Disclaimer: If you've seen it somewhere else, I don't own it.
A/N: Fair warning, this chapter is an info dump. Hopefully it doesn't drag too much. I just felt that everything (or most everything?...) deserved a proper explanation at this point. Please send me a message if it's too much. And to top it all off, I got caught in that freak rainstorm out in the eastern US, so my power has been out for several days. Anyway, finally on to the story!
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His head throbbed as he groggily came to consciousness. His body ached as if he had been run over by a horse. He had been through worse, Ryan told himself, but the pains of mind and body refused to allow him to return to true awareness. Scattered glimpses of blurred lines and formless shapes appeared during his times of faded awareness.
Hours had passed…days maybe? It didn't matter. A few times he could hear voices, some calm, others anxious as he lay with a simple cot beneath his head.
Everything felt odd to him, the smells, the sounds, the feel of the world around him. It all felt…unnatural, as if someone had sent his mind through a blender only to not replace it correctly. He could smell blood, herbs, and a hint of dead flesh in the air. He could hear the groans of the wounded and gentle voices of those attending them. He could feel a slight wind blowing through the tent…but he also felt something…off about the wind, as if a friendly passenger followed it in its travels, an old, ancient friend coming to comfort him with its presence. Ryan slowly reached out to touch the phantom that rested around him, but the feeling was like the air itself, curving around him as he moved but still holding him in its gentle grasp. A smile grew on Ryan's face, the feeling lulling him away into his dreams although the action of smiling felt off. Another presence came to Ryan's awareness, this one coming from within his own mind. This one felt of cold steel and burdened spirit. The mind surrounded his own, gently pushing Ryan's mind below into his own realm…and to the darkness of sleep that awaited him…
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How much time had passed, Ryan didn't know. All that he knew once his eyes fluttered open once more was that he was well and safe. His vision appeared blurry and disjointed. It took time for his eyes to focus. When they did Ryan found himself in a tent alone. Other than the cot he rested on, only a small table, a chair, and a mirror were present. A plate of half eaten food and a lit candle rested on the table, leading Ryan to believe that someone must've gone to inform the others once they noticed his awakening. The tent itself was dark, the flaps at the entrance drawn, although it looked to be about midday if the light outside was anything to go by.
Ryan pushed himself up with a groan, the aches and pains of his body still not completely gone. He rubbed his eyes tiredly before swinging his feet over the bed and resting them on the ground. The feeling of his feet was different…now that he thought about it, his hands felt different as well.
He made to stand, only to fall unceremoniously to the ground. He growled in frustration as he pushed himself back up, using the cot as a support.
"Keep your weight forward on your toes.", Vasir advised.
"Thank you Vasir!", Ryan snapped, shaking his head in annoyance. As he finally regained his feet he did as Vasir advised, shifting his weight forward so it lay on his…four…toed…feet?
What? Ryan thought. He took a tentative step forwards, nearly falling from the unfamiliarity he now felt in his own body. His body felt awkward. His weight shifted oddly.
So as Ryan stumbled towards the lit candle to see what was going on, more and more questions flew through his mind. What happened? How did this happen? Who did this to him? Why did this happen? were but a few of the many running through his thoughts.
He finally reached the table and the candle on top of it. He held out his hands…only to find grey armored hands with four long, clawed fingers. He yelped in surprise, falling backwards to the floor as the fact of what he was seeing sunk in. His hands had four slim fingers, two thumbs on either side of the two middle fingers that all sported sharp claws on the ends He turned his attention to his feet, which were covered in the same grey armor as his hands…or body for that matter. They looked completely different. They had no heel or real 'foot' to speak of, there were four long, slim toes, similar to his fingers, which supported his weight. Ryan could feel the powerful ligaments, tendons, and muscles that allowed him to stand… and the claws that again rested on the tips of each toe. He pushed himself back up, shakily grabbing the candle's stand and moving over to the mirror, careful not to stumble, lest he drop it. When he reached the mirror he looked over…his body?
