CHAPTER 4
Eragon sat peacefully as Saphira landed through the roof. Vrael's accommodation could still contain her as it was built to house Umaroth himself who was many times the size of Saphira before his death. With a powerful concussion, his Dragon landed directly into the place made for her.
She looked around scrutinizingly, and her eyes fell upon Eragon. Eragon held up his hand, his father's ring Aren glinting in the moonlight. It was one of the very few things he had left of Brom. Getting up, he unbuckled his sword from his waist and floated it to his table with a whisper of a word.
You stirred this place up as usual, Eragon. The elves are all flitting around the little garden you created, singing poems and giving calf-eyed looks everywhere. Sometimes they can sicken even me, snorted Saphira as she looked at her Rider.
Eragon smiled at this. Saphira, it is not necessarily a bad thing you know. Appreciating nature in so much depth is one of the traits that make the elven race so unique. Saphira snorted louder at this, a large plume of smoke escaping her nostrils.
Your lily garden is absolutely crawling with Elves, Eragon. Arya just refused to leave the place, Firnen had to pick her up forcibly and get her back to Tialdari hall. Sahloknir just threatened Laetri point blank that if she wanted to stay in the place for as long as Arya he would dunk her in the lake.
Laetri, too? Chuckled Eragon. I wonder what Arya will think if she came to Aiedail.
He walked to Vrael's bed, laying himself down to sleep with a sigh of relief. Once before in his youth, he had not felt truly adequate to sleep in this bed. But that was a long time ago…a long time indeed. Now, all he felt was comfort as he laid himself upon the comfortable down filled mattress.
I know what you are thinking, Eragon. Aiedail can stand without you there to look after it every second. It is time for you to heal yourself at last. I will not let you leave Alagaesia until you are whole!, came Saphira's firm voice.
Eragon only looked up at the night sky of Ellesmera, struck deeply once more by the Elven city's beauty. A hundred years of life and experience had not dimmed his awe in the slightest. The races were in balance once more and Ellesmera was flourished as never before.
I know what you wish for me, Saphira. But I cannot be healed. The tear in my soul is a part of me, I fear. How do you think I can be healed, anyway? he asked curiously. Saphira's long snout came in front of him, and her eyes met his.
I do not know. But I can feel it in my bones, my beloved. We will find happiness in Alagaesia again. You know of the instincts of my race. They served us well in the war and latershe said.
Eragon considered the truth in Saphira's words. Alagaesia was vast and rich, and even he did not know everything there was to know about the land. If anywhere a solution could be found, it had to be in Alagaesia.
It seemed he had to intertwine his fate once more with Alagaesia.
Where is Roran, Saphira? He asked. The great Sapphire dragon replied: I talked to him, Eragon. He says he needs a little more time before he talks to you.
Eragon sent his agreement to the notion, fully knowing how versatile feelings could be. He had not thought that the Menoa tree would take a hand in things like that and extend the life of his cousin. Nevertheless, he was beyond glad with what she had done.
He was beyond being stubborn for the sake of pride. If staying in Alagaesia would rid him of his suffering, then so be it. He would stay here as long as necessary and return to Aiedail only periodically.
I need to speak with the Nine, Saphira. Tomorrow I must entrust responsibility over our city to them. I have not left the city for a century…
Saphira's assurances washed over him, conveying to him that Aiedail would be safe without him. You need to be here, Eragon. I feel it. You need to be here for now.
Eragon assented, smoothly slipping into the trancelike state that was his sleep. Tomorrow onwards, he would begin to actively involve himself in the affairs of Alagaesia.
It was as good a time as any for him to re-establish the Riders in Alagaesia. It was what his master and his father had fought and died for, and he could not in good conscience postpone it for any longer.
…...
A soft knock on the door woke him up, and he got off the bed and dressed himself in his white robes. "Come in" he said, and the door opened to let in Arya.
"Good morning, your Majesty" he said politely to her, cleansing himself with a spell. He reached for his sword, and slung it across his waist. Arya entered a tad uncertainly and looked around at his chambers.
"I am sorry for waking you up, Eragon" she said. "No matter, I was near to waking. Is there anything particular that you needed?"
