Brisingr and Támerlein clashed with an almost silent ringing noise and then withdrew and met once more in less than the time it took to blink. The blue and green blades moved faster than even a dragon's eye could follow, becoming visible only for a split second whenever the blades collided.
Eragon and Arya danced around one another, both of them taking full advantage of the environment in Arya's recreation room. They lept off of outcrops, pillars, benches, and anything else they could in the seemingly random layout of the room. Their respective dragons curled together at the outskirts of the area, watching the proceedings. Saphira was struggling to stay awake, her eyelids drooping shut every couple minutes, only to snap back open immediately. Fírnen, on the other hand, was watching them intently.
After several more blurred parries and attacks, Arya finally landed a hit on Eragon, the magically blunted blade sending him flying across the room.
Saphira snorted at him.
Would you two stop courting and mate already? Fírnen and I both agree that this is being drawn out for far too long.
You know that we aren't courting, Saphira. Not right now, at least.
Right.
Eragon stood and faced Arya again, but suddenly, a grimace appeared on her face. She held out her palm to him, signaling to stand down. She began singing a spell.
"Letta oth du söngr eka gala. Gath nosu, gath nosu, gath nosu, gath nosu…" (Stop with the song I sing. Join us, join us, join us, join us…)
Arya's grimace grew, and Eragon felt a pang of concern. He noticed Fírnen's mind brush against his, and he allowed contact.
She is enacting upon a spell set up by Nasuada's magicians. Her most trusted gain access to some of the magical power of the other magicians under the contract, but only are supposed to use it in emergency. Arya has taken this drain upon ourselves, for it is too strong for any others to handle. If needed, will you lend us your aid?
Of course. But can this spell kill her? Transmitting power over great distances is inefficient and could be deadly.
He felt a swell of agitation in the dragon.
If I thought it was unsafe, I would stop her. For your information, she is transmitting the power through a network of every living thing between herself and the recipient. Have you ever known Pi- Arya to act recklessly with magic? Know that she is far wiser than you, Eragon.
Saphira nipped at Fírnen, offended, and her mate ended the contact with Eragon but remained angry with him, judging by his glare.
After a couple seconds of silence, Eragon asked Saphira:
What was Fírnen about to call Arya?
He felt a flash of amusement from her.
You aren't supposed to know this, but it was he who slipped, not I. He was going to call her "Pine", his nickname for her because of her scent. She calls him "Fir" in return.
I'll keep that in mind.
He saw the tips of Arya's fingers go pale, and he decided it was time for him to help. He was able to contact the Eldunarí through Fráskila's heart of hearts, and asked for assistance from them.
With the help of the Eldunarí, he began channeling energy into Arya, a dull throbbing forming in his head as the magic flowed through him. Arya looked visibly better, and her chanting grew in volume. Umaroth contacted him.
Our energy is waning; unless we also use the second emergency store, we cannot continue for much longer.
If Arya was sustaining this spell with her own energy, then he knew that it must be very important; lives could be at stake.
Be prepared to use the second store.
At that moment, the drain ended, and Eragon broke the feed from the Eldunarí. Simultaneously, Arya thanked Eragon, and Eragon thanked Umaroth. Arya swayed a bit, but stayed on her feet.
"What was that, Arya? Fírnen told me that the store could be used by Nasuada's trusted magicians, but few spells can draw that much energy."
"That was a massive amount of energy, it-"
Arya took in a shaking breath and leaned against a pillar.
"It had already fully drained several lesser magicians before I had intervened. Whatever that spell was, I don't believe it was intentional. An overloaded ward, maybe? I'm going to check in with Vanir, see what he knows. "
She took in another breath.
"I made an exception in our wards for a mirror to him- it's not like we have to deal with Galbatorix anymore."
She led him back into a hallway, but when she walked into the room that he assumed was their destination, she froze. He walked in after her, curious as to what had surprised her. It took him a while to process the scene on the mirror in front of him, but when he comprehended it, he understood Arya's surprise.
There was a new Rider.
–
The Rider, who appeared to be an elf, lay unconscious against the foot of what he assumed was Vanir's bed. Broken egg shells were on his lap, and a newly hatched bronze dragon sat on his lap, nuzzling at his face. Eragon frowned, for Saphira had paid him almost no mind when she had hatched; what was the difference here?