It had changed completely as well. Nothing appeared familiar to him. The long snout contained a shining blue, slitted, predatory eye on either side and two slits for nostrils at the front. His head flowed backward like a snake's before morphing into a long neck. He smiled, revealing rows of sharp fangs within his mouth. The rest of his body was lithe and smooth, yet obviously well-muscled, which showed beneath shimmering grey armor. The armor itself covered his entire body from head to toe, segmented plates giving the appearance of metal body armor. The material felt fairly soft yet oddly firm to the touch and seemed to both shimmer and yet fade in the candlelight.
"What am I?", Ryan asked the other in his head.
"You are one of us, one of the firstborn of Alagëasia, you…are a Neomorph, a Guardian, a Vardaskul, a….", the rustle of the tent flap interrupted Vasir's reply as Ryan turned to face the intruder.
"Nice to see you finally awake.", Eragon said from the entryway, staring at Ryan warily.
I don't blame him. Ryan thought. I'd be suspicious too if something like this happened to him without any reason why. "Nice to be awake…" Ryan glanced over his new body one last time, ", although the new body is rather disorienting."
"I'll bet," Eragon said with a small smile, his gaze turning more friendly, "come on, Nasuada wanted to talk once you were up."
"Alright.", Ryan took a step forwards only to stumble and fall. Eragon jerked forwards, catching him before he hit the ground.
"You alright?", Eragon asked concerned. Ryan looked him sheepishly.
"Everything feels a bit off I guess." Eragon chuckled at the Rider's predicament.
"Let me help." Eragon replied, pulling Ryan back to his feet.
"You'll have no argument from me.", Ryan pushed himself upright, using Eragon's shoulder to keep himself stable. "How long have I been out?", he asked as they made their way outside, various soldiers staring at Ryan with curiosity or suspicion.
"Three days, and you were in critical condition when we brought you and Samanya in."
"Is Samanya okay?", Ryan asked as Nasuada's tent came into view.
"She woke up yesterday, she's just fine and out hunting with Saphira right now, although she tells me something feels off."
"I'm not surprised.", Ryan replied before switching his attention to ask Vasir about it.
"Any idea of what's going on with her?", he asked Vasir.
"She's changed, much like you except her changes mostly lie beneath the surface.", Vasir replied.
The entrance to Nasuada's red pavilion appeared before the Neomorph could say any more.
"You sure you're alright? You look distracted.", Eragon asked.
"I'm fine, just thinking.", Ryan dismissed with an assuring smile. The smile quickly disappeared as the sound of a fierce argument met his ears. Ryan frowned, still feeling fatigued.
"Hey Vasir?", Ryan asked as he prepared himself for what was to come.
"Yes, youngling?"
"Could you handle this? I don't think I'm awake enough or the most qualified to answer their questions at the moment.", Ryan said, bracing himself for the atmosphere inside.
"If that is what you wish.", Vasir replied. Ryan then relaxed and let his mind fade away into his realm, allowing Vasir to take his place in control. The difference between Ryan and Vasir was immediately apparent in the way the elder Neomorph instantly stood up confidently before pushing his way inside with ease. Eragon raised an eyebrow at the sudden change, but he didn't question it.
Inside the two found Nasuada, Arya, Blödhgarm, Jörmunder, King Orik of the dwarves, and Nar Garzvhog chieftain of the Urgals sitting around a long wooden table. A large mirror rested on the far side, revealing Oromis, Glaedr, Islanzadí, and an assorted group of elven nobles on the other side. The argument they were having appeared to have become quite heated and inside his mind Ryan groanedat hearing what they argued about.
"…there is absolutely no room for negotiation here, that boy and his dragon are responsible for the death of our King Hrothgar. Regardless of my personal opinion on the matter, once my people hear that they have been captured alive they will demand their heads in payment.", Orik was saying.
"We understand your people's grief, King Orik, however we must think of the greater good here. Having Thorn and Murtagh on our side would be a great boon to our cause. Their strength and knowledge of Galbatorix's plans can also be of great benefit to us.", Islanzadí placated.