A hurt look crossed Arya's face. "Can I not visit a friend, Eragon, without needing something from them? I thought you would like my company on the sparring field, which is where I assume you are heading?"
Eragon nodded. It had become a long inculcated habit of his for the century, practicing the Rimgar in the morning. He felt Saphira speaking to the other Dragons; he felt her interest as she spoke to Firnen.
"I would like that, your Majesty. Let me just take a moment to summon the others there as well" he said, closing his eyes and reaching for magic.
Please join us in the sparring field.
The call echoed all over Ellesmera, but reaching only Eragon's students. Arya raised her eyebrows inquiringly at that.
"I have studied magic deeply for a hundred years, your Majesty. I was bound to discover a few things" he said mischievously, as he ran up to the roof and up the wall. Arya watched curiously as Eragon seemed to glide up the wall and jump from the open roof onto the ground.
As she looked out of the window, she saw him fall as if floating on the air. He touched down gently on the ground and beckoned Arya. Laughing, she too followed Eragon out through the roof and used magic to lessen the impact of her fall. A small cloud of dust seemed to erupt where she had fallen, causing her to cough softly.
"Shall we go, your Majesty?" asked Eragon as he walked briskly towards the training area. Arya followed him, still wiping off the dust gathered on her robes.
"So tell me, your Majesty. How fares Alagaesia?" he asked Arya. Arya's face seemed to take on an unreadable expression at this question. Firnen's voice reached out to her, urging her on.
He will know soon enough, Arya. Tell him. He must know from you, it is for the best. At least he will be prepared to face Roran.
She nodded to Firnen by mind, and began.
"Alagaesia fares mostly well, Eragon. King Palencar rules over the land now and the humans are mostly at peace. Orik rules over the Dwarves peacefully as well…as peacefully as he can for dwarves I suppose" she chuckled, and Eragon smiled as well.
"I rule my people from Ellesmera, as you well know. You should see the cities, Eragon. The cities outside our forest. They are full of people of all races…my people walk freely once more. As do the dwarves and even some Urgals. When I see Illirea or Gil'ead, I feel my own struggles have been worth what we have achieved" she said with shining eyes.
"It sounds like something before the fall, your Majesty. The rulers of the three Races and Alagaesia have done well without us, it seems" said Eragon with satisfaction. Arya shook her head sadly at this.
"You mistake me, Eragon. I never said we are at full peace…though we have achieved much. Strife still exists everywhere, and the Urgal bloodlust I am afraid has increased considerably. They are pushing at their boundaries and Nar Garzhvog seems unable to contain his kinsmen"
Eragon shook his head.
"Nothing that cannot be quelled, then. I might have to go to the Urgals and have a talk with them. I hope they still remember me" he said as an afterthought. Arya snorted, looking at him incredulously.
"Remember you?" she laughed a full laugh. "Alagaesians revere you, Eragon! You literally ended a hundred years of Darkness and bloodshed in the land, and you are a legend for that. Eragon Kingslayer, they call you. Bane of Galbatorix, Slayer of Shades, Bringer of Light…I would assume if you flew out to Illirea, it would be an event that would force the rulers of all races to convene and meet with you!" she said, with mirth dancing in her eyes.
Arya's melodious laughter increased in volume at the dumbfounded expression on Eragon's face. "Really?" he asked. Him, a legend? He knew that killing Galbatorix would give him fame, but what Arya was describing was ludicrous.
"Yes, Eragon" said Arya, her laughter fading.
"I remember those days" said Eragon, looking around with a distant expression. "I could never have done it without you, all of you" he said to Arya with a smile, and received one in return. Nasuada's face flashed in his memory after a long time, causing him to stop briefly. It had been nearly eighty years since he had seen Nasuada.
"What happened to Nasuada?" he asked Arya, whose expression tightened imperceptibly.
"After forty years on the throne, she abdicated and let her son Palencar ascend. It is not known how she died. She disappeared into the vastness of Alagaesia, and she was never seen again" said Arya softly. "She was a good friend to me, and our race. Nasuada, Orik and I managed to craft a treaty that allowed free passage for Elves and Dwarves in the Broddring Kingdom"
Eragon said nothing, choosing to walk in silence and digest what he had been told. Much had happened in his long absence from the land.
