Alright folks, I'm back at it. I've got the rest of my story written and I will be editing and uploading on a regular basis. Here we pick up right after Eragon killed Galbatorix and follow along with him through the immediate aftermath.
Guilt. This was not the emotion Eragon should feel right now, and yet he couldn't fight it. The site before him stirred the blame he already felt and churned it into something he could not ignore. Through the crowd, there was a woman, middle aged with the first signs of graying hair, kneeling before a body. Her eyes were red and puffy and her body shook slightly with sporadic tremors. A few others around her were whispering comforting words, but to no avail. She stayed where she was, kneeling, holding a dead man's hand, ignoring all the commotion around her.
"Eragon?" Arya asked, noticing him starring through the crowd. The tone had hints of worry in it, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her. The pain was coming back to him all to fast. The hopelessness of watching the King torture an innocent. The numb ache of seeing his lifeless body fall to the ground. He could have stopped Galbatorix, he could have saved the man, but he had refused Eragon's help.
Eragon was barely aware of his feet moving him towards the woman. The crowds parted to let him pass. Some patted his back, while others offered words of thanks and appreciation, but he paid them no mind. His attention was on the woman, and the man she knelt next to.
I'm with you, little one. Saphira could feel his pain as it transferred over their connection. He didn't worry about shielding it from her. She would know even without their mental link. The sound of her footsteps could be heard coming behind him.
When he reached the woman, he slowly knelt next to her. She looked up at him, tears still filling her eyes.
"He's so stupid," she said. "Always worried about everyone else, never taking care of himself. Well what about me? How am I supposed to go on?" She put her face in her hands, new tears falling between the cracks.
Eragon put a hand on her shoulder, his guilt twisting in his gut like a hot knife. When she calmed down a little he spoke up.
"I want you to know something," he said. "When I was watching the King… watching him do…" The words were just not coming easily. Eragon cleared his throat and tried again. "I was desperate. I was in a bad place. I didn't see any hope, I didn't believe there was a chance." Eragon looked at the body. "When the King had him, I- I wanted to give in. It was too much to handle. I was about to swear myself, end the pain, and… and he stopped me."
Eragon took in a breath and looked the woman in her eyes. "He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. It was his look, he told me not to give in, to keep fighting. He just nodded at me and embraced his fate." Eragon paused, fighting to gain control of his emotions. Then he said softly, "He was the bravest man I'd ever seen."
The woman sniffled, and a small smile tugged on her lips. "He was so stupid," she said softly. "But that's why I loved him so much."
"What was his name?" Eragon asked.
"Jorn," she replied. "My name is Tresha."
"Tresha, if it wasn't for Jorn, we would not be talking right now. I can promise you that. I want you to know that I will do whatever it takes to return the gift he gave to me. I owe him that much at least."
"You don't owe him anything, Kingkiller," she said with a smile. The name sounded odd on his ears, a title that he never thought he would be the recipient of. "He would tell you that he wouldn't accept anything in return."
"I owe him everything. Since he has left you, I will make sure you are always taken care of. Please, let me do this."
She looked at him with a strange expression, but smiled nonetheless. "You are an extraordinary person, Kingkiller."
Eragon called some of the Varden soldiers over. "Take this man to the palace grounds, treat him with the respect and reverence you would treat me."
"Yes sir," they said in agreement.
"Kingkiller?" One of the men that had been comforting Tresha stepped forward. "If you don't mind, we would like to carry him." The men standing around him nodded in agreement.
Eragon nodded to the group in plain clothes, then looked at the soldiers. "Escort this group then. I'm trusting you."
"Yes sir!" They immediately formed up in front of the men who bore Jorn, parting the crowd for them. Eragon watched the procession as they made their way towards the Palace grounds. Tresha turned back one last time and mouthed a silent thank you to him.
Eragon could feel Saphira watching him from behind. He turned to look at her.
"I want to give Jorn the respect he deserves. I'd like to organize a funeral service for him when things settle down," he told her.
You would honor him well. He was courageous in the face of his death. That should be celebrated, she said. Eragon nodded in agreement.
Eragon was walking back to the center of the square when he saw an Empire soldier forced to the ground by Varden men after not dropping his weapon. The Varden men worked with gusto, no doubt emboldened by Eragon's victory, but the site didn't sit well with him. The soldier obviously saw their leader's defeat, why would they still be resisting?
The oaths of fealty.
Eragon needed to elevate himself. "Saphira, let me climb up."
Once on top Saphira, Eragon called out to the square.
"Varden soldiers! The Empire's forces are still under Galbatorix's influence; the oaths of fealty will not allow them to surrender. Go and bring them here. Let's end this fighting once and for all." The Varden soldiers that where in the square yelled in unison and then tore off out into the city.
Eragon hopped off Saphira and began scanning the crowd. Nasuada was talking with Murtagh not too far off. As Eragon made his way to them they stopped their conversation, although he could tell he was interrupting something.
"Eragon! Quite the rallying speech," said Nasuada, definitely trying to change topics from whatever she was discussing. Murtagh just glanced to his feet.
"Yeah, well that's actually why I came over here. When the Empire soldiers get here, I am going to release them from the sworn oaths. After that, it will be up to the Varden to decide what to do with them. And since you lead the Varden, I wanted to know your thoughts."
"Well we can't let them off, but at the same time they were all forced to work under Galbatorix." She looked at Murtagh when she said that. He just looked away. "I say, after the bonds of service are broken and they act on their own accord, we will judge them. Those who are repentant can be given tasks to help clean up and rebuild the city, allowing them to show their remorse with actions and not words. Those who resist will be treated as our enemies." The darkness of her tone reminded Eragon once again why she was the leader.
A wise decision, Saphira said from behind them. She was keeping an eye on their conversation and listening through Eragon. If any decide to fight, I'll gladly show them the error of their ways, she said with a snap of her jaws.
