Chapter Nine
The Forge of Dorù Araeba
Disclaimer: See Chapter Two
Aragon sighed with relief as Elmïra called a halt to the Rimgar.
It was a week since the meeting with Eragon, and contraire to what Aragon had assumed, so far Elmïra's tutelage had been fairly easy.
It was still challenging, and demanded all his concentration, but it wasn't taxingly difficult.
Elmïra stood breathing evenly, leaning against a small table.
She'd been performing the Rimgar with Aragon, and he'd scarcely believed his eyes when he'd seen her bend over backwards, straight legged, and place her palms flat on the ground.
'Wash up now, student of mine, and be quick about it, I think its time you began to learn the art of the blade.' Said Elmïra calmly, as the two of them ascended into the tree.
Aragon paused as he entered the bathing chamber that went with his quarters.-Elmïra had shown him the bath chamber the morning after the meeting with Eragon, and told him in no uncertain terms, he was to bathe daily, or else.
The fact Elmïra hadn't made a specific threat strengthened the credibility of the threat in Aragon's eyes.
But now, Elmïra's statement of a second before came back to him, and he allowed a bright grin to form on his face.
He was finally going to learn to use a sword!
Aragon washed quickly, and pulled on the clean clothes he'd left on his bed:
A long sleeved, grey cotton shirt, black cotton breeches, a leather vest, and calf high leather boots.
Essentially what most student riders from disadvantaged backgrounds wore.
Beggar's finery it was called among the more well-to-do students, mainly the richer ones.
Simple and functional, was what Elmïra had called it.
You humans and elves really are queer creatures. Remarked Thelduin.
Aragon turned around, and as expected, she was leaning against the window frame with one leg on the sill, one inside, and her tail hanging out the window.
She'd grown somewhat since she'd hatched, and was now, from tail-tip to snout, as long as Aragon was tall, and as thick around in the chest as his thigh.
Her own training proceeded speedily, mainly due to her uncanny prior experiences travelling, and touching minds before hatching.
'And you are a strange one yourself, compared to the other dragons of Alagaësia.' Stated Aragon, as he walked towards the door.
Thelduin lazily dropped to the floor, and walked down the stairs next to him.
Strange? Or unique? Asked Thelduin.
Aragon shrugged as he stepped off the stairs.
Elmïra was waiting, and so was Teclian.
'Good, now that you are ready, let's go to the forge.' She said, then jumped nimbly onto Teclian's back.
Aragon sighed regretfully.
Thelduin was nowhere near large enough for him to ride yet.
Aragon approached Teclian, then bowed. 'May I ride with ebrithä Elmïra, ebrithil?' Asked Aragon respectfully.
Elmïra had appraised Aragon of the fact that it was the height of rudeness to interfere with another's dragon, and the two most definite ways to get yourself killed, were to try and ride another's dragon without the express consent of that rider, and the consent of that dragon.
The other guaranteed way to get killed, was to try and ride a wild, unbonded dragon.
By my leave, and by the leave of my rider, so long as you are our student. Responded Teclian, lowering himself onto his belly so Aragon could climb up behind Elmïra.
When Aragon had strapped his legs to Teclian's saddle, Teclian took off, with Thelduin flying strongly beside him, like a pilot fish swimming with a leviathan.
Teclian flew away from the small plateau where Elmïra had made her home, and flew toward the summit of the mountain.
Aragon looked back, and noted that a large ridge protected the northern side of the plateau, sheltering the tree house from the prevailing north wind.
As they climbed higher, Aragon looked in wonder as he saw the snowscape below, and shivered in the cold.
Suddenly, Teclian dipped his shoulders, and Aragon left his stomach behind, but managed to avoid vomiting on Elmïra's back.
It quickly warmed, as Teclian swooped into a crater at the summit of the mountain.
As they entered the crater, Aragon gasped in wonder.
The city was gigantic in both terms of scale and grandeur.
The buildings had been fashioned with dragons in mind, and many of the structures were large enough for Teclian to spread his wings inside without touching the walls or ceilings.
Every building was made almost entirely from stone,-a necessity considering how short a time it would take the dragons to destroy wood buildings, inadvertently or not,- each street was large enough for at least two dragons to walk abreast upon, and a lot of the crater's floor was tree covered.
Aragon couldn't fit this with the rest of the city until he remembered the elves love of plants of all types, and realised they must be gardens of some kind or other.
Teclian landed with a grace that still surprised Aragon, but he had no chance to dwell on it, as he lost his balance as Teclian settled, and would've fallen off if he hadn't have been strapped to the saddle.
When he regained his balance, he quickly unbuckled the saddle's leg-straps, and slid down Teclian's silver-and-green mottled flank.
Thelduin landed a bit more awkwardly on Aragon's shoulder, and lay across his shoulders, dangling her tail down his back, while resting her head on her fore-claws.
