for all to hear. He nodded once at both dragon and rider before turning his back to them, so that he could face the Rock of Kuthian.
He then began to lay his entire being bare for the pair to hear, the Ancient language was projected from his mind with the strength of a great dam finally unleashed.
As with any true name that Eragon had heard, there were both beautiful and dark sides to one's existence.
His father spoke of the love he held for his own dragon, how the smoldering fire inside of him would never extinguish itself and turn to ash, the first Saphira would always live on in his heart. He spoke of his love for Selena and his only son, how they had given him purpose after Morzan's death. With tears in his eyes he revealed how proud he was of his son and by extension Saphira, both of them having become more than he could have ever hoped for.
Then there was the darker side to his being
Brom spoke of his everlasting hatred of the Wyrdfell and Galbatorix how it defined his being. Morzan in particular still held a special dark place within Brom's heart, having been the one to personally slay Saphira. How the love he once held for Morzan in their childhood had turned to ash and bitterness. He spoke of his despise for the king and his tyrannical rule, how the man had drawn his son into this conflict, when all he ever wanted his son to know was peace, and not for him to become so alike to himself.
More words followed, some of great importance and some of less significance.
For a time his father just stood there in front of the Rock of Kuthian, his suspicious gaze continued to sweep over their destination as if hidden assailants would come forth from the shadows.
Ultimately no hidden assailants were nearby.
Next up was Saphira, and with a confident stride she too took her place in front of the entrance to the Vault of Souls.
And so she began projecting her thoughts towards the denizens of said vault.
Much of his partners name had remained the same, but there were still notable changes, some of which he could recognize within himself.
Their incredible burden's difficulty having been increased tenfold and her sorrow of her nest mates having been enslaved by Galbatorix weighed heavily on her mind.
Still though, she stood proud and unbent in face of such challenges, her name both strong and mighty, but also heavy with sadness for her race.
As she finished Eragon stepped forward, resting one hand on Saphira's side to comfort her.
We will get through this Saphira
Then came his turn.
Apprehension filtered through his entire body as he began openly projecting his name, a small part of him felt anxious about how his father would react, but it was only a small part. He had accepted himself as Eragon the rider of Saphira long ago instead of simply being Eragon the farm boy. Besides, it was only reasonable that Brom would know his sons name, as he now knew his father's.
As with Saphira, his true self was very recognizable, but some things had changed since the last time they stood on this very spot.
His loss of almost all that he once fought for weighed heavily on his soul, but a fierce determination to see Galbatorix dead and his vengeance fulfilled now tethered his very existence. His will to fight with every fiber of his being was undeniable, he would not experience the cold grip of oblivion as he had in Uru'baen.
Not until the task at hand was over with.
As the last word of his name left his mind the Rock of Kuthian began opening.
"Impossible" He noticed his father whisper.
The man stood with the most incredulous expression Eragon had ever seen adorn his father's features. He put a comforting hand on his father's shoulder, trying to project the hope that had propelled them here to his father.
"Just wait till you see what lies within"
And so they went inside the Rock of Kuthian.
Down through the cavernous deeps they went. Eragon remembered that their destination was hidden more than a mile below the surface, but with every step he and Saphira increased their speed. Something was happening, something that they could not explain.
Something strange.
With every step they took, fragments of memories began filtering through his and Saphira's mind. Knowledge lost was being restored with every step taken.
"Our memories have been tampered with"
Saphira huffed, small streams of flame spewing forth from her nostrils.
"Then let's end this trickery"
And end it they did, the end was in sight and as one they walked into the Vault of Souls proper. The Giant circular room was just as he remembered it.
It was not the only thing that he suddenly remembered.
"The eggs!" He exclaimed out loud, dropping to both his knees as memories from their last visit was returned to them.
He smiled "Not trickery dear one, hope". Happiness flowed through their bond and how could it not? Even though it was not the first time, the knowledge that her race wasn't doomed to slavery or death was beyond words for Saphira.
So drunk on their happiness were the pair, that they only just now noticed a presence trying to make contact with their minds.
Strange, the last time they simply forced their entry.
He opened himself up to the no doubt numerous Eldunarya wondering about their early presence, but oddly felt that less than a dozen were trying to contact him, Umaroth chief among them once again.