He looked for a gedwëy ignasia on the Rider's hand, and once more struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. The man's right hand was palm down on the ground, and Eragon originally thought it looked like it was burnt, but realized with shock that it was covered in bronze scales. His fingernails had become thin and clawlike, shining pure white. Eragon noticed a strong glow emanating from under his palm, and assumed it was from his gedwëy ignasia. He was unsure how far the scales spread because of the long-sleeved robe the man wore, but he saw that his other hand was perfectly normal.
He also saw Vanir crouching next to the Rider, completely unmoving. His right hand was outstretched next to the Rider, clawed as if choking an invisible enemy, and his left hand was clutched in an upward position, a blade of some sort sprouting from the back of his hand, fresh blood running from the wound and down his arm.
"What is Vanir holding?" He asked Arya, though they both knew that there was a more concerning question to address.
"I don't know- the blade is flat and strangely shaped, but perhaps it was coated in poison? That may be why he is frozen."
Eragon nodded, and they sat there, contemplating for several awkward seconds until Eragon broke the silence.
"So- the hand."
"Any thoughts?"
"I've got nothing. You?"
"I might have something. Notice his robe, it bears the insignia of Nasuada's spellcasters, the Lam Abr Du Vindr. However, I do not recognize that man, for Nasuada has Vanir examine every spellcaster in her force, and I have access to the fairths that he made of them. I believe that I can assume the robe was stolen and used by this man, and he triggered a ward on it when he touched his dragon. If he tried to keep hold of the dragon while his gedwëy ignasia formed, and the wards kept him alive, that may explain the arm and the energy drain. No one has ever formed a bond for more than a moment and lived- although of the few that somehow survived an extra second or two of contact were more powerful, having gone through a rapid acceleration of powers- like you at the Blood-Oath Celebration. This could also explain his overly exaggerated elven features; because based on the shape of his face, he used to be human. If the growth in his powers has gone far enough to leave elves behind, far enough for him to gain scales, then he is likely to be far more powerful than any elf or other Rider. Of course, you should be able to easily defeat him with the Eldunarí, should he be hostile. If he's still alive, that is."
Eragon let out a deep breath, which he hadn't realized he had been holding in.
"That is quite the theory, but I think I can believe it. In any case, we need to get them here, but that will be a predicament. Saphira can't fly far enough, Fírnen won't want to leave Saphira, neither of us want to leave our dragons, and the Rider could overpower any elf we send there to run him back. He could be hostile, so we best not let him out of our sight. The only other option would be to wait until the Eldunarí have enough energy for a small door, which actually would be faster than the other options, now that I think about it. Alright; crisis averted, never mind."
"Then let us keep an eye on him through the mirror until the Eldunarí are ready. Do you want tea?"
–
Eragon sat against Saphira's neck, reading yet another book about the history of Riders. His hair, clothes, and skin were soaking wet with dragon mucus, but he tried to pay it no mind. Fírnen was still mad at him about doubting Arya, and had been directly breathing on him for the past couple of hours. Eragon knew dragons, and he knew he was being challenged; to leave or protect himself in some other way would be to submit, although he did cast a spell on the books he had with him to stop them from being ruined. He knew the whole thing was petty, but he refused to give in to the young dragon; perhaps it was Saphira's pride affecting him, but he didn't care- he would win this challenge. Arya had raised an eyebrow at him when she noticed what was happening, but understood and left it alone.
The hot, humid cloud of breath around him smelled strongly of rancid meat, blood, and smoke, and he didn't know if it was a male thing or a lifestyle thing, but Fírnen's breath was exponentially worse than Saphira's. He still held out, however, reading the books he had picked out and learning nothing new- nothing of use, anyway.
There was no change in condition on the Rider, either. They had moved the mirror into the common room, where Fírnen's massive cushion lay, but only Eragon and the dragons watched it; Arya had left to attend to matters of the state. The only interesting thing that happened in the mirror was the hatchling on the other side noticing them. Until it had seen them, it was sleeping on its Rider's chest; after it noticed them, it began watching them warily. Eragon felt bad for keeping it awake, but he couldn't change the hatchling's caution. On a more humorous note, when they had moved the mirror to the common room, the hatchling lost its balance and fell to the side, confused by the movement from the other side of the mirror. It had quickly regained its posture, but Eragon had almost dropped the mirror laughing.