"It will not matter either way. The memories of the dwarves take many a year to fade, Queen, and the wound that their deeds created still burns brightly in the hearts of my people. They will demand that they be handed over, no matter the justification for keeping them alive.", Orik retorted while Nasuada looked on, rubbing her forehead as if to sooth a raging headache.
"Not to mention the blood-kin of ours that he has slaughtered.", Garzvhog added in, his face grim.
"King Orik, Garzvhog, we understand the anger that boils in your people, but we must think of the greater good.", Oromis said wisely. "The anger and grief of your people will be for naught if we do not topple Galbatorix and for that we need every advantage we can find. Another Rider in our forces certainly will make our march to Urû'baen much easier and less costly."
"Perhaps we should ask the one who captured Murtagh his opinion on the matter.", Nasuada calmly said, staring at Vasir who still stood patiently by the tent's entrance.
"Yes," Islanzadí agreed, "what is your opinion on the matter Ryan?" Vasir calmly strode towards the table, Eragon silently following alongside. Vasir rested his hands on the table's edge, scanning the faces of those around him. Vasir and Ryan quickly consulted on their words, deciding how to approach the delicate topic. In the end, considering how set each side was in their opinion, they decided that a confrontation was inevitable. They also both agreed that Murtagh and Thorn would be invaluable in the ongoing war, thus it was essential that the Red pair be saved. After quickly discussing the finer points of their argument, Vasir finally spoke.
"We are of the opinion that it is not your decision to make.", Vasir said neutrally. The entire table roared in response, Orik and Garzvhog demanding to know what gave the Sage Rider the right to choose, Nasuada and Jörmunder scolding Vasir over his confrontational words, while the elves silently waited for the voices to quiet down. The yelling continued for a minute or two before Vasir raised his hand, silencing everyone as some angrily or curiously awaited his next words.
"We claim the right to decide by way of blood spilt on the battlefield.", Vasir said gently.
"What blood has you and your dragon lost in our defense? You are but children who only fought in their first real battle three days ago. You have no right to dictate to us!", Orik roared.
"We do not speak of the dragon. We speak for ourselves, the betrayed, the forgotten, the abandoned. We speak for the two that are one and the one that is two."
"Another secret of yours I assume, Ryan, who is this other that you speak of?", Oromis asked patiently.
"You speak to him.", Vasir replied, before turning to stare into the eyes of the dwarven and urgal leaders, "And it is because of the blood of my brethren and I that we claim the right to choose the young Rider's fate." Orik opened his mouth to argue, however, Nasuada's hand stopped him as she spoke herself.
"We shall hear you out. Why should we recognize your claim to Murtagh and his dragon?" All present looked to Vasir expectantly. Vasir sighed before beginning.
"I ask that you hold any questions until the end as the story I shall give must by necessity be lengthy.", Vasir paused for a moment as he watched the others each give him a nod of understanding. "To begin we must travel back to when the land of Alagëasia first began. You know that there were two races that inhabited the land at first, dwarves and dragons, and that race that you have come to know as the Grey Folk arrived later…that much is true. At the beginning only the dwarves and dragons existed here, four dragons existed at the beginning of Creation, the ones the Grey Folk called the First Four. The Four's names were Könungr, Drotting, Patriarch, and Matriarch. Könungr and Drotting became the ancestors of every dragon from first to last. Patriarch and Matriarch, through the first known use of dragon magic, created the race you call the Grey Folk. At first the Grey Folk and dragons lived together in harmony, dragons ruling the sky, the Grey Folk ruling the land, while the dwarves lived in their great mountains. During this time magic was unknown and Patriarch and Matriarch's use of dragon magic was the only evidence of its existence. Then an…" Vasir paused as he sighed as if remembering a painful memory, "event occurred that changed everything, a great famine consumed the land for three years. Prey was scarce for dragons and Grey Folk, who were also primarily meat eaters. Frustration and competition over lack of food consumed both races. Previously the Grey Folk had protected the nests and hatchlings of dragons while the dragons hunted in return, however, as food grew more scarce, the Grey Folk had to hunt themselves or starve. Inevitably competition over food and resources consumed both races. The Greys and dragons began to separate, some even began killing others over a successful hunt. Finally, the situation escalated into what would come to be called the Mourning War.", Vasir took a deep breath before continuing.