"Ebrithilar" he projected to the dragons, still staying cautious, something was not right.
"Impossible" Was his father's quiet whisper once again, his eyes inevitable having been drawn to either the eggs or Eldunarya, or perhaps the dragons were simply projecting to him aswell.
"Shadeslayer" Came the strong yet saddened acknowledgement of Umaroth, as though a heavy burden had been placed on the old dragon's nonexistent shoulders.
Surprise filtered through Eragon and Saphira, how did Umaroth know of that name? He hadn't even faced Durza let alone killed him in this Alagaësia. His mind whirled. There was only one possible answer to the great dragon's knowledge.
"You remember as well?" The relief was palpable within Eragon. No longer would they have to go through the horrors of apparent dimension travel alone. This wasn't to say that he didn't acknowledge his father's help in carrying this heavy burden, but having a dragon as great as Umaroth in their confidence could only prove a boon in the future.
Still though, why did Vrael's partner sound so dispirited?
The answer made itself rather apparent with said dragon's next words.
"I do young one, but such feats cannot be achieved without sacrifice". Umaroth stopped for a second as if debating the best way to proceed before simply ending it with "You must but open your eyes and see for yourself what damage has been wrought ". The foremost speaker of the dragons then retreated behind its own mental wall, wallowing in whatever had induced this sort of dread within the great dragon.
He looked back towards his father with a questioning expression, but the old rider was simply staring in incomprehension at the metallic humanoid standing guard in the middle of the room. He made the equivalent of a mental facepalm, he had almost forgotten that Cuaroc was here as well, so deep in thought had he been.
After a couple of moments of getting his bearings Brom spoke "I must admit that this is not what I expected". He turned away from Cuaroc to focus on Eragon entirely "But considering what Umaroth-Elda just said I suppose that not everything is as it should be?" He could see the gears turning inside of Brom's mind, trying to understand what was wrong. His eyes eventually fell on the eggs located on the far side of the wall.
"Are those… by all the gods on this earth are those dragon eggs?" His eyes lit up with awe and reverence, but his path towards said eggs were of course blocked by Cuaroc.
"Careful Brom, he is rather protective of the remaining dragons". Saphira's amusement was almost palpable
Deciding to ignore the standoff Eragon took a look around the room. First he glanced a look at all the Eldunarya. Something was definitely wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what. "I smell dread and despair little one" Was Saphira's observation. Eragon nodded his assent, but he still didn't understand what the problem was, he looked towards the crevice with Umaroth, there he was, as shiny white and vibrant as ever, the other Eldunarya probably looked just as- his mind did a back flip as it processed what his eyes were showing him.
The Eldunarya did not shine.
There were perhaps less than a dozen of them that retained their glow out of the hundreds or so Eldunarya located within the vault of souls, but somehow the life had been snuffed out of almost every heart of hearts. The dread that had filled the air began creeping into his very bones.
Eragon dropped to his knees yet again, the hope that had nourished him from before was quickly turning to ash in his mouth. Saphira crooned sadly at no one in particular. His father came to stand next to his kneeling son after having noticed the pair's distress. It took him but a few moments to notice the dead heart of hearts. He said nothing. The elder rider tried to hide his own apprehension at the knowledge of what these consequences would mean for their future survival.
Eragon could have been on another plane of existence for all intents and purposes. The task in front of them had just become that much more improbable, even a blind man could see that.
He didn't even notice his father's comforting hand land on his shoulder as the trio tried to comfort each other.
A/N
I figured that there had to be some consequences and here they are, I once read a quote about Lotr that if you give Frodo a Lightsaber then Sauron has to receive a Deathstar to even out the story.
Eragon and Saphira are powerful, but with more than a hundred Eldunarya at their disposal anyone other than Galbatorix would have most likely just gotten steamrolled, this seemed boring(atleast to me). I would like to see them overcome Galbatorix in their own way, either with new magicks or other concepts. Their journey to equal Galbatorix will hopefully be an epic one.
As for what happened to the dead heart of hearts and how Umaroth somehow survived will be explained.
I once again sincerely thank everyone reading this, your reviews are greatly motivating.