Chapter Nine

Vrael

That evening, Galbatorix and Laela sat together on a high ledge somewhere on the mountain known as the Stone of Broken Eggs, and watched the sunset.

Laela crouched with her tail wrapped around her and Galbatorix sat cross-legged under her chest, sheltered from the wind.

It was a particularly fine sunset; red, pink and gold, casting a soft glow over the forest so far below. Galbatorix, however, didn't appear to be paying much attention to it. He was scribbling on a piece of paper with a stick of charcoal, scowling in concentration.

'What are you doing?' Laela asked.

Galbatorix looked at the sunset again. 'I'm trying to write a poem,' he said.

Laela snorted. 'What for?'

'For this stupid ceremony. I couldn't think of anything else.'

'I didn't think you were the sort to write poetry,' said Laela.

'I'm not,' said Galbatorix. 'But what else could I do? I'm not an artist.'

'You were a leather-worker,' said Laela. 'Why not make something out of leather?'

'I thought of that, but you can't get it here… blasted elves. Anyway, there's nothing very artistic about the things I used to make back home.'

Laela paused. 'What did you make?'

'Oh… handbags, purses, belts, boots, whips and harnesses for horses. That sort of thing.' Galbatorix read the few lines of his poem, then crumpled it up and threw it away in disgust. 'This is ridiculous!' he said aloud. 'What sort of idiot wastes their time with this rubbish?'

'Elves, apparently,' said Laela.

'Hah,' said Galbatorix. He took a book from his pocket and turned the pages. 'It's rubbish,' he said. 'Listen to this… "Long lost words whisper slowly to me

Still can't find what keeps me here, When all this time I've been so hollow inside

I know you're still there"…utterly horrible.'

He slammed the book shut and stuffed it back into his pocket. 'I tell you, Laela, these elves are out of their damn minds.'

Laela gave a rough dragonish snicker. 'You're so funny when you're angry.'

Galbatorix eyed the screwed-up poem, which had landed not far away on the ledge. Then he held his hand toward it and said; 'Brisingr!'

A brief burst of white light came from his hand and hit the paper, which burst into flames. Galbatorix let out a little 'hah!' of triumph, and Laela blinked. 'I thought you weren't allowed to use magic unless someone else was watching.'

Galbatorix sat back. 'You were watching. Isn't it amazing what magic can do? When will you start burning things?'

'In a few months,' said Laela. She yawned. 'We're old enough about six months after we hatch. Just you wait. My fire will be white and silver just like me.'

Galbatorix was impressed. 'Really? How do you know?'

'I don't, but I'm hoping,' said Laela. 'The most powerful dragons have fire that matches their scales.'

'Well, you're powerful all right,' said Galbatorix. 'You were the one who got us out of that mess we were in yesterday.'

They were silent for a time, and the sun slowly disappeared over the horizon. The stars began to come out.

'Laela?'

'Yes?'

'Remember yesterday, when I was stuck in your head? You told me to say my name and I told you it was Fárbjóđr.'

'Yes, and you said my name was Freslae,' Laela recalled. 'What did you mean by that? I thought you were babbling.'

'I think those are our true names,' said Galbatorix. He paused, then spoke aloud, as clearly as he could. 'Freslae, raise your left wing.'

Laela's left wing rose. She dug her front claws into the stone beneath her. 'How did you make me do that? That wasn't me!'

Galbatorix felt a grim certainty settle over him. 'Tell me to do something,' he said. 'Call me Fárbjóđr. And make sure it's something harmless.'

Laela only hesitated a moment. 'All right…Fárbjóđr, throw that book of poetry off the ledge.'

The instant the words had arrived in his head, he found his hand moving without his intervention. It reached into his pocket, pulled out the book, and hurled it away into the void. It disappeared, its pages fluttering, and he stared at the air where it had been in shock. 'It worked! Oh my gods…'

'Galbatorix, what's going on?' said Laela.

'They're our true names,' said Galbatorix. 'Didn't Leaf tell you this? If you give someone a command using their true name, they have to obey. There's no resisting it. That's why they're so dangerous. Never tell anyone else what they are, Laela. Ever.'

'You can trust me,' said Laela. '…Fárbjóđr?'

'I prefer Galbatorix,' Galbatorix said grimly.