"I have to go check on Thorn," Murtagh said suddenly and walked off. Eragon, puzzled, watched his half brother disappear through the crowds. Some people quickly backed out of his way, giving him wary looks as he passed. Eragon looked to Nasuada for any insight but she just sighed as she watched him go.
"Is everything alright with him?" he asked her cautiously. He knew about Murtagh's feelings towards Nasuada, after all they never would have made it out of the throne room without his love for her. But what Eragon didn't know was whether Nasuada knew the extent of his feelings.
"I guess. Things are… difficult with him."
Eragon was about to probe further when something caught his eye. Arya was walking away from the crowds, face set in stone.
"Nasuada, I need to check something real quick," he said and went after Arya.
"Arya," Eragon said. She didn't turn around, walking with a determination that didn't bode well. "Arya," he said again. Determined to stop her, he jogged around and stood in her path, forcing her to stop. "Arya, what is it?"
She looked up at him. She was angry. That much was obvious. But there was more. He'd known her long enough to read through the surface emotions. She looked fierce, like she was fighting within herself. Something bad had happened.
"Islanzadi fell in the battle," she said with finality. Eragon was shocked. Arya's mother, the Elven Queen, was a mighty warrior. Imagining her not making it was almost too impossible to picture.
"Arya, I'm so-"
"I have to go," she said cutting him off as she pushed passed him.
"Go? Wait, Arya, just stop for a second." It was no use. She was already on her way out of the market. He watched her go, not sure if he should go after her or let her be.
A commotion broke out behind him, somewhere in the center of the square. It looked like the decision was being made for him. He reluctantly turned away from Arya and went to see what was going on.
The Varden were filing back into the market place with many struggling Empire soldiers. Some of the Varden had fresh wounds, no doubt from subduing their opponents, but the majority of them looked well enough. They began to force the Empire's men into the center of the market, tossing the weapons they were able to wrestle away from the soldiers onto the ground. One man tried to make a break for it but the nearest Varden man tripped him up and pushed him back to the center. Upon seeing Eragon emerging through the crowd, one of the Varden men ran over.
"Sir, we have managed to gather the Empire soldiers for you. Any remaining should be here shortly," he said.
"Good work," Eragon said clasping the man's shoulder. He seemed to relax a little at the touch. As the last of the Empire soldiers we brought in, the crowds backed away, giving them plenty of space. Nasuada appeared and walked over to Eragon, while Saphira made her way also. Murtagh was nowhere to be seen. Eragon figured he was with Thorn somewhere.
Looking at the men before him, Eragon could see a mixture of emotions. Some angry, others frustrated, a few even scared, but all looked ready to fight. Eragon was sure that if Galbatorix had died, his spells would die along with him. He was wrong. The old King's magic was strong indeed.
"You all are the enemies of the Varden," Eragon said to the men. "You have fought against us, and sent many of our comrades to the void. Do not think we will forget that." Eragon sounded a little more menacing than he intended. The group before him exchanged some nervous glances, probably wondering what type of punishment they were about to receive. The crowd behind him, however, cheered for revenge.
"However," Eragon continued, silencing everyone and forcing all eyes back on him, "you have all sworn oaths of fealty to Galbatorix. These oaths have bound you all magically to the King, forcing you to do his bidding, and taking your free will away. Because of this, you cannot be judged on your actions." He paused, making sure the crowd didn't decide to take matters into their own hands. When he was reassured, he continued. "I will release you from your oaths, and then we will see where we stand."
With that, Eragon closed his eyes. He hadn't tried any magic since healing Arya, and that was all done with the wild energy. He didn't have the will to try for that again, so he focused on his own energy. Looking within himself, he summoned the energy that he possessed and brought it forth. Without saying a word, he opened his eyes and honed in on the group before him. Focusing on the name of the Ancient Language, he raised his arm, and released a soundless spell that passed through each of the Empire Soldiers. Some of the men back up, unsure if he had secretly harmed them.
Eragon lowered his arm and studied them. They seemed the exact same as before. Nothing about their physical appearances had changed, but then again he hadn't expect them to. What he was looking for was subtle. Scanning the soldiers, he saw that their fists were not clenched and they bodies were less tense. Tiny differences, but signs that the spell worked. They were no longer actively resisting. The oaths were not controlling their actions.
Now, the real test begins.
"You all have been freed of your oaths," Eragon said. "You are now able to decide for yourselves what actions you will and will not take. You once again have the ability to choose."
Eragon glanced at Nasuada, who nodded for him to continue.
"Your King is dead, the war is over," Eragon said proudly. "You will be given a choice. The aftermath of the fighting has ravaged this city. You can demonstrate your good will and help fix the damages. You will not be punished for actions during the war and will be judged solely on your actions from this point on." Some of the men nodded eagerly at the opportunity, while others remained passive. "Should you decide against that offer, you will be viewed as an enemy and treated as such. Make your decision."
With that, Eragon turned away from them walked up to Saphira. She lowered her head towards him and nuzzled his cheek.
"I dream for when all this is over with," he told her.
Soon, little one, the worst is over, she responded.
"And Arya, she was so upset, so angry. I wanted to go after her."
The little elf needs time to process her loss. Let her have her space and be supportive when she comes around.
Eragon sighed, You're right, as always, he said in his mind.
Saphira hummed at the boost to her ego.
A yelp went up from behind him. Whirling around Eragon saw one of the Empire soldiers with a woman in his grasp. He maneuvered himself so that she was in front of him, using her body as a shield and had a short sword to her throat. The poor woman was obviously scared out of her mind. Her eyes were wide with fright and tears raced down her cheeks.
"You say we have a choice?" the man asked. "We don't have a choice!" The man worked his way backwards, inching along as he spoke. "You claim you're not punishing us, but you force us to back breaking labor or death. What about a third choice? What about letting us go? I choose not to be here. You killed our leader, our King. Well I don't want to live in a city with the man responsible for his death."
Eragon felt his anger starting to simmer. You think I'm the bad guy here?
