Chapter Thirty-Seven

King of the Dead

On the following day, Galbatorix led them North. The journey took more than a week, and none of them enjoyed it much. Every night they camped in some freezing spot in the middle of nowhere, more than once in the open, and on one occasion there was a blizzard that nearly killed them all. Tranah had to be helped onto Aedua's back, but the swelling about her face had gone down and she was able to eat and speak again, although she was bad-tempered with her own weakness and grumbled a lot. Tuomas caught a chill and needed to be looked after, and all of them began to doubt the wisdom of what they were doing. Galbatorix, however, insisted that there was a good place for them and continually urged them to keep going and not lose faith. They travelled on, trusting him, and in the end he did not let them down. He led them to a small valley between two mountains, where there was a thick forest and a river that flowed into a pool.

When they landed there, however, they quickly noticed something odd about it. Many of the trees were dead, evidently killed by fire. There were ashes and charcoal under the snow. Here and there they found strange black fires, exactly like the ones Galbatorix could make, still burning on the snow.

But that was not all they found.

Few of them had witnessed a sight as heartbreaking as that of Galbatorix walking among the trees, picking his way through the ruins of what had been his race's last home. He said nothing, but his face was pale and his expression distant. When the others dared to ask if there was anything they could do, he directed them to gather up the remains they found and to bring them to the banks of a small pool that stood among some birch trees. There they laid them down, and stood in a circle, heads bowed, while Galbatorix spoke the funeral rites. When he had done he lit the black fire. And, as they watched the dark flames slowly consume what was left of the massacred dark elves, they saw visions in them. Visions of a dozen lives that had ended. They saw dark elves, each one pale-skinned and black-haired. Dozens of Galbatorixes, each one moving with the same easy grace he had, each one dark and silent with glittering black eyes. His family.

Afterwards they gathered up the ashes and Galbatorix told them to cast them into the pool, which they did, while he stood by, head bowed, murmuring in dark elvish.

'Chan briddo born a i mewn danio ffugiedig, at hud 'n ddedwydd a at oera ddyfrha claearedig, 'na at awel i mewn 'r nos at bod chwythedig ar gerdded at bro chan arianna a 'n befr blodau. Mai 'r dduwiau ca…' he trailed off then, and they saw the pain in his eyes before he abruptly turned and walked away.

Kaelyn tried to go after him, but Roland caught her by the arm and silently shook his head.

Galbatorix rejoined them a few hours later, when they had begun setting up camp. His eyes were reddened, but all he said was; 'This is where we'll make our home. I've been putting out the fires… not much point in keeping them going. Feel free to spread out if you want, but just make sure you choose somewhere out of sight of the sky. I very much doubt anyone will come out this far again – there's no point in returning if everyone here is already dead. But we'll keep watch. Always. I'm not getting caught off-guard again. At least one lookout on each mountain, understood?'

'Yes, sir,' said Orwyne. She glanced at Roland. 'Care to join me, Roland?'

'Wherever you go, I go,' Roland said cheerfully. He nodded to Galbatorix and departed, hand-in-hand with Orwyne. Talziri and Idün both offered to take the first lookout duty, and Sartago, Ithír and Leahdorus went with them while the Forsworn began to explore the valley, picking out places to stay. Tuomas, Gern and Kaelyn decided to camp together, Morzan, Vander and Galbatorix went alone, and Tranah and Strein chose a spot by the river for them to share. It was agreed that the pool would be a meeting-place, since it was at more or less the centre of the valley, and once this had been decided everyone was left to their own devices for the rest of the day. Gern and Kaelyn forced Tuomas to get some sleep, and afterwards Kaelyn finally made up her mind and went to see Galbatorix.

She found him at the base of the taller of the two mountains. He'd set up a simple camp there, with a black fire already burning. A couple of spare robes were hanging up to dry – the snow had soaked into his bags – and he'd strung up a hammock between two fir trees. Shruikan was crouched a short distance away, gnawing at the remains of a dead deer, but Galbatorix himself was nowhere to be seen. Kaelyn nervously entered the camp, and finally saw him sitting in the branches of a tree. He had a thread and needle and was darning a hole in his trousers, but he had already spotted her. 'Hello. Have you finished settling in already?'

Kaelyn briefly considered climbing the tree, but decided against it. 'We've picked a good spot,' she said.