'That's impressive, isn't it?' said Laela. 'People don't usually find out their true names so early… what's the matter? Don't you like yours? Freslae suits me, I think.'

'It's not the name that bothers me, it's what it means,' said Galbatorix. 'I looked them up.'

'Oh? What do they mean, then?'

'…well, Freslae means saviour.'

'Hmm. I like that meaning,' said Laela. 'Even if it doesn't make any sense. Since when have I saved anyone? What does yours mean?'

'It means "destroyer",' said Galbatorix. 'As in something or someone that kills and lays waste. And that's my true name.'

He sensed Laela's dismay. 'Are you sure? Maybe you got the spelling wrong.'

Galbatorix shook his head. 'No. It's my name. I can… feel it. Destroyer. That's what I am.'

'No you're not,' Laela said sharply. 'You never destroyed anything, and I never saved anything. They're nonsense. Just words. Words can control who you are; that's up to you.'

'But Carina said your true name reveals your destiny,' said Galbatorix. He covered his face with his hands. 'Oh gods, Laela, what does it mean? Does it mean I'll be a killer one day? Is that my destiny, to be a destroyer?'

'NO.' Laela almost shouted the word. 'No, Galbatorix, no. Never. Stop it. You're being silly. You're not a killer or a destroyer, and I'm not a saviour.'

'But it's my true name,' said Galbatorix.

'Then I'll give you a new one,' said Laela. She nuzzled his shoulder, her voice warm. 'I don't care what that stupid book said. You're not a destroyer and you never will be. You're… Vinr. As far as I'm concerned, that's your true name and it always will be.'

'What does Vinr mean?' Galbatorix asked, feeling the white dragon's voice and presence lift his spirits as they always did.

'It means "friend",' said Laela.

Galbatorix couldn't help but smile. 'You always know what to say, don't you? Before I met you I tried to imagine what it would be like to be a rider… to be paired with a dragon. But I never thought it would be like this.'

'Like what?' said Laela.

Like… well, once I thought that a rider's dragon worked for him,' said Galbatorix, a little apologetically. 'But that was before I saw Carina and Leaf and saw how… how they were so in harmony with each other. And now I've got you, and you're like… well, like lots of things. My conscience, my voice of reason, and my best friend.'

'Really?' said Laela. She sounded intrigued.

'Yes. You're the best friend I've ever had, Laela.'

Laela crooned. 'Thankyou. And you… you're the most infuriating, impulsive, immature… smart, kind… wonderful person I've ever met.'

'It's very nice of you to say so,' said Galbatorix, caught between laughter and love.

They sat companionably together on the ledge and watched the stars and the rising moon and not needing to say anything else. Galbatorix let his mind wander, and found himself thinking about Flell. He smiled.

'She's so nice, isn't she?' he remarked to Laela, without thinking.

'Oh, yes,' Laela agreed.

'I can't stop thinking about her.'

'Me neither.'

'So pretty,' said Galbatorix, thinking of Flell's soft hair and laughing eyes.

'Funny, too,' said Laela. 'And caring. Always thinking of other people.' She sighed dreamily. 'I wonder if she likes me?'

'How could anyone not like you?' said Galbatorix. 'I wonder if she likes me?'

Laela sighed again. 'I'm a little jealous of her, to tell you the truth. Purple is a much more interesting colour than plain old white.'

Galbatorix blinked. 'What? Who are you talking about?'

'Thrain,' said Laela. 'Who were you talking about?'

'Flell, of course,' said Galbatorix.

'Oh,' said Laela. 'Well… hmm… I like Thrain a lot. Can't seem to get her out of my head.'

Galbatorix wasn't slow to notice the infatuation in her voice. 'You're… are you saying you're in love with Thrain?'

'No!' said Laela. 'I mean… is that wrong?'

Galbatorix thought about it carefully. 'You know, I don't see why it would be. Are you going to tell her?'

'Are you going to tell Flell?'

'Maybe,' said Galbatorix, a little defensively. 'I hadn't really thought about it.'

'You should,' said Laela. 'Thrain told me she likes you.'

'Really?' said Galbatorix. He couldn't stop himself from adding; 'What did she say? What does she think of me?'

Laela made no effort to hide her amusement. 'Why, that you're… handsome, intelligent, strong, talented… and dark.'