"You wanted a decision, well how about I give you one!" the man shouted at Eragon. Saphira stepped forward and roared at the man, baring all her teeth. Startled, he ducked even more behind the helpless woman, who was crying hysterically now. The Empire soldiers beside him glanced nervously at their comrade.
"I want guaranteed safe passage out of the city for me and my men, along with enough provisions to last us through at least the week. If not, I'll open her throat right now. How's that for a choice?" The soldier sounded brave, but his actions betrayed him. His hand had a slight tremble and his eyes darted.
The Empire man had touched a nerve in Eragon. Galbatorix had given him similar "choices" during their battle. No, he would not allow anyone else to put him in that position. Fueled by his anger, he allowed his energy to build upon itself.
Looking at the woman, he caught her eyes. "It's going to be okay," he said calmly, hiding the fury within him. She nodded and seemed to calm down slightly, not crying outright as she had been. Eragon then looked at the soldier and let his emotions wash over him. He pointed at the short sword the man was wielding and loosed a mental spell. The dagger tore from its owner's grip and flew through the air to Eragon. He caught it mid flip and then dropped it at his feet.
Shocked, the man gripped the woman tighter, as if convinced she would protect him from harm. With a flick of Eragon's wrist, the soldier was blasted backwards off the woman and crashed into the front a silk store. His body collapsed in a heap of debris as pieces of the store front fell around him.
Relaxing, Eragon allowed his emotions to calm and his energy to fade. Seeing the fate of their comrade, the rest of the Empire soldiers quickly begged for the work Eragon had offered. He looked over at a group of Varden men to his right.
"Show these men what work needs to be done," Eragon said.
"Right away sir." They got the soldiers in line and led them off to the sides of the market where they would be organized for clean up tasks.
Once the soldiers were led away, people went back about their business. With the momentary break, Eragon leaned against Saphira. With everything going on, he felt as though his brain was going to explode. He needed a break.
We both need a break, Saphira said, obviously sensing his thoughts. Eragon nodded.
It was in this little pocket of quiet that a thought began to work its way into his head. Vague at first, it grew until it was practically banging Eragon in the head.
Saphira! He exclaimed, completely elated.
I remember!
We have to tell everyone. They'll be shocked, he said.
"There, that should do it," Eragon said to the young boy. The boy looked down at his arm to see his broken bones now completely healed. He immediately jumped up and hugged Eragon. "Thanks Mr. Eragon!" He said through a toothy smile.
"Keep your surroundings in mind, always. You're lucky that beam didn't hit your head," Eragon said as he ruffled the boy's hair. "Go on, and be careful around these buildings. I'm glad you're trying to help, but you wont do us any good if you get hurt, okay?"
"Ill be careful, sir," the boy replied. With a last smile the boy took off and disappeared into the crowd.
Eragon looked around at the people going to and fro. It had only been a couple hours since he left the market square and already people were starting on repairs to the city. People were moving the dead and attending to the wounded. Others were carting debris out of the streets, working on fixing the buildings that weren't damaged too badly, and clearing out ones that were. The Empire soldiers that he saw worked with an impressive vigor. He felt a small satisfaction at that.
The boy was with a group moving charred pieces of wood out of a small house when a section of the support beam collapsed. He was too slow getting out of the way and it fell onto his arm. Luckily, Eragon was nearby when he heard the screaming and was able to get the boy out safely without causing any more damage. The fix was simple, requiring much less energy than Eragon thought, or maybe it only felt like it. Eragon wasn't sure anymore. He knew that he was much stronger when he battled the King, but that was with energy from another source. Now that he was using his own energy again, he noticed that certain acts felt simpler, easier, than they had been before he ever experienced that new energy. Maybe it affected him? Increasing his own power because he was exposed to it? He wasn't sure, but if it made healing people easier he was fine with it.
His thoughts drifted to Saphira as he walked in the direction of the palace. She had taken wing after they had dealt with the soldiers in order to check on the rest of the city. Eragon wanted to know the standings of the outskirts, if they were heavily damaged like the main parts of the city or if they survived the battles. He wanted her to keep an eye out for the Empire soldiers. They might be free of the King's control, but years of fighting against the Varden isn't something that can just be forgotten overnight. If there was some kind of resistance, Eragon wanted to be ready before it got any traction.
Looking up ahead he could see his destination. The King's Palace was an interesting sight. Though marked by battle, the Palace seemed to wear it proudly, almost looking more distinguished because of its faults. It reminded Eragon of an aged man with wrinkles that held stories of his past, or in this case, stories of war. The main archway had been cleared of debris earlier and was now a busy thoroughfare. Bodies going in and out carrying boxes of items from golden candle sticks to Empire armor. Nasuada had ordered the Palace be inventoried, a task not easily done. From what Eragon understood, Galbatorix had many possessions and not all were of a friendly nature. Near the Palace entrance were elves healing those who were unlucky enough to have handled items of varying danger. Once Nasuada realized that they needed to be more cautious, she arranged a group of elves to go in and search the Palace for threatening items and to handle them with the appropriate care.
What Eragon was more interested in was a member of that group. Arya had volunteered to help with the search of the Palace. With how their last interaction went, Eragon was anxious to see her. Maybe keeping busy would help with her grieving process or at the very least allow her attention to be on something else.
Eragon made his way to Nasuada who was talking with a stoutly woman holding a paper with lines and lines of notes. She was one of the people documenting the inventory. Eragon did not envy her job, but the woman seemed excited as she pointed to the bottom of her paper while showing Nasuada. Nasuada smiled as she saw Eragon approach and let the woman return to her work.
"Guess what we've just found," Nasuada said.
"What?"
"Swords. Rider swords," she said smiling. "And armor and other weapons too. It seems that Galbatorix had quite the collection. We're guessing these belonged to the Riders he killed. What is impressive is that they are all in great condition. They could be used for battle right now if they had to."
"That's amazing," Eragon said. "I've always assumed that the Riders' weapons would have been lost when they fell. I never imagined he would have saved them."
