Chapter Forty-Seven

Vroengard

On the following day, Ana, Elric and Orwyne departed. They bid goodbye to their friends and their leader, climbed onto their dragons and flew away North, toward Teirm.

Galbatorix watched them go with a horrible feeling of apprehension, perhaps stemming from the lingering effects of his dream.

But it was a feeling that proved unfounded. Not long after his return to Gil'ead, he received word from Orwyne. Teirm had been captured. In fact, as soon as the three riders had appeared on the horizon, those holding the castle had surrendered rather than fight back and be killed. They had gone peacefully to the dungeons, and Teirm now belonged to its former governor.

At around this time, a message came from Dras-Leona that reported something rather less encouraging.

The dragons had disappeared. They hadn't been killed; they had simply… gone. The inhabitants of Dras-Leona had long been accustomed to seeing them flying over the mountains, lighting up the sky in the evening when they signalled their presence to each other with roaring and flames, but now there was nothing. One day they were there, and the next they were gone, and people were claiming that Galbatorix had somehow wiped them all out for refusing to help him. Roland and Tuomas had ventured into the Spine to look for them, but found nothing. No bodies. No sign. It was as if they had simply vanished from the face of the earth.

A mere two days after that, when Morzan had nearly completed his preparations to go to Vroengard, Kaelyn, who'd been on the walls keeping a lookout, came running to find Galbatorix.

'There's some urgals coming toward the city, sir,' she said.

Galbatorix stood up. 'Urgals?'

'Yes, sir. A lot of them. They don't look like they're attacking.'

When Galbatorix went up onto the battlements to look for himself, he quickly saw that "a lot of them" was something of an understatement. The army of urgals slowly making its way toward Gil'ead was massive. There were at least two thousand of the brutes, each one huge and hulking, brutish, horned heads decorated with crow feathers and bone ornaments.

Galbatorix watched them for a few moments, and then dashed off toward the dragon roost. Shruikan was awake and ready for him, and he climbed onto the black dragon's back and settled in the saddle. 'Let's go and meet them.'

'Are they attacking us?' Shruikan asked.

'I hope not. Because if they are, we're in trouble.'

When the urgals saw him coming, they abruptly halted their march and formed themselves into a massive defensive line, raising spears and bows in readiness to attack. Shruikan landed out of arrow-range, and he and Galbatorix walked the rest of the way toward them, both careful to move slowly so that their advance would not be mistaken for an attack. When he was close enough, Galbatorix raised his hand, showing the gedwëy ignaesia, and called a greeting in the urgal language, which he had memorised during his training for just such an occasion as this. The apparent leader of the urgals returned it, and Galbatorix halted to let him come forward to meet him.

The leader came, flanked by two huge warriors bearing fur-covered shields, and he and Galbatorix met halfway between the castle and the army.

Galbatorix kept still and let the urgal inspect him. He was a Kull, a giant kind of urgal, so huge that he towered even over Galbatorix. He wore thick leather bands on his arms, which served to make his biceps look even bigger, and his rough clothes were decorated with bones and teeth. Once he had looked Galbatorix up and down, he made a little grunt of satisfaction and lowered his head toward him, displaying his huge chipped horns.

Galbatorix returned the gesture, then lifted his head, exposing his throat to the urgal in his kind's gesture of trust.

The urgal seemed pleased. 'You are rider,' he said in a deep, rough voice.

Galbatorix nodded. 'I am. What is your name, my Lord?'

'I am named Kvarn,' said the urgal. 'I am Kull and chief of my tribe. We have come to find the prince who was promised. Now we have found him. Are you he?'

Galbatorix paused. 'I am Galbatorix Traeganni, last King of the dark elves. My kind is friend to yours, Nar Kvarn. If you would honour the old alliance of our tribes, then I will lead you to victory against our enemies.' He spoke slowly and carefully, in dark elvish.

Kvarn grunted. 'You are dark elf,' he said. 'You are Traeganni. My kind have lived as outcasts for eight hundred years, just as yours has. Now a dark elf has become rider, the time has come. Our tribes have joined, as they did long ago, and I have become their great chief. We come to fight for a Traeganni again. You are our great chief now.'

Galbatorix bowed. 'I would be honoured, Nar Kvarn.'

Kvarn returned the bow, then straightened up, lifted his head to the sky and bellowed. Behind him, the massive urgal army bellowed back. It was their warcry, and Galbatorix felt it put power into him. He stood tall and addressed all of them, using magic to amplify his voice. 'I am Galbatorix Traeganni!' he shouted. 'I am the last King of the dark elves! The leaders of the riders are the enemies of our kind, and now the time has come for them to be punished! We will bring them to justice, and we will wipe out the Southern elves as they once did to us! Once we have done this, and peace has come, I will give you back the land that was stolen from you, and I will give you back your rights! That is my promise!'