"The war led to the near destruction of the dragons and Grey Folk and the discovery that the Greys could consciously control magic, but the greatest effect was to drive the blood brothers apart in mutual anger and sorrow. The few surviving Grey Folk left Alagëasia for the land over the sea, which they named, in the ancient language, Eyddr Hjarta or Empty Heart. The Greys started over, regaining their former glory and eventually exploring the fields of magic and technology until they grew advanced enough to travel among the stars.", a few gasps and incredulous glares met Vasir's words.
"They came into contact with another spacefaring race, called the Forerunners, who at the time were at war with an enemy that was unlike any other. The Flood the creatures came to be called. The Flood consumed every sentient creature they came across, although the Grey Folk were strangely immune due to the effect magic had on them. The Greys assisted the Forerunners in their war, but it was ultimately a futile endeavor. The Forerunners found themselves pushed back to their last stronghold and activated a weapon with the power to wipe out every thinking creature in existence. The weapon was activated, but not before the Forerunners saved every other sentient race they could find in a great Ark and sending a precious few to this world as a safeguard against the Ark's destruction. Some Grey Folk helped ensure the weapon's activation, while a precious few stayed on this world and sacrificed themselves to create a magical shield that protected Alagëasia from the weapon's effects. The energy drain, however, killed most of those who remained. The few survivors, half-dead from the effects of the shield, used their last reserves of energy to bind magic to the ancient language before dying out completely. That is the true history of the race that you all have only heard in tale and legend.", Vasir finished.
"And why do you tell us this?", Oromis asked. Vasir smiled.
"Because you look at the first, and speak to the last…of the Grey.", instantly everyone burst into yelling, accusations, and debate over Vasir's words.
"Silence!", Vasir roared, authority saturating his voice. The room quieted, all astounded at the audacity that he possessed. "If you seek proof, you need only speak to the elder dragon," Vasir hissed before turning his hardened gaze to Glaedr, "unless the Skulblaka have truly forgotten everything we did for them.", Vasir challenged.
"Some you have spoke was not as I was taught, Grey One. We remember the times before the Great Divide. Why would we not? Why would expect us not to?", Glaedr replied calmly.
"You abandoned us!", Vasir roared. "You abandoned us…", he whispered now, his eyes glistening with unfallen tears. "I could do nothing as my other half, the one I loved, the partner of my heart, mind, and flesh slowly faded away in my arms. So many others were already dead around us. And when we pleaded to Könungr and Drotting to help us, they refused to even speak with us…" Vasir quieted to a whisper, "Why didn't you help us…?", he pleaded with Glaedr. Inside, Ryan felt Vasir's mind waver, as if it could shatter at any moment. Ryan could feel the sadness, loss, and misery that threatened to break into a flood of agony and despair.
"It was a decision that has haunted us ever since. We remember, Vardaskul, the fields of the dead and dying. Konungr and Drötting never were the same after your fall. We never knew why your people had done such a thing…but if your story is true, then the Skulblaka owe you a debt that can never be repaid.", Glaedr soothed.
"I have yet to see any proof of such a thing.", Nar Garzvhog challenged, "Our peoples have lived in Alagëasia for hundreds of generations. The elves even longer. The dwarves, however, have been here since the beginning. Why is there no evidence among our peoples to support…" Vasir hissed in warning, anger emanating off him in waves.
"The answer is quite simple, you weren't there.", Vasir snapped, his eyes boring into Garzvhog's, "Other than the dwarves and dragons, none of you were there. Only three races existed on this world before the Great Cleansing. Those were dwarves, dragons, and ourselves."
