Frelsa nervously felt the skin on her left arm. The cut was gone, but tingles and shivers still raced up her arm. The sight of the cut, flesh hanging slack, muscle underneath gleaming in the werelight, still haunted her.
Urgh, you know for a Rider, you are very squeamish, Kalla grumbled as they followed Eragon.
She knew she should be used to it, being a Rider for as long as she had been, but the sight of wounds, bright and red, always made her wriggle and squirm in her flesh, especially if the wounds belonged to her.
They trailed behind Eragon and Saphira as they made their way up a flight of stairs, as wide as the tunnels. The stairway rose in a gentle slope, the steps wide enough for Saphira to step on. Frelsa and Kalla trailed behind.
"You cannot disregard our warnings as such, Frelsa. We cannot afford it," Eragon spoke.
She answered confused, "Why? We got past didn't we?"
"We did, but by the skin on our teeth. A second later, and the Fourth Guardian would have claimed us."
"Okay, Ebrithil, I'm sorry." She would never have normally been so rude, but she was tired and bitter, regretting ever thinking about following Eragon on this journey.
"Do not disregard me, Frelsa," Eragon replied calmly, somehow able to read her emotions without looking at her. "I do not say this for your sake, but for Kalla's."
"Huh?"
"You can lower your arm and let the whip fall upon your back, but never upon the child who watches."
Frelsa rolled her eyes. Riddles? Seriously?
He means, little one, Saphira explained, is that you can do anything any number of times if it harms you and you can bear the pain, but never do anything that could bring harm to one you love.
She remembered the gashes on Kalla's back, the hot, thick blood flowing over the green scales. "Yes, Ebrithil."
"Do not 'Yes, Ebrithil' me!" Eragon said, voice rising to a shout. She faltered, staring in shock at him as his voice echoed around the stair well. Frelsa heard him breathe deeply.
"I had made the mistake before, and would never wish that pain and guilt to befall someone else," he said, voice soft.
"Ebrithil?"
She saw him rub a scar on his lower right arm. "There was once a man I knew, he was my family. His name was Roran Garrowson."
The name seemed familiar. Kalla spoke, A man who built a castle in some valley I think.
"This man was my cousin, and closer than a brother. I told you how the Danger works upon those closet to them who keep his prison? When I found this island, I wrote to him every week, sending the letters to him by magic. But thirty two years, four months and nine days ago today, marked the ninth week I had forgotten to write to him. Saphira begged me to do so, but I did not."
Eragon lay his hand on Saphira's side. "He was fraught with despair, and took the first ever ship to this island to find out what had happened to me. I saw the ship from afar, and took flight to meet them. I saw him, standing on the schooner's deck, waving his hammer at me. The Danger let me see that much of him, before he took my brother from me. A giant Nïdhwal broke the surface and swallowed the ship whole."
Frelsa realised Eragon was sobbing softly. "He let me see that much, my brother's smiling face as he looked at me, before those jaws closed over him. A shard of glass from a shattered window of the ship found its mark deep in my arm. I removed the glass, but left the wound unhealed. As a reminder."
She felt the sorrow from Eragon and Saphira pressing down on her, threatening to crush her consciousness. He turned back and looked at her. "Do not make the same mistake I did. The smallest slight, will come back to harm you in ways you could never imagine."
They walked in silence.
Eragon halted before a pair of gates, spanning the length of the stairway. They were, like the gates in the courtyard, made of gilded obsidian, but there were no fine images carved upon it. No beautiful designs stretching its length. Just flat darkness.
"We have reached the end."
Faster, Errol!
Wind screamed in his ears, Shepherd pressed his body flat against Errol's scales as they shot up through the sky. The dragon followed the slope of the volcano as he rose. They made much better distance than their last trip due to the absence of a storm. Today the mountain was topped with a huge pillar of cloud, shielding the summit from view.
Drukjl was visible several metres to their left, sitting saddled on Dýrgrir as they flew on par with the human and his dragon. The ground fell further and further away as they shot up into the sky. The huge buildings seemed tiny from their perch and even the largest dragons were ants to them.
Shepherd had tried to think of a spell to give them air high up where there was none. His vocabulary of the Ancient Language limited his choices, hindering him to try and form a bonfire from two sticks. Eragon's policy had always been to use a smaller range of words to perform a larger range of tasks. In the end, he had settled on a weak, "Taka du vindr suiln nosu sé ǫnd." 'Give the air so we may breathe.'