'Good,' said Galbatorix. 'Tomorrow your training will start again. I'm going to talk to the others so we can decide who'll do what. We'll take it slowly at first, but it'll be hard work. Still, with luck, you'll enjoy it. It probably won't be as efficient as it might've been in Ilirea, but we'll do our best. How does that sound?'

'It sounds good,' Kaelyn said rather lamely.

He didn't miss the signs. 'Anything the matter?' he enquired.

Kaelyn hesitated, wrestling with herself.

'It's all right,' said Galbatorix. 'Say it.'

That gave her the encouragement she needed. She breathed in deeply and said; 'I'm not going to bother you again, Master, I promise. I'll leave you alone from now on. I just wanted to… I'd like to apologise for what happened at Orthíad. I shouldn't have acted like that. I just…'

'I understand,' said Galbatorix. 'And I'm very sorry if I led you on; I didn't mean to. I do care about you, Kaelyn. You're like a daughter to me. That's why I sent you away when the attack started; I wanted to keep you safe.'

'I thought…' Kaelyn looked down, ashamed. 'I thought I was in love.'

Galbatorix smiled. 'When you're in love, you'll know it. Trust me, you'll know.'

'Who was she?' Kaelyn dared ask. 'The woman you loved. What was she like?'

'Like no-one I've ever met before or since,' said Galbatorix. 'She was…' he stared out over the trees. '…fierce. Very fierce. Even wild. She wasn't very emotional most of the time, and sometimes it even felt like she was indifferent about a lot of things. But when she cared about someone or something… everything about her was intense. If she hated something, she hated it more savagely than you can imagine. But if she loved something…' he grinned slyly. 'When she kissed me, it was almost like being attacked. And… well, she had very sharp fingernails and she used to dig them into me without realising it.' He coughed, suddenly embarrassed.

Kaelyn couldn't help it; she laughed. 'She sounds scary.'

'I suppose she was a little frightening,' Galbatorix admitted. 'But that was what I liked best about her.'

'What was her name?'

Galbatorix hesitated. 'I'd better not say.'

'Well what did she look like?'

'Like nothing I've ever seen since,' said Galbatorix. 'Her eyes were like two suns and her hair was like the moonlight.' He sighed. 'I miss her.'

'Where did she go?'

'She went away over the sea, to find her father. One day, she'll come back.'

Kaelyn said nothing. But her heart ached with sadness for him. No-one who went over the sea ever returned. His waiting would be in vain.

'I'm impressed,' said Galbatorix, cutting across her thoughts. 'You acted very maturely by apologising, even if it wasn't entirely your fault. I hope what happened doesn't spoil our friendship.'

'Friendship?' said Kaelyn, surprised.

He nodded. 'Of course. I consider all of you to be my friends.'

'Of course we are,' Kaelyn said stoutly. 'You're a friend to the outcasts, aren't you? And we're all outcasts. Every one of us.'

Galbatorix chuckled. 'And sometimes, being an outcast isn't so bad, is it?'

From then on they stayed in the valley, which they came to refer to as the Valley of the Dark Elves, and their time of temporary peace began. The three apprentices spent every day in training, and each one of the adults taught them something different. Roland taught them about poisons and antidotes and the various properties of herbs, in which he was helped by Orwyne, Vander shared his knowledge of the different healing magics, which he had made a special study of, Morzan taught them swordplay and hand-to-hand combat, Tranah and Strein taught strategy and battle tactics, and from Galbatorix they learned magic. Although their training was spread out over several different teachers, they still regarded Galbatorix as their master. He attended most of their lessons, and the others graciously allowed him to have some imput, although on plenty of occasions he was learning things too. Tranah had made a full recovery from her burn, although she now walked with a very slight limp and categorically refused to so much as touch another piece of lichen, even if someone else ate it first.

At first some of them still had their doubts about whether the valley would be able to provide them with a safe home, but Galbatorix quickly showed them how to find food. There were fish and edible plants in the river, and birds were about, and deer as well. Strange pale-blue mushrooms grew under the snow, and there were edible fern roots that could be dug up and roasted. They collected deer hides and used them to build small shelters in the dark elvish style, spreading them over wooden frames. Galbatorix taught them how to gather wool from the herds of mountain sheep that lived in the area and weave it into cloth, and even jokingly offered to make each of them a robe like the one he constantly wore. They declined, but he did make a pair of deerhide snow-boots for each of them, teaching them how to wrap strips of leather around their calves to keep them warm and dry – something they were more than happy to do. They quickly saw how at home he was here, and if any of them had had any lingering doubts about whether he had told the truth about his heritage, they fled then.