The urgals bellowed again in response, some calling his name. Shruikan roared, and the chanting grew louder.

Galbatorix smiled to himself. He knew what to do now. The time for the elves to pay for their crimes had come.

Once he and Kvarn had agreed that the urgals would make camp just outside the city, Galbatorix returned to the castle. He sought out the others and began giving them their orders with scarcely a pause.

'Morzan, Tranah, it's time for you to go to Vroengard. Leave first thing in the morning. Kaelyn, you'll go to Teirm. Give Orwyne a message from me – I'll write it down straight away. Gern, you'll go to Dras-Leona with another message. We're ready to fight the elves on their own territory.'

Within the space of half an hour he had drafted two messages, one for Roland and one for Orwyne. Both of them stated that they were to muster together all the troops they could and lead them Northwards, toward Gil'ead. As soon as they had arrived they would join with Kvarn's urgals, and Galbatorix himself would lead them into Du Weldenvarden to attack the elves. Morzan would chase after them as soon as he had taken Vroengard.

At dawn the next day, Galbatorix met with his friends on the dragon roost. Kaelyn and Gern had saddled their dragons and were ready to go.

Galbatorix handed a scroll of paper to Kaelyn. 'For Orwyne. Don't lose it. What have you done with the eggs?'

'They're in my bedchamber,' said Kaelyn. 'I hid them in the clothes chest.'

'Good. I'll see you later, Kaelyn. Good luck.'

Kaelyn nodded rather formally, and Sartago flew away. Galbatorix gave Gern the other scroll. 'Fly quickly, Gern. I know I can rely on you.'

'You can, Master,' said Gern. 'I'll see you in a few days.'

The boy tucked the scroll into his tunic, and Leahdorus flew away with a flick of her orange wings.

Morzan, Tranah and Vander had prepared as well. Their dragons were armoured – it would slow them down, but they had decided it would be a calculated risk – and they had prepared several firebombs.

Galbatorix hugged Morzan. 'Good luck, Morzan. Fight with everything you've got. I know you'll be able to do it.'

Morzan returned the hug. 'An' you look after yourself, right, sir?'

'I will if you will,' said Galbatorix.

Morzan grinned and climbed onto Idün's back. 'It's a deal, then.'

The red dragon waited until Tranah and Vander were ready, and then she hooked her claws around one of the waiting firebombs and took somewhat clumsily to the air. She managed to lift a second firebomb with a hind leg, and practically fell from the roost. Before she hit the castle wall she opened her wings and swooped upward, letting a warm thermal lift her into the clouds. There she levelled out and began to glide steadily away Westwards, Ymazu and Aedua following close behind her.

Morzan spent much of the journey in a state of high tension. 'We haven't fought anyone in ages,' he said to Idün. 'Felt like the war was practically over, didn't it?'

'Yes,' said Idün. 'I was getting very bored in Gil'ead. I never realised it would be like this. The war, I mean. That there'd be so much waiting.'

'Well we won't be waitin' much longer,' said Morzan. 'We're gonna win. I ain't scared any more. We're gonna win.'

On his post on the wall of the great fort that dominated the island of Vroengard, Brom yawned and pulled his cloak around his shoulders. The night breezes kept pulling it away. Beside him, Saphira rustled her wings. 'Tired?'

'Hmm? Oh, a little. Bored, mostly. How are you holding up?'

'I'm all right,' said Saphira. 'And I don't care what you say; I'm glad to be here.'

Brom scowled and gripped the hilt of his blue-bladed sword, Íssbrandr. 'I'll never be glad to be a coward. We're traitors, Saphira. All those people back on the mainland trusted us to protect them, but we left them to suffer.'

'We didn't have any choice,' Saphira said sharply. 'You know that. Would you prefer the alternative?'

'But it's our fault,' said Brom. 'Yours and mine. Why should innocent people suffer because of something we did? We set him free. We unleashed him.'

'You didn't know,' said Saphira. 'You have to stop blaming yourself, Brom. You didn't ask him to do what he did. You did what you thought was right. You can't hate yourself for that.'

'"Even a virtuous deed can be used to serve evil",' said Brom. 'That's what Oromis told me. And now…' he stared vacantly at the glints of starlight that shifted over the surface of the ocean below them.