"So, then, where do the rest of us come from?", Nasuada asked.
"The rest of the races were planted here after our demise. None of your peoples had even developed reading or writing yet, let alone storytelling. Urgals hail from a world that was evacuated to save them from the Flood's advance. The dwarves lived inside their great mountain cities, isolated from the outside world. Humans hail from the same place my charge does. And elves…elves are the final remnants of the Forerunners themselves…", the elves eyes grew wide at this admission.
"Why do we not recall this fact?", Islanzadí asked.
"Because we wiped the memories of your people before the Cleansing. That way all races would begin again on equal footing.", Vasir replied.
"Can you swear to all of this in the Ancient Language?", Jörmunder asked, arms crossed and face unreadable. Vasir laughed.
"I could," Vasir chuckled, "but it would do you no good. Since we were the ones who bound magic to the Ancient Language, our language, the Language has no hold over us. Thus we are not bound by it nor do we use it for magic. We control magic another way…the same way that dragons do." As Ryan continued to listen, he finally noticed that Samanya and Saphira had returned. The two dragons remained outside, listening to the conversation through their bonds with their Riders.
"Manipulating magic by will alone is highly dangerous, how do you manage to control your spells?", Oromis asked, curious. Vasir sighed in hesitance.
"The answer…the answer lies within our very hearts.", Vasir turned his gaze to Glaedr, "We share many traits with dragons and have some traits all our own, however, one thing we do possess is something called an Eldunarí."
"What's an Eldunarí?", Eragon asked, pretending ignorance. The elves appeared relieved as well, glad they would have to explain the dragon's secret to everyone else. All others listened waited patiently for Vasir to answer, however, much to their surprise Vasir waved his head towards Glaedr, who answered for him.
" A Vardaskul's Eldunarí is unlike anything in existence. Physically, it is a field of magic of immense concentration around a Vardaskul's heart. However, it is so much more. This field contains their very essence, their mind, soul, and spirit. It allows them to manipulate magic with absolute control from just a flicker of thought. When a Vardaskul dies, however, the Eldunarí dissipates and, from what the stories tell, travels to another realm, where it lives with its brethren for all of time. It can be said then," Glaedr's gaze bored into Vasir's, "that Vardaskul never truly die." All eyes turned to Vasir as the elder dragon finished. Silence reigned for a minute…two, before someone decided to speak.
"You said your people had a relationship with dragons. What kind of relationship exactly?", Nasuada asked. Vasir shrugged.
"It depended on the times, once we stood as brothers and friends, later we faced one another in pride and anger, and in the last days we were driven apart by sadness and suspicion.", Nasuada nodded, satisfied as Oromis asked another question.
"How is it that you can bond with Samanya? The spell that creates Dragon Riders only includes elves and humans, yet you can bond with a dragon as well. How is this done?", Vasir looked over to Glaedr.
"The Skulblaka never told them?", he asked, seeming surprised.
"They had no need to know. It would have only caused them to dig in places where they did not belong. Könungr and Drotting made sure that much of your history was buried away from their eyes. What was destroyed was then preserved in our stories. Stories shared only amongst ourselves." Vasir turned back to face Oromis.
"To answer your question I must ask a question, who suggested the idea that created the Dragon Riders?", Vasir gave a small smile as he spoke.
"Dragons.", Oromis immediately replied.
"Correct…but do you think that the dragons just dreamed up the idea themselves?", blank stares met Vasir's words, "The dragons derived an idea from another bond. A bond created long before the elves ever set foot on this world.", Vasir began to walk around the table, staring always at those opposite him. "It was a bond forged in war and suspicion. A bond created so that brothers would never again shed their own blood. Peacekeepers they were. Revered by some and loathed by others. The power of two races flowed through their veins. Sundavar the Riders were called. They, through their power and that of their dragon's, had no equal among either race.", Vasir nodded for Glaedr to continue.