After a month or so had passed, spring was well upon them. The weather became steadily warmer and the snow melted, leaving only a few patches on the two mountains. Grass grew in the valley, and flowers appeared as if out of nowhere. The river became wide and rushing, clear and icy with snowmelt, and the sun shone brightly, making the air sparkle gold with pollen. It was not spring like they had known in the South – there was still an icy chill in the air, and often there was ice around the edges of the pond in the morning. But it was much more hospitable now.

And this was their new life. No more fighting, no more running. Although they continued to keep watch, they never saw a sign of anyone else, and they were able to relax at last.

But that didn't mean they had forgotten about the war – not by any means. The three apprentices couldn't help but notice that their teachers continued to meet regularly and discuss possible future attacks. Galbatorix was preparing to unleash something big.

They were learning more of the ancient language all the time, and one night, when a bright half-moon was overhead, Kaelyn quietly and secretly took a new oath, swearing herself to her master with the moon as her only witness. She kept it a secret from him – she had not forgotten how he had pleaded with her not to do it. But she didn't care.

As for Galbatorix, a month or so after their arrival he contacted Durza again and found the Shade had good news.

I have found the Ra'zac, he reported. They were hiding in the Spine.

Galbatorix paused. '"They"?'

Yes. The one you spared found her mate again, and has laid her eggs. She is willing to help you in time, but she will not act until her eggs have hatched. That will take time. I do not know how much time; Ra'zac have little comprehension of a unit of time beyond a day.

'Make sure you keep track of them,' said Galbatorix.

I will. If you would like, I can enter into their minds and control them. They will do anything for you if I will them to.

'No,' Galbatorix said sharply. 'I don't want slaves.'

They are only creatures, my Lord.

'Even so. What else do you have to report? What's the latest news? What are they saying about us now?'

The elders have spread the supposed news that your followers were attacked and badly damaged at Orthíad. Supposedly, you ran away and left them to fight alone, and are now in hiding somewhere while the other survivors are scattered, too cowardly to regroup.

Galbatorix sighed. 'Just as I expected. What's the reaction been?'

Most of the people refuse to believe it, said Durza. They are saying that if you truly were weak or cowardly you would be dead or captured by now, and many have insisted that your earlier actions – particularly the rescue of the three youngsters at Gil'ead – show that you are not a coward. In fact, many people are angry over the claims. They say the elders are liars – too cowardly to fight you themselves, and too incompetent to organise the other riders to fight you effectively. They have never been faced with a challenge like this before, and it is now plain to all that they are unprepared for it. As soon as you return, it will immmediately prove that the claims were false. And the fact that you have now added two more to the Forsworn – two more senior riders, no less – will do even more to enhance your reputation. And there is other news as well.

'What?' said Galbatorix.

A rider has been attacked in the streets of Teirm, said Durza. He was going somewhere on business, and was assaulted by a gang of civillians.

Galbatorix's eyes widened. 'What happened?'

He fought only to defend himself at first, said Durza. But others joined in. In the end he lost his head and began killing his attackers. Many people died; the fight caused a great deal of damage as well. The rider escaped back to the castle, but the story has spread far and wide, and it is a very powerful one. Now the people know that riders are not invincible. When the governor of Teirm had a number of people arrested and executed, it only inflamed the situation further. Take your time, my Lord. Rebellion is breaking out without the need for your presence. Of course, it will be disorganised and will not get far until you take charge. But it can continue to build until you return. When you give the signal for it to begin… it will begin. If you were to show yourself somewhere and stay long enough, I have no doubt that a hundred people would run to you to swear themselves to your cause.

Galbatorix nodded. 'I see…'

But beware, half-breed, said Durza. The elders are more than aware of the situation, and you can be sure that they will not remain idle. Soon they will be desperate. And when that happens, they will begin acting accordingly. They will stoop to using any means to destroy you. When desperation sets in, honour does not survive long.

'I understand,' Galbatorix said grimly.

That night, the nightmare visited him again.

