Okay, here's chapter 10. This chapter has an element in it that I was extremely hesitant to put in it, I had no Idea how it would do and I'm still unsure about it. This chapter shows another half of the story on another land across the sea and the main creatures of this part of the story are very different from every thing else.
Please tell me what you think.
disclaimer: I do not own any of the works or characters of Christopher Paolini. This story however is my own works.
Chapter 10
The wind blew hard and cold, snow billowing in clouds thick and impenetrable.
Through all this a lone figure marched, the sounds of his passage lost to the howling wind. Swathed in black, he came to a halt before an arch of stone. He looked up at it, saying quietly as he did so, 'So the time now comes for the wayward one to come home.'
The snow cleared briefly enough for the site of a small town, lit by torches and lamps, illuminated a short way ahead. The town lay quite and serene in the heart of a mountainous valley. If it weren't for the circumstances of his return, the sight would have warmed his heart but as it was, it only served to deepen his misgivings. Had it been the right thing to accept the invitation sent to him to return home. When he had left home, it hadn't been on the best of terms with the people of the village and yet for some unknown reason, something told him that he must return. He sighed soundlessly and walked up the path, passing two cloaked guards as he did so. Though they recognized him they did nothing to stop his advance, only raising there weapons slightly as if to warn him of their intent should he make a wrong move. The man ignored their warning, even if he had wanted to cause problems, these two guards would not prove a challenge for him. As he entered into the village the windows of all the buildings he passed were darkened, He was not welcome. Despite all these signs of unwelcome he couldn't help but feel that he had returned to a home that loved him, even if the people didn't. This was where he was born, this is where his heart was. He passed a small cottage on his right, nestled in the shadow of a large wooden town hall. It was here that he had proclaimed his unending love to the daughter of a traveling noble.
Her father had disapproved of this and it was because of this rift that he was no longer welcome here. What had transpired that day would forever be burned into his memory. But even as he approached the largest of the buildings he knew one thing. No matter what had happened here, he would never let it control his future. The building he finally stopped at was carved into the very stone of the mountain, easily the size of a large cathedral with windows set into the face at regular intervals. The door before him was a large wooden door, made of carved wood that bore runes telling of the village had come into being. He smiled as he ran his hand over the runes, which glowed slightly at his touch. 'Our history is part of who we are, let it be carved into that which we make.' The oft spoken phrase brought back memories of his childhood, of being taught on his mother's knee of the things in the past that defined his people. He sighed at those sweet memories of innocence and pushed the doors wide, the hall beyond was shadowed in darkness, the only light came from two braziers at the end of the hall situated on either side of a large carved wooden seat. The flames of these brazire's burned an unnatural blue and provided no warmth. These were only lit in times of great sadness and it was this sadness that was the very reason for him being there. He stepped into the hall, the doors closing shut behind him. Though it had been nearly ten years since he had walked this hall he knew that nothing in it had changed. As he neared the seat he saw that someone already sat in it. A large manlike creature, wearing robes of deep black sat upon the chair. He was wolven in appearance, his body mimicing only the eyes and hieght of a man. He had an angular snout and was covered in a smooth coat of long grey fur. His eyes were deep blue and echoed an inner hurt the was cleary seen in ever line on his forehead. He was of the Ellari, a race of beast like men who were born of the heart of pure magic and this man was highness of the Ellari and father to the exile. The man looked up at the one who just entered into the hall and his frown deepened.
He rose to his feet spoke in a voice that was strong despite his aged appearance, 'I did not excpect you to answer my summons, "Prince" Arren.' Arren removed his hood and looked up at the King and smiled, 'How could I refuse the summons of a King.'