"That is sad" he said without much feeling, causing Arya to look at him sharply. "And how is Orik, and the Ingietum?"
"Orik and the Ingietum are well. The dwarves are prospering like never before, now that all lands except Du Weldenvarden is open to them. Orik just celebrated his hundred and twentieth coronation anniversary this year, and was greatly saddened by your absence" murmured Arya.
We all were, her melodious voice resonated in his mind. Eragon's heart was gladdened at news of Orik's wellbeing. Orik was family, along with Roran and his family. Though his absence must have hurt them, he was here now. That is what he told Arya.
"I am here now. I believe that despite my personal wishes, my friends are right. I have to take a direct hand in the matters of Alagaesia to establish the Riders once more" he said, as they arrived at the sparring ground.
"May I join you in your practice of the Rimgar, Ebrithil?" asked Arya. Eragon was again struck by how free she seemed. Time had indeed healed her somewhat; She had shed the mask of indifference she wore so many years ago.
"You may, Shur'tugal" he said gravely, as his other Riders approached him. This time, it seemed, the elves were waiting for him.
As he led them on the Rimgar, thirty Elves and seven Riders followed. They flowed peacefully to Lifaen's uplifting tunes, bringing smiles of delight to many an elf. A slight happiness flowed through Eragon as the Elves joined him on his practice…it made him feel a kinship with them. It gave him a tranquillity he only felt slightly on Aiedail.
Perhaps I have left Alagaesia for too long. Aiedail may be my home, but this land is my birthplace. Perhaps the Nine were right in dragging me here…I will find healing here.
…
"Why are we going this way again, Ebrithil?" asked Barristan curiously as he followed Eragon down the winding paths of Ellesmera. Once their practice of the Rimgar was over, Eragon had asked the six Riders to accompany him to meet with someone. Arya and Laetri were deep in conversation, so he did not invite them.
"To meet someone I hold in high regard" said Eragon calmly as he trudged forward. "Tell me, Barristan, wasn't your father a blacksmith in Kuasta?" he asked. Barristan was very young, barely twenty two summers old. Eragon could not help but see himself in Barristan as the young Rider rose fast in the ranks.
He was also as inexperienced as Eragon himself was when that age. Eragon smirked faintly as he saw Barristan still looking around in wonder. Ellesmera does have that effect on people.
"Yes, Ebrithil" he said, hearing the sounds of metal being forged ahead. Yaela's eyes lighted in recognition of the tree in which the forge fire glowed brightly. Eragon nodded to her, confirming her suspicions.
"We are going to see the famed Elf master forger, Rhunon-elda. Treat her with the utmost respect, Barristan. The rest of you are no doubt familiar with her." he said gravely, walking up to Rhunon's tree with his five students in tow.
Memories assaulted him, memories more than a century old. The forging of his sword under Rhunon's guidance was one of his most vivid memories from that time. The heat of the forge, the desperation of those months…he mentally shivered.
The door opened, showing a dishevelled Rhunon at the door. She stared at him with annoyance as if incredulous that he had the audacity to disturb her in her work.
"What do you want, Shadeslayer? Did you lose Brisingr aswell?" she asked irritably. Yaela smiled at her brusque manner, and Leya looked amused as well. Barristan, however, looked outraged at how his master was being addressed.
"No, Rhunon. I wished for my students to meet you, and I wished to as well. It has been a century since I saw you, after all" he said. Rhunon stared at him a moment longer and beckoned him inside with his students.
"Well, I suppose you want me to forge swords for them? Have you no respect for the oaths I make, Shadeslayer?" she asked gruffly. Eragon's eyes danced with amusement, he really did find the forthrightness of Rhunon refreshing. His students treated him only with utmost respect…and he did get tired of it.
"No, Rhunon-elda. Unless you want to?" he asked curiously. Rhunon seemed so torn that it almost made Eragon laugh again. Then she sighed disconsolately, and said:
"It cannot be, I am afraid. Your sword is one of a kind and I won't forge another in such a manner without reason. These Riders I am afraid will be without swords" she said, making as if to return to her work.
Eragon could see Barristan's temper rising. The young man was quite the hothead, despite his skill at swordsmanship and magic. I want to watch what he does, Little one. Don't stop him, came Saphira's voice.