He saw himself standing alone in the dark, not as he was now but as he had once been; beardless, freckled, innocent, holding an awl and a leather-knife. This other version of himself smiled at him, then jerked in surprise. He looked down and realised that there was a dagger in his chest. He tried to pull it out, but when he did, pain blossomed inside him and blood began to soak into his clothes. He realised that the awl had become a spear and the leather-knife had turned into White Violence. A huge, menacing shape loomed over him, and he screamed and hurled the spear. The monster fell, but then he realised it was Laela. Laela, dying in the snow. I have to go.

She stared at him and crumbled into ashes, and he screamed and fell, dying beside her, the sword falling out of his hand.

Everything else vanished. All he could see was himself, lying there in a pool of blood, his face deathly pale. And then they were there. Five figures, appearing from out of the gloom, each one robed and hooded. They surrounded his body in a silent circle, heads bowed, as if they were mourning for him.

The boy is insane, one of them murmured.

Arren Cardockson is dead, said another.

How did he die?

He killed himself.

He is a murderer.

And then it was not him who was dead, but them, and he walked away, looking for his friends. But they were not there. He called out for them, but there was no reply. From this it comes, Laela's voice whispered.

And then he was alone. Forever.

On on the following day, when the three apprentices came to see him, they found him clad in his thickest robe with White Violence strapped to his back. Shruikan was standing nearby, wearing his saddle, with a bag of food slung over his shoulders.

'Master, what's going on?' Gern asked.

Galbatorix went to stand by Shruikan's forelegs. 'No lessons from me today,' he told them. 'Go to the others as usual. I'm going to be away today.'

'Why?' said Kaelyn.

'There's something I have to do,' said Galbatorix. 'I'll be back by tonight.'

'But where are you going?' Kaelyn persisted. 'Can I come with you?'

'No, Kaelyn. This is something I have to do on my own. But I swear I'll be back.' He climbed onto Shruikan's back and did up the leg-straps.

'But why won't you tell us where you're going?' said Tuomas. 'You're not running away or something, are you?'

Galbatorix sighed and spoke in the ancient language. 'I will return,' he said.

'But where-?' Kaelyn began.

She didn't get an answer. Shruikan flew away.

Galbatorix knew what he was looking for. Finding it, however, would be easier said than done. He and Shruikan flew for hours, both scanning the ground for any sign of it.

But they didn't find it that day. They returned to the camp by evening, where Galbatorix refused to answer his friends' questions beyond simply saying; 'There's something I have to find.'

He wasn't sure why he was being so secretive about it. Perhaps he was afraid.

It was on the second day that he found it.

There wasn't much left. Three dragon skeletons lay discarded on a melted snowfield, a few scattered scales the only thing left to identify them. Of the riders there was nothing left at all – just their swords, half-buried in the earth. Flowers were growing among the remains, and he could see where scavenging wolves had gnawed at the bones.

He could tell which one of them was Laela. She lay a little apart from the others, a few white scales still clinging to her ribs. Galbatorix knelt and touched the bleached skull of what had once been his greatest friend, and realised that he felt nothing. Relief washed over him. This wasn't Laela. This was just… a thing. Just a few bones. They didn't mean anything and they weren't needed any more. This place, this empty plain, wasn't where Laela was now. Wherever she had gone, it wasn't here.

Galbatorix picked up a loose scale and pocketed it, then walked away and gathered up the two swords, hanging them off Shruikan's saddle. While the black dragon stood by and watched impassively, he walked slowly around Laela's bones, reciting the funeral rites under his breath. He didn't cast the black fire around her. There wasn't really anything left to burn.

For a while he stayed there, amazed by his own calmness. 'Where are you, Laela?' he said aloud. 'Where did you go?'

The only silence was the wind, whistling through Laela's bleached bones.

Galbatorix sighed and stood up. 'All right, let's go,' he said.

Shruikan came over to sniff at the bones. 'This was…?'

'Yes.'

'Why did you come looking for it?'

'I don't know. I suppose I wanted to say goodbye.'

'Why? She can't hear you.' Shruikan sounded genuinely confused.

Galbatorix shrugged and climbed back into the saddle. 'I don't know. It's a human thing.'

They flew back to the valley in silence. It was evening by the time they got there, and the others were at the main camp by the pool, sharing a meal.

'Hello, sir,' Tranah greeted him.

'Good to see you back, sir,' said Roland.

They moved aside to give him room, and he sat down and unceremoniously dumped the two swords by the fire.

They stared at them, amazed. 'Where did you get those?' said Morzan. 'You din't-?'