"Reona, we called the dragons. Reapers they were, masters of the earth and sky. A single bonded pair could easily dispatch dozens of Skulblaka and Vardaskul without a single wound. The magic of their bond greatly changed the two involved. The Skulblaka would grow stronger, faster, its fire would grow hotter, and a Vardaskul's natural armor would grow to cover them. The Vardaskul, meanwhile, found its magical power vastly increased, their senses became more acute, and their armor thickened. They served to settle disputes between our races, much like the Riders of today. Only a few hundred existed at a time, to maintain the balance of power between them, the Vardaskul, and the Skulblaka. They served as the model for the Dragon Riders of today.", the elder dragon recounted. "However, I wish to ask, Vardaskul, where have you hidden all this time? Why have you returned now? Why not during the Fall, when so many innocent lives were as stake?" Vasir's eyes seemed to harden, yet soften as if his thousands of years of sorrow and regret flowed just underneath their surface.
"I do not know.", Vasir whispered. "Perhaps the spell dictated the time of our return. Perhaps we were not truly needed at the time or…perhaps…", Vasir's voice seemed to strain, trying to express the feelings of regret and yet anger-driven satisfaction at the dragon's fate, "perhaps Patriach simply withheld our hand, believing it better that you endure the unendurable and bear the unbearable. Maybe he thought it best that you…" he looked at all assembled, "all of you learn the price of life and freedom in the land you all hold so dear. For generations it was the blood of our fathers and sons that kept the encroaching darkness at bay. This time, we may help you in your fight, but it is you that must pay the price of your mistakes." Everyone stared at Vasir some incredulous, some thoughtful, but all forming their own opinions of what the Neomorph spoke.
"So you just let it happen?", Eragon asked softly, "You stood by and watched as so many people died?"
"Perhaps…", Vasir said neutrally. Anger began to simmer in Ryan's mind as Vasir's callous words.
"Vasir that's enough!", Ryan snapped before seizing back control of his body. "Even if it is true telling them would only make the situation worse. And don't you forget that we need their help to defeat Galbatorix and to restore your people!" A warning growl answered him, matched by one of Ryan's own. Ryan opened his eyes, seeing the feelings of anger and grief that grew under vacant stares. I need to be more careful with him. Ryan thought as he sighed.
"I'm sorry. I should not have let him go that far.", Ryan's head slumped in apology. The tent remained silent. "But there are more important things to worry about now.", a few heads turned to hear what Ryan had to say while others remained lost in their thoughts. "While Galbatorix and I fought he managed to steal some very important information from my mind.", All attention turned to the Sage Rider. "On Vroengard there is a place called the Rock of Kuthian.", recognition flickered in the Gold pair's eyes, "inside this place is a large store of dragon eggs and other powerful artifacts stored there by the Riders for safekeeping. We need every Rider we have to head there immediately," Ryan glanced at Orik and Garzvhog, "yes even Murtagh and Thorn, for the fate of all Alagëasia rests on the contents falling into our hands." Orik seemed to think for a moment before turning to Oromis.
"Is it as he says?", he asked. Oromis nodded grimly. The dwarf sighed, "Then you have no time to lose," his eyes bored into Ryan's, "take the Red Rider with you, but let me be clear, once this war is over recompense for his deeds must be paid. Do you accept this?", Ryan nodded.
"When do you need to leave?", Nasuada asked.
"Tomorrow morning at latest, immediately if possible.", Ryan replied.
"The supplies can be gathered easily. How about yourself Oromis ëlda?"
"We can be ready in time, this does not give us much oppurtunity to convince Morzansson and his dragon to accompany us however.", the Gold Rider answered with a small frown. "And judging by their lack of concern over their lives, I do not believe that they desire anything more than death, or at the very least exile, at the moment."