"Why won't you forge swords for us? We are Riders and we deserve our own blades! How are we to fight without a Rider's blade, my current sword just breaks into pieces no matter how much magic I fortify it with!" he snarled, causing Rhunon to look at him again.
Rhunon looked at him as if he were Islanzadi come back to life.
"A rude one, you are" she observed dryly, causing the Elven Riders to smile. Barristan looked abashed at the comment, trying to look down at his shoes.
"But I like you" she continued. "I will tell you the same thing I told your master all those years ago: There is no use trying to strengthen your sword with external magic" she said, and Barristan made as if to interrupt.
One look from the ancient Elf-woman silenced him.
"And you say you cannot fight well without a Rider's blade? Foolishness. What have you been teaching them, Eragon Shadeslayer?" she asked disappointedly.
"I don't spar with them, Rhunon-elda. I leave that to the Nine. I instruct them in the finer aspects of Life and magic only" he said, looking slightly disappointed with himself.
"I see" she said. "Have you even seen your master fight, boy?" she asked curiously. Barristan shook his head, seeming to take offense at being called 'boy'. Eragon had not drawn Brisingr openly for many years now…many of the younger students had not even seen him wield that sword.
"I am a Rider, Rhunon-elda" he said sternly. Rhunon laughed out loud, and even Yaela and the others smiled, even Eragon smiled faintly. Barristan did take his duties seriously, but he had not been in any real situation that tested him. He was not forged by life and its hardships.
"I see it is time for a lesson" she said mysteriously. "Perhaps I can teach you something…consider it my gift for your forthrightness"
She strode casually towards Eragon, who stood calmly beside the forge. Without warning, she snatched a poker from the forge and swung it towards Eragon's head with unbelievable speed. Embers flew everywhere and the air made a screeching sound as it was split by the mightily swung implement.
Barristan watched with amazement as his master caught the poker calmly between the first two fingers of his right hand, and he saw them glow an ominous blue colour. With a flick of his wrist he shattered the poker into two, the broken half spinning high into the air and embedding itself into the wall.
"You have grown stronger, Shadeslayer" murmured Rhunon appreciatively as she turned back to a flabbergasted Barristan. Even the Elves were surprised…they could duplicate the feat, certainly, but not so instantaneously.
"Did you see, young Rider? Your master used no sword; you truly do not need a sword if you know how to fight. The world is your weapon, youngling. A sword will only augment that ability…always remember: A Rider is a weapon all by himself" she said firmly, watching as Barristan nodded shamefacedly.
"Thank you for your instruction, Rhunon" Eragon said politely. "I am sure Barristan has learned. Now, what I wished to ask you is…can you help choose swords for my Riders? We have a huge store of swords that Galbatorix looted from the fall, and your opinion on my students' choices would be much appreciated."
Rhunon considered.
"That I can do" she said with certainty. "Now, off with you and your Riders, Shadeslayer. I need to attend to my work!"
…
They were in a beautiful clearing in the forest, blanketed by a lush green lawn. The sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees in bright shafts of white. The Queen and Laetri walked side by side purposefully towards a cottage, built alongside a large white memorial.
Laetri paused to take in the almost inviolate nature of the place, feeling immediately the privacy and peace it afforded to its resident. She slowly neared the memorial and paused to read its epitaph:
Katrina
Beloved Wife
Mother of Ismira, Geran, Helga and Helidan.
Where you rest our souls rest too.
Peace be thine, my love.
The epitaph brought tears to Laetri's eyes, for the parting it spoke of was cruel indeed. She had been witness to the love Katrina and Roran had shared, a love that transcended empires and defied kings. It was a love worth the attention of the Elves' greatest poets…pity and sadness bloomed in her heart for Roran Stronghammer, cousin of Eragon.
To live on so long alone after his wife's passing…She shivered. Her acute senses picked up the door of the cottage opening and a tall and well-built man striding out towards them. Arya waited for him, and Laetri noted the familiarity they had with each other.
"I am sorry for you, Roran Stronghammer. It seems you have had your own share of suffering for the past hundred years…I am truly sorry" she said with feeling.