'Even so,' said Saphira. 'There's no evil in you, Brom, and there never will be. Put it out of your mind.'

Brom sighed and resumed watching the sea. 'I wonder what the elves' homeland is like?' he said eventually. 'D'you think we'll ever see it?'

'Maybe. Did Oromis ever say what it was called?'

'Alalea, I think. That always puts me in mind of a pretty girl with flowers in her hair, for some reason. I asked him why the elves left it, but he wouldn't say.'

'Well, it's a good thing, no matter what the reason behind it was,' said Saphira. 'They brought a blessing to this country with them. Their wisdom changed us all, and for the better.'

'Yes,' said Brom. 'If only… I can understand why some of them don't like humans. No grace, no patience, no… purity? Yes, that's the word. We don't have their purity. We're so crude next to them… it's almost embarrassing. And we're corruptible, too. But not always by ourselves. We fall prey to temptations and the dark side of magic. Like…' he glared at the darkness, feeling a hot, sick surge of anger in his stomach.

'Yes…' Saphira shared a sense of deep sadness. 'There is so much evil in the world, and it taints people so easily. Shades. Urgals. Dark magic, dark races.'

Brom thought for a while. 'Did I ever tell you the story of P'aarthian Blueyes? I heard it a few weeks ago and I thought you'd like it.'

'No, you didn't. What's it about?'

'Well…' Brom paused to gather his thoughts. 'P'aarthian Blueyes was a young elvish noble who lived many centuries ago. Dark were his eyes, but they saw naught but blue, and so his people named him "Blueyes". His uncle was King of his people, and so Blueyes found acceptance and respect from them, but he was not content. He did wander over hill and dale and through forest, seeking for some thing that would give his life a higher purpose, but his searching was in vain. But it came to pass that one day a tale reached his ears that told of a magical fountain that lay hidden somewhere deep in the mountains of the Spine. This fountain would grant wisdom to any who drank of its waters, but it would do so only once. Blueyes heard this tale and it did prey upon his mind, night after night, until at last he could not bear it more. He took his bow and his sword and departed early one morning, determined that he would find the fountain. And so began a search that took many long years, and many adventures befell him along the way. Still, no matter how far he roamed he came no nearer to finding the object of his quest. Then one day he learned that he was not the only one who sought the fountain. Another elf was journeying with the same purpose as he – a dark elf from the North, with black eyes and black magic at her command. Tynyth Traeganni was her name, and she was both ambitious and cunning. She had been travelling as long as he, bent on finding the fountain and stealing its power for herself. When Blueyes learned of this, he travelled the faster, knowing that if she found the fountain before he did, it could bring ruin to his people. And at last he did find an old hermit who knew of it and who told him where he may find it. "But beware the treachery of Tynyth Traeganni," the hermit warned him. "She will not shrink from using lies and treachery to defeat thee, Lord Blueyes."

So Blueyes travelled on his way, day and night, stopping for neither rest nor food. He finally reached the place where the fountain lay, hidden in a secret glade in a forest. But he did not find it alone, for even as he set foot in the glade he saw Tynyth Traeganni enter it from the opposite side. She too was exhausted from her journey, but both of them ran to the fountain. They reached it at the same moment, and began to struggle together, each one bent on drinking the water first. They struggled for hours, neither one able to overcome the other, until at last they were forced to rest. For a day and a night they stayed in the glade, watching each other, neither willing to resume the struggle but neither one willing to leave. At last Blueyes said; "Traeganni, we cannot fight on like this. Wisdom lies in seeing when negotiation will work instead of violence. Then let us both drink, side by side, and let us both gain the wisdom of the water as one."

'Traeganni said; "I cannot trust you to do this, Blueyes. Therefore, let us both take an oath that we shall not deceive each other."

'Blueyes said; "I agree. We shall take oaths in the Ancient Language, that we may not break them." He laid his hand upon his heart and spoke an oath, binding himself to his word. When he had done, Traeganni did the same.

'"The oath is made," she said when this was done. "Now let us drink."

'They stepped toward the fountain, side-by-side, and knelt, leaning over its crystal waters. They each bent low to let their lips touch it, but in that instant Traeganni struck Blueyes in the face. He fell by the waterside, screaming in his agony, blinded by her treacherous blow. Traeganni then drank from the fountain and took its power for herself, but in the instant that she stole the wisdom of the fountain, one of her eyes burned out of its socket, and she wore a patch from that day forth.