"Hope is never lost, it is just misplaced and forgotten…", Ryan whispered, just loud enough for Oromis to hear. "Tell them that they should understand, clearly, that this is freedom's final stand, here and now. They go, they risk everything they hold dear. None will be able to escape Galbatorix's wrath. No matter how far they run, no matter where they hide, the war will find them. Tell them they must stand with us now, or they will die alone, eternally slaves to an all-powerful Empire."
"I shall do what I can," Oromis replied, "and…if it's necessary…I will pass along your message." Islanzadí glanced around, looking for any others to speak.
"If that is all…", small nods from all present answered her, "this meeting is adjourned." The elven council disappeared as the Varden council began to disperse. Nasuada and Eragon left to aquire the supplies they would need for the trip to the Riders' ancient home. Ryan could still feel the tension radiating from the room, even after all the occupants had left. Whether the cause be the stress of war or Vasir's information, he didn't know, but he felt how fragile the Varden's alliance was. Nasuada held them together, that much was clear, but without her, what would happen? Would the races fragment and pursue their own agendas? Would they seek power at the expense of the others? Or would they stand together? At some point a day of reckoning would come and the loose bonds that held them together would be tested…
Ryan shook off the dangerous line of thinking as Samanya tried to help him soothe his troubled thoughts. Vasir remained quiet, sealing himself off from the rest of Ryan's consciousness, but he could still feel the resentment and grief emanating off the Neomorph.
"We must be more cautious with him, Ryan.", Samanya said.
"I know…", Ryan stared at the empty tent around him, "it seems that battles of words and mind are just as important in this war as swords and men. I'm just…not sure how much good I can do. I most likely have just destroyed the Varden's only hope due to my negligence and…", Samanya jumped in, gently silencing her Rider's thoughts, assuring him as best she could.
"Shhh…be at peace. You may think of the things changed for bad, but what of the good? We saved Oromis and Glaedr, lives that never deserved to be taken away. We freed Murtagh and Thorn, who lived in bonds that controlled their very lives. Do you not believe them to be worth it?" Ryan remained silent, breathing deeply, trying to reign in his doubts and fears. A flicker of gratitude flew from the Rider's mind to his dragon's. "I'm always here for you, Ryan, and not even hell itself can change that." Ryan strode out of Nasuada's pavilion, finding Samanya standing next to the entrance with a devious smile on her face. Before he could ask what was going on, Ryan found himself snatched up into Samanya's jaws, the dragoness chuckling all the while. Amid a chorus of curses and protests that only made Samanya's chuckles louder, Samanya explained.
"What? Did you think that we Reona didn't have some way to deal with a bull-headed Sundavar? Besides, we need to head over to the landing field to leave and I don't want you brooding all the way there.", although he still grumbled Ryan felt oddly at ease, considering most of his body lay inside a mouth that could rip many creatures to shreds without any effort. Ryan could feel his armor move, as if reacting to the sharp edges and pressure of Samanya's fangs. His body instinctively lay slack, allowing Samanya to move without causing him harm. Ryan felt other instincts simmer beneath the surface and some new part of him hummed inside his mind, content with the warmth and safety of his living cage. Draconic pride protested at his imprisonment. Ryan could feel tendrils of magic weave and flow through the camp like the ocean's waves. A small smile grew as he felt its presence, his heart seeming to find comfort and strength in its ever-present embrace. It was on these subtle things that Ryan thought, and realized how much of him had changed.
The opening of the landing field…strapping on weapons and ammunition…strapping on Samanya's saddle yet feeling compelled to remove it…shrugging off the feeling and packing supplies…contacting Oromis and Glaedr to arrange a meeting point…hearing that Murtagh and Thorn will be accompanying them…giving farewells…climbing into the saddle…then take off.
(This bit was added for my amusement, although it does provide some hints as to the future)
To Vroengard…
To preserve the hope held within,
To repair the bonds broken by war,
To renew the mantle passed by warriors long gone.
Two sides driven to land long dead,
Another kind watching from overhead,
Hearts stolen by those thought passed on.
Bound by fate and called by Light,
Victory remains ever clear,
For those with eyes to see and ears to hear.
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R&R!