Galbatorix had been listening to this list with a warm tingle of pleasure, but he paused over this. 'Dark?'

'Yes,' said Laela. 'Dark and unsmiling and mysterious. And scaaaarry.'

Galbatorix was about to protest, but then he realised she was mocking him. 'Very funny. How much of that did she really say?'

'The first part,' said Laela.

'She said I was "dark"?' said Galbatorix, caught between bewilderment and disappointed.

'She did,' said Laela. 'And you are dark. Don't you know what you look like to other people?'

'Of course I don't,' Galbatorix snapped. 'How could I?'

'Well, you look dark,' said Laela. 'That's what people see. That's what Flell sees. They see a boy with black hair and black eyes, who hardly ever smiles or laughs, and has a mysterious voice. The truth is you're a little unsettling.'

Galbatorix scowled. 'Oh really. So that's what she thinks of me.' He wished he still had the book of poetry so he could throw it off the ledge again.

Laela chuckled. 'Don't be stupid. She likes that about you.'

'She what? I don't understand.'

'Flell thinks you're dark, and she likes it,' said Laela. 'She's attracted to you because she can't quite… figure you out.'

'How do you know that?' Galbatorix asked, suspiciously.

Laela fluttered her wings. 'Some things you just know. I know I like the fact that you're dark and mysterious.'

'Mysterious people tend to be dangerous,' said Galbatorix, but he was only half-serious.

'I like that, too,' said Laela.

Galbatorix spent the next few days feeling vaguely irritable and avoiding Flell. Now he'd openly admitted that he liked her, he suddenly found himself feeling very awkward around her, and twice as inclined to say or do something silly. In spite of what Laela had advised, he couldn't bring himself to admit his feelings. Every time he thought about it, he felt queasy. Which was how he also felt whenever Flell looked at him.

Carina was teaching him how to ride Laela effectively, and Flell joined in these lessons, but for the rest of the time Galbatorix kept to himself. He wandered through Ellesméra, went flying with Laela, and sulked. At the same time, he kept coming back to his other problem – what was he going to present at the Blood-Oath celebration?

Laela had apparently lost all interest in it; when he asked her if she'd thought of anything, she only shrugged her wings and asked him if he had. The second time he asked, she said; 'Who cares? Forsooth, I canst not writeth poetry, nor wish to waste mine time with it!'

That made him laugh, but he was still determined to have something to show the elves. If he came to the celebration with nothing, Flell would probably laugh at him.

But nothing he came up with worked. He tried his hand at wood-carving and painting but didn't have the patience for it. And he absolutely refused to try another poem. But what did that leave? There were only a few days left until the celebration – far too little time to learn any new skills. What could he create that could be considered art?

The answer came to him one evening when he was relaxing in his lodgings and noticed his two fairths, still sitting on the table where he'd left them. He admired their colours, and then suddenly felt like an idiot. What had Carina said? Fairths could be considered works of art. And he could create fairths like no-one else's. It was perfect! And, when he considered the idea further, he came up with the perfect fairth to create. But it would be hard work, and it would probably take several attempts.

He hurried outside. Laela was there, idly grooming her talons. 'Hello,' she said without turning around. 'This hole in my wing itches… d'you think it might be infected?'

Galbatorix briefly examined the injury, then muttered; 'Waíse heill.' It glowed with faint white light, then sealed over. 'Laela, I know what we can make for the ceremony!'

'What?' said Laela. 'Hey… you healed it!'

'Yes. I found the spell yesterday. Listen, why don't we create a fairth? A special one.'

'We?' said Laela. 'Why we? You've created fairths without any help before.'

'Yes, but… well, I thought, since I can make fairths of things I haven't actually seen, why don't I make one out of those nightmares we had last week? I'd need your help – you'd have to provide an image of what you saw, so I can include both of them. And it'll have to be big… so I might need to borrow some energy from you.'

Laela was nonplussed. 'How do you create a picture of a dream?'

'I'm not sure,' said Galbatorix. 'But I say we concentrate, cast the spell, and see what comes out. It's got to be worth a try. And if you help me, I can tell them it's something we made together and no-one will ask why you don't have anything to show.'

'All right,' said Laela. 'I'm willing. We can start now, if you like.'

'Sure. I'm not tired. Just wait here… I'm going to see if I can get some more of those slates.'