They were currently trying to access Nasuada through a specialized mirror that connected to several other mirrors instead of just one. The thing was, she had to accept requests to connect to it, and she had not yet done so.
On the other side of the mirror to Vanir's room, the hatchling began crowing at Vanir, who had begun to mumble unintelligibly. His body remained frozen, but he appeared to be regaining control of his mouth. He moved it around a bit, testing his capabilities. When he was satisfied, he muttered a spell.
"Letta du eitr, skölir edtha fra eitr." (Stop the poison, shield me from poison)
Vanir then stood and pulled the blade out of his hand, the source of which was revealed to be a small, black rectangle with even more blades stuck from it in odd angles. By some unseen trigger, the blades retracted when Vanir plucked the box from his flesh. The elf threw it to the ground in annoyance, appearing quite embarrassed he had fallen for the trap. When the box hit the ground, it expired in a blinding flash of light, causing the hatchling to squeal and for Eragon and Vanir to be blinded for several seconds.
When the hatchling recovered from the shock of the explosion, it leapt at Vanir with a screech, apparently thinking he had attacked it and its Rider. Vanir easily sidestepped and caught the hatchling from behind, trapping it to his chest. It screamed again and bit at his hand; however, it encountered wards and soon gave up. Vanir faced the mirror, forgoing the elven greeting because of the circumstances.
"Eragon? When did you travel to Ellesméra, and why? Also, why are you wet?"
"I have created a spell to make a great distance none, to create a permanent door between two places. To answer your other question, Vanir, Fírnen has been breathing on me for the past couple of hours."
Vanir nodded, acknowledging him, though he still appeared confused as to why Fírnen was breathing on him. Dismissing his confusion, he pointed to the unconscious Rider.
"If you haven't discovered this by now, he is alive; I can hear his breathing. Also, he broke into my corridors without tripping any of my alarms, bypassed all of my wards, and paralyzed me with whatever that devious device was. He held it as a weapon, but when I took it from him, the poisoned blades came out. In addition, he must have broken into the palace first, and that is a difficult feat. I advise you to be cautious of this new Rider."
"Your advice has been noted. Right now, I am waiting for my energy to gather itself so that I may create one of my doors to there. I plan on traveling to the Hadarac desert and creating the door there; I have a vision for a forum of doors, a place where you can go anywhere in Alagaë- aesia. But that is aside from the point. If you will, would you retrieve some food for the hatchling and notify Nasuada that we are trying to reach her? The hatchling has never eaten in its life, I fear for its health."
Vanir nodded and placed the motionless hatchling on the ground. It tried to attack him again, but he grabbed it by its snout, holding its mouth shut until it gave up again. When he released it this time, it forlornly returned to curl up on its Rider's chest. Vanir then quickly left the room, shutting the door behind him.
Eragon sat in silence, abandoning the book he was reading in favor of trying to remotely comfort the downtrodden hatchling. Speaking soothingly did nothing but cause the hatchling to stare at him and Fírnen to laugh at him. Eragon tried to think of another approach but was unsuccessful initially, until he caught sight of Brisngr in its scabbard. He had previously discovered that the control over fire that it granted him was not affected by distance, but he did not know the limit on it, if there was one.
He unsheathed the sword and held it, pointing upwards, in front of him.
"Brisngr!"
Blue flames leapt to life on the blade, glowing ethereally in a way that mundane fire could not. This got the hatchling's attention, it stared at the fire in wonder. Inhaling deeply, Eragon focused on an unoccupied space in Vanir's room and imagined that he was placing heat and energy there as he exhaled. Blue fire appeared and hovered in the air of that space, but Eragon felt only a minuscule drain on his magic, creating and sustaining the fire took no more energy than walking.
The hatchling shifted its attention to the new flame and chirped, as if trying to communicate with it. Eragon shrunk the flame down to the size of a sparrow and, twitching his fingers, made it flit around the room, remembering a game he would play with Saphira when she was younger. He had attached a bundle of leaves to some yarn and swung and moved it around after noticing that she enjoyed chasing around the bugs and squirrels that were unfortunate enough to wander into her nest.
