"So you're Arya!" Ronan exclaimed as he slid down Bjartkoü's slick scales before walking over to the elf, a large grin on the young teen's face as he finally met his mentor and master's infatuation himself. "Master Eragon has told me a lot about you!" He added slyly where his grin grew when he saw the dark look Eragon shot at him from behind Arya's back.
Ronan then remembered his courtesies, while he normally didn't do those things (he was still a teenager and his respect had to be earned), from what Eragon and Saphira had told him and Bjartkoü about the elf she definitely deserved his respect. He then quickly greeted her in the Ancient Language, making sure to get the bow right.
Arya smiled before doing the same. When she got back up here eyes seemed to widen slightly at the sight of Bjartkoü, who had walked over to stand besides his Rider, his white scales gleaming gold in the sun's setting rays.
Suddenly Ronan was lost in a blur of color and fur, the Shrrg had seen the youngest Rider and had immediately pounced on him as though he were another pack mate. Bjartkoü rumbled in good humor as he saw his Rider struggle to get out of the pile of growing Shrrg, they were getting bigger and having six of them was probably crushing the teen. He instead ignored the mental pleas of his Rider begging for aid and instead nuzzled Saphira, who tenderly nuzzled him back.
"Another Rider and dragon," Arya muttered to herself in the Ancient Language, her feline eyes never wavering as she looked at the young dragon and his young Rider. "It is a true miracle."
"Divine intervention?" Eragon teased her. Knowing full well that she, like her elven brothers and sisters, did not believe in the gods. They did not believe in the dwarven gods nor the human gods, instead they merely focused on the facts of how life could have been created without the help of an all-knowing immortal being working behind the sight of men, dwarves, elves, and all the other intelligent beings that walked the lands of Alagaesia.
"More of a lucky coincidence, or perhaps something else…" Arya trailed off as she pondered whatever thought was going through her head. When she saw Eragon's raised brow she finally dryly said one word, but a strong and powerful word. "Wryda."
Eragon's eyes widened at that, he suddenly remembered Blagden, the stark white raven that often accompanied Queen Islanzadí, Arya's mother and the Queen of the Elven Kingdom. When he had saved Arya's father, King Evandar, from certain death while fighting an Urgal. The then alive King had blessed the then black raven with long life, intelligence, and some unintended side effects. One being all the color seemingly bleached out of his dark feathers, leaving him as colorless as fresh snow. The other was the uncanny insight of the future, but always obscured with riddles that would even give Saphira a headache.
He himself had his future told by Blagden, though he would have preferred the pesky raven to stay out of his future. But that didn't stop him from remembering the riddle that still didn't fully make sense to the Rider.
By beak and bone.
Mine blackened by stone.
Sees rooks and crooks.
And bloody brooks!
Son and father alike.
Both as blind as bats.
While two may share two.
And one of two is certainly one.
One might be two.
The first four verses now made sense to Eragon, who now had the gift of hindsight, which he had wished he had before that battle that had forever changed his life and the lives of those around him.
Blagden had been talking about the Battle of the Burning Plains. He remembered vividly the great Jiet River, its darky murky water replaced with the crimson red of freshly cut blood from both armies fighting. He remembered the birds circling high above, vultures and crows, rooks and ravens. All of the scavengers waiting for the bloodshed to end, so that they could feast upon those that had fallen.
The next two verses, Son and father alike. Both as blind as bats, that he did not have the good fortune of understanding. Whenever he thought back on those two sentences, merely nine words in total, his stomach would clench and churn as though he was about to vomit or maybe break down.
Son and father alike. Father and Son. Eragon and Morzan. Eragon Morzanson. That was who he was, but was it the blood that he shared with the betrayer that strong to change him? To make him into the next Morzan?
Morzan, his father, was a legend of both infamous and monstrous standards. He was the first of the Forsworn, because of his father's misdeeds the Riders of Old had fallen and with it the Golden Age of Alagaesia, plunging it into an age of darkness and despair.