Arren's appearance was almost exactly that of his fathers, save for the signs of age. His fur was a rich granite grey, flecked with streaks of black. His eyes were a piercing amber and one of his pointed ears pierced. Everything about his appearance was sign of his rough travelling and living. The King recoiled slightly at the sight of his son and spoke again in a carefuly controlled voice, 'Arren, I wish that I could have called you home under happier times but unfortunately, as thing are...' The King broke off, unable to form into words the reason for summoning his banished son. Arren however already knew. His appearance softened and a frown appeared on his face as he looked at his fathers diminished appearance. 'Father, Taegren will be missed.' Tears came to the Kings eyes at the mention of only other son's name. Taegren had been Arren's brother but due to a recent incursion with the elves he had gone to the ancetors. Now the King only had one Exiled son and a broken heart, and now things became more complicated by the fact that the King required his son to go on a quest that King was no longer up to doing. He wiped away his tears and clear his throat, 'My son, we did not part on the best of terms but I must ask you to bear my Standard on a mission of great importance.' Under normal circumstance Arren would have found the statement ironically funny but as he was sure that this task was to be his brother's previously then he merely found it depressing.
Arren looked at the wall to his left. The wall was covered in a large tapestry that bore the names of every single member of his family, both past and present. The runes that were sown into the fabric next to the name were magical and would tell of the life of the one they represented. Even now he could see his and his brothers names, side by side, his was red and Taegren's was gold. He walked over to the tapestry and place a finger on the rune next to his brothers name and saw in his mind an image of how his brother died... felled by the arrows of the elves. Arren grimaced and turned away from the tapestry. He looked at his father and asked, 'What is it that you require of me?' The King sat back on the seat and eyed his son as he explained, 'Several days ago my mage's senced an incredible surge of magical energy in an unknown land across the sea. I've no doubt that the elves know this as well. We cannot allow the treacherous elves the opportunity to obtain such power. You are going to go to this land, find the source of that power and claim it for your people before the elves do.' Arren understood all to well the repercusions of refusing this task. On a large scale he would be condeming all of his people to suffering for who knew how long. He knew his duty and even though it was the man who exiled him that asked, he knew that he still needed to act for the greater good of the rest. He looked back at the tapestry, at the very top this time. Embosed at the top were the names of the twelve individuals who gave there lives to free their people. They paid the ultimate price for freedom and Arren was not about to see it lost. 'Father, I accept the mission.'
The king smilled and motioned to the door to his left. A black robed servant came into the room carrying a scroll in his hand that he handed to the king before leaving again. The king rose labouriously to his feet and walked to his son the scroll held out to him. Arren took it knowing what it was. To get to the land across the ocean he would need to sail and no finer vesel could be found than at the city of Seida. He would need a royal's permission to take a galleon and that was exactly what had been given him. The king's frown returned as he looked at his only surviving son, knowing that the mission he had given him would be dangerous but it couldn't be helped. The survial of the Ellari now rested on the shoulders of an exiled prince who must now reclaim his position only after his brother had died. Arren had noticed his father's frown, he knew why it was there and knew also that there was nothing to be done for it. He slipped the scroll into a pocket in his cloak and turned toward the door. He would need to set out as soon as posible if he was to have a chance of reaching the power before the elves did. Just before he reached to door his father's voice called from behind, 'Son, what did happen that day, when you were exiled?' Arren stopped with his hand on the door and looked into the kings weary eyes. 'Father, my answer has not yet changed, whether you will accept it as true is entirely up to you.' The king seemed to diminish slightly at that answer but he nodded and motioned for his son to go, he'd delay him no more. Arren pushed the door open and left, the snow filled night accepting him and hiding his passage. The king sat back onto the throne and looked at the still open door, his mind still on the day he had exilled his son. Back then he had had no evidence to support his son's reasons but the very moment the brand had been burned into him and he had been escorted out of his homeland, he had begun to have second thoughts. His son had been exiled on the charge of murder, but had claimed it to be self-defence. If he had been right then he had shamed and humiliated him for no reason at all and this haunted the king. He may never know what had happened that day be he had always missed his eldest son, always.