The hatchling watched the fire, transfixed. Its tail began to thrash, and Eragon knew that his plan was working. He lowered the temperature of the fire to be safe for the hatchling and then allowed it to wander within range of its paws. When the hatchling swiped at it, Eragon caused the flame to flee, and the young dragon gave chase. It chased the fire around the room unrelentingly, and Eragon chuckled, for he found the activity quite amusing. They played the game for several minutes until Vanir returned, and by the end of it, cotton was sticking out of the slashes covering Vanir's mattress and the ground and walls were decorated with deep marks from the hatchling's claws.
When Vanir walked into the room, Eragon allowed the hatchling to catch the fire and extinguished it as the newborn tried to swallow it. Vanir looked around his room, perplexed by the destruction. He quickly dismissed it and set the plate of diced meat he was holding down on the ground, stepping away from it with poorly masked disgust.
The hatchling looked at the meat warily and walked up to sniff at it. It then looked at Vanir and crooned, shying away from him. Understanding that the hatchling believed that he owned the meat, Vanir walked to the far side of the room. When the hatchling still hesitated, Eragon summoned the flame again and caused it to encase one of the pieces of meat. On reaction, the hatchling quickly snapped that piece up, and with its hunger renewed, it quickly set to work eating the other pieces.
Like Saphira had when Eragon first fed her, the little dragon gorged itself on all the meat it could, stopping only when its stomach could take no more. Afterward, it made it only halfway to its Rider before passing out on the floor, exhausted from the hard work of hatching and playing with the flame. Surprising Eragon with his kindness, Vanir picked up the sleeping dragon and placed it on its Rider's chest, where it had been trying to go. He turned to Eragon and questioned him.
"Why are you holding Brisngr in front of your face as if you were lying in your coffin? I can assume it has something to do with that fire that the dragon ate?"
Eragon laughed at his comparison and lowered Brisingr away from his face. He formed a thought in his mind, and a heatless blue flame appeared and danced around Vanir's head several times before dissipating.
"For unknown reasons, I can control fire innately while Brisingr is activated. Distance does not affect the ability."
"That is very interesting- it would have been quite useful in combat. Now, I prioritized feeding the dragon over finding and alerting Nasuada, so I will do that now. I also picked up that there is a bounty being set up for our new Rider, apparently he escaped from the dungeons."
Without waiting for a response, Vanir strode out of the room once more.
Almost immediately after this, he felt another presence contact his mind, and Umaroth's voice sounded in his head.
Our third emergency store is halfway full, so you have about six more hours to wait until it is both refueled and has enough energy to spend for your door. You should begin leaving for the Hadarac desert soon if you wish to create the door as soon as possible.
I will. Thank you for notifying me.
Standing, Eragon turned toward Fírnen's head, which was still pointed at him.
"If you would be so kind as to end your challenge, I have more pressing matters to attend to."
If the matters are so pressing, why don't you submit?
"My status is higher than yours, and you cannot take advantage of serious circumstances to win a challenge you initiated."
From what he knew about Fírnen from Saphira and Arya, which was substantial, he knew the dragon was a prodigy in law, so he could assume that the dragon would not break an established rule.
Serious circumstances according to whom? If you believe the circumstances to be more important than winning this challenge, then submit. Personally, I do not believe your circumstance is more important than my challenge to you, so I will not submit because of this.
Eragon froze in thought- he had already been outmaneuvered. He could think of no rebuttal that couldn't be immediately destroyed, so he sighed, about to submit. He then heard a growl from Saphira, and looked over to see that she had taken Fírnen by the neck with her mouth.
And you will submit to my challenge. You will submit to both of us.
Having no desire to disgrace his mate, and being physically unable to escape to escape her hold without risking serious injury to her or himself, Fírnen submitted. She released him and began licking at the small puncture wounds she had inflicted.
Eragon privately thanked Saphira and cast a quick spell to remove the collected dragon mucus from himself.
He gathered Vanir's and Nasuada's mirrors and stood.