Errol made a sharp left and continued straight up, the tips of a large oak nearly impaling them. Drukjl glanced at Shepherd and didn't bother to use breathe here where air was precious. The sky grows thin, you have the spell?
Got it right here, Ram. Few Urgals were fluent in the Ancient Language, or bothered to learn it well, save the shamans. Even the most talented magic users among the Urgal Riders wove spells with only four words at most. Anything above that was left to other races, or their own strength.
Shepherd, we are nearing 4,000 metres. Keep your spell ready, Errol reminded.
The vegetation on the volcano sides were growing sparser, replaced by flat expanses of black rock. No snow here, unlike the Beors.
Shepherd saw a wall of clouds moving towards them as they flew. If they wanted to reach the summit, they would have to pass the white wall. He caught himself gasping for air and readied to cast the spell. He looked towards Drukjl, who seemed woozy as he hung onto one of Dýrgrir's spikes. Ready, Ram?
Ready.
He closed his eyes, drawing on his magic. "Taka du vindr suiln nosu sé ǫnd!"
The tax on his strength was surprisingly large, but it seemed to work. He did not need to gasp for air, and Drukjl seemed to lose the feeling of wooziness, shaking his head to clear it.
Two-legs, so weak, Errol remarked. Can't even stand a bit of thin air.
Let's see if you say that when we reach the summit, Shepherd replied. Even dragons had their limits.
The huge pillars of clouds loomed over them, immaculate clouds so white that some parts seemed blinding. They came closer and closer, before they were devoured.
The clouds closed over their heads, and it was surprisingly dark within. The white façade was gone, replaced by grey darkness. There was only one patch of brightness where the Sun would be, the only marker to keep their course straight. Shepherd was pleased to find that the spell had formed a sphere of breathable air around them, shielding them from the moisture in the clouds. As the sphered passed through the huge puffs of grey it produced an interesting effect, causing tiny droplets to appear on the edge of the sphere and race down the smooth sides in long tendrils of water.
Ram, Dýrgrir, you guys there?
Still going up, Drukjl responded.
There was nothing in either direction but a wall of clouds, Drukjl and Dýrgrir were hidden from view, invisible in this grey world.
Shepherd heard a sizzle from the left, and turned towards the unexpected noise. On his side, moving just as fast as Errol, was a tiny blue spark that sped up alongside them. It seemed to hop and twist in delight. He stared at it for a moment before the spark sprouted limbs of energy, saluting him and disappearing into the clouds.
Strange things haunt this island, below and above, Errol remarked.
You getting philosophical on me, mate?
"There is nothing that can prepare you for what lies behind the doors."
Eragon placed one palm flat on the door.
"The Danger will try to ignite your fears, doubts and suspicions. But you cannot listen to him. Whatever happens, whatever you see or hear, you cannot fall to it. If you do…"
He did not finish his sentence, the silence making the statement that much more foreboding.
Eragon swung himself up onto Saphira's back as she reared up and forced the doors open. They swung surprisingly silently and easily, making barely a shuffle as the huge stones moved across the floor. Golden light flooded out and swathed them.
Are you ready for this? Kalla asked, looking at her Rider.
Not at all, Frelsa said even as she mounted her dragon. But screw it, let's go.
The two of them followed in the footsteps of their masters, entering the room.
She raised an arm to shield her eyes from the light, her eyes so accustomed to the dark of the tunnels. After a moment, Frelsa lowered her arm and dared to squint forwards.
They emerged into a large circular room several hundred metres in diameter, every corner of it illuminated in golden light. No cold grey stone, huge smooth walls of pearly marble rose on all sides, supported by golden columns. She looked up and the ceiling seemed an eternity's flight away. This room must stretch the height of the volcano. The floor was made of ivory, an intricate motif of strange luminescent metal depicting strange beings fighting among each other, spiralling outwards from the centre of the circle. The room was bare, devoid of anything not attached to the walls or floor.