Eragon had been raised on the tales of Morzan, those that Brom had told were always focused on the negative and true qualities and characteristics of his father, the monster who betrayed the very Order that had taken him in and trained him.
The only good tales of Morzan were of course from the government officials and the Empire fanatics who believed that what Galbatorix and the Forsworn were doing were for the good of all. They portrayed him as a knight in shining armor instead of a murderer covered in the blood of innocents. A noble hero instead of the dark villain. A proud Rider serving justice, instead of an Egg-breaker and Oath-breaker. A betrayer not worthy of being called a Rider in the slightest.
Was that who Eragon was destined to be? Was he so alike to Morzan that he would turn as evil as him? It scared and terrified him, was blood that thick? Could it really change Eragon the farm boy turned Rider into the next generation of the Forsworn?
Was the blind as bats part of the verse talking about how he refused to see any connections to Morzan? How he refused to see it, opting for blindness instead of clarity. Would that lead to his downfall? Some said that arrogance had lead Morzan to his death, would the same fate befall his youngest son? That, Eragon knew not.
Eragon suddenly grew worried, asides from himself and Saphira nobody knew of the rebel Rider's dark parentage. Of the father that had destroyed the peace that had once sheltered this war torn world. What would Arya think? What would Ronan and Bjartkoü think? Would his parentage ruin his image of his students and the love of his immortal life?
The last and final verse was even more confusing than the others. While two may share two. And one of two is certainly one. One might be two. What in the gods name did that even mean?
For one wild second, it could have been the glaring heat of the desert sun burning into him or maybe just the stress of being a free Rider and rebel, but he could of sworn that the entire desert seemed to have gone silent, a slight chill clinging to the air that sent the hairs on the back of Eragon's neck standing. He could have sworn he could hear the raucous caw of Blagden's croaky voice. "Wyrda! Wyrda! Wyrda!"
"Eragon?"
And just as fast as the illusion had overcome him, it was shattered when Arya's hand found its way on his shoulder, her brilliant green eyes staring into his brown with a look of concern.
With a small blush Eragon realized that his ponders of his parentage and future must have been longer than he had expected, even Ronan and Bjartkoü were looking at their mentor and friend with concern in their eyes. Only Saphira didn't look concerned as she was the only one privy to the tangled and rapid thoughts going on in his head. Her sorrow seemingly going into their connection and for one second Eragon thought he felt another emotion hidden deep within the sorrow, knowledge perhaps?
Before Eragon could check again to see if he was right he realized he should probably reply to Arya, least they thought he had been in the sun too much and was beginning to become delirious.
"Perhaps you're right, Arya. Maybe it was wyrda that brought us all together." Eragon said as he wondered off all the coincidences, as well as the fact of the dreams that had plagued him about the death of Bjartkoü's parents and where his egg had been buried, hidden from even the prying mind Galbatorix and the Forsworn, who had spent countless decades trying to retrieve any surviving dragon eggs and to add to the collection of the three eggs. Why had he been given the vision of Bjartkoü's location when Galbatorix had been looking under every stone, nook and cranny, in the hopes of bringing another dragon under his control. But the white egg had remained hidden from everyone.
Hidden from his father.
The thought brought a rather bitter taste to his mouth.
Ronan, who had finally managed to untangle himself from pups, was sitting on the ground petting the Shrrg. He clapped his hands together in a decisive manner. "Sooo, group meeting?"
Eragon chuckled and nodded his head towards his pupil, "Aye. Group meeting."
The human, elf, half elf human hybrid, and the two dragons were sitting comfortably in the largest cave the mountains had to offer. Eragon, Ronan, and Arya were seated around a large slab of sandstone that protruded from the carven, making it a makeshift table. Using magic the two had smoothed it down to perfection, now they could move and slid delicate maps and papers around to one another without the worries of tearing.