"Fírnen, I will need you to carry me to my destination in the Hadarac desert, and back with the new Rider. I can't make the door from here to the desert without wasting energy I might need for containing the Rider."
Fírnen narrowed his eyes. He had known of the plan from Arya, but he had not shown his displeasure with it enough earlier, apparently.
Of course, ebrithil. (Master)
"You can't speak in the ancient language unless you believe it, nemandi." (Student)
Fírnen's eyes widened for a second, then narrowed again as he growled.
"I am going to find Arya to bid farewell, and then come back here to depart; peel yourself from Saphira and get ready."
Eragon left down the hall and descended down the countless stairs to the courtroom, where he knew Arya was. The steps had been carved through the center of the plateaued mountain to the courtroom, and they were guarded with so many wards that Eragon felt his extremities tingle with every step he took.
When he reached the courtroom, the monologue in the room ceased, and the elves inside twisted their hands over their chests in respect. Arya, from atop the throne of the courtroom, initiated a greeting.
"Atra esterní ono thelduin, Eragon Shadeslayer."
"Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr, Arya Dröttning. I have come to tell you that I am departing now."
"Sé du vindr waíse äthr onr bak." (May the wind be on your
"Fírnen? Time to go."
Take precautions with the new Rider, little one. If he was in the dungeons, he was a criminal. He isn't going to change immediately simply because he is now a Rider.
I know, Saphira. I will treat him as a prisoner until he proves trustworthy, which may take a while. I'll be back soon.
He pocketed Nasuada's mirror and spoke a simple spell to transfer Varis' mirror to his own handheld mirror. He then leapt onto Fírnen's saddle and winced as Arya's slim seat crushed his more delicate parts. The saddle was smaller and slimmer than Saphira's, but it was more padded- perhaps it was even enchanted for softness. The softness, however, did little to relieve the uncomfortableness of it. He strapped his legs in with some difficulty and patted Fírnen on the side, making a comment to Saphira.
Jealous?
I would be, but that tiny saddle you have to sit in balanced it out. Being a female, I don't have to worry about being struck in the crotch, but I have the misfortune of feeling it whenever you are. You will be feeling that for your whole trip, so have fun.
Eragon huffed at her, and shifted uncomfortably. She was right, this was going to hurt.
"Let's get this over with, Fírnen. Ready?"
Fírnen's mind contacted him.
Yes.
Eragon knew that this would be Fírnen's first time away from Arya, and he hoped that he would be able to help him through it. Of course, if Fírnen was still mad at him by that time, he would have no chance to even talk with him.
Fírnen walked through a dragon-sized hallway to a take-off point, and dropped off the edge of the cliff, spreading his wings. When Fírnen's wings caught the air, Eragon tried not to groan as pain shot up his abdomen and down his legs. This saddle was not working. He immediately wished he had just swapped out Saphira's saddle for Fírnen's, but his spines stuck out straighter than hers, and it might have damaged the saddle to try and force it on past them.
"I know you may still be angry at me, but can we move past that? I did not mean to insult Arya, I apologize for being careless with my words."
Fírnen was unresponsive for a moment, and then replied.
I forgive you. I believe that the anger I felt towards you was not all from you, I am angry at many people at the moment, but I cannot express that due to my political standing. You became an avatar for those angering me when I took offense.
"Thank you for telling me that. Now, this will be the first time you will lose touch with Arya, based on what Saphira has told me. It's still not easy for Saphira or me to be apart, the times we have done it before have been out of pure necessity, but this is also necessity. It may not be as dire, but separating for a little bit is the only solution for this. At least it will be for less than a day."
I believe that I can handle it, the main thing that I am worried about is being taken by surprise. As you said, I have never been disconnected from Arya, and I worry that it may catch me in a way that I could not prepare for. I do not know what it is to be alone.
Eragon frowned. When he and Saphira separated for the "first" time, Saphira already had experience being alone from her hatchling years, when he had to leave her in the forest. Fírnen had literally never been apart from Arya, the sensation would be foreign to him. As they rose, the wind currents of the altitude made Eragon's voice hard to hear, so he switched to telepathy.
I will try to help you manage. Has Saphira shared with you her mind-state of being parted?
Yes, but imparted memories do not have the same effect as experienced memories. The memories will help, but my apprehension remains.
