Disclaimer: I don't own one teeny tiny bit of the Inheritance Cycle.
A longish chapter! Just to avoid confusion, the part of the Riders and Aesyr have a time skip of a month or two, while Garrow's story already had its time skip when we jumped to their arrival in the Narda area.
Chapter 41: Threads Woven by Fate
Days in Ellesmera blended together in a blur that was both pleasant and not. As always, the pinewood city was not subjected to the ravages of time. No signs of the passing seasons revealed themselves aside from the shorter days and longer nights, playing with the shadows of the forest. As always, a wide aray of flowers that should be blooming in different months. The elves' enchantments lingered much stronger in the air than ever.
Arya noticed that her friends were growing to love Ellesmera more in each passing day, appreciating its beauty and mystery both at the same time. For the young elf, the city still held too much memories, many of them painful and bitter. Her father's death and her mother's neglect were still fresh, after everything that happened.
The Riders and dragons now frequently roamed the city in their free time, sometimes just by themselves, sometimes with the others and even with Orik. Faolin sometimes joined them, the elder elf looking unusually cheerful most of the time. Whenever Arya asked him though, he just shrugged and told her that "it was a good day."
One evening, Arya decided to show something more of her world to Eragon. Only to him and Saphira. Firnen knew everything there was about her, and maybe it was time to open up more to someone else who was nibbling away at her thoughts most of the time. She stared at all of the lavish clothing in her wardrobe – Niduen seemed intent in filling the Riders' homes with good, quality clothes – and fretted over what she would wear. Elves were notoriously vain, and Arya never thought that the day would come in which vanity would consume her time.
Then again, it was all because of that annoying, kind, and brave human boy.
Donning a plain black cloak and keeping it in place with a dragon-shaped brooch set with emeralds, she studied her appearance in a mirror that Faolin once gave her. Deeming herself acceptable, she noticed Firnen staring at her.
What?
Firnen blew a puff of smoke boredly. I've never seen you like this, he noted. You're on edge. Is this because of Eragon?
Perhaps. Arya smoothed her hair and clambered up her dragon's back.
With an explosive leap, Firnen spread his wings and took to the skies. Circling the clearing once, twice, thrice, he angled down and landed right in front of Eragon's tree-house. Firnen began to hum as he lowered his body down to let Arya stumble back to the ground. Hurry. His eagerness to see Saphira seeped through their link, and his Rider grinned in amusement. Oh, no you don't, Arya.
I am not teasing you, Arya said, feigning innocence.
Not another word.
As you wish.
Steeling herself, Arya climbed up the stairs leading to Eragon's house, her knees trembling ever so slightly. She found him at the main hall, a stack of books in hand – which he promptly dropped upon seeing her.
Turning red, Eragon scrambled to pick them all up, obviously taking care not to strain his back. He tried his best not to appear startled, which amused his visitor even further. "A-Arya! What exactly are you doing here? I know that we had an – an agreement, but…"
Arya laughed, making him flush further. "I was wondering if you could accompany me tonight. I wanted to go on a walk."
Eragon nodded. "Very well. I was planning to find a good tree to perch in and do some light reading tonight, but I would rather go on a walk with you. Just give me a moment to throw on, er, cleaner clothes and put these books back."
"Very well, I shall be waiting outside," Arya chirped.
Firnen was waiting outside, conversing quietly with Askanir and Thorn, who were oddly away from their Riders. Upon seeing her, the ruby and amethyst dragon threw out quick greetings before soaring right back to their homes.
They were simply asking whether their Riders can join Eragon for a walk tonight, or if you already claimed him, Firnen explained quickly.
Arya suppressed a laugh. Murtagh and Roran will probably have a laugh. Well, they really shouldn't. They've been spending so much time with Nasuada and Katrina, respectively.
Eragon emerged from his tree-house, Saphira circling the clearing above them. The blue dragon landed beside Firnen, regarding the green dragon and his Rider. Eragon scrambled toward Arya, straightening his cloak along the way. "Sorry, that took too long."
Where are we going today, little elf? Saphira eyed Firnen warily. The green dragon had been making advances on her lately, and she apparently did not appreciate it.
They walked through the path, Arya sneaking glances to an unsuspecting Eragon. "We are going to my quarters in Ellesmera. I wanted to… show you something."
A smile quirked up Eragon's face. "I suppose we are heading to Tialdari Hall," he said.
Arya nodded with a small smile. The elves that they crossed paths with all threw hurried murmurs of greeting, speculation in their eyes. The elf princess ignored them all. She was focused only on one thing, and that was spending time with Eragon and their dragons. She led them straight to the quarters she owned when she lived in Tialdari Hall, considerably less spacious than the great tree-house she now resided in.
The interior of her former home did not feel so comforting anymore. Come to think of it, Tialdari Hall never did – not after her father died, and Faolin went on to become the elven ambassador. Somehow, she now felt completely at ease.
She threw the screen door to her chambers open, the familiar vine-covered living room having the appearance of not being lived in. Arya stared at the fairth decorating one wall – the portrait of her father, King Evandar, created by Faolin before he first departed for Tronjheim. The silver-haired king seemed to watch the Riders with his warm gold eyes.
The miniature trees that her brother also gifted her still stood healthily, taking the shape of the elven glyphs for strength, peace, and wisdom. Arya made a mental note to bring them back to her new home, along with Evandar's portrait.
"With all of the studies that we had to take home lately, we haven't much time to talk to each other. You look ill," Arya said, noticing the bags under her friend's eyes and the weight he lost. "Is it your back?"
Eragon's silence confirmed it. His eyes wandered around the room. "Is this not grander than your new quarters?"
"It is, in a way, though the elder Riders' tree-houses are much more spacious." Arya led him to the bay window, and to the padded bench curving from the wall. She removed a pair of goblets from a cupboard. She began preparing mint and blueberry tea, using magic to heat the water. Upon finishing, she handed one of them to Eragon and sat beside him, while the dragons' heads slithered slowly into the room.
"Sometimes I wish it was always like this, so perfect and quiet." Eragon's face was an imperfect copy of the elves' serenity, but it was pretty good. Those sharp blue eyes of his watched her curiously, like a child who wanted to inspect something new and amazing but was wary that it would bite. "I have noticed, why are the elves busy lately? I do know they always have some little project going on, but more and more of them are working on something nowadays."
"Oh, that." Arya sipped her tea, enjoying the uncomfortable little squirm that Eragon did when she gazed at him too intently. "They are preparing for the Blood-Oath Celebration. Faolin even had to postpone his departure for the Varden because Izlanzadi wished to have both of us with her. We've never attended one before, and it is the most important observance among elves, being celebrated only once every century."
Groups and couples wandered and socialized outside, though it wasn't an interesting sight. "So why are they having those projects, then?" Eragon asked.
"Custom, I guess." Arya drew up her legs, crossing them together. "Everyone who attends the Blood-Oath Celebration must bring a poem, song, or any other piece of art that they've made and share it with everyone assembled. I haven't even worked on mine."
"We should," Eragon said. "Thank you for telling me that, but shouldn't the others know, too?"
Arya blinked. How could she be such a fool? "Yes, I believe we should."
We shall spread the word, do not fear, Firnen said dryly. Though yes, you are a fool, little pointy-ears. He perfectly ignored his