Aragon followed Elmïra as she beckoned from a doorway to the left, set into the side of a otherwise plain building.
If the word "plain" could be used to describe a building fashioned from black marble and large enough to comfortably allow a large dragon to fit inside.
Inside the building, it was hot and smokey.
Aragon followed Elmïra through racks of armour, shields, and all manner of weapons:
Quarterstaffs, morning stars, maces, war-hammers, spears, pikes, poleaxes, glaives, battle-axes, hand-axes, and blades ranging in size from six-foot long, two-handed claymores, to shuriken throwing stars.
Aragon stopped short as he saw a double-bladed sword with only a one handgrip between the two blades.
Each blade was nearly four foot long.
'Who makes all these?' He asked as he noted the craftsmanship of the weapons.
Elmïra stopped at the end of the racks, where a space had been cleared for a waist high, stone bench, behind which stood the big, bearded rider from Tierm.
He glanced up from a glaive blade he'd been sharpening, and looked at Elmïra and Aragon.
'Well met, she-elf I take it you're here to see about weapons for your student?' He asked, with a teasing note.
Elmïra sighed with exaggerated patience, and drummed her fingers on the hilt of her sword.
'Aragon, I'd like you to meet Karl Imrikson, the resident master smith of Dorù Areaba.' Said Elmïra as she regained her cool demeanour, and ignoring the comment made by Karl.
Karl looked Aragon up and down.
'How ya findin' learning from Elmïra laddie?' He asked, as he ran a finger along the flat of a scalloped knife.
'Ebrithä Elmïra, is an excellent teacher, ebrithil.' Answered Aragon.
Karl grinned evilly. 'Let's see what you think of her when you start using weapons,' he said with a knowing chuckle.
Karl showed Aragon and Elmïra to a small room with a cleared space for practicing with a weapon.
As they got nearer they heard voices.
'Move your feet boy, just watch the girl, she's not standing there like her feet are nailed to the floor is she?' A meaty smack followed an instant later, followed by an all too familiar voice swearing in pain.
As they entered, Aragon grimaced, and Elmïra put a hand in front of Aragon as a precaution.
In the centre of the room, doubled over on the floor, was Kialandí, with a sword laying discarded in front of him.
Standing behind him, with a training sword in hand was Sarah.
A man leaning against the wall said something inaudible, then said loudly: 'Get up boy, if this was a real fight, if you went down to such a paltry blow, then you wouldn't last ten seconds.'
With a groan, Kialandí rolled to his feet, and picked up the training sword.
As he assumed a ready position, Karl cleared his throat loudly.
'I'm sorry to disturb this training session, Master Eragon, Indlvarn Dalemor, but Mistress Elmïra has come to evaluate her student's weapon skill.' Said Karl politely.
Dalemor stepped off the wall into the light.
His face had the grizzled look of a man who'd spent the best part of his life fighting.
His sand coloured hair was cropped short, and his nose had the distinct hook of having been broken several times.
His skin was craggier than the slopes of Vroengard, and he had many scars on his arms and face, hinting once again to a life of violence.
'Of course, Ebrithil Ingeitum.' Said Dalemor, motioning for his student to follow.
Kialandí gave Aragon a withering look as he walked past.
Aragon ignored his old rival, but Thelduin eyed the door long after Kialandí had left.
Leave my past out of this Thelduin, that life is over, I haven't forgiven Kialandí, and I haven't forgotten to be watchful. Admonished Aragon.
He is still most eager to see you run foul of a fatal accident though, even to the point where he would stab you in the back and drop you off a cliff. Replied Thelduin warningly.
Elmïra tossed a training sword to Aragon and gestured to the centre of the room where Sarah still stood ready. 'Don't hold back, either of you.' She stated as Aragon assumed a ready stance.
'Begin.' Said Eragon from the opposite side of the chamber in a neutral voice.
Sarah attacked as soon as Eragon gave the go ahead, and Aragon met her attack by stepping to the side, pushing her sword away, and bringing a knee up, and firmly hitting her in the ribs.
Sarah hissed in pain, but swung a back hand retaliation that Aragon blocked, before flicking his sword back the other way, pausing it under Sarah's chin, and holding it softly against her throat.
'Dead.' He said firmly.
The two of them broke apart, and stood ready.
'I didn't know that they taught swordcraft on the street or in orphanages.' Said Elmïra in surprise.
Aragon grinned slyly. 'They don't,' he said, 'on the street you learn how to fight, or you end up dead pretty quickly.'
'Swordcraft definitely for you, but I think we'd best see how you do with a ranged weapon.' Said Karl, nodding to himself.
Elmïra nodded once, then threw a longbow to Aragon, along with a quiver. 'See that target on the far wall?' Asked Elmïra, gesturing to the target, which was a meter in diameter, and set at chest height.