There were four pale statues at regular intervals around the room, an Urgal, an Elf, a Dwarf and a Dragon. Each was hundreds of metres tall, the largest being the dragon, a giant ivory figure in the likeness of a mighty wyrm, every ridge on each scale painstakingly carved. The Urgal stood, straight backed, garbed in exquisite armour of steel and hide, or what counted as exquisite for Urgals, and had an axe in each hand. The Dwarf had a giant hammer and was almost completely covered in thick armour. The Elf had a long flowing cape of marble that swept before him, his armour like waves, each plate flowing easily into the next. He held a long sword which he pressed close to his side and a white helmet shielded his long, pale face. They all bore stoic expressions, sad and grim, staring down at them.
But what dominated the room lay in the centre. A grey sphere was suspended over the ground at the centre of the room, the motif covering the ground spiralling out from under it. The sphere was fairly large, almost twice the size of Saphira. It seemed alien, a huge grey tumour soiling the perfection of this ivory and gold paradise. This was where Eragon and Saphira made a beeline for.
"Wha… What is this place?" Frelsa asked in wonder as Kalla went forth, bringing them straight under the gaze of the four statues. She stared around the room with mouth agape. The larger than life statues loomed around them, staring down at the sphere as if sadly inspecting its surface. The golden light around them seemed to radiate from every wall, every stone, every inch of metal.
"This, is the prison of the Danger," Eragon replied, not even glancing at her. "Come, Frelsa, I've no wish to linger here."
"But this place…it's so…"
Beautiful, Kalla finished, in equal awe of their surroundings.
Indeed it is, Saphira replied wistfully. But the most beautiful flower can bear the most toxic poison.
Kalla followed Saphira, and Frelsa decided to dismount and continue on foot to admire the motif on the ground more closely. She slid off her dragon's back and immediately cried out as her feet touched the ground. Even through the soles of her shoes she had felt an immense heat emanating from the ground. Frelsa scrambled back up onto Kalla's back.
"Be careful, the ground is hot," Eragon warned.
"You don't say, Ebrithil."
"Eragon, not Ebrithil."
Why didn't you warn me, Kalla? She asked in outrage.
I think our definition of hot is very, very different. She replied in amusement, glancing behind her at the Rider on her back.
Oh ha ha, dragon, Frelsa replied as she removed her scorched shoes to inspect her feet. Even down here, where their doom might be impending, Kalla still found a way to annoy her and amuse herself.
Why do you think the ground's burning? She asked her dragon as she nursed her burnt soles.
Could be anything. A prevention to stop those without dragons at their sides, a final hurdle, or maybe just a side effect of this room being situated within a volcano.
"Come, we must get this over with quick," Eragon called.
They made their way to the sphere. As they neared Frelsa noticed that the surface of the sphere was completely smooth, devoid of nicks or cracks. The grey object was composed of strange smaller circular panes of that grey material, arranged in an overlapping pattern.
They stopped before the sphere, Kalla some distance behind Saphira.
"I will now repair the bonds laid upon this prison, Frelsa," Eragon informed. "Do not believe what you hear from now."
Saphira twisted around to allow Eragon to get close enough to lay his hands on it.
"Prepare yourself."
He lay his hands against it and exhaled. Eragon closed his eyes.
When the attack came, it was fast. And powerful. A mental probe of huge, gargantuan might pervaded her mind so quickly she could not even try to raise her defences. She tried to lock herself and her prized memories away deep within but the probe was faster, scanning each memory, thought, secret she had instantaneously. The probe filled her consciousness, operating on a level of intricacy she would never believe possible, inspecting one thought then discarding it, moving to another.
Kalla roared beneath her, obviously in discomfort. Saphira and Eragon were silent, staring straight at the grey sphere, showing no signs of pain.
The probe stripped her mind bare, then went even further. It pulled out memories she had long forgotten, memories she did not even know she had. Glimpses of her past before the Riders, a past before she washed up on the shores of their island. A past she could not remember. But the memories locked themselves away just as quickly.
After an eternity, the probe deserted her. She felt discarded, each memory in a wrong place, each thought in a wrong niche, but soon her mind rearranged itself, forcing her every used and inspected section of her mind back into line. Kalla shook her head to clear it up. Eragon and Saphira remained impassive as ever.
"Ebrithil…" Frelsa asked, her voice sounding too hoarse, unlike her own. "What was that…?"
No answer came forth. Eragon's brow furrowed and his features grew agitated, eyes never once opening. Saphira's own bony eyelids slid shut.
