33. Legend

This day of such eventful news and happenings for all the others passed as dully as the rest for Angela. She enjoyed the Urgals, as she had come to know them in her many centuries and was more familiar with their ways than any of the humans or Riders with whom she travelled. But she was bored because she was not gaining anything toward accomplishing her purpose on this journey. That the Shadeslayers seemed so unconcerned by the approaching birth of their child was insufferable. They felt no urgency that a terrible thing might befall them at that time.

The time is yet far off, Solembum apathetically observed, licking his paws and swiping them over his tufted ears, which twitched after each wipe.

Yes, but still! Angela fussed, huffing impatiently as she missed a stitch in the sweater she was feverishly knitting. These winters in the Spine are unbearable, she complained. What are we doing up here, Solembum? We must learn something to help Arya and Eragon, but I doubt we'll find any such knowledge in the Spine. We have searched here for countless decades, the same as everywhere else.

Perhaps we'll learn something yet, Solembum replied in the strange way he sometimes did.

Werecats! Angela thought in indulgent exasperation. Then, unable to repress her curiosity, she added, Why do you say that, Solembum?

Maybe something is blowing on the wind, he replied sardonically in a way that left her no more enlightened, even as a cool breeze blew over her. You should just finish it with magic, he observed of her project.

Nonsense! And deny myself the pleasure of doing something with my hands? I've lived too long to rely on shortcuts like that, you ninny. So you'll really give me no more hint than that? You're as bad as Elva!

Solembum hissed in an unthreatening way—his approximation of a laugh. Perhaps the witch child is the very reason the Shadeslayers are unconcerned, he suggested in response to feeling her frustration of earlier. Because of her odd prophesy.

But what could she possibly know? Angela demanded, decisively stuffing her yarn and needles into her pouch. Come, night is upon us and I must return to our hut and retrieve a sweater that is already finished. Then I want to visit the village square and hear more stories. Perhaps one may help us yet. We may not have asked the right question to learn the knowledge we seek.

Solembum made no reply, obviously seeing no reason to go to the effort, and rose, stretching his slender feline body in a graceful arch from head to tail. He sauntered off in the direction of the hut without waiting or turning to see if she followed. But Angela knew he heard her as she bustled after him, the same indulgent exasperation now audible on her lips.

After taking care of the side trip, the two made their way to the village square, where the Urgals gathered most nights to share stories and histories, teaching the young ones the things they must know and value.

Nar Garzhvog was there with his cubs, the youngest of whom was now twelve. Though the war chief was a middle-aged ram, he had fewer children than most his age since his mate had been killed by Galbatorix. Angela knew that Urgals rarely took new mates if their first passed on.

Eragon and Arya, Murtagh and Nasuada, and Willow—along with her new family, save her husband—were also all present. A huge bonfire crackled in the center of the gathering.

"Come to share more stories, Mooneater?" Garzhvog boomed.

"Not tonight, young man," Angela said to the enormous Kull, who was nearly twice her height. "I've come to hear more stories."

"Very well. We're ready to begin now. What do you want to know?"

"Hmmm," Angela mused, trying to come up with a question to get the story she sought, if one truly did exist. "Tell me, Nar Garzhvog, why do the Urgralgra appear as they do? As part man and part beast? Do you have any legends of this?"

"That's a good question, Mooneater, and it leads to an even better story. We do have such a legend, and I'll tell it to you now. It is the legend of Rahna, She of the Gilded Horns, the mother of our race.

"The legend begins like this: Millennia ago, Rahna was much like a human—tall and beautiful, with shining golden hair. She lived in the mountains with the people of her village in a land across the sea, far from Alagaёsia, for this was long before the Urgralgra came to dwell here. She was often content to be on her own, wandering through the forest where she could interact with the animals. One day she happened upon a clearing, and there she discovered a noble beast, an animal she had never before beheld in all her explorations.

"The animal was strong and powerful, with a wide chest and impressive curling horns. He, for it was clearly a male, beheld Rahna with intelligent yellow eyes as she entered his meadow, noticing her golden hair, which shone like the sun. She approached the beast with no fear, though he was huge and could have easily killed her had that been his intent. But it wasn't, and he allowed her to look at him and stroke his rough hide. Rahna saw the wisdom in his eyes and wondered what it meant but could not guess.