For the next two days, while the Blood-Oath celebration drew ever closer, Galbatorix and Laela excused themselves from their lessons and disappeared. They found a secluded spot in the mountains, where they could work undisturbed, and that was where they stayed for hours at a time. No-one was quite sure what they were doing, although when Carina asked him Galbatorix simply said 'making fairths'.

It seemed he was making a lot of fairths – the elf who provided him with the prepared slates privately told Carina that his store of them had nearly run out. And, on the second day, Galbatorix made an even more unusual request. He asked for a piece of slate 'as big as you can make. Maybe… this big' – he held his hands far apart to demonstrate.

The slate-maker obligingly handed over the largest one he had, but that wasn't enough for Galbatorix. 'It has to be bigger,' he insisted.

'This is the largest I have, Shur'tugal,' said the elf.

'Well then, make a bigger one.'

Which the elf did, working through the night and finally presenting it to the impatient boy at dawn the next day. Galbatorix wrapped it carefully in cloth, and he and Laela returned to their secret workspace.

They'd chosen a little cave in the mountains, with trees around the entrance, and the walls inside it were lined with fairths. Dozens of them. Galbatorix had spent hours capturing every kind of image he could think of – from standard memories to dreams, emotions, abstract concepts, and even colours. Some of the results were failures, others outright hallucinatory, but he wasn't satisfied with any of them and had in fact destroyed dozens more. But there wasn't any time for more experimenting – the celebration was going to be that night.

Laela curled up in the cave's entrance beside the heap of wood and charcoal from the fire Galbatorix had kept burning. He re-lit it with a spell, and hung a small pot of rabbit stew over it to re-heat. Then he sat down in the warmth and unwrapped the slate. It was huge – his arms were only just long enough to hold it steady against his chest.

'Do you really think you can fill it?' Laela asked.

'I'm going to give it a try,' said Galbatorix, rolling up his sleeves. He glanced at the pot, which was starting to warm up. 'After breakfast, that is.'

He waited and held his hands over the fire. It was a chilly morning, and after a few minutes he retreated into the cave and returned carrying a rough blanket made from several rabbit skins sewn together. He'd made it himself, having skinned the rabbits which Laela had caught for him and then tanned and prepared the hides with the ease of long practise.

He wrapped the furry blanket around his shoulders. 'Ah, that's better.'

The stew was ready by now, and he spooned some into a bowl and started to eat. It tasted good, and he sighed. The elves might think they were better than humans, but they weren't about to turn him into a vegetarian. And they certainly weren't going to make him ashamed of being human.

'Half-human,' Laela corrected.

'It's rude to listen in when I'm thinking, Laela.'

'You're half­-human,' said Laela, ignoring him. 'Half of you is elvish, don't forget.'

'Dark elvish. The dark elves aren't like these freaks,' said Galbatorix.

'Don't be ridiculous, you've never even seen them,' Laela scoffed.

'They aren't,' Galbatorix said stubbornly. 'I'm not.'

Laela opened and closed her wings in a shrug. 'If you say so. Shall we get to work?'

Galbatorix finished his stew and pulled the rabbit skins more tightly over his shoulders. 'I'm ready.'

For the next few hours, right through the morning, boy and dragon worked at creating the fairth. They melded their minds together as closely as they dared, and channelled both their magic and their collective memory of the dream onto the slate. Galbatorix spoke the words of the spell, and after that it was only a matter of keeping the magic under control, and continuing to feed it into the spell until it was completed. Only! Neither of them had realised it would take so long and take so much mental focus and stamina, but it did, and toward the end only pure stubbornness kept them going.

By the time they were both satisfied that the fairth was completed, it was midday and they were exhausted. Galbatorix barely glanced at the fairth before he lay back and promptly went to sleep against Laela's flank.

They woke up in mid-afternoon, and Galbatorix sat up, yawning. His neck was stiff, and he rubbed it, feeling his back still aching. It still bothered him from time to time, even though the fall had been days ago. He nudged Laela. 'Wake up!'

'I'm already awake,' said Laela.She curved her neck around to look at the fairth, and he felt her surprise. 'Have a look at it! It's amazing!'

Galbatorix looked, and his breath caught in his throat. It wasn't like what he'd expected at all. It was… 'It's beautiful,' he said.

'It's strange,' said Laela. 'But… I can almost see myself in it. Like it's a part of me.'