"Eragon," Nasuada said, now looking more serious, "we are arranging a meeting this afternoon. With Galbatorix gone, a new ruler has to be chosen quickly before things fall apart."
"Okay," Eragon said. He noticed something odd about the way she was looking at him. Was she studying him? Judging his reaction? The meeting wasn't a surprise; he knew that they would need to select someone to replace Galbatorix. So why was she saying it like she was worried how he'd take the news?
"Where will the meeting be held?" He asked her.
"King Orrin has graciously allowed us to use his tent for the meeting," she said while rolling her eyes. Eragon understood. Orrin wants everyone to come to him, to decide the future ruler in his tent. It was a power play but Eragon was confident that everyone already knew that and was just going along with it.
Eragon smiled. "Well as long as Saphira can get in to be present during the discussion, its fine by me. Now its my turn to tell you some good news."
Nasuada cocked her head, curiosity filling her face.
"Saphira and I found dragon eggs. Lots of them. They were in the Vault of Souls with the Eldunari."
"What! Why didn't you say anything?" Nasuada demanded.
"Well, Saphira and I didn't remember until earlier," he said plainly.
"How can you not remember something like that?"
"A powerful spell. It was designed so that whenever you leave the vault you instantly forget the eggs exist. That way they will be protected from someone finding out about them."
"But if that's true, how do you remember them now?" she asked slightly confused.
"The spell was tied to Galbatorix. Should he ever die, those who knew about the eggs would remember and can then help bring back the dragons."
"Eragon… that's incredible," Nasuada said in shock. "So the dragons, if they come back, does that mean the Riders will too?"
Eragon's smile stretched across his face. "Yes. Nasuada, we're bringing back the Dragon Riders."
"Eragon, that's fantastic!" she yelled while embracing him.
"I know, I am still kind of in shock," Eragon admitted. While that was true, it was only half of the truth. The whole truth was that he was also a little depressed. Even though the idea of bringing back the Riders was incredible, where he would do that was proving difficult for him to figure out. As he shifted through possibilities in his mind, a sad solution was beginning to emerge. However, he pushed the thought away, choosing to enjoy the present and worry about the future later.
As they separated Eragon noticed a different group emerge from the arched entrance to the Palace. The elf group had returned and Arya was in the middle carrying a green stone. She walked very carefully with a thoughtful look to her eyes. The rest of the group deposited the different items they were carrying with the people taking the inventory, but Arya kept on walking.
"If you see the other leaders before the meeting tonight you can tell them the news. I'm going to go tell Arya," Eragon said. Nasuada nodded and turned her attention to the newest items brought out from the Palace.
Eragon walked up to Arya who was making her way down the street.
"Is that some kind of precious stone?" he asked as he drew up next to her. Without looking at him Arya replied in a simple tone. "It's not a stone."
Eragon looked down at her hands and stopped in his tracks. She was right; it was not a stone at all. But it was precious, very precious.
"I… I can't believe it," he managed. Arya had stopped walking and turned to face him, a small smile playing upon her lips.
"I was surprised myself. The third egg, after all this time we finally got it back. It seemed to be waiting for us. After we found the room with the old Rider weaponry, I thought that Galbatorix had done something with the last egg, because it wasn't in there. Surely, he would have kept the egg hidden with the rest of the items from the days of the old Riders. When we didn't find it, I started to give up. We kept up our search of the Palace and found a narrow hallway. It was decorated simply with polished oak and candles along the wall. At the end was a room with a skylight. The light fell upon a stone podium and there it was, right on top. It rested upon a small velvet pillow. The whole sight was odd yet mesmerizing. There was a small wooden chair in the room also. We've guessed that he must have spent time in there just to be in its presence, maybe hoping it would hatch for him."
She stroked the egg absentmindedly. Eragon found his eyes drawn to it. The smooth curves of the egg drew his gaze. The egg was a deep green, very similar to Arya's eyes. Small veins etched their way around in lighter green.
"You didn't want to give it to the people working on the inventory?" he asked, now realizing that in a certain light one might think she stole the egg.
"I will. Its just… there's something about it. I wanted to hold onto it for a little while," she replied gently. "I mean it's the last egg. The last dragon. I guess I just wanted a moment with it."
Eragon smiled to himself. "Arya, there's something I want to tell you. Lets sit over there." He gestured to a shaded wooden bench among some trees. Surprisingly, the whole sight seemed untouched by the hand of war. As they took their seats, Eragon could not find any traces of the anger that she harbored earlier. Maybe she was doing better with her grief. Eragon hoped his news would help her even more.
Eragon gestured to Arya's hands. "That egg your holding, it isn't the last one." She arched an eyebrow but held her tongue. "There are actually many, maybe even hundreds of dragon eggs in a secure location. They've been protected this whole time. Saphira and I discovered them in the Vault of Souls along with the Eldunari. The dragons aren't going to die out. They are going to return to they way they were."
"Eragon… I am assuming you have a very good reason for keeping this information to yourself," she said in a steely tone.
"Yes, I do actually. In order to protect the eggs, anyone who discovers them is put under a powerful spell. As soon as you leave the vault, you instantly forget you ever found them. The only way you would remember is for the King to die. So it wasn't until a couple hours ago that Saphira and I remembered. Now I'm trying to find everyone and tell them the good news."
Arya's posture relaxed. Eragon guessed she found his excuse to be a satisfactory one. That was good. Having Arya angry with him was not something he'd care to get used to.
"So the dragons. They're coming back," she said more to herself. Eragon nodded, enjoying her revelation process. "And, if the dragons come back, does that mean-"
"The Dragon Riders will come back too," he said finishing her sentence.
"And you'll be in charge of leading them," she said looking at him. "Big responsibility."
"I can handle it," he said defensively. She laughed, and Eragon lost himself in the sound.
"Eragon Shadeslayer, Kingkiller, Leader of the Riders. Quite the title," she said through her smile.
"That's Mister Eragon Shadeslayer, Kingkiller, Leader of the Riders to you."
"Oh I'm so sorry Your Greatness."