Roran who had just finished conversing with Arya, turned to her and said. "Thank you, Laetri svit-kona. Your concern means much to me…I am half surprised Eragon did not come bursting in here as he was often wont to do" he chuckled without humour.
"He has changed, Roran…just the way you have. You are two different men now. I assume her Majesty told you Eragon's story by mind speech?" she asked. Roran's eyes widened at this and he looked at Arya with consternation. He did not know it was possible to recognize communication by mind so easily…and its content as well.
Arya just shook her head, "Do not underestimate Laetri, Roran. Hundred years ago she defeated Formora in a duel, and I assume she has not been idle since becoming a Rider either. She is an elf of enormous skill and wisdom."
Laetri's eyes tightened at Formora's name and her fists clenched. Then she relaxed slowly, staring at Roran and Arya.
"As I was saying, you must know about your cousin and what he has gone through" she asked Roran, her bright-blue eyes piercing right through his. Roran nodded with a downcast expression, murmuring "It was better when we were boys in Carvahall. We were happy back then, me and Eragon. Dragons and magic…" he almost snapped out in a curse.
Laetri's eyes widened at this, "The years have made you a cynical man, Stronghammer. Why did the Menoa tree curse you so?" she asked sadly. For Roran lived nothing but a curse. Sometimes she wondered about Immortality. For the human race had the ability to join their loved ones in death after a time…Elves were denied that luxury.
"I do know" said Stronghammer, sinking down to the grass carpeted floor in misery, hugging the memorial of Katrina as if it were something vital to his survival. Arya looked at him in pity, and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"You cannot give up yet Roran…she can be found. You must find her…and now with Eragon here I have no doubt you can do it. Your cousin will help you, and with the might of the Riders behind you nothing is impossible" asserted Arya encouragingly.
Laetri was missing something. "What is amiss?" she asked with concern. Arya's eyes were downcast, and Roran laughed a harsh laugh.
"What is amiss, you ask? Everything is amiss." he whispered in despair. After a few moments to collect himself he began his tale, and Laetri listened patiently.
"I thought we would have peace after Ismira was born. After Eragon killed Galbatorix, I thought I could live out my life in happiness as Earl of Palencar valley. And we did too, for seven years. For seven years we had everything we dreamed of. Helga, Helidan, and Geran were triplets and we had the utmost joy at their birth. My life was full."
Laetri could almost see the picture he painted with his words. But Roran's voice darkened imperceptibly.
"At the dawn of her eighth year, Ismira was chosen by a Dragon" said Roran bitterly, and Laetri could not hide her gasp of surprise this time. No one on Aiedail knew this fact, not even Eragon. They did not have any Rider named Ismira of that she was sure.
"What was the colour of the Dragon?" she asked urgently.
"Black like Shruikan used to be. But with the brightest golden eyes he was. Belegroch she called him, the moment she laid eyes on him. She was the pride of our Earldom, the second Rider to come from our lands…the first being Eragon Kingslayer himself!"
He shook his head angrily at that.
"So we sent her to Ellesmera, from where she would reach my cousin Eragon. From whom she would learn the arts of a Rider. I remember how excited she was to meet her uncle, master of the Riders and slayer of Galbatorix. She used to adore him"
Laetri could not fault young Ismira that, for almost everyone who met Eragon adored him. Except his enemies, that is snorted Sahloknir.
Controlling herself with an effort, she continued to listen.
"But she never reached Ellesmera" he whispered with a haunted look in his eyes. Laetri felt Sahloknir's surprise as clear as her own at this. "She and her Belegroch were abducted and her elven guardians incapacitated. We found nothing of her in the forest, save her guards. She was gone…and that broke Katrina"
Tears now flowed down Roran's eyes as he recounted his tale.
"My eldest was gone, and I roused all the races. They owed me and Eragon, so I called upon those debts…we searched high and low. We searched everywhere for a decade but she could not be found. Katrina was inconsolable when we gave up on the search…I continued of course, but she held on to her will long enough to raise our other children"
As tragic a tale as any, thought Laetri. Fate and misery did not leave Eragon's blood alone. Arya was staring at the epitaph, undoubtedly hearing the tale Roran related with undivided attention.