Then let us hope for the best- the worst thing that could happen is you dropping out of the sky, and I can fix that. I've never heard of a dragon going insane after voluntarily separating from their Rider for a short time, so that won't be a problem.
Fírnen was silent, and they flew for several minutes before Eragon felt his connection with Saphira become strained. He knew that Fírnen's connection with Arya was weaker than his and Saphira's due to their longer partnership, so he patted Fírnen on the side.
If you wish, I can form an artificial connection with you to help fill the void.
He felt a flash of surprise from Fírnen before his mind focused again on grasping at his dwindling connection. Eragon would not have given that proposition to any other dragon- the fact that Fírnen was both Saphira's mate and Arya's dragon was the only reason Eragon felt close enough to him to offer that. He felt Fírnen shudder under him, and his mind radiated grief and agony. Eragon inferred Fírnen's connection had broken; regardless, the dragon kept a stable flight. Fírnen closed his eyes as he flew, and once the agony had subsided enough for him to think cohesively, he contacted Eragon.
I will accept your offer, thank you.
Eragon inhaled- even with his relations to Fírnen, he had almost hoped the dragon would decline; it felt blasphemous to connect at this level with a dragon other than Saphira, but Fírnen needed the comfort. He had cleared the possibility earlier with Saphira, but he couldn't help but feel guilty.
Eragon felt his own connection with Saphira dwindle, and uttered a farewell before cold loneliness surrounded him. He then took the basic telepathic connection with Fírnen in his mind and, following memories from the Eldunarí, widened the connection until the voids in both of their minds were filled and he could feel the burn in Fírnen's wings and the nuances of his thoughts.
The connection felt both familiar and alien simultaneously, the difference between Saphira's mind and Fírnen's was much more dramatic then he had expected. Fírnen's thoughts changed topic frequently, and he seemed to be thinking about several things at once; bolts of thought split at every decision and converged again only once every possibility had been evaluated. In contrast, Saphira's mind was fluidic; it flowed in a strong river of thought that occasionally crossed into the forefront of her mind like water lapping at a shore. Fírnen's mind disoriented Eragon, but he steadied himself and tried to adjust his mind to the foreign infrastructure of thought.
As he adjusted, he felt more emotions and opinions of the dragon surface; Fírnen felt guilty in the same way Eragon did, but was glad for the accompaniment. Slowly diminishing agony suffused his mind, and Eragon could feel hundreds of anxious possibilities run through the youth's thoughts, envisioning every possible danger Arya could face in his absence. If Fírnen had remained in his misery for the duration of the trip, Eragon believed that it would have left him with irreparable damage.
Noticing Fírnen's anxiety, he was almost humored by the protective stance the dragon took over her. Fírnen had never seen Arya cut down hordes of Urgles within seconds, or kill the most powerful dragon alive with an ancient spear. He also saw worries for Saphira among his thoughts as well, and this time, he couldn't stop himself from laughing aloud at them. Saphira fainting mid-flight and impaling herself on a tree was likely the most improbable scenario he had ever heard of; she would die of wounded pride before the tree could even get to her.
Fírnen gave him a dry look, something all dragons were capable of, apparently.
She's pregnant. Anything could happen.
She could be pregnant, bleeding out, and carrying the population of Ellesméra on her back- she could still deal with half of your perceived threats by herself. The other half of the scenarios are too improbable to ever occur, period. And about Arya: she is equally as capable, and you know it. You may not have experienced it yourself, but you needn't, you have the information from her memories; both Saphira's and Arya's, actually. I don't understand your thought process here.
Fírnen hummed softly, but didn't respond immediately. After a while, he finally spoke.
I don't believe my worries are all logical, but it doesn't stop me from feeling them.
I see. Do you think being with Saphira will help you get past it?
It's helped a little, but our egg gives me so many more things to worry about.
Let Saphira worry about you two's egg, she's capable. I understand that you have worries about them, but try to focus on something else.
Like what?
How about.. Think about what things you have learned that you want your hatchling to know.
He felt Fírnen's mind take on the new subject, and it started to feel like the bright and happy mind Eragon had known before.
Smiling, Eragon leaned back in triumph; regretting it when he drew Fírnen's death glare.