"I'll be expecting you to bow every time you see me," Eragon said with a smirk.
"Is that so?" Arya said raising an eyebrow.
"And you're not allowed to look me in the eye. I'll take it as a sign of offense."
"I think the greater sign of offense will be when I smack you in the head."
"Maybe I'll just stick with Eragon. Easier to remember," he said sheepishly.
"I like that. Wouldn't want your ego to get too big."
Eragon rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't think you have to worry about that."
Arya laughed to herself and Eragon grinned. His gaze fell upon the grass at his feet and he let his sense of joy build. Thinking of Arya and the sound of her happiness, he channeled his good emotions within his body and directed them to the grass at his feet. As he focused, the ground shifted ever so slightly as a sprout broke through the surface. It grew, reaching upward until a bulb at its tip exploded in a gorgeous display of white pedals. Arya let out a small gasp next to him.
"Did you just do that?" she asked. Eragon breathed in its scent as he leaned over and picked the flower out of the ground. He was instantly brought to a place of snowy mountains and crisp air. Looking at the flower, it seemed to be a cross between a rose and a tulip. He had never seen its kind before which made it even more interesting.
"Eragon, you didn't say anything," Arya stated.
"What?"
"You didn't say a spell. When we manipulate nature we always say a spell, usually within a song, but a spell nonetheless." Eragon remembered the elves' beautiful homes that literally grew out of the trees in their forest from their enchanted singing.
"I don't know, it just felt easier not to," he said honestly.
"That's very dangerous, Eragon. If you don't let words guide your magic, one stray thought can have terrible consequences."
"I know, but recently it has just felt more natural not to say anything. To just let my desire do the work. And it usually leads to something exciting. For example, I've never seen this kind of flower before." Eragon handed the flower to her. She set the egg in her lap and brought the flower to her nose. Her raven hair shifted slightly in the wind, contrasting with the brilliant white of the pedals. With her eyes closed, and her features relaxed, Eragon thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He committed the image to his memory.
"It's a Mountain Lotus," she said as she opened her eyes. "They grow in the Beors, but they don't look like this. For most of the winter they stay in a tight bulb to protect themselves from the weather. The white bloom happens on the first day of spring when the snow melts and the rivers fill. The bloom only lasts for a day before the pedals loosen and fly away in the wind. My mother used to say it's a symbol of starting anew, of letting go," Arya's eyes became cloudy. "I haven't seen one in a very long time."
"Islanzadi was the second strongest woman I've ever met," Eragon said. Arya's brows narrowed. "Second only to you," he finished with a soft smile. Arya smiled too and the tears in her eyes never fell. "I am truly sorry for your loss, Arya."
"Thank you. I guess I never thought she could fall. She was too stubborn to die."
"All I know is that she scared the daylights out of me." Arya laughed softly. "I'd rather face ten evil Kings over her any day."
"You know," she said as she wiped her eyes, "a lot of people say we were alike."
"Which is why I am ever thankful we are on the same side."
"Until you try to enforce that rule about bowing," she said with a sly grin.
"I am already regretting saying that." Arya laughed and Eragon felt the tension wash away. She seemed to be coming to terms with her mother's passing. Her gaze drifted across the grass and over the street, looking at everything and looking at nothing.
"I already miss her," she said.
"You never stop."
She turned to him. "Does it ever stop hurting?"
Eragon felt his heart throb for a beat at the thought of Brom. "The pain will pass, eventually. But you never stop wishing for one more moment with them. All you can do is fill the void they left with all the things they gave you. All the gifts and experiences they passed on to you. I can still hear Brom telling me to lower my stance when I use a sword."
Arya twirled the flower in her fingers and Eragon felt an urge stir within him. He met Arya in the eyes and then reached for the flower in her hands. He brought it up and slowly tucked it behind her ear where the white bloom seemed to glow against her dark hair around it. She rolled her emerald eyes, but her lips tilted at the corners.
"Do I look like one of the females from your Southern Isles now?"
"No," Eragon whispered. "They are much prettier."
Arya's jaw dropped and then her hand flew at him. Eragon could sense the movement prior to seeing it and caught her hand before it could hit his shoulder.
Eragon watched her eyes register the surprise that he caught her strike, and then soften as they found his. Eragon slowly lowered his hand, while not letting go of hers. They sat there, his hand wrapped around hers, and Arya seemed to relax and then tense, as if she were struggling within herself. Eragon just held her gaze, not daring to break the moment by letting go of her hand. He wanted to gently pull it, to bring her closer to him, to smell the scent of pine that always came with her presence. Her eyes stayed on his, almost longingly, holding him in place. But then they faltered. Before Eragon could make a move she took back her hand and ended the moment.
"I should bring the egg back to inventory," she said abruptly not making eye contact. "I'll see you at the meeting later on." And with that she was off they way they had come, leaving Eragon with only his thoughts.
Rather than dwell on Arya and the many theories both good and bad that it could bring up, Eragon decided to focus on taking action. He got off the bench and made his way around the blocks surrounding the Palace. He stopped here and there to help move a piece of a shop wall or to mend some injuries, and just lost himself in manual labor.
But as the day wore on his body began to give up on him. He had finally reunited with Saphira and was leaning against her side, listening as she told him about the outskirts. Apparently, there were a few skirmishes going on, but nothing a fierce fire-breathing dragon couldn't handle. He could feel her pride at being able to handle the problems on her own.
Eragon was thinking about the faces of those on the receiving end of Saphira's roar when he heard a "tsk tsk" from off to his side.
"You know, I would expect the slayer of a King to be a little less lazy," said Angela.
"I'd expect an herbalist to be a little more careful when addressing someone who slayed a King," Eragon said smiling as Angela strode up to him and Saphira with Solembum in tow.
"Life is nothing without risks, Eragon."
"I think I have had enough risks to last several lifetimes."
"Maybe. Or maybe you are having just the right amount," said Angela with a smirk.
Eragon sighed. "Another mystery I will probably never learn the answer to."