Eragon opened his eyes groggily, the dream he had had seemed so real but also so impossible. He had seen many things in it that could not be real. He thought that the strangeness of the dream could have been the product of his current mellow state and his deep distrust of the elves at the moment. He looked to his left and saw Saphira sleeping peacefully under a silver scaled wing, his wing. Smilling to himself he licked her face and curled closer against her. It had been nearly two weeks since he had gotten the power to shapechange into the form of a dragon and between instruction in dragon ettiqute from Saphira and her increased determination to mate with him they had found little time to worry about anything. In the end near the end of her heat cycle, Saphira's mind cleared up enough for her heart to shine through her instinct and he was conviced that her desire was to be his at this time in her life, to make their love more complete than it had ever been. In the end they had been together for the first time that night, under to light of the rising moon. He had never once thought about what kind of reprecussions might come from that but now that the thought came to him he couldn't help but laugh at the thought of the look on Islanzadi's face when she realized that Eragon had beaten her in the race to claim Saphira's heart a long time ago. They had only been able to make their wildest fantasies a reality only recently. Eragon sighed contentedly as he rose to his feet and looked around the plateu of the dragon nesting grounds. Even after two weeks they had still not left it and Eragon wasn't about to complain it was the only place in Du Weldenvarden that the elves couldn't reach alone. He looked toward Ellesmera and thought of Roran, Eragon hadn't seen him since the day he had left. The feeling of worry creeped backed into him at the thought of what his cousin had said, about there being some kind of spirit within Du Weldenvarden that was controling the elves and making others behave differently.
Eragon turned away from the edge and turned back into a human. He wanted to go and visit Roran and he wasn't about to reveal to the elves what he had obtained. Saphira still slept peacfully completely undisturbed by strange dreams or the worries of the problems that surrounded them. Eragon didn't want to disturb her but he need to tell her where he was going at the very least. He placed a hand on Saphira's head and whispered her name. She smiled and tried to cuddle against a dragons bulk that was no longer there. She frowned and opened her eyes. Though she still enjoyed looking into Eragon's eyes, she had grown so accustumed to her dragon lover that the sight of his human form startled her slightly. Eragon had feared a reaction like that and said plainly, 'Saphira, I think it would be best if I stayed in this form for awhile.' Saphira let out a displeased huff but she knew that this would be for the best. It would be a very bad Idea for her to forget what he really was regardless of his form. 'Why did you wake me Eragon?'
'I want to go visit Roran.'
Saphira's eyes glinted in the morning sun as she asked, 'What do you need me for you can fly yourself now.' Eragon nodded and countered, 'Yes but I'd rather not reveal to the elves what happened just yet.'
'Why not? It might just get them to leave us alone.' Saphira's statement had already crossed Eragons mind, ignoring the obvious fact that the elves would be infuriated beyond all reason, mostly due to the spirit running rampant, they would likely want Eragon to instruct them on how to do what he had. Handing them the powers of the spirit realm in their current state of mind would be shear idiocy. He ran this point by Saphira and she conceded. He was more than right. She stretched groggily and rolled to her feet remaining crouched so Eragon could climb up.
When he was situated on her back she walked to the edge of the cliff and dove off. Even though Eragon had been able to experience what it felt like to ride the currents himself he still enjoyed riding on Saphira's back, it reminded him of the time he spent with Brom. Those were such good memories, despite all the pain he had endured during that time. He could still remember all of the lessons and training he had gone through with Brom just clearly as he could remember all of his training with Oromis. He looked over the treetops as Saphira flew in the direction of Ellesmera. At this height it was impossible to see the elven capital much less dicern what might be going on in the trees. 'Eragon?'Saphira's voice broke into his thoughts gently as she slowed the pace of there flight to a gentle glide. 'Yes Saphira?'Eragon could feel her unease as she said, 'Eragon,what will we do now?''What do you mean?' Saphira craned her neck to look at him with one soft eye. The look in her eye was a mix of emotions, worry, wonder, contentment just to name a few. 'Eragon,What will we do If I conceive?'The question was brought forth so bluntly that Eragon was totally unprepared for it. He had already given the matter some thought and knew what she meant. It wasn't so much the fear of them being good parents it was the fear of what the elves would do. Even if they accepted that they were indeed Eragon's they would more than likely want to train and raise them, rather than let Eragon and Saphira do it. If Saphira did bear him children then Eragon would leave Du Weldenvarden and find a home for them elsewhere, far removed from the elves and there influence. Eragon sighed, and answered Saphira's question, 'Saphira,if we do have children, then we will leave Du Weldenvarden, I'll not suffer my children to endure the elves' self righteous nonsense.'
Saphira gave him a dragoness smile before facing forward again, humming softly as she angled toward Ellesmera.
Well there you go, it happened. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, eleven is soon coming. Review please.