'That's because it is,' said Galbatorix. He stood up and stretched, wincing when his back cracked.

Laela looked up at the sky. 'Leaf's coming,' she said.

Galbatorix looked in the same direction, and sure enough he saw the green dragon flying overhead. He came down to land by the cave, and Galbatorix hastily wrapped the fairth in his rabbitskin blanket, hiding it from view.

Leaf hit the ground lightly. On his back, Carina looked at Galbatorix and Laela, then at the cave. 'Good grief,' she said. 'I've never seen so many fairths in my life. What have you been doing here?'

Galbatorix shrugged. 'Making fairths.'

'What for? For the ceremony?'

'Yes.' Galbatorix carefully lifted the wrapped and completed fairth. 'This is it.'

Carina eyed it. 'Well, hurry up. The celebration's starting soon. Vrael and the other elders have already arrived, and they want to meet you.'

Galbatorix's heart leapt. 'All right. Just give me a moment to clear all this up.'

'You can worry about that later,' said Carina. 'Come on! Vrael gets irritable if he's kept waiting.'

Galbatorix nodded and hurriedly climbed into Laela's saddle, holding the fairth close to his chest. Laela stood up. He could feel her excitement mirroring his own. Vrael. He was here. And they were going to meet him…

'Looks like our peace in Ellesméra is over,' Laela remarked.

Galbatorix half-laughed. 'Peace? What's that?'

'It'll probably feel like peace once the training really starts,' said Laela. She took off with an easy flick of her wings, and she and Leaf flew off back toward the settlement.

They stopped at Galbatorix's lodgings, and while Leaf and Carina went ahead to inform the elders that they were coming, Galbatorix went inside to select the most formal outfit he could find. But one had already been laid out on the bed for him.

He put down the fairth and examined it. In contrast to his customary black, this outfit was all white. A fine white tunic, white trousers and an open-fronted white robe to go over it. There were even a pair of white elvish shoes to go with it.

When Galbatorix picked up the tunic to have a closer look at it, he found it wasn't all white after all – the whole thing was chased with silver embroidery, showing designs of leaves and stylised dragons. The fabric was soft and strong under his hands.

He only hesitated briefly before he put the outfit on. It fit him perfectly; most likely it had been tailored just for him to wear. It was amazing to think that so much careful craftsmanship had been put into an outfit he'd probably only wear once.

Once he'd pulled on the robe, he tied on a woven silver belt decorated with what looked like real diamonds, and dragged a brush through his hair, carefully re-ordering it until he was satisfied. He hated the idea of anyone seeing him with messy hair. Always had.

He decided to keep his dragon amulet on. It was very cheap and looked even more so with such a fine outfit, but he liked it. And, after a few moments consideration, he kept his old black boots as well. He didn't like elvish shoes. They were too soft. And his boots were like a link to his old home, to remind him of where he'd come from. He supposed that he was keeping them as a sign of the fact that he hadn't forgotten his life in Teirm at the leather-worker's stall. Or maybe it was just because they were comfortable.

He had a look at himself in the mirror, and was surprised. Clad all in white and silver, he looked strangely timeless – neither old nor young. It made his skin look paler than it really was, and his black eyes and hair and the little sprinkling of freckles on his nose stood out sharply. So did his old boots. They looked slightly out of place, being as worn and muddy as they were, but he decided he didn't care. Let people stare if they wanted to.

Laela was grooming her scales when he rejoined her, using her rough tongue to clean off dirt and polish their surface as best she could. She looked around when he came out, and started. 'Oh, good gods.'

'What?'

Laela appeared to relax slightly. 'Sorry. You scared me for a moment. How do I look?' She stood a little taller, turning so he could see her flanks and belly. Her scales were clean and sparkled in the sun like new snow.

'You look magnificent,' said Galbatorix.

'Thankyou,' said Laela. 'I wish I'd had time to clean my talons as well… never mind.'

'How do I look?'

Laela looked him up and down. 'You look very… white. I'm not sure I like it.'

'Why?' Galbatorix asked. He was a little hurt and surprised by this reaction.

Laela shifted. 'Well, the last time I saw you wearing white, you were dying. It's just a little… makes me nervous.'

'It was just a dream,' said Galbatorix.