"I like to think all answers are revealed when they should be revealed. What is bothering you the most?"
Eragon didn't hesitate to answer. "How in the world I defeated Galbatorix," he said flatly. "Angela, I was done. He had won. The war was over and I was going to die. And some how… some how I broke through a barrier. I found power. It didn't feel like mine, but it was in my body. And I used it against him. The whole thing is just a blur. I don't know."
Angela was smiling at him when he looked up. "I do."
"You do what?"
"I know how you defeated Galbatorix."
Eragon stared up at the herbalist, comprehending but not believing. She continued to simply smile at him. After what felt like an eternity Eragon cracked. "And are you going to tell me?"
"That seems fair," she said as she turned and strode off. Eragon grumbled.
The witch is an odd one. I think I'll stay here, said Saphira in his head.
This is a conversation for two legs. I'll stay back as well, said Solembum as he climbed atop Saphira and curled into a ball. Eragon got up slowly, acutely aware at how his body begged for rest, and caught up with Angela as she strutted away.
"You know how I killed the King?" asked Eragon, the words heavy on his tongue.
"I have seen something similar once before. I believe I am correct in my assumption, as absurd as it is." She stopped by a tree, scorched along one side. The smell of ash was strong in the air. She stroked a branch where a few leaves had avoided damage and turned to him, a serious expression across her face. "Eragon what I am about to discuss with you is something very old and very dangerous. This knowledge has faded from history and legend. It will not be written in your old books or sung in the old songs, for the even the writers of the books and the singers of the songs did not know."
"I think learning the name of the Ancient Language counts as the oldest and most dangerous piece of knowledge," he said as he crossed his arms.
"This is older than the Ancient Language," she said as she held his gaze. Eragon felt his arms go slack. "Which is why I can count on one hand the number of those who know about it."
"Okay." Eragon scratched the back of his head. "You have my undivided attention."
Angela nodded and continued walking, a green leaf from the tree now resting between her fingers. After a thoughtful pause she said, "Magic is the physical manifestation of energy. For any magic to exist, it needs energy to supply it. You are familiar with the taxing drain on your body when you do any sort of spell." Eragon nodded. "Well have you ever given thought to wild magic? Magic that seems to exist of its own accord? The Drawves' stone trees or the floating crystal of Eoam are two occurrences you may have heard of. Where does the energy for this magic come from?" Eragon shrugged. "It comes from the land, from Alagaesia itself. It's pure, raw, wild energy. That is how wild magic exists. It draws its power from the energy of the world it belongs to." Angela looked Eragon in the eye. "What do you know about the Grey Folk?"
"Just that they were the first to arrive in Alagaesia, since the dragons and dwarves are native to the land. And that their language was the Ancient Language."
"Like the dragons they admired, they too were inherently magical. However, unlike the dragons, they could connect to their energy and create magic at will. The Grey Folk didn't use language to perform magic, but instead used their thoughts and their desire. They willed the world around them to change. This is most fundamental and the most powerful form of magic, but also the most dangerous. Because of this they were capable of amazing feats. Some were known to even manipulate time.
When you use the Ancient Language to do magic, you take the fundamental thoughts and bind them to words. These words are what guide your energy in making magic. However, when you use words to guide your magic you are limiting yourself. Yes, a skillful magician may be able to say the word for one thing and create something else, but he is still restricted. A young Grey Folk, even though inexperienced, would be unhindered and would best the magician every time."
"If they were so powerful, why did they disappear?" Eragon asked.
"Eventually, some Grey Folk realized that they could connect their energy with the wild energy of Alagaesia. They had become so comfortable with using pure will to do magic that they could open themselves up to the energy of the land and wield it. This allowed them to become a vessel of guidance for the power and direct it where they wanted. Only a few could do it and for short moments at that, but in that moment they were invincible, commanding unlimited energy.
However, this was also incredibly dangerous. The Grey Folk were very adept at using thought to control their magic, but they were not infallible. One ultimately made a mistake, lost concentration, and the result was nearly the end of the world." Angela paused, looking at the setting sun and the clouds of pink and orange.
"Did they all die?" Eragon asked, almost afraid of the answer.
"No, but many did."
"Oromis once told me that a magician nearly destroyed the world. I guess he didn't know that it was a member of the Grey Folk."
"Few remember. Either way the consequence is the same. To ensure that nothing similar could ever happen again the remaining Grey Folk used the raw energy one last time to bind magic to their language, the Ancient Language. After that people could use words to guide their magic, making the process much easier and safer. The practice of using pure will to do magic became infrequent and eventually stopped all together with the use of the Ancient Language. The side affect of using words was that you could not connect yourself to the wild energy. You have to allow your energy to connect with the energy of the world and guide it with thought in its purest form. It is impossible to do so when you control your magic with words. So the knowledge that you even could use wild energy eventually faded from history." Angela had stopped walking and knelt down on the side of the path they were on. She placed the leaf, which if Eragon was not mistaken had grown since he first saw her pick it, in the middle of torn up and burnt earth. The leaf glowed vibrant green for a moment, then seemed to settle itself in its new home. He heard Angela giggle then she was up and walking again. "Eragon, I believe that today in the battle against Galbatorix, you broke through to the raw energy of Alagaesia. Galbatorix may have had hundreds of Eldunari and the Name of Names, but you were doing magic beyond language. That is how you defeated the king."
"Wait, how do you know I was doing magic beyond language?"
"Weren't you?"
"Well, yes. But I never told you."
"You were reacting fast, faster than words can allow. You saw with your eyes and then thought of how you wanted it to change. Your magic followed. That only happens when you depart from language. And then you wielded wild energy. You can't do that with words," Angela said with a smile.
"I don't know what to say. I guess it makes sense. It was so… overwhelming. I felt like I was about to explode at any second," Eragon said.
"You very well could have."
"I could have exploded?" Eragon asked shocked.
"Indeed. It is very interesting that you didn't," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "You held on longer than should be possible. I find it curious that there has been only one other to do what you did today. Even more curious that you two share a name."