Aragon nodded.
'Shoot at it, see if you can hit it.' Said Elmïra calmly.
Aragon took the bow, and clumsily fitted an arrow, before sighting, drawing the bow as far as he could, remembering how Elmïra had showed him previously how it was done, and released.
The arrow skittered off the wall next to the target.
'Again.' Said Karl impassively.
Twenty four shots later, and the results were conclusive: Aragon was not a good shot with the bow.
Three fifths of his shots had missed the target completely.
Another five were in a wide spread around the edge of the target, and the remaining five had hit.
'The longbow doesn't appear to be the weapon for you,' Observed Karl thoughtfully, then he brightened, 'I'll be back in a moment.' He announced, then strode back into the forge.
A moment later, Karl returned with a strange looking device held triumphantly in his hand.
'Try this, young Aragon, my own invention: A wrist-mounted crossbow.' Said Karl proudly.
Aragon took the device, and examined it critically.
It consisted of a rigid vambrace, with a raised, angled metal protector.
Around the bracer was a double bracelet holding ten short bolts.
For the life of him, Aragon couldn't see how the thing could possibly be a crossbow.
Aragon hesitantly slipped the contraption onto his left arm, and found that what he'd taken to be a jumble of straps, turned out to be the skeleton of a glove, which fitted onto his hand.
'Tilt your wrist forward.' Commanded Karl.
Aragon obeyed, and two recurved metal limbs extended from the sides of the gauntlet, with a metal cord pulled taut between them.
'Now aim down your wrist, and when you want to fire, clench your fist.' Instructed Karl.
Aragon nodded, and carefully sighted his shot through two small upthrusts of silver in the shape of a crescent moon.
He exhaled as he tightened his fist, and with a soft twang! the bow fired, and the shot hit the target one ring off the bullseye.
Aragon unclenched his fist, and watched as the wrist-bow rearmed, and reloaded itself.
'Again.' Said Karl with a wide grin of boyish delight, obviously pleased his invention worked.
Aragon sighted and fired again, this time hitting just off the bullseye on the opposite side of the first shot.
A further eight shots later, and the contraption had run dry of arrows, but Aragon's hit rate and accuracy had improved remarkably.
'Very impressive.' Remarked Eragon, and Elmïra nodded in agreement.
Aragon grinned elated, but Eragon's next statement left him feeling slightly let down.
'I didn't believe half what you said about that thing Karl, I apologise, it is just as effective, if not more so, than what you said it was.'
Aragon felt a hot flush.
Elmïra threw the training sword back to Aragon, and claimed one herself.
'Let's see how good with a blade you really are.' She said, assuming a ready position.
Sarah quickly stepped out of the marked sparring area, and Eragon and Karl leaned back, to watch.
'Begin.' Said Eragon again neutrally.
Elmïra struck so fast Aragon didn't even see her move, it was only on reflex that he got his sword in place in time to block the blow that would've otherwise broken several ribs.
Aragon parried the blow aside, and threw a kick at the inside of Elmïra's thigh, but Elmïra blocked the blow almost contemptuously by turning to her left, blocking with her knee, and throwing a back-hand side cut at Aragon, who was forced to block the full force of the blow, and staggered under the sheer strength of it.
Then, Aragon saw a blisteringly fast object flick up from the floor, to the side of his head.
There was a moment of acute shock and pain, then a dull clatter as Aragon passed out.
This is probably the most notable change I've made so far: my original view of Dorù Araeba was a lot more fantastic, and the scaling was way off the mark.
If you've read Inheritance, then I'm pretty sure the abbreviated description I've put in will serve well enough.
For your amusement however, this was how that passage originally looked:
Dorù Areaba floated on a giant stalactite, fully a mile around on top, and the tip floated a hundred feet from the rocky, shadowy floor of the crater.
The city itself was glorious: It was carved of black marble, with silver and red gold decorating the balconies and arches of buildings, even from their height, Aragon spied several beautifully fashioned white marble spires, capped with giant sapphires of midnight blue, and other lesser obelisks of silver set with rubies and topaz.
Around the edge of the city there was a hundred metre ring of bare ground, broken only by granite statues set in a ring around the city looking outward.
Each statue depicted a dragon and rider.
Some stood serenely, the rider with their weapon of choice at rest, with a look of compassion, with their dragon partner standing beside them.
Other statues depicted riders in fighting stances, some highly stylised and exaggerated, with weapons raised in anger and defiance, with looks of anger on their faces, and their dragons also, reflected the violence of the scene.
'What are those statues, ebrithä?' Asked Aragon over the wind.
I'll tell you later, student of mine. Answered Elmïra, as Teclian flew towards a section of the city where blue smoke rose from in lazy eddies of air.
Yeah, Warhammer Fantasy High Elves-inspired much?
No One-Liners!