'Yes,' said Laela. 'Yes, just a dream… have you got the fairth?'

'Oh!' Galbatorix hurried back inside, cursing himself. He'd nearly forgotten to bring the damned thing. He picked up the fairth and returned to Laela's side. 'Right. Thankyou for reminding me. Shall we fly there?'

'It's not far,' said Laela. 'We'll walk. The wind might mess up your hair.'

Galbatorix nodded. 'All right.'

They walked together, Galbatorix slightly in front, making for the big open space at the heart of the valley where there was a massive old tree known as the Menoa Tree. The celebration was held under its branches every year, and as they headed toward it they could see a few stragglers going in the same direction – mostly elves, but also a few visiting humans and even a werecat or two. They were all interested to see Galbatorix and Laela passing, and most greeted them respectfully with murmurs of 'Argetlam', or, in the case of the humans 'my lord'. Galbatorix was frankly surprised by this. During his time in Ellesméra so far he'd become used to the elves doing what he asked and addressing him as 'Shur'tugal', but now he was seeing other humans treating him like a noble. It was a strange reminder of the fact that he wasn't a commoner any more. Even a rider in training was… well, a 'my lord'. He liked it.

But he forgot about all that the instant he and Laela entered the great clearing around the Menoa Tree. They both stopped at the edge of the trees, and simply gaped at what they saw before them. Neither one had been prepared for this, and now they saw it it took their breath away.

The Menoa Tree, along with all those around it, had been hung with brightly-coloured decorations. Tables laden with food were spaced throughout the clearing for people to help themselves, and everywhere there were elves. Far more of them than had been there on the Day of the First Hatching, when Galbatorix had first arrived in Ellesméra. It seemed that elves from everywhere throughout the forest of Du Weldenvarden had come to celebrate. They were of both sexes, but, again, they all looked eerily similar to each other. Galbatorix still found it difficult to tell the men from the women without looking at their chests. And sometimes even then.

There were humans around; vastly outnumbered by the elves, but present all the same. He guessed from their clothing and the way they carried themselves that most of them were nobles of some description. He spotted a dwarf or two among the crowd, and a few members of races he couldn't identify for the life of him. The air was full of sweet-smelling incense, and elvish musicians were perched in the trees like songbirds, providing a joyful melody with flutes, harps, lutes and their own voices.

But all of that seemed utterly insignificant next to the dragons. Galbatorix looked up at them. And up, and up…

They were huge. The smaller ones, including Leaf, were spaced through the clearing, not moving much lest they knock something over. But there were six others who stayed at its very edges, surrounding the clearing, almost fencing it in. And they were simply massive. The smallest of them was still three times bigger than Laela, and the largest of them towered overhead, so big he could have covered the entire clearing with his wings. Like Laela he was pure white. Beside him was one who was rich gold, and there were two brown ones, a dark blue, a yellow and a grey. Galbatorix could hear their deep, rumbling breaths, so loud he could almost feel it.

Laela found her voice again. 'They're so… oh my gods, will I ever be that big?'

'You know who I think they are?' said Galbatorix. 'I think they're the elders. Look!' he pointed. Almost out of sight, standing by the white giant's leg, was the small figure of an elf.

'They've got to be the elders,' Laela agreed. 'Which one do you think is Nöst?'

Galbatorix shrugged. 'He's the oldest, so he'd be the largest. He must be the white one.'

'I can't learn from him!' said Laela. 'He won't even be able to see me!'

Galbatorix shivered. Suddenly, the idea of going any further into the clearing made him nervous. How could he possibly go anywhere near a dragon that big, let alone talk to it or its rider?

All his self-confidence melted. He couldn't believe he'd thought he was clever and special before. He'd been with Laela for less than a year. He didn't even have a sword yet. But these… seeing the dragons the elders rode really brought home to him just how long they must have lived. A hundred years? Two hundred? Five hundred?

'What are their names?' Laela asked suddenly. 'Do you know?'

'What? Oh… I've read them,' Galbatorix said distractedly.

'Tell me,' said Laela. 'Can you remember them?'

Galbatorix tried to recall. 'Uh… well, that's Nöst… I think the gold one must be Glaedr, and the yellow one would be… something starting with V, I think. Oh, and the grey one is Atropos.'

For some reason the act of trying to remember calmed him down, which he realised later was precisely Laela's intention.