"She left the meadow as the day waned but returned the following day and each day after, mesmerized by the strength and intelligence of this new creature. One day Rahna was ill and could not return to the clearing. That night, a strange man appeared in her village, asking about a tall woman with shining hair. He was directed to Rahna and seemed concerned by her condition. She did not know this man, but he was tall and strong, and something about his eyes seemed vaguely familiar. Their dark color shone in an odd way.

"Rahna was ill for some time, and the man returned to visit her each night, concerned for her well-being. She was touched by the gesture of the stranger and came to anticipate his visit as much as she had her own visits to the clearing. This was her first clue.

"When she was well again, Rahna returned to the meadow of the noble creature. They remained in companionable silence until the day drew to a close. Then she returned to her village and, after night fell, the man showed up at her hut. So the pattern continued—Rahna visited the beast during the day, and the man came calling at night.

"Rahna and the man fell in love, and since her people had no custom of marriage, as their relationship deepened, they soon shared their love in a physical way. She fell asleep in his arms, content and happy. But when morning dawned, she was heartbroken to find that the man had abandoned her, leaving her alone in her bed.

"Rahna ran to the clearing in despair, hoping to find comfort from the steady presence of her longtime friend. She thought his eyes looked regretful, and she suddenly had a terrible suspicion. That night when the man returned again, he was sorrowful he had abandoned her and wished to explain why, but was unable to because he did not know how.

"They spent another night together, but this time Rahna made herself stay awake. As the hours of the night drew to a close, the man awoke and silently left Rahna's side, thinking she was asleep. She waited for him to leave then followed him just as silently. He led her to the clearing and, as dawn broke, he lay down naked in the center. When the sun's rays shone upon his body, it transformed into the noble horned beast. Rahna then understood. Her friend the beast was her lover the man.

"This discovery did nothing to thwart the love of the shining-haired Rahna and her mate, as pure and deep as it was. From then on, they spent all of their time together, whether in his meadow or at her home.

"And so it came to be that in time, Rahna found herself with child. This was joyful news, and Rahna and her mate anticipated the time when their baby would be born. When it arrived, Rahna gave birth to twins—a male and a female—who appeared to be a combination of herself and their sire. They had the build of a human—meant for standing upright on two legs—but the gray hide and yellow eyes of their father, when in his animal form. As the children grew, it eventually became apparent that they too would grow the impressive horns of their sire, and Rahna was glad. She loved her ram and she loved her children.

"After many happy years, the couple began to grow old, but Rahna unexpectedly conceived another child. When the time for the birth came, the baby was born still. Rahna's heart was broken, and as she sorrowed over the lifeless child, an amazing thing happened. The couple—her loyal ram was by her side, as always—was visited by a heavenly being.

"They were astonished when the personage told them that they were revered in the heavens for their pure love, one that had allowed them to overcome the differences between themselves and conceive a child. As a reward for their love and also as consolation that they had not been able to enjoy this new baby, the being told them they would each be granted a blessing—a wish, as it were—to receive anything they desired. Such an honor is rarely extended since most would abuse the privilege.

"But with pure hearts and pure love, the couple desired only two things. Rahna desired that her children, the male and female, would become the parents of a mighty race, one that would always provide evidence of the devoted love of their parents. Her ram desired that he and his beloved Rahna would become even as their children, able to be together in a compatible form day and night, for all of eternity.

"Their wishes were granted, and Rahna was transformed into our Holy Mother, She of the Gilded Horns, which were as golden and bright as her hair. Her faithful ram was changed into a noble Urgal ram, and they were then alike both day and night and taken into the heavens, where they exist even now, loyal mates for all of eternity. And their children remained and became—as Rahna desired—the parents of a noble race, even the Urgralgra. And, so the legend goes, that is how we came to be both man and beast," Garzhvog concluded.

Everyone had listened in captivated fascination, but two seemed particularly affected by the account—Willow and Murtagh. Angela supposed that Willow, who had tears streaming down her face, could relate to Rahna—as Willow had also fallen in love with a noble ram. But Angela couldn't guess why Murtagh also looked emotional, though he maintained more composure than Willow.

Angela was likewise engrossed by the story, and she said to Eragon and Arya, "Here we have finally heard something to give us a clue, Shadeslayers. I think I now see why Elva spoke as she did. Perhaps we truly have nothing to fear. Love as pure as this—like yours and my parents'—can lead to no evil, only good and happiness." But in spite of the knowledge—the first that had given her any understanding of what might have happened at the time of her birth—Angela remained troubled, for it still did not explain why, if her parent's love had only led to great happiness, she had been abandoned and left behind.

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