Saphira and Bjartkoü were lying side by side, both of their Riders were quick to notice that their tails were intertwined with the other. Sapphire blue placed against stark white. The two Riders mentally grinned and cheered, seeing that their companions and half of their heart and souls were finally falling in love with one another.
Even Arya, who had never before seen Bjartkoü, couldn't help but smile at the look of peace and happiness that seemed to shine from Saphira. She could remember back when Eragon and Saphira had just arrived in her homeland, how alone Saphira felt being one of the last of her kind, afraid to never have a mate and instead to be alone for eternity. But it appears that wouldn't be the case for the majestic sapphire blue dragoness, she had found companionship with Bjartkoü. And Bjartkoü had found companionship with Saphira.
On the table was the map Murtagh had given to them, with a nifty spell Eragon had enlarged the map so that its tips nearly touched the corners of the table, allowing the young rebels the ability to see even the smallest of printed names and dots that signified important locations in Alagaësia.
Arya looked at the map, or more specifically the markings, with a pursed lip. One of her eyebrows slightly slanted downwards as she inspected the map, Eragon reminded himself he had to tell Arya about the Eldunarí. While the secret of a dragon's heart of hearts was forbidden to be told to anyone who was not a Rider back in the old days, now in the present era Eragon had no qualms with telling the elven princess, she deserved to know as well. In their group, nobody should be left out on priceless information that could possibly save the world, or just as quickly end it, so Eragon would tell his closest friend when this meeting was over.
It also helped that he was the Leader of the Dragon Riders, so he did have the power and authority to tell anyone he wanted to about Galbatorix's dark secret of power.
"As you two already know, we have gained the alliance of many Tribes, with their wealth we have the advantage that the Varden no longer has and it's dwindling down to the last coin." Eragon started at the head of the table, Arya at his right hand side while Ronan sat at his left hand side. "Though knowing Nasuada she will probably find a way to bring back the gold to pay her soldiers, her advisors and fellow leaders may be idiots, but she isn't. At the moment the Varden only have alliances with three Tribes, two of them are some of the most poor and are not much of a big deal, but the other is very wealthy. The question is, how much are they willing to give to the Varden?"
Arya glanced at the map, she leaned over and put her index on the lower part of the map. "The Varden have successfully taken Aroughs. Roran had a large role in the defeat, because of him and his men it was possible. Since they are now Riderless and outnumbered two to zero, they have been holed up in the city and surviving off of the supplies that had already been there. Since it is so close to the ocean they have an unlimited supply to the ocean, and thus its fish and other resources. And with Aroughs having been abandoned by many due to the close range of Surda they have enough room to house their armies with little to no difficulty. And since they are so close to Surda they have the trade routes between the city and the country opened due to there no longer being any Empire troops left in the southern parts. Most have retreated to Feinster." As she said this the city of Aroughs turned purple as did the country of Surda, which represented the Varden's control.
Ronan frowned, "And why hasn't the king done anything to take back the city? Hasn't he ordered his men to take it back?" The White Rider asked the elf, his dark eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Doesn't Galbatorix care about his cities? Well probably not the people… But every king never wants to lose land, especially to a rebellion none the least." Ronan relented knowing that the Mad King didn't care for his subjects in the slightest.
Ronan had been raised in a poor village that was barely on the map, during the harsh winters where food and warmth was scarce. And as always their plea of help fell upon deaf ears. Ronan had lost many friends and family due to the King and the fact he didn't care, either from famine, disease, freezing winters, or lack of food.
Arya and Eragon nodded their heads in agreement, but seeing as they had been in war much longer than Ronan had they could tell the difference with a force the leader had little concern for, it was just that. Galbatorix just didn't care.
Arya pointed at the swamps that were located north of Aroughs, it was the same swamp Eragon had met Murtagh shortly after the Battle of the Burning Plains and the Varden's subsequent betrayal. "One of the advantages the Varden has are these swamps, they surround Aroughs like a barrier. Large parties of soldiers cant get their way through, their heavy armor and weapons could easily make them sink into the bog, never to be seen again." She glanced at Ronan and Eragon, "It is considered to be the Aroughsian version of the Spine." She told the two Riders who had grown up and often journeyed and hunted within the infamous forest.