Eragon cried out and fell flat upon Saphira's side. His hands became claw like and he gripped his dragon's blue scales in pain. Saphira herself roared and tried to dig her claws into the ivory floor. The golden light seemed to dull.
You're late, Eragon.
The ship tipped to and fro. Arya sat on the side of her bed and looked out the window at the sky, which had by now faded to darkness. A few fingers of red sunlight still grasped desperately at the horizon. She sensed Fírnen lounging in the night air on the deck.
A surge of humour emnated from him.
Arya, you should come up here. There's something quite amusing.
What is it? She asked, wondering if she had had any plans arranged for that evening.
Just come. It is very-
Arya could feel Fírnen stiffening, turning back towards the island as before.
Fírnen, its happening again isn't it?
I… do not know what you speak of.
Don't lie to me! Arya realised she had shouted that statement physically as well. I will not… cannot stand anymore lies.
Fírnen was obviously uncomfortable. I cannot. I have sworn in the Ancient Language not to do so.
Where have I heard those words before? She asked accusingly. Has everyone sworn to seclude me from this subject?
Silence.
She fell back onto her comfortable bed, smoothing out the folds in her evening gown.
If only the other Elves could see you now, devoid of all formalities and florid speech, Fírnen remarked humorously.
Arya knew he was trying to change the subject but humoured him anyway. They'd see an uncultured heathen.
They'd see you for who you truly are, Fírnen corrected. If they saw you how I see you now, then you'd be Queen of Alagaësia, and they wouldn't dare give you a title any less.
She chuckled and walked over to her mirror. The bowl of scented water was gone now.
I wonder how Eragon's doing? She thought to herself.
No! She had promised herself not to think of him. How he had not even told her what plagued him.
But he had sworn on the Ancient Language…
Where had the voice come from? It sounded so different, not the voice of anyone she knew, definitely not Fírnen.
You can help him, if you go to him now. Now…
So soft and persuasive, like a gentle wind blowing her in the right direction.
Arya, what is going on? Fírnen asked.
Go, Elf Queen, go save Eragon, before it's too late…
Arya, don't shut me out! He knew something was wrong. She did too, but could not bring herself to cut off that beautiful voice.
He was not keeping you in the dark, he was inviting you to help him. He could not reveal the secret until another has seen it, and who do you think this other will be?
Arya, shut out whoever speaks to you! If you don't I'll-
Troublesome little dragon. Fírnen's presence evaporated.
Arya called in alarm, Fírnen! Where are you?
Do not worry, Elf Queen. He shall wake when we have concluded our conversation.
She calmed down, almost against her will. Arya knew powerful magic was at work, but she did not stop it. She could not.
But how, how can I help Eragon?
Go to the island. Fly, Elf Queen. Your green dragon will wake in your presence, and you must both fly if you wish to save your beloveds.
But-
If you tarry any longer, Eragon shall perish, now fly!
The voice was gone. The world she did not know was gone returned, the rocking of the ship, the smell of the salt sea. Fírnen's presence reignited and he stirred sleepily.
Arya… what, what happened? Why did you try to shut me out?
He sounded betrayed, but she had not the time for a lengthy plea of forgiveness. We have no time to tarry, Fírnen. Get ready to leave.
She grabbed Támerlein and her saddle, rushing out the door.
Frelsa paled. She had not expected someone to speak to them.
"Be quiet," Eragon instructed the voice as he concentrated on whatever spell he was weaving.
Come now, Rider. We've been through this routine every month for what, sixty, seventy years? Drop the formalities, please.
The voice was calm, collected. But unlike any voice she had heard before, a certain lisp in it perhaps, like the voice was accented.
Frelsa is it? And this dragon, Kalla? Beautiful names. Beautiful indeed. Do you want to know mine?
"Hold your tongue!" Eragon commanded. She was not sure if he spoke to her or the voice.
So, Frelsa. How are you?
The voice seemed too relaxed, as if feigning serenity. As if it anticipated something. She was not sure whether or not to answer.
Trick question, I already know how you are. I already know how you were. I know everything about you. Every, little, secret.
Don't listen to him, Frelsa! Kalla warned.
And you, Kalla. You think you are safe? Any of you? Eragon brought you here, where you are far from protected.
Eragon's features furrowed even more.