'No way,' said Tranah. 'Not even he could've done that.' But she looked questioningly at Galbatorix, who paused, sighed, and said; 'No. I haven't done any fighting today. I found those.'

'Found 'em where?' said Morzan.

'Out there, on the plain.'

'But how did they get there, Master?' said Gern.

Galbatorix gave up. 'I went looking for the place where Laela died,' he said at last. 'I just found it. The swords belonged to the people who murdered her.'

The others went quiet.

'You killed them, didn't you, sir?' said Strein.

'Yes. I don't remember it very well, but I remember that. Anyway… I said the funeral rites and then came back.'

There was a deathly silence. The others glanced uncomfortably at each other. Galbatorix paid no attention. He took the white dragon scale out of his pocket and tied it to White Violence's hilt with a piece of thread.

'So,' he said. 'How did the lessons go today?'

'Fairly well,' said Roland. 'Today we mastered the art of making a simple sleeping potion.'

'And I disarmed Tuomas,' said Gern. 'It was sort of an accident, but Morzan said I could've taken his head off if I'd wanted to.'

'I had a go at riding Sartago today,' said Kaelyn. 'He's not strong enough to carry me in the air yet, but he walked for a while. Vander said I had good balance.'

Galbatorix listened, pleased. 'Sounds like you had a good day. Give it a month or so, and you'll be flying. In fact, we'd better start teaching you how to make saddles for them, hadn't we? I'm sure Shruikan will be more than happy to catch some deer for the hides.'

'Good idea, sir,' said Tranah.

After this Galbatorix didn't leave the valley again for long; the closest he ever came to it was when, every now and then, he and Shruikan would spend an hour or so in the air. They never flew out of sight, but merely circled the valley and the area around it, keeping watch and enjoying some time away from the others. The rest of the time they stayed in the valley. The training of the three apprentices continued apace, and Shruikan even consented to teach their dragons a few things about fighting and hunting.

Sartago, Ithír and Leahdorus continued to grow rapidly, slowly shedding their youthful awkwardness and developing into adults. Sartago, who had been somewhat awkward and chunky as a hatchling, now began to show more and more how powerful he would become. His shoulders became broad and muscular, his wings wide, his chest deep and strong and his snout blunt and heavy. His scales roughened and his horns and spines became thick and strong, and his voice deepened. Soon he would be old enough to breathe fire, but in the meantime he developed the ability to roar like an adult, which he did every evening, signalling his presence and strength in the ancient dragon way. In the wild, Galbatorix explained, every dragon would roar to remind all others that he owned the territory where he lived and would attack if challenged for it. Even a bonded dragon retained that instinct. At first Kaelyn found it a little frightening, but in time she grew accustomed to it.

Leahdorus and Ithír too were becoming more mature. Leahdorus was the more delicate of the two females, and the fastest in the air. She was the one who began breathing fire first – at first all she produced was a few small puffs of weak yellow flame, but she grew steadily better at it and even began helping to teach the other two how to do it. Next it was Ithír who stepped over the line into adulthood; her fire was much hotter than Leahdorus', even though she had trouble controlling it, and was a beautiful shade of bright gold. Sartago was jealous of the two females, but Kaelyn soothed him by reminding him that, after all, he was the one who first became sufficiently strong to carry his rider in the air. It would only take a little time before he too was breathing fire.

And, sure enough, when the grey dragon was about seven months old, he finally produced his first flame. And, just as in Kaelyn's dream, it was silver.

The three apprentices now began training even more in earnest; learning how to fight from dragonback, using both magic and bows. Their teachers showed them how to make firebombs – burning missiles that would explode on impact and which could be used to devastate a city or an opposing army. The three dragons were made to lift, push and carry increasingly heavy loads to build up their strength, and were shown how to dive, swoop and dodge in the air – even fight another dragon.

Before long, Kaelyn, Gern and Tuomas were able to hold their own in swordplay and were all reasonably competent at using magic. Tuomas was gifted at healing, much like Vander, and, realising that he enjoyed having the skill, made a special study of it. Kaelyn, however, preferred destructive magic. She got a dark thrill out of casting a spell at a rock or a tree and seeing it explode into fragments, or hurling fireballs as fast as she could and watching them leave huge burn-marks wherever they struck. She practised lifting and throwing things and practised the spell of paralysis until she could use it effectively even on Sartago, although the grey dragon didn't enjoy it much. She practised constantly with her sword, fixated on mastering every new move her trainers showed her, and when her hands blistered she wrapped strips of cloth around them and resumed. She did not want to be just a useless child who needed to be looked after all the time. She wanted to be a warrior, and not just any warrior, but the strongest member of the Forsworn. She wanted to be useful, not a burden.