'Afterwards she returned to her people, who hailed her as a hero and made her their Queen. As for P'aarthian Blueyes, he found his way home after many long years of trial and suffering, and when at last he was back in safety he told his people of the treachery of Tynyth Traeganni. So it was that Eragon, first of the riders, decreed that the dark elves were henceforth forbidden to come into their lands, and would never be allowed to become riders, for a rider's way is truth, and their race was now cursed for all time to tell naught but lies.

'But none of this could comfort P'aarthian Blueyes. He shunned his folk and walked alone through the darkness which the loss of his eyes had cursed him with, and for a hundred years he was alone in this darkness, seeking peace beyond his misery. And it did come to pass that he found a wisdom within himself, and on that day he made a prophecy. "No dark elf shall be rider, and no dark dragon shall bind himself to man or elf. But when a black egg be laid, upon a cursed day, and when dark elf and dark dragon form the bond even death cannot break, then will come misery and suffering upon us all. Then let the world beware, and night eternal fall…"

'Upon the speaking of this prophecy, Blueyes' sight was restored to him. His people declared it a miracle and made him their King, and he ruled them wisely for many centuries after that.

'But from the day when Tynyth Traeganni broke her oath, dark and light elf became enemies for all time. The dark elves were driven away into the North by Eragon and the new riders he led, and from thence they could never return, for they were doomed to be liars and oathbreakers all their days.' Brom fell silent. 'And that's the story,' he added.

Saphira laughed at him. 'You're a terrible storyteller, Brom. Did I ever tell you that?'

Brom did not smile. 'It's all true,' he said. 'It's in his blood. Did you know that?'

'What? I don't understand. Whose blood?'

'His blood,' said Brom. 'His father's name was Traeganni. Skandar Traeganni. He's got her blood. The blood of Tynyth Traeganni the One-Eyed Oath-Breaker. And his mother, Ingë Taranisäii of the Ancient House of Taranis. Taranis, enemy of Eragon the First Rider. The bloodlines of two traitors, brought together in an unnatural union.' He shuddered. 'And that became a rider. That half-breed freak with the blood of a tyrant and an oathbreaker in his veins. His inheritance is nothing but evil.'

'But he isn't,' Saphira said unexpectedly.

'What do you mean, Saphira? How can you possibly say that?'

'He isn't evil,' Saphira said again. 'How he was when we last saw him… that wasn't evil, not at all. There's still good in him. We both saw it.'

Brom shook his head. 'No. It was an illusion, Saphira. It's not the way someone looks and speaks, it's what they do that counts. And what he did is evil. What he's still doing.'

'But he spared our lives,' said Saphira. 'He let us go. He must have known we would go back to the elders and tell them what we knew, but he didn't kill us. He still remembers who he used to be. Some hint of the man we knew is still alive in him.'

Brom sighed and stared blankly out over the sea. 'That man is dead now,' he said. 'We both know that. He died when Laela did and the madness took him.'

'He should have died with Laela,' Saphira said softly. 'It would have been better for him. Better for all of us.'

'Some things should not survive,' said Brom.

In the silence that followed, the young rider blinked and rubbed his eyes. He had been on sentry duty for hours, having only arrived at Vroengard that afternoon after a long journey, and his exhaustion was beginning to tell. But he forced himself to stay awake regardless, determined not to disappoint his superiors.

The long hours of darkness had nearly ended, and by now dawn had just begun to pale on the horizon. The sky was gradually turning grey, and faint hints of pink showed at the distant line where it met the sea. Brom snuggled gratefully into his cloak. Soon someone would come to relieve him and he could go below and sleep at last.

And then the world exploded.

A massive crash shattered the eerie pre-dawn silence into a million pieces, and the parapet shuddered under Brom's feet. He staggered sideways, crying out in shock, but before he had even regained his balance, flames had suddenly billowed into the sky. He turned, reaching for his sword, and saw a massive crater in the roof of the dining hall below, edged with fire. 'What the-?'

Then came another crash, and another, thick and fast, and before he knew what was happening half of the fortress was ablaze. He turned in time to see a great red dragon shoot past the wall beside him and vanish into the darkness with a flick of its wings, and his shock finally receded enough to let him realise just what was happening.

'ATTACK!' he yelled. 'ATTACK!'

Saphira roared, again and again, sending her warning call out over the fort. Already other riders were rising into the air to attack the three who had suddenly appeared, circling overhead, nearly invisible in the gloom.

Brom realised his sword was already in his hand. 'Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods,' he mumbled.

'Stop that!' Saphira snapped. 'Get on my back, hurry!'