"What are you talking about?"
"Your namesake, the original Eragon, was the first elf to wield wild energy since the Grey Folk bound their language to magic. And until today he remained the only one." Eragon stopped walking. Angela turned to face him.
"Eragon, the first Rider, did what I did today?" he muttered.
"Oh yes. What were you told about him?"
"I heard that he ended the war between the elves and the dragons." Angela's smile grew.
"And you never wondered how a dragon and its Rider stopped an entire war?"
"I figured that when the two sides saw the connection of Rider and dragon they made peace."
Angela folded her hands. "Eragon, that proved that the peace would last. It was something else that actually stopped the fighting."
"Don't torture me, Angela." Angela let her hands fall and began walking again. As Eragon followed she took in a slow, deliberate breath.
"The first Eragon had reverted to the old ways of using desire to guide his magic. When he made his connection to his dragon, this ability is what kept the pair alive. As the war raged on, the two grew stronger, both gaining power as they became more practiced with using magic beyond language. They planned to stay out of the war, and to use their strength to defend against anyone who would threaten their peace.
However, there was one battle that topped them all. Dragon blood rained from the skies and the ground was covered in bodies. The elf and his dragon could not sit idly by and watch their species destroy each other. They flew into the battle and Eragon unleashed a power not seen in a very long time. In one incredible moment, he froze the thunder of dragons in the sky while subduing the elves on the ground. Taming both sides, he commanded them to yield. Those that were at that battle and are still alive to talk about it say that Eragon got his power by being the first rider. They are wrong. It is because for the first time since the Grey Folk bound magic to their language, someone connected to raw energy."
"He stopped an entire battle? By himself?" Eragon asked.
"Like I said, wild magic holds no limits."
"And that power was in me?" Eragon said suddenly feeling dizzy.
"You should be happy you aren't dead!" Angela said as she clapped her hands together.
"Oh yeah, thanks." Eragon felt a thought nag at his skull. "Was Eragon ever able to do it again?"
"If he did, I don't know about it. He was capable of greatness on his own. He continued to use magic with thought, and being exposed to wild magic changed him and his dragon. Their strength was incredible. Although, an event like that day hasn't happened since… well since today."
"I just overpowered the King. I didn't stop a battle mid-fight."
"But you did. Eragon, Galbatorix was strong because he had hundreds of Eldunari feeding him strength. No one in all of history had done that. You not only defeated a dragon rider, you defeated the power of hundreds of dragons, a thunder of dragons, at the same time by yourself." She paused then asked, "Are you going to try to wield it again?"
Eragon thought for a moment, "Probably not. I'm not so sure I would survive if I had that power in me again."
"Interesting," Angela replied.
"What is?"
"You, you are interesting."
"Thanks, I guess?"
"Well the King is dead, the war is over. What now?" Angela asked. Such a simple question, yet it held so much doubt and worry. He hated himself for what he was now planning, but he saw no other solution.
"I think you will find my plans poetic," Eragon said through a half-hearted smirk.
"Oh?"
"Do you remember when we first met?"
"I do indeed. It was Solembum that first let me know you'd be special."
"Well you cast my fortune that day. You told me a lot of things, most of which have come true. One of the last things you told me was that I would leave Alagaesia forever. You ask me what now? Now, I think that will actually happen."
"Because of the eggs?" she asked plainly.
"I'm just going to ignore the fact that you know about the eggs even though I have told only three people about them. But yes, because of the eggs. It's fitting really. There were only two of your prophecies that had yet to come true. My leaving, and my epic romance." An image of a white flower and flowing raven hair flashed in his mind. "Maybe fulfilling one will help fulfill the other," he said. Angela was looking at him with concern, like he had just missed something obvious.
"Eragon, if you would indulge me, could you explain your exact reasons for wanting to leave?"
Eragon took a deep breath before saying, "It's the only way I can see it all working out. There has to be a place to keep the eggs safe before they hatch. They are too vulnerable in the cities, and I fear thieves will find them even if we move to remote areas like the Hadarac. The other problem is when the eggs start to hatch. When they are growing, they will need food and freedom. If they were in Alagaesia, they would eat our livestock, or even harm our people. For the eggs safety and ours I need a place away from everyone for the wild dragons to live peacefully. Vroengard would be ideal. It's far enough away that they would be safe while growing and once fully-grown it has a good population of game to feed them. And if the wild dragon population continues to grow, there are other islands to the west of Vroengard that they could spread to. The problem is that Vroengard is still contaminated, and I am afraid that contamination has spread to the neighboring islands. So that leaves the East, which is where I am planning to go. I will stay here to oversee the selection of a new ruler and then I will leave." Eragon tried to finish that last sentence with some finality, but it felt forced.
"So it will be you, Saphira, and a thunder of wild dragons living on an island?" asked Angela.
"I am going to leave some eggs behind, the ones marked for riders. When the connections are made I will have them fly to us when they are ready and I'll begin to train the next generation. I was thinking that when the riders have completed their training, some can come back and live here. They will act as my representatives, and be a physical reminder to everyone that the riders are back. As for me, I'll probably stay away. So you see, another one of your prophecies will come true. I'll be leaving, just like you said." Eragon worked for a smile, but all he managed was a tilt on his lips.
"Eragon, I want you to understand something. I am not intending to influence your decision one way or another; I just want you to be aware. The future is a tricky thing. It is always changing, subtly, but changing nonetheless. When I met you in my shop all those days ago, you were a young boy and a young rider. At that time, your future was to leave this land. But just as you have changed since that day, so has your future. I am sure you have noticed that your true name has changed as your journey has progressed." Eragon looked at her, once again awed by her knowledge. "This proves you are not the same boy whose future was read by an old herbalist. The power you wielded today can do wonderfully incredible things. You may find yourself using that power again to fix certain problems if you become practiced enough. I agree that the dragons need to be off the land, but a home that allows an easy days flight back to Alagaesia for you and your Riders seems to me like the home worth trying for," she said with a wink.