Their time in the valley was peaceful, but it wasn't easy. They soon became used to living in the North, and eventually stopped missing cities and houses. Still, that didn't mean they had forgotten the South. In fact, the only one there who didn't seem to miss it was Galbatorix. As the self-mockingly styled King of the North, he was in his element here. The North was in his blood. He began unconsciously sprinkling his his conversation with dark elvish words and phrases, and when he was in a good mood and thought no-one else was listening he would sing dark elvish songs to himself. Sometimes, in the evenings, he would teach them bits and pieces of his peoples' lore and legends.

'My name,' he said on one of these occasions. 'It probably sounds a little strange. Well, it's dark elvish. Galbatorix – "great king", or, literally, "big chief". "Galba", meaning "big", and "torix", meaning "chief". There were a few dark elvish kings with that name, or similar ones. Like "Vercingtorix" – "warrior king", "Dumnorix" – "strong king", and "Orgetorix" – "cunning king". My father must have chosen my name. It was probably a way of mocking the riders, really – giving a bastard half-breed such a grand name. I probably should have stuck with Arren, really, but I thought of changing my name as a way of reclaiming who I really was.'

'Galbatorix suits you better,' said Roland.

'I agree,' said Tranah. 'I couldn't imagine someone like you having a name like "Arren". That name sounds like… well, I don't know…'

'…like it belongs to a Teirmish leatherworker's son?' Galbatorix suggested.

'I suppose so, yes,' said Tranah.

'Well, I suppose it's always best to remember who you are. I might be the Great Betrayer now, but I still remember the first important skill I learned: making boots.' The others laughed, and Galbatorix glanced at the boots he was wearing and sighed. 'I'm still terrible at doing the heels. If my father was here right now, he'd thump me in the ear and tell me to do it again.' He shook his head gloomily. 'He was a good man, my foster-father. He didn't deserve what happened to him.'

'What did happen to him, sir?' said Vander.

'Murdered,' Galbatorix said briefly. 'Along with my foster-mother. Their neighbours wanted the bounty on my head and killed them out of frustration when they realised they didn't know anything about where to find me.'

'Carina and I did everything we could to catch them,' Morzan put in. 'I swear.'

Galbatorix shook his head. 'I believe you, Morzan.'

About five months after their arrival in the North, the feeling gradually arose among the Forsworn that it would soon be time to return to the South. The weather was gradually getting colder as autumn approached. Before long the land would be blanketed in snow once more, and it would become steadily harder to cling on. No-one said anything at first, but none of them doubted that the time to go back and resume the war would soon come.

Still, when Galbatorix finally announced that it was time, it came as something of a surprise.

'I've been consulting Durza again,' he said. 'The rebellion is starting to die down; people are saying I'm either dead or have run away somewhere and won't come back. We can't afford to leave it any longer. We're going back. Two days from now, we leave. No arguments.'

No-one had any, but they cast significant glances at each other, each feeling a little thrill of fear and excitement inside.

They began preparing to leave the very next day; packing away their belongings and dismantling every piece of temporary camp equipment they'd erected aside from the shelters they slept in. They repaired the dragons' saddles, gathered together as many supplies as they could carry, and went to bed early that night, ready for a long journey on the following day.

Shruikan woke them up at dawn, his roar echoing over the valley and summoning them to the pool. Galbatorix was already packed and ready, wearing his warmest robe, which he'd trimmed with wolfskin, and with White Violence slung on his back as always. Shruikan, who if anything had grown bigger and wilder during their retreat, was saddled and rustling his wings, anxious to leave.

'Saddle up,' Galbatorix told them briefly. 'We'll eat in the air.'

In less than an hour they were underway. They dismantled their shelters and hid all signs of their occupation, mostly out of habit but also partly out of respect to the valley that had been their home for so long. Once the dragons had been saddled and loaded up with baggage, it was time to depart.

Galbatorix and Shruikan naturally went first, and the others flew in formation behind them, with Ithír, Sartago and Leahdorus in the middle and the stronger dragons on the outside for protection, Keth and Orwyne's dragon Calanon bringing up the rear.

The journey back to Alagaësia, and war, and danger, began.