So for the time being, the Varden needn't fear attack from the Empire, Bjartkoü said out loud so that all could hear him. His voice surprising Arya, who had yet to hear the young male dragon speak. Unless our kin Thorn and Murtagh are ordered to attack Aroughs. He said, his lips curling into a snarl at the mere thought of his fellow dragon and egg-mate being used as though he was a simple beast, a hound of war, as though the dragon were merely a dog and went where ever his master pointed.
Arya blinked several times, then she abruptly stood up from her seat, her hands slamming on the stone table while cracks appeared like a spider web when she applied a lot of pressure to the table. "Murtagh is the Red Rider!?" she all but yelled to the heavens, or the stars in the elven culture.
Ronan glanced at Eragon who looked just as confused as he was. "You didn't know that?" The youngest Rider asked surprised evident in his hazel eyes.
Arya's eye twitched ever so slightly as she glared at the male Riders sitting with her, her green eyes had suddenly turned into an inferno of green. "No." She said through gritted teeth. "I did not know that." She slumped into her makeshift chair, even that movement still had the grace of something feline. "We, or I guess I should say the Varden. We don't have a clue as to who the Red Rider is, you were the only one to confront him and live, Eragon." Her pale face turned even more pale. "Murtagh is the Rider…" She whispered in disbelief. "But I was there with you, when Ajihad was ambushed and the Twins and Murtagh taken by Urgals. I was the one to venture into the tunnels in search of them, I found Murtagh's armor littering the cliffs of an abyss… I had thought him dead, but he isn't." She shook her head before chuckling, but it was hollow and bitter. "Life has a funny way of changing and flipping things, no?"
Her eyes saddened as she remembered Murtagh who had rescued Eragon and herself from Gil'ead, he had been a comrade, a brother in arms, but now he was enslaved by the very thing that gave him power, magic. "I wonder what Nasuada would have thought of this information." She said which Eragon understood. It was obvious that back during their stay in Fathern Dûr that Murtagh had a soft spot for the dark-skinned beauty, a feeling that was shared the same with Nasuada.
"I see, I guess I forgot to tell anyone who the Rider was, I was trying to see without being seen," Eragon said softly, he then looked at the love of his life with determination set within his brown obs. "We'll free them, Arya. I promise you that, one way or another I will free them."
Arya nodded, a Rider and dragon under the iron fist of King Galbatorix sounded like the worst type of hell, and seeing as she knew Murtagh before his incarceration and had come to respect the young human for his loyalty, courage in battle, as well as his skills in the art of combat. "I'll help you as well," Her lip curled slightly in a soft smile, "After all, like you said before, someone has to pull you out of trouble."
Ronan burst into laughter, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe properly. "Ahaha, that's so ironic!" He crowed as he leaned backwards, "That's what Eragon-elda would always say when I wanted to go on a journey. He always says that I have a knack for finding myself in bad situations. Glad to know that it happens to him as well!" He chortled while Eragon rolled his eyes at his pupil.
"Before my pupil here has a heart attack, I have two things we need to discus." Eragon gestured towards the table, using his magic to make certain routes and roads in the Empire glow blue. "If we are to make an army there is one thing we need."
"An army, perhaps?" Ronan asked sarcastically as he looked at the map with a scrunched face, they looked like trade routes to the former blacksmith apprentice.
Eragon ignored his students sarcasm and instead gestured towards the map, "A army always starts with a single individual. While we have the Tribes to call upon for aid, they do not know the Empire like Ronan and I, we were born there after all. Not to mention that the Tribes numbers have dwindled over the years, the best we have is two to three platoons. That would only help us take on a small camp, we wouldn't even be able to take over a controlled town if not for us being Riders as well as magicians. Which is where I've come to the conclusion on how to have men, loyal men mind you, join us." Eragon leaned forward, his hands clasped and his lip pursed as he looked at the blue lines. "We free them."