'Here comes Carina,' she informed him.

Galbatorix took his eyes away from the massive dragons with difficulty, and sure enough he saw Carina coming toward him. She was wearing an outfit a little similar to his own, but where his was white and silver hers was green and gold. 'There you are,' she said.

'Are those the elders?' Galbatorix asked stupidly, pointing at the dragons.

Carina gave him an impatient look. 'Well of course they are. What did you think they were, chopped liver? Come on, you two. Vrael wants to meet you.'

Galbatorix went cold. 'Vrael? I'm not sure I…' his stomach lurched.

'Yes, hurry up,' said Carina. 'You've kept him waiting long enough already. Flell's already there.'

She set off toward the huge white dragon, Nöst. Galbatorix trailed after her, feeling like he was going to be sick. Laela followed, staying close to him. Her presence was the only thing that stopped him from just running away.

As they got closer to Nöst, and the white dragon was towering over them, Galbatorix suddenly realised he was still carrying his fairth. He hurriedly put it down under a handy table and left it there, half-covering it with fallen leaves in the hopes that no-one would interfere with it.

Then it was time to meet Vrael for the first time. The elf was standing by Nöst's leg, and though he was tall he only just reached the dragon's elbow. Carina halted respectfully a short distance away from him, and knelt, saying; 'My Lord, I have brought my student to meet you.'

Suddenly Galbatorix found himself being scrutinised by both Nöst and Vrael. The white dragon brought his head down to peer at him and Laela, and Vrael stepped forward to look him up and down. The old elf's hair was pure white, and he had pointed, intelligent features. His eyes were pale blue, and like Galbatorix he was dressed in white. There was a white-bladed sword strapped to his back, its hilt gold to match Nöst's eyes. Everything about his demeanour was dignified and noble, and full of authority.

Galbatorix looked him in the eye, doing his best to stand up straight. 'My Lord Vrael,' he murmured. All his words seemed to have deserted him.

Vrael looked at him, unreadable, then glanced at Carina. She, still kneeling, said; 'This is Arren Cardockson, of Teirm. Although he prefers to be called Galbatorix.'

An uncomfortable silence ensued, while Vrael looked at Galbatorix without saying anything. Galbatorix forced himself not to look away. His heart was pounding. He had a feeling he was supposed to say or do something, but for the life of him he didn't know what it was.

'I think you're supposed to be kneeling,' Laela hissed.

Galbatorix blinked stupidly.

Then, at last, Vrael spoke. 'Arren Cardockson of Teirm,' he said. 'Kneel.'

That finally galvanised him into action. Galbatorix knelt. 'I'm sorry,' he blurted. 'I just…'

Vrael looked down at him, a little disdainfully. 'Humans forget their courtesies far too easily. So you are the famous Arren. The one who set a wild dragon on his trainer.' His tone was only slightly accusing, but it stung Galbatorix.

'She asked me to,' he said. 'It was wrong to keep her in a cage like that. My Lord,' he added hastily.

Vrael breathed in sharply – apparently he wasn't used to having people answer back.

'I'm sorry, My Lord,' Carina put in. 'The boy is headstrong. But highly talented.'

That gave Galbatorix some of his confidence back. He looked at Vrael, keeping silent.

'Talented,' the elf repeated. 'Yes. I know you are. Which is why I have decided to train you as a master. A talent as great as yours appears to be cannot go untamed. Tomorrow you and your dragon will come with me to Ilirea, and I will give you the discipline and the learning you need. Carina has told me of your doings and your conduct so far. Recklessness will not be tolerated, and nor will careless use of your power.'

He gave Galbatorix a hard, unwavering look.

Galbatorix was both enraged and humiliated. Vrael had made him sound like some idiotic child. An arrogant one. But he stared back defiantly, refusing to back down.

In the end, Vrael looked away. 'You have a lot of spirit, I see,' he said. 'But I warn you now, young rider – if you try and defy me, you will lose.'

It was exactly the wrong thing to say, Galbatorix thought later, because his instant response was increased anger and determination as well. 'We'll see about that,' he said aside to Laela.

Vrael gestured at him, signalling for him to stand up. He did so.