He brought you here, to a being even he fears. He knew what havoc I could wreak on your lives, but still he brought you.
"Do not listen to him!"
He knows how dangerous it is here, before me. Yet he still brought you. Tell me why?
She did not know an answer.
At a loss? I shall tell you why.
"Speak not to her!"
You know his secret don't you? You know how weak he actually is, how unstable his feet are. You have seen him at his weakest.
Frelsa did not bother denying.
So you know how decrepit he is, and he still brought you to this hole. I wonder why?
He was not of stable mind when he made the decision, Kalla stated.
Yes, perhaps, but that shows ever more so how dilapidated he is. A shadow of a leader, resorting to drink in his spare time.
Because of what you wrought on him and me! Saphira snarled.
He brought you here, the voice now addressed Kalla and Frelsa, because he knew that you held his secret in your hands. A secret that could mean the fall of the Riders. A storm even the greatest of you cannot hold back. If you made a slip of the tongue then there would be panic. Mass panic. And the leader of the Riders cannot have that occurring on his watch now, can he?
The light seemed muted, as if the world had turned grey.
It is his duty to protect Alagaësia, at any cost, and ensure the integrity of civilisation. What better way to keep the secret in than to eliminate those who know it?
It paused, giving the young Rider and her dragon time to fully comprehend his words. Eragon had brought them here in hopes that the Danger would destroy them?
"Pay no heed to this snake, Frelsa," Eragon reassured.
Listen to him, the voice hissed in her ear. He is afraid that you have found out. That you know, and will be able to use that secret against him. He hopes I will destroy you.
"Silence!" Eragon shouted, the one word reverberating around the room.
But the voice seemed amused. So… protective of her. Perhaps more than a student, a lover? No, you already have one don't you.
Saphira snarled.
Excuse me, used to have. Such a strange occurrence, do you not agree?
You had a hand in it, didn't you? Saphira accused.
O-o-oh, I. Still. Do.
Eragon's eyes opened in shock. He murmured fearfully, "What have you done to her?"
You really shouldn't lose concentration, Eragon. This is a very delicate part of the spell.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?"
So fierce. Nothing much, perhaps a whisper in the ear, goading someone to return to this island, goading another to do something… else.
If any harm comes to them, Saphira warned.
Oh harm will come to them. The voice sounded almost gleeful. That you cannot change. But I have saved up my powers for months, just for this moment, to show you two, Eragon and Saphira, the extent of my magic.
The surface of the grey sphere rippled and colours bloomed across the surface, like when Frelsa had made her fairth. But instead of forming a still picture, the colours swirled and formed moving figures, like a scrying glass.
A beautiful Elven woman, she recognised her as Arya, was dressed in a white nightgown, racing up the wooden steps of a large ship and emerging onto the deck. They saw the scene from a point above Arya's shoulder. She carried a saddle in one arm and was buckling a sword belt and a green sword onto her gown.
"C-Cease this image." Was Eragon actually scared of what he would see? His eyes could not leave the moving image.
No.
The Big Green was stirring awake on the deck near the main mast. The only light was the light of the moon and stars and a few lanterns hanging at the corners of the ship. To the side a handsome male Elf reclined on a silk mat laden with candles and delectable dishes, mainly comprised of fruits. He shot to his feet the moment he laid eyes on Arya.
"My Queen! I had almost given up hope, but I knew you would partake in this meal with me!"
Arya waved him away. "I am sorry, Ilian, but there are matters that command my attention."
His face darkened slightly. "What sort of matters, My Queen?"
"Grave matters."
"Might they be connected to the island we have just departed?"
"How did you-"
He laid both his arms on the Queen's shoulders and held her firmly. "You cannot go."
Arya. You said we have no time to tarry, yes? So let's go! Frelsa did not know how she could hear Big Green.
"Let go of me, Ilian, or I shall have you punished." She spoke this stone-faced, as if tired of this buffoon's jest.
"No!" A mad light came into his eyes. "He told me that this would happen, you would try to go back. But there's a trap about to be sprung, and I cannot let you be caught in it!"
"Ilian, if you trouble me any longer I shall have no choice but to get Fírnen to-"
Ilian's arm jerked forward. There was a sickly 'scchuk' sound and he held the Queen close. "If this is what I must do to ensure your safety, then so be it."