The sound of her voice recalled him to his senses, and he scrambled into the saddle as fast as his stiff limbs would allow him. Saphira took off out over the sea, circled around and rose as fast as she could, heading straight for the enemy riders. The sky was lightening all the while, and Brom could see them now. One dragon was brown, one green and one… one was dark red.

The name tore itself from Brom's throat. 'MORZAN!'

The red dragon's head turned toward them. On her back, the bulky figure of Brom's old friend raised a hand already haloed in ruby-coloured magic.

Saphira bellowed, the sound ringing with mingled fury and pain. Without pausing, without thinking, she lowered her head and shot straight toward the other dragon as fast as she could go. Idün saw her coming. She folded her wings and dropped out of the sky, heading straight for the blue dragon, her jaws opening to spit a lance of dark orange flame. Brom blocked it with magic and held on tightly, the wind tearing at him. He forced his head up, and saw Morzan even as Morzan saw him.

For a split second, the two riders looked each other in the eye. Then Idün and Saphira collided.

Idün's armoured head hit Saphira in the chest, shattering her ribs even as the blue dragon's foreclaws locked themselves around the base of her neck. Saphira let out an unearthly howl and fell backwards out of the sky, dragging Idün with her, as both Brom and Morzan tried desperately to summon their magic, hoping to somehow save themselves even as the ground rushed up to meet them.

Saphira hit the outer wall of the fort, back-first. The impact shattered her spine, and she fell limply onto the earth on the other side, landing on her side with one broken wing folded beneath her. But her claws had not let go of Idün's neck. The red dragon landed on top of Saphira, the force of her landing crumpling her armour. Saphira's talons punched straight through her neckplate and into her throat, and she screamed, blood gurgling in her throat.

Brom had been thrown out of the saddle and landed a short distance away. He did not get up.

Morzan's head had hit Idün's neck armour very hard, causing him to black out for a few seconds. Pain woke him up. He started upright, his heart skipping so fast it made him dizzy. Idün's pain reverberated through him, nearly overwhelming his senses, and he fumbled with the leg-straps, mouthing frenzied swearwords. When they wouldn't come free, he yanked his dagger out of its sheath and cut himself free, sliding sideways out of the saddle and down Idün's flank. He landed awkwardly, hurting his leg, but ran straight to Idün's head, ignoring the pain.

The red dragon lay on her front, propped up by Saphira's claws. Blood was running from the side of her mouth, but she was alive, struggling to free herself.

'Idün!'

Idün didn't answer. Her mind was a mass of confused animal instincts, all screaming at her at once, drowning her intelligence. She wrenched herself away from Saphira's claws with a horrible crunch of breaking bone and armour, staggered sideways and then collapsed.

Saphira did not move at all. She was dead, her chest one gaping wound edged with shattered ribs.

Morzan barely saw her. He climbed over the blue dragon's body and stumbled toward Idün, his hands outstretched. 'Idün… Idün… no…'

Idün turned her head to look at him and collapsed, sending more pain rifling through his body. He reached her and fell to his knees, so frightened he could barely think. Horrible gurgling and rasping sounds came from Idün's throat. Her wound gaped, so huge that Morzan could fit both his hands into it, scattering blood and torn scales onto the grass beneath her. One of Saphira's claws was still embedded in it, the white fragment just visible amongst the exposed flesh. Morzan took hold of it, ignoring the hot, sticky blood that immediately drenched his hands, and pulled it out.

A mistake. The instant the broken talon came free, more blood gushed out of the hole it left behind. Idün howled, and her agony surged through Morzan all the stronger, so powerful it made him dizzy.

But he didn't panic. He spread his hand over the wound and made himself focus, bringing his magic to the surface. 'Waíse heill.'

Red magic glowed around his hand and moved onto Idün, moving over the wound and haloing every vein and muscle. Slowly, painfully slowly, the wound began to heal. Morzan's heart beat faster. He opened his mental channel as widely as he could, and poured his magic out as fast as it could go. The red light brightened until the entire wound glowed with it. The bleeding gradually stopped, and the flesh began to repair itself, little by little, draining Morzan's energy. A scar formed, and at last the pain stopped and he could withdraw his hand and close the channel again.

Morzan blinked. Everything looked grey. '…Idün?' he managed.

'Morzan? Morzan!'

Morzan squinted at Idün's concerned face. 'I can't… see…' he said, and slumped onto her neck, unconscious.

As Idün tried desperately to get up, a roar came from overhead. Even as the red dragon gathered her legs beneath her, she looked up and saw something that made her blood run cold – a massive white dragon, flying over Vroengard. Coming for her.

'MORZAN!' she screamed.

Too late.