"Do you know why I was cursed by the Tree, Laetri svit-kona?" asked Roran. Laetri shook her head, Roran continued with a note of absolute anger in his voice.
"She was angry with Eragon" he said. Laetri could no longer contain herself at this, letting out a soft exclamation.
"Yes. Eragon owed something to the Tree, and she intended to collect. But he was not there to ask anything of, so she took her price from me, when she sensed Eragon's blood in mine. I am not allowed to join my wife in death because of ERAGON'S ACTIONS!" he roared with rage, as his eyes turned red.
"He was not here" cried Roran disconsolately. "He was not here to keep safe his niece, nor to fulfil his promises! And my family has paid with blood and misery…tell me Laetri svit-kona, tell me! Is that not sufficient grounds for anger?" he asked pleadingly.
Laetri could only watch Roran's pain as she thought only of how to break this to Eragon. Why should people such as them suffer so much over stopping a madman? Curse you, Galbatorix, she snarled to herself. The consequences of the war reached even down through the decades, still destroying innocent lives that deserved only happiness.
I hope you are strong enough to hear all this, Eragon. Sahloknir, please relate this unfortunate tale to Saphira Brightscales for only she can stem Eragon's misery afterwards.
….
Far away from the hallowed elven lands under the sacred dwarven peak of Farthen Dur, sat the magnificent city of Tronjheim. But it was in the throne room of the great city the splendour of dwarvendom was truly present.
King Orik sat upon his stone throne, his hand tightening on the hammer Volund as the messenger spoke. When he had first taken the throne, his worthiness had been doubted greatly even with Guntera's approval. But he had led his people successfully through the rebellion against Galbatorix and through the years after the war. Now the Dwarven nations stood proud, prospering greatly under his reign. Trade flowed like gold, and gold flowed like water in their kingdoms.
But with narrowed eyes, Orik thought sombrely. Where there exists order, chaos exists as well. Blasted Urgals, Nar Garzhvog's words were for naught. The old Ram promised peace from the Ugralgra, but it was not to be. As anticipated their bloodlust and instincts were not tempered so easily.
"Majesty, Urgals are pushing against the border of the human Kingdom, slowly straining tenuous relations. King Palencar has managed to subdue their current incursions but I am afraid we might need something more to contain them. The Spine is literally crawling with the beasts" said the envoy distastefully.
"Not beasts" said Orik, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand. "They are capable of emotion and sophistication like the other races. It is their nature…they cannot help it." mused Orik.
"If you say so, my King" his face looked doubtful at the notion of Urgals not being the beasts he thought them to be. "But King Palencar agrees with your opinion. Nothing short of the Rider Eragon himself reappearing would solve the potential crisis they pose."
Orik tapped Volund softly against the floor, appreciating the sound so close to the dwarven heart. True, If Eragon were to return they could negotiate with the Urgals…and if needs be contain them with force. The problem truly was a conundrum for the nations. Without careful handling the Urgal situation was likely to blow up in their faces.
The door to the throne room opened with a great swing and the herald announced: "Thorv approaches the throne, your Majesty!", and in strode the dwarf garbed in chain mail and helm. Thorv had diminished little since the war.
From a dwarven warrior to the first ever Dwarven Rider, mused Orik. Thorv had been chosen a Rider by the Dragon Morgothal twenty years after Galbatorix's fall. The name of the Dwarven God said to have created the Dragons seemed a fitting name for the creature, for the Dwarves felt as if their inclusion in the Riders' pact was their Gods' gift to them.
Thorv knelt, paying obeisance to his king.
"Rise" said Orik firmly, noting the smile playing on the Rider's face. Thorv rose, ignoring the human envoy next to him.
"Perhaps I should return later, your Majesty. I presume the Rider has important news for you" he made to leave. But Thorv stopped him.
"Stay, Lord Almen" said Thorv in a gruff voice. Orik raised his eyebrows at this, but Thorv continued regardless: "It is my belief that this news concerns all the nations of Alagaesia. Your Majesty… Eragon has set foot in Alagaesia once again. He is accompanied by seven Riders, two of who are members of his original elven guard. He has met Queen Arya in Ellesmera, and his cousin Roran. I was in Silthrim with mine friend Nari, and we received news by mirrors of scrying."