Arya staggered back and looked down. Embedded in her torso, was a dagger. Blood leaked slowly out of the wound, carving a path for itself down the pale white night gown.
Fírnen roared. Fool! The dragon charged, each step shaking the deck and causing the ship's boards to creak suspiciously. The Elf merely pointed at the charging dragon and shouting, "Slytha!"
The beast inexplicably fell into a slumber, tumbling head over heels straight for the edge of the ship. Thankfully, Big Green slammed into the rigging which halted his progress. Several of the ropes snapped and the timbers holding some in place flew out, but the dragon bounced back onto the deck safely, his scales carving a thousand grooves in the wood.
Arya pulled out the knife which clattered to the floor. She held one hand over the wound and muttered a healing spell. Nothing happened, blood continued to flow.
"Ilian, this… this is treason."
"This is saving your life, My Queen. He told me." The Elf rushed forward to catch Arya as she fell backwards. "Do not worry, My Queen. He gave me strength to put Fírnen into a sleep and taught me to enchant this dagger and taught me how to stop the spell."
She struggled weakly in his embrace. "Ilian, do not assume you can murder your Queen and hope to survive the retribution brought upon you."
"No, no, no, He told me, He told me how to save you." Ilian spoke a spell whose wording was so long and complicated that its purpose escaped Frelsa. But still nothing happened to Arya's wound.
Ilian frowned and repeated the spell, carefully pronouncing every syllable. But still Arya lay dying in his arms.
"What? This… this is not supposed to happen! You tricked me!" He yelled at the dark sky. "You told me she'd be safe!"
The image faded back to grey. Eragon stared numbly at the space where it had once been.
Such sadness, my dear Eragon. You could save her you know. You have a multitude of spells in your arsenal, and there is one that can save her. One you know.
He did not answer, just close his eyes.
If you wish for her to live, you must go. Now. Forget the bonds, what use are they? I'll be free in a matter of time, so why bother? Go to your beloved.
Still no answer. Frelsa thought she spied a tear race down his cheek.
Saphira, you must surely see some sense? If Arya is lost, what will become of Fírnen? He will fade, lose the will to live, and you will lose your first and only mate.
Eragon and Saphira remained stoic.
Think, Eragon! The voice was desperate now. This will be your one chance to save Arya, do not was-
Everything seemed to slow to a standstill. Eragon relinquished his grip on the sphere and Saphira hopped away.
Yes… I knew that would work. The voice did not sound soft any longer, hard and triumphant. A single waver in strength and confidence. Thank you, Eragon.
The small circular panes that comprised the sphere began to whirr, filling the room with the mechanical noise. Saphira backed up. Eragon looked at Frelsa. "Run."
Kalla immediately turned towards the doors from which they had emerged, just to see them slam shut.
Oh no, little dragon. I want you to witness my return.
They broke through the wall of clouds.
Shepherd held on weakly to Errol. He was numb and cold from their flight through the clouds, and the spell was more costly to sustain than he had suspected. Each breathe now felt strained and laboured, but at least Drukjl, Dýrgrir and Errol seemed fine.
He would have loved the view if he was not feeling half dead. Huge plains of clouds forming fantastical shapes stretched out in either side, appearing almost blue in the starlight. The mountain rose up on their left, a huge dark behemoth, devoid of any snow despite the height. The reason was clear, patches of the volcano glowing like a furnace as lave flowed slowly down the sides before solidifying on its way down. There was an immaculate serenity up here, a world unblemished and with its most primal forces at work.
Errol, this spell, I don't think I can keep it up.
Idiot! Should've told me!
Immediately Shepherd felt a rush of energy from his dragon, renewing his strength and allowing him to sustain the spell for a while longer.
Drukjl and Dýrgrir were already circling the volcano, looking for the hole.
"Drukjl!" He called. The Urgal did not answer. Probably too far away.
Ram! Found the tunnel that Ulualeluthuluk or whatever talked about?
Nothing!
They swooped in. What did she say? North-East? Or North-West?
Just search the whole North face! Errol instructed.
They swooped around the side of the volcano, inspecting every fold of once molten rock for a tunnel. But their time was running out, and the search was going badly.
Found it! No wait, that's a mound of lava.
Shepherd, try and think before you open your mouth, please? Errol pleaded.
Shut up.