Arya's eyes widened slightly as she realized what he meant. It was so simple, but brilliant. "Those are slave routes." She declared as she looked at the pale blue lines that connected the cities of the Empire like an intricate spider web.
Eragon nodded his head. "When Ronan went to meet the Kuro Hasu (1) I had him ask their leader Jorgr for a map containing the routes of the slave traders and their cargo, slaves. Needless to say I got it, and this presents us two opportunities." He held out his hand and counted off one finger, "The first is that we build an army upon the freedom of slaves, willing that they join us of course, and I'm sure they would be loyal to the ones who freed them from a life of slavery and hardship… the second is what I consider the most important." Eragon trailed off as he looked at the map, his eyes glazed slightly as he was lost in his memories.
"And that is?" Ronan asked his mentor with a raised brow.
"We save lives," Eragon said softly. "Lives that were ruined by Galbatorix's rule of terror, we can rebuild it, make it better. I never told you this Ronan, but there is one thing under Galbatorix that I loath. Slavers… When I had just become a Rider and was heading to Farthen Dûr, my party and I ran into a group of slavers." His hands tightened into fists. "They didn't care that with each person they captured they had sentenced to a life on cruelty and pain. They laughed and cheered when they found us," Eragon's face tightened. "Though that soon changed when Saphira showed herself, Murtagh killed their leader in cold blood… I often wondered why he did it. But I think I understand, if only slightly. Had Tokenbrand lived, would he have tried to redeem himself? No, he wouldn't. He would've continued to destroy lives, enslaved them. I don't approve of what he did, but I can't condemn Murtagh for what he had done, he may have saved more lives from slavery for all I know."
It was silent for a moment before Ronan spoke. "If we begin to build our army, we need to relocate. These mountains are fine for us since Saphira and Bjartkoü can fly us over the desert, but a large group of people couldn't cross these dunes. Much less in armor and loaded down with supplies and weapons, they'd bake in the heat and it would take thousands of flights to carry them all here. These caves were for the dragons, not people. An army can't be here."
Eragon grinned, a small smirk playing at his lips as he looked at his only student who suddenly had a feeling that Eragon knew something that neither he nor Bjartkoü knew about.
"And who says that our base of operations will be in these desolate mountains?" Eragon asked his student, a wide grin forming as his brown eyes seemed to alight with mischief as he knew he knew something important that Ronan didn't know about. "As soon as this meeting is over and I consult with the Tribes that have aligned with us, we're going to leave these mountains and set up our permanent hideout that will be more than enough room for two dragons and an army."
"Du Weldenvarden?" Ronan asked eagerly, seeing as the newest Rider had never been to the forest that the elves dwelled within. All he knew about the place was from tales told by storytellers and of course Eragon and Saphira.
"No."
Ronan deflated a bit, "But then where are we going to live?" The young teen asked confused. "There is no other place to hide."
Eragon arched a brow, "Oh? Are you sure about that?" Eragon gestured towards the map of Alagaesia. "There are many places we can be without the thought of the Varden and perhaps even the Empire trying to track us down. I learned something from my teacher, something I've taken to heart. Sometimes the best hiding places are the most obvious." Eragon grinned again, "And that is why I know where to go, a place that the Empire wont think to look and a place the Varden wont even dare or attempt to look as well."
Eragon knew that Arya would have immediately figured it out, and he was right as realization flashed through the elf's cat-like eyes. "The Empire." She breathed out as she looked at the largest country in the world of Alagaesia. "We're going into the Empire."
Eragon nodded, "And not just the Empire. But near the heart of the Empire, in fact."
It was then that the Blue Rider pointed in the north western tip of the charted lands of Alagaësia, near the villages where both Ronan and Eragon had been born. He pointed at the largest and most famous mountain in the spine, one that overlooked the whole forest and could be seen from Therinsford despite the distance.