Orik's face was a picture of shock for a few moments, and then it split in the widest smile in a long time. As the Dwarves in the room cheered raucously at the news by thrusting their weapons into the air, Orik stood up and faced Almen with a beaming smile.
"Mine foster brother has returned to us, Almen. Palencar needs to know of this immediately, so see to it that he does!" said Orik gruffly, and grabbed Volund from its place behind him.
Thorv was speaking animatedly with his comrade in arms, Shrrngien. The dwarves laid little store in pointless etiquette, instead relying on faith and valour. Orik and his warriors were comrades, so the King never pushed authority too much on them. They were warriors of great honour and would do their duty.
"Send a message to Ellesmera, Shrrngien. Tell Arya to send Eragon here, or to get ready to host dwarven guests at Ellesmera!" said Orik loudly. Shrrngien bowed, and left the hall briskly.
"Thank you for the welcome news, Thorv" said Orik gratefully, his eyes dancing in delight. Thorv bowed once more, before he left the room proudly. Almen however was sitting in his chair without moving, his face a study in hope.
"He has returned. After all this time, he is come back!" he whispered slowly as if savouring the words he spoke. Orik nodded at him, understanding the fascination all the races had for Eragon Kingslayer. They looked at him as if he were a messiah, someone born to save Alagaesia from the darkness.
That he is, King Orik. No matter how far he travels, no matter how long he is apart from the land, his soul lies here in Alagaesia, rumbled the deep voice of Morgothal in his mind.
Orik could only agree.
…
The Menoa tree seems to have done her work. I think she made cut me off from the loss and pain I was feeling…a loss in itself. But I was foolish to expect that Killing Galbatorix was the end of misery. said Eragon, as he absently traced his long fingers over Brisingr's sheath. Laetri released the sharp breath she was holding, Eragon was receiving the news much better than she had anticipated.
I am sorry for the death of your nest-mate's offspring, little one, consoled Saphira as she flew high into the sky, Sahloknir following her with his Rider on him. Eragon breathed in the rarefied air of the far reaches of the sky with little difficulty, feeling certain clarity steal over his mind.
It helped if Saphira shared his soul so completely, the two of them were now more one entity rather than two separate ones. He could feel the missing part of his soul being filled partially by Saphira, and he could feel the partner of his heart keeping the loss and suffering at bay.
I love you, Saphira…And she is merely missing, Saphira said Eragon as he watched Sahloknir perform a corkscrew through the air, his Rider laughing delightedly. And I understand, now, why Roran was so enraged. He was right to be…but as much as it pains my heart I have to say I was not at fault. If I was not recuperating then, I would certainly have rushed to Alagaesia when the Tree had summoned me.
You are the wisest of us all, Ebrithil came Laetri's voice, brimming with relief and happiness. Eragon stared as Saphira broke through the clouds to face the beautiful sun. He closed his eyes peacefully, letting the sunlight wash over him.
Sahloknir's scales are shining so brightly, Eragon!Exclaimed Saphira with a small hint of jealousy about her. Eragon laughed at his beautiful Dragon, she could be so petty sometimes. He could see Saphira trying to distract him from his suffering, and he let her. For once he would leave all his pains upon the ground, and fly high and free into the air with his Dragon.
"Garjzla" he said quietly, and Saphira's scales began to shine like living fire. He could feel Laetri's amusement and Sahloknir's indignation at his act.
Sights like this were what made his long life worth living, thought Eragon as he and Laetri drifted far above human eyesight…above even the clouds. As Sahloknir flew alongside Saphira, he saw Laetri look deep into his eyes and see the pain and sadness he hid in his heart.
A hundred years of companionship and support had made them closer than possible. Only Saphira had more of a claim on him. Laetri had a way of reading his fears and misery in an uncanny way.
Eragon-elda, do not fear. For we shall have your niece back alive and well, if she is still with the living. We are Riders, and none can hide from us, came Sahloknir's quiet rumble.
Aye, we are Riders echoed Saphira's rich voice in their minds. Eragon smiled as they floated peacefully in the high reaches of the Sky, and put his faith in himself and his Order. He would put the pain behind him, and look to the future. The future of his order and Alagaesia.
He would look to the future.