Errol swooped around. Dýrgrir was nearly invisible in this light, the moonshine barely sparkling off his brown scales.
Shepherd glanced behind and saw the blue spark man reclining against one of Errol's tail spikes, hurriedly disappearing once he had been discovered.
The brown dragon spoke, Uluthrek spoke of a tunnel, within a dimple?
Yes.
I believe I may have found it.
Errol raced to join him. Indeed, near the summit, was a depression in the rock, and within that depression was a tunnel dropping straight down.
So, Drukjl? Shepherd asked.
You sure it's right? Appears as a lava vent to me.
Errol growled. We've no time to waste. Kalla and Frelsa are down there nearing their 'doom' or whatever the fortune teller spoke of. I'll go in first with Shepherd.
But what if it is a lava vent?
Dragons are made of sterner stuff than you two-legs, and don't worry. I'll 'protect' you.
Errol backed up and began to tuck his wings in to dive down.
You diving down that thing? Shepherd asked in concern. He would much prefer walking down or something that would not risk his physical integrity.
Dosen't look big enough to fly down normally.
Yeah but what if-
Errol began his dive.
Screw you, Errol!
The wind whipped past Shepherd's face as he lay against Errol. The volcano face came up alarmingly fast.
Then, the sides of the hole drew together as smoothly as a dragon's jaws. The tunnel was gone, just a dimple left on the volcano face.
Errol hurriedly spread his wings, trying to halt his fall, but failed. Failure is actually an understatement, more of slammed straight into a pile of molten rock. Shepherd shouted in fear as tiny droplets of glowing red rock splattered around him, melting through his saddle. Thankfully, none of them touched his skin. The lava just seemed to slide off Errol's scales.
The grey dragon's head was buried in a pile of the burning stuff, completely submerged, and Shepherd was a little too close to the flowing rock for comfort.
Uh, Errol? Mind getting up? My feet are about to be burnt to ashes so could you kindly get out NOW!
Errol shrugged his whole body, threatening to make Shepherd slip off. He placed his forelimbs on the solid rock beneath the lava and pushed his body out, shaking his neck to dislodge any remaining particles.
Argh, don't do that, Errol, you might ruin my handsome face.
Handsome? Calling you handsome is like calling me a two-legs.
Dýrgrir flew over and hovered over them. The tunnel? What happened?
Errol took flight. Shepherd answered, It just shut on its own.
Uluthrek did say that we had only an hour to find and use the tunnel, Drukjl pointed out.
But they could not have taken that long, did they? The trip must have been quite short at the speed they had flown at.
We can't have failed. We can't.
The panes began whirring like gears, each one turning another. They spun so fast and began to move across the surface of the sphere.
"Frelsa, I can stall him for a few moments, you must make for the opening at the top. It leads to a side vent that opens every few hours, hopefully it will still be."
The sphere began to glow with heat.
"Y-Yes Ebrithil."
"Now go!"
Frelsa wrapped her arms around the spike in front of her and held on as Kalla made a near vertical flight up. But they'd barely risen a few metres before a force seemed to anchor Kalla to the ground, preventing her from straying too far.
Why do you want to leave? You cannot escape fate.
The force strengthened and yanked the green dragon back to the ground.
The sphere was no longer grey, now a white hot luminescent sun. The panes were so fast that they were a blur.
Eragon drew Brisingr and readied himself. Seeing no other option, Frelsa too drew her sword, and held Delswoir with trembling hands.
"Frelsa," Eragon began, "just-"
The sphere exploded. There was no loud flash, no burst of fire, just a booming 'whoosh' and the panes upon it flew outwards. One struck Frelsa above her right eye, the hot metal branding her skin.
A great light poured out from where the sphere had been. Not the soft, supple rays of the setting sun, this light was harsh, too bright and strong.
Frelsa did not dare look upon the light lest she be blinded, daring only to raise Delswoir and point it towards whatever danger lay within.
She heard a footstep, then another.
"Stay back, Monster!"
A hand reached out and gently brushed aside the green blade.
"Monster? Is that what they call us now?"
8-12-13
Sorry people that this chapter's coming so late, been very busy. Sadly, even the great coffee could not spur me to write at my usual standard. Wasn't able to make a 9'000, only managed a 6, unfortunately. I'll be on holiday the next week or so so chapter 7 will be coming late as well.