'From now on you will call me Master Vrael,' said Vrael. 'You will do as I tell you without question. A rider's life is one of responsibility. However-,' he smiled for the first time, which took Galbatorix completely by surprise – 'Enjoy the celebrations, by all means. And will you introduce your dragon to me, or do you consider her unimportant?'

The sudden change in tone caught Galbatorix off guard. Fortunately Laela was ready. She came forward smartly and bowed her head to Vrael and Nöst. 'I'm Laela, Master,' she said, addressing both of them.

'I'm pleased to meet you, Laela,' Vrael said courteously. He even bowed his head slightly to her. Galbatorix was infuriated.

Laela accepted Vrael's greeting by graciously inclining her head. Galbatorix didn't hide his indignation from her, but she ignored him. Just for a few seconds, while Vrael and Laela shared some unspoken communication, Galbatorix felt utterly alone. As if he suddenly didn't matter any more. But the moment passed quickly, and before he knew it Vrael was waving him away. 'Go,' he said. 'I will see you tomorrow. Be sure to pay your respects to the other elders. Carina!'

Carina looked up sharply.

'Keep an eye on him,' Vrael told her, a hint of amusement showing in his own eyes. 'We don't want him to get into any more trouble before we get him to Ilirea.'

'Yes, Lord,' said Carina.

Then, much to his relief, Galbatorix was free to go. Once he had lost himself among the crowd, he started complaining. 'What was that all about? What the hell's wrong with him? He treated me like an idiot!'

'He was very rude,' Laela agreed. 'But don't worry… I know what he was doing.'

'What? Insulting me, you mean? That's what it looked like from where I was standing.'

'He's going to be your teacher, isn't he?' said Laela. 'He was asserting himself. Showing you he's your master. He can't teach you if you won't obey him.'

Galbatorix was unable to feel particularly placated by this. 'He was very polite to you. Why didn't he tell you off?'

Laela sighed rather wearily. 'While you were enjoying Vrael's compliments, Nöst was doing exactly the same thing to me. Don't flatter yourself.'

'Oh.' Galbatorix paused. 'What did he say?'

'That it was my responsibility to keep you in line and that I'm just a foolish little hatchling with her head in the clouds… that sort of thing. Old fool.'

That cheered him up. 'Well, if they try and squash us, they'll have a hard struggle on their hands.'

'Oh yes,' said Laela.

As they vanished among the revelling elves, Galbatorix pausing to retrieve his fairth from where he'd hidden it, they were watched by Vrael. The elf frowned thoughtfully. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he barely noticed when his fellow elder, Saraswati, came to his side.

She touched him lightly on the shoulder, and he looked around at her. 'Oh. Saraswati, it's you.'

Saraswati, a human with blonde hair, smiled. 'Yes, just me. So that was the famous Arren Cardockson of Teirm.'

Vrael put his arm around her. 'Apparently his friends call him Galbatorix.'

'That's a strange name,' said Saraswati. 'Where do you suppose he got it from?'

'He probably thought it a little grander than his real one,' said Vrael. 'It makes no difference to me.'

'You were too hard on him,' said Saraswati. 'Much too hard. I saw the look in his eyes.'

Vrael frowned. 'The boy is headstrong. He's a rebel. A talented one, which is the worst kind. He's got the power, but not the discipline. I had to be hard on him.'

'You made him angry,' said Saraswati. 'I could see it in him. You'll have a tough struggle on your hands trying to discipline that one.'

'I know,' said Vrael. 'But now I know I was right to become his mentor. I wouldn't trust anyone else with him. I can see power in him I've never seen before, and if it goes unharnessed… or if he goes wrong somehow… I can't let that happen. If I have to be stern with him, I will.'

Saraswati smiled and kissed him on the cheek. 'You're so sweet when you're worried.'

Vrael couldn't help but return the smile, but his forehead was still creased. He watched his new student, who was walking among the tables, utterly silent, talking to no-one, his black eyes taking in everything.

'I don't know,' he said. 'There's… there's something about that boy that disturbs me.'

'What?' said Saraswati. 'Did he do something you haven't told me about?'

'It's not something he's done,' said Vrael. 'It's something about him.'

Saraswati held him close, her body warm and soft against his. 'Stop worrying, Vrael,' she said. 'Now isn't the time. Tomorrow we worry and work. Today we celebrate.'

With her there, Vrael couldn't help but relax. 'Yes,' he said. 'Today we celebrate.'