The mountain was a place of both pride and sorrow. A once great tower had stood like a sentinel for the Riders of old, an old outpost that had once been a sight to see but was now a ruin. Some considered that mountain to be the place where the war of Galbatorix and his Forsworn against the Riders had ended, where Galbatorix finally became King of what was made into the Empire today.
The tower itself used to be called Edoc'sil, Unconquerable, due to the fact that nobody aside from a Rider or those with a flying mount could reach the steep summit.
Edoc'sil was the final battleground. The final battle between the Mad Galbatorix and the Leader of the Riders, Vrael. Good versus Evil. Light versus Darkness. It was there that Vrael was defeated and the world then belonged to Galbatorix. The tower was then called by the remaining Riders simply as Ristvak'baen, the Place of Sorrow.
But the commoners called it by a different name, one more common than the names detailed with the Ancient Language.
"Utgard?" Ronan asked in disbelief.
"Aye, Utgard."
Ronan's eyes were furrowed slightly, "But it's a mountain." He said bluntly as he remembered the giant mountain from his adventures back when he was just a simple blacksmith's son in Ursür, while gigantic in size and could possibly rival one of the smaller mountains of the Beor Mountains the tower itself probably could only host themselves and their dragons, not an army.
Eragon hummed in agreement, his index finger still pressed to the small letters emblazoned Utgard. "It is now," he said vaguely. He thought of his plans, plans he had not thought possible until he had found out about the Eldunarí
Arya sighed ever so slightly, "Why do I have the feeling you're keeping something from us, something important and possibly life changing?" The elven princess asked the Rider with a slightly annoyed scowl set upon her pale features.
Eragon smirked slightly, thoroughly enjoying the fact that everyone including Saphira was left in the dark, it was fun when it wasn't him who was looking for the answers. Maybe he should do this more often…
"I've been planning this for a long time, before I met you Ronan." Eragon said while the other said Rider's eyes widened as he realized that whatever this was, Eragon had been planning this for a long time, and seeing as even Saphira looked like she didn't know what her Rider was saying and the fact that Uznov had not said anything even relating to the towering mountain, Eragon must have kept this in the far corners of his mind.
"I'm really confused," the teenager declared as he stared at the map as though hoping that the answer would reveal itself via through the parchment, sadly for him nothing happened. "Are we going to live on Utgard?"
"No, Ronan." Eragon's grin seemed to get even bigger and wider, "We're going to live in Utgard." He pointed at the Beor Mountains and the uncharted lands where the dwarves lived in their underground cities, "We're going to tunnel into the very mountain itself."
(1) The name of the Guild.
Ancient Language.
Wryda – Fate
Kuro Hasu – Black Lotus
Edoc'sil - Unconquerable
Ristvak'baen – Place of Sorrow.
Interesting side note, this was the actual origin of this story. Eragon and Saphira living in Utgard like a little Farthen Dür, I did leave a hint a couple chapters back. Funny how things can turn bigger and longer, eh?
I felt like this would be the best place to stop it, (I do love cliffhangers, seeing as they happen to me all the time). Next chapter will feature the Shrrg, the actual journey to Utgard and maybe how they're actually going to live there, and Sloan (Was I the only one who accidently forgot about him? I was reading an early chapter when Eragon fought the Ra'zac and I was like 'Oh, yeah. Sloan's with Eragon and I completely forgot about that').
My bad?
As a small note, in case people are wondering why I have Ronan act rather childish at some points in the story, he is a teenager and he is also a bit of a comic relief so my story won't be really dark and somewhat grim to some readers, we all need the comic relief and Ronan seems to fit the bill.
Also kudos to anyone who gets the name Black Lotus, anyone who thinks they get where I got the name from leave it in the review. Don't be afraid with leaving a review, they are the main reason why I update this, so don't be shy!