Eragon smiled, genuinely this time. "I appreciate that idea, but having wild energy racing around inside of me isn't something I want to experience again, even if it could help with my location problem."
"Is it safe to assume that if you are planning to leave, then you do not plan to rule?"
"It wouldn't be right."
"And why not? You are the one that killed Galbatorix, you are now the most powerful being in Alagaesia."
"That's why," Eragon said. "Someone who rules should be the representative of the people, not their oppressor. I like to think I am the exact opposite to Galbatorix, but who is to say I wont become him? I am a Dragon Rider, I will live for a very, very long time. I don't want to live long enough to see myself become the villain I defeated."
"You don't have to worry," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "You will never become Galbatorix because of what you just said. You are aware of the possibility and will therefore never let it come to pass."
"Thank you. Besides, I will be the new leader of the Dragon Riders. We will be separate from this land and will answer to no one and yet everyone. We will keep the peace, helping those who need it. We will not interfere with the decisions that affect the different races but will lend guidance if they need it. So I will not rule, but I guess you can say I will lead those that are willing to follow."
"You might not make a half bad leader. But if you turn out rotten, remember, you may be able to move mountains, but I can make your skin crawl with pus-filled boils." Eragon shivered, not doubting her for one second.
"And you?"
"And me?" she asked casually.
"What do you plan to do?"
"Go wherever things are interesting. You have entertained me for a while. I supposed I'll have to find someone else to watch. Unless you decide to come back from your vacation after a while." She gave him a sly smirk.
"I'll be sure to write."
"Oh, please do. I shall miss our little chats."
Eragon laughed to himself, realizing in that moment that as long as he has known this woman, he still knew nothing about her.
"Angela, will I ever figure you out?"
"Of course not! That would ruin the fun."
"Fine." Eragon said, hiding his disappointment. Angela looked contemplative, her nose crinkled slightly. As they neared Saphira and a sleeping Solembum she turned him by his shoulder.
"One question Kingkiller. You can ask me one question and I shall answer truthfully." Eragon's mind instantly went flying, thinking of a million things he wanted to know. Eventually he settled on a simple question. Simple questions never had simple answers with her. He looked her dead in the eye.
"Who are you?"
Angela's smile reached her eyes. "I have been known by many things, just as you have. I was an herbalist, as you know. I was the apprentice to a man known as Tenga. For a while I was an oracle called the Soothsayer. And, most interestingly, I am one of the last remaining Grey Folk." Eragon watched as her eyes flashed and her image shimmered as if a mirage. Where the bouncy, curly-haired herbalist once was, a slender, beautiful woman stood. Within the shimmering air, this female with flowing white hair and piercing grey eyes gave a curt bow to Eragon. A fine tunic rested on long, lean muscles. Her arms gracefully moved to her side and rested against pants made from a material resembling leather, but much too fine. One word sprang to Eragon's mind. Elegant. She held herself like a Queen of Queens. Her distinguished features showed her age but worked to her advantage by enhancing her authority. However, the familiar playing smile still filled her face. It was the same Angela, but he was seeing her the way she sees herself. All that mysterious confidence, her lack of fear in the face of terrible danger, the respect she receives by people all over, it all made sense. In that one moment, Eragon understood just a little more about why the Herbalist was the way she was. A moment later the shimmering air dissipated and the regular Angela was again standing before him.
"Close your mouth Kingkiller. You look as if you have seen a ghost," she said with that knowing grin. Eragon's mind was in overdrive, thinking of more and more questions, sending him down a rabbit hole with no end in sight. He opened his mouth to ask another question but a finger stopped the words on his tongue. "Ah-Ah. One question. That was the deal. Now, Solembum and I have to be going on our way." She looked at Solembum as the Werecat stretched and got to his feet. "I hope we meet again, Eragon. I would very much like to see where your path leads after this." Solembum was at her feet in the next moment. With a nod to Saphira and a wink to Eragon, the pair strutted of to their next adventure.
Are you okay, little one? asked Saphira as Eragon sat next to her.
"Yes, just tired. Talking with Angela is never easy on my head," he replied.
You told her of our plans?
Eragon sighed. "It's the first time it actually feels real. Up until this point it was just an idea. Now its official… We're leaving." Saphira nuzzled him, warming his cheek at the spot of contact.
It is the right choice, little one. If it were just dragons and their riders, we could stay. But there are so many eggs to watch over, so many dragons to watch out for. There is no place here that can hold them.
"Angela thinks if I practice with wild energy I can fix Vroengard," Eragon said jokingly.
The woman is wise despite her impression. Maybe you can.
"I don't think so, and I'm not sure I would want to try. It was scary, so much power. Besides, I'm sure there are many wonderful places to be discovered. We will make a new home for the dragons, a place that they can flourish. And it will be at this place that the next generation of riders will be born." He hated the idea of leaving everyone, but he could feel this next adventure calling him.
Perhaps you are right.
Eragon nodded and yawned. "Now I just want to sleep."
We will soon. One more task to deal with and then we will find our rest. Eragon patted his dragon and climbed into the saddle. With a mighty flap, Saphira took to the sky, angling towards the camps surrounding the city.
Well I hope you enjoyed that! Little bit longer than my older chapters but I found it entertaining so I hope you did too. I originally just wrote out an end fight between Galbatorix and Eragon four years ago and was going to leave my fan fic at that. But I enjoyed the process enough that I wanted to see where else Eragon would go. What other things would happen post war? About four years later I think I've got it down. Also, I should point out that it has been over four years since I have actually read the books so if the characters sound a little off its because we are now at my interpretation of them instead of what they probably sounded like in the book. Another thing to note is my lore. I am not sure how snuggly my description of the Grey Folk fits in with the canon or the prevalence of using magic without words. I do remember Eragon casting spells silently in the books, but I interpreted it as him just saying the spell in his head. What I have hopefully described above was an act of not using any words and just pure will.
I'm off to edit the next chapter. A new ruler has to be chosen!