Sorry for the long wait in-between chapters. School has been keeping me busy. But that won't be a problem anymore because 'What time is it? : Summertime!' (I apologize for the cheesy High School Musical reference).
Hope you enjoy this chapter.
Walker had no idea how many times he had sung that nursery rhyme in the next couple of days. He had lost count somewhere near thirty. Everything somehow reminded him of her. And every night he would miss at least one hour of sleep after waking up from one of his nightmares.
Ingothold was very helpful during those long midnight hours. The little dragon would run crazily all through their tent, bump into Walker's legs, and would reach into his rider's mind and call his name over and over again through their connection. While Ingothold's antics were annoying, they did help distract him. But the thing that he did that helped Walker the most was merely being with him. Someone's presence, especially someone Walker was close to, was very comforting.
During the day, Walker and Ingothold would spend their time with either Vesta and Eridor or with Thomas, but never at the same time. Vesta and Thomas despised each other and Eridor backed his rider even though the dragon didn't seem to dislike Thomas like Vesta did. One day Walker had asked Thomas when was the last time he and Vesta had had a proper argument-free conversation with each other. His reply was, "The last time a pig flew." The answer hadn't made any sense to Walker but he didn't try asking again because he assumed that he would get an answer that was even more quirky.
Vesta still forced Walker every day through the brutal physical exertion of sword-fighting. The exercise was so tortuous that he thought it should be outlawed. It made every move he made extraneous beyond being able to be rated. She worked him hard for about two hours without ceasing. In the morning he would wake to find himself as stiff as a board and having to have Ingothold half drag him out of bed. By the end of the day some of his muscles would have loosened up only to have the cycle start all over again.
When Vesta was away doing her duties, or 'training' someone else, Walker and Ingothold would spend their time with Thomas. The older man had a quirkiness about him that reminded Walker of a child. While they sat by the fire at night or were riding during the day Thomas would share his vast collection of stories. Some were about great historic battles with magnificent heroes while others were about red-eyed rabbits and other strange creatures that were so rare most people didn't even know they existed.
"Name any place and I can tell you with the entire truth that I've been there and back again," Thomas would always say. Walker named several places all of which Thomas had been to. He had been to Surda, Du Weldenvarden, Ellesmera, the Beor Mountains, Farthen Dur, across the Hadarac Desert, and to Hedarth.
After a few more names of places Thomas said, "Use your imagination. All of these places are in Alagaësia. I've been farther than the edges of the map."
"What about Vroengard?" asked Walker.
Thomas's face lost some of its normal childish joy. "Yes. I've been there too," he replied.
"Really." Walker's voice dripped with his surprise. He had thought that surely Thomas had never been there. "What was it like?"
"Grim," he replied in a tone that was the same as the description. Before Walker could ask any more questions, Thomas changed the subject to some red-eyed rabbits that he had seen while traveling on the eastern edge of the Beor Mountains.
That's strange. He jumps to talk about mysterious topics and Vroengard is one of the most mysterious things to talk about.
Very strange.
Walker turned his head to look at Ingothold laying across his shoulders as usual. That was the first time he had heard Ingothold say something other than his name with words. Ingothold was only a couple of weeks out of egg and had already grown a good deal larger and heavier.
You dragons grow quickly.
Of course. We can't all be alike, especially if we're different species. the dragon replied jokingly.
With each passing day Ingothold's mind grew rapidly more sophisticated. Ingothold told him that a dragon's mind matures even in the egg so when they hatch their mind is more mature than that of a human hatchling. They also pass their memories down to their descendants when the mother lays the egg.
What can you remember? Walker asked.
I remember several of Eragon Shadeslayer's and Saphira Brightscales's adventures. I can remember the creatures they saw, the places they went, and the people they met.
Was Saphira your mother?
Yes. By the dragon's tone Walker could tell that Ingothold was very proud of his mother.
Walker couldn't believe that a descendant of the great Saphira had chosen him to be his rider. Being picked as a rider had seemed unbelievable enough and this just added to its unbelievableness. He had always doubted that he would be a part of all of the great things happening in this world and yet here he was, a Rider.
I need to stop being in denial and start believing. It's not that unbelievable that I got picked instead of Abigail. The next thought he was careful to keep from Ingothold. I wonder why he chose me instead of her.
"Where the waterfall goes . . . " he whispered.
In a couple of days they reached the city of Yazuac. The city was now inhabited with people that belonged to a religious group called the Growers. The Growers had never mixed easily with people of another religious background and had decided that they would find their own reclusive city. They traveled north until they came to the ruins of Yazuac and rebuilt the city from the ruins. The Grower's religion was centered strongly upon the renewal of life and the preserving of nature. They got their name from their ability to grow magnificent plant life from any type of ground. Some believed that the founders of the religion had based it upon the religion of the elves that they had met during the war against King Galbatorix.
From afar Yazuac looked like a wild out-of-place jungle in the middle of a sea of plain grass with a river disappearing under the tree canopy and reappearing on the other side. If one were to look more closely, they could just be able to make out small log cabins and low buildings scattered randomly throughout the jungle out of the trees' ways. The buildings were built with a unique architecture that involved having the buildings built off of the ground on high foundations so that they could move the buildings if they were in a tree's growing path. When a tree root would grow and lift the ground around the building the owners would tilt the walls and floors so they would be level with the ground but not the foundation that had been moved by the roots. Actually moving the building elsewhere was something held off until a worse case scenario. As long as they were preserving the nature around them, the Growers were happy.
The entire landscape was astonishing to Walker and Ingothold, but what was more surprising was how welcoming the Growers were to the outsiders. The people crowded in the streets, which were more like widened dirt paths, to see them as they rode by. They applauded and cheered. Ingothold loved the attention. The dragon would flap his wings and make deep rumbling noises from his throat. He hummed with pleasure. Walker couldn't help but to be embarrassed. But the more he looked at the crowd and their smiling faces the more he couldn't help but smile along with them.
"Don't let them fool you," Thomas told Walker.
"Why would they be fooling me?" he asked.
Thomas looked away and mumbled something that sounded like "not here" and said no more.
I bet Thomas is just being superstitious like he always is. said Walker to Ingothold.
He usually isn't this serious when he is in one his superstitious moods though. replied Ingothold. And quiet too.
Well, all of the stories do say that the Growers are supposed to be very reclusive, not welcoming.
Have they been known to be violent?
They don't believe in using violence under any circumstances. They don't even execute their killers.
Then they can't hurt us. Ingothold stopped showing off and drew back closer to his rider.
There is more than one way to hurt a person. Abigail thought me that. said Walker.
Ingothold looked up at him and started to sing the song and Walker joined in.
They kept singing the song until they came to the Mayor Mansion. The Mayor Mansion was the largest building in the city. It was used for great social and legal events and was the residency of the city's mayor and his family. The building was covered in a thick green vine so it looked like it grew up out of the ground rather than being made of wood just like the rest of the city. It was five stories high and covered around 8 acres with dining halls, bedrooms, hallways, studies, and indoor gardens. Without the most luxurious building materials the Mayor Mansion still managed to look beautiful in its naturalness.
The current mayor, Saint Augustine (like the type of grass), with his small entourage of his family and other high standing men of the town stood waiting on the front steps of the mansion. Rhylite, who led the company, got off his horse and he and Saint Augustine bowed to each other in greeting.
"Sir Rhylite," said Saint Augustine.
"Saint Augustine," replied Rhylite.
"Welcome to our city." Saint Augustine threw his arms wide motioning to the city around them. "This is only the second time in my life that we, the people of Yazuac, have been graced with the company's presence as they travel to Ilirea. The first time was when I was a little boy, no more than three feet tall, and the company took shelter with us from the fierce lightning storm, Elmer. We extended our atypical hospitality then and we shall do so now."
Saint Augustine must be around sixty years old. The company should have visited here more than twice in his life time. The company should have come here, like with every other city, several times to present an egg and they should gain Yazuac's hospitality automatically, not because of a storm. Walker said to Ingothold.
Maybe that's part of what Thomas is refusing to tell us in front of the public, replied Ingothold.
Maybe. Walker stole a glance at Thomas. The man, obviously indifferent toward the conversation, was using a knife to clean his fingernails. A few yards in the background, Vesta was glaring at Thomas and then she looked away.
Walker tuned back into Rhylite's and Saint Augustine's conversation.
"Who are the new dragon and rider?" asked Saint Augustine.
"Walker Moransson and his partnered dragon, Ingothold." replied Rhylite.
Rhylite turned back toward Walker and Ingothold and beckoned them down with a hand. Walker stayed still.
Well, aren't we going to go down there. inquired Ingothold.
I. . .I. . .
"Um, em." Thomas cleared his throat to get Walker's attention. He jerked his head toward Rhylite and the mayor. "Get up there," he grunted.
Walker's mouth was dry. His body went numb. He did not remember dismounting his horse or walking over to them but the next thing he did remember was that he was standing in front of them having Ingothold coach him through their connection on how to walk and continue breathing. Having so much attention on him was terrifying.
Saint Augustine extended his hand out to him. Walker stared dumbly at his hand as his mind stayed a complete blank.
I believe he is referring to one of your odd human customs of shaking hands. said Ingothold.
"Oh." Walker took the mayor's hand and shook it vigorously. He didn't realize that he had talked out loud until he looked up into their faces. His own face grew hotter than your tongue when you eat a whole mouthful of hot chili peppers.
"It is nice to meet you, Walker Moransson," said Saint Augustine. He opened his mouth to say more but then stopped and closed it leaving Ingothold unaddressed.
Well then. pouted Ingothold.
"It is a pleasure for both me and Ingothold to meet you, also," Walker replied. On the surface the comment was the right polite thing to say but Ingothold was satisfied by it on its deeper meaning.
You may be shy, Walker, but you do have your moments. said Ingothold.
He may not have gotten it. said Walker suddenly ashamed of his comment.
I hope he did get it.
You're much too sure of yourself to be paired to me.
Maybe I'll rub off on you.
I think not.
Food. It was no flat bread nor stale squirrel meat. It was freshly baked loaves of bread, pies, fruits that squirt gallons of juice into your mouth, and medium rare steaks with lots of fat and spices sprinkled on top. Walker's and Ingothold's mouths watered at the mere smell that drifted all throughout the mansion. Going from motherly homemade cooking to stale travel food was harsher than people suspect. And now the mayor of Yazuac was holding a lavish banquet for the company serving what looked to be the best food ever placed on this earth.
Walker and Ingothold stuffed themselves with that food. The servants had dragged a stool up to the table by Walker's seat so Ingothold could eat at the table too. They took no part in the conversation at the table nor paid attention. An hour later they laid back into their seats stuffed to the breaking point.
Now that's some good food. said Ingothold.
It's so good I want to keep eating but I can't. replied Walker.
Ingothold moaned in agreement. His stomach was so full.
I think it's time we should go to bed. said Walker.
I agree.
I won't be able to carry you on my shoulders though.
They both slowly got up, excused themselves, and left the banquet hall. As they were traveling down a hallway toward the sleeping chambers, they heard Rhylite's voice. His voice sounded so near he must have been right around the corner. He sounded very angry and like it was painful to keep his voice from forming into a full out yell.
"I don't care if she's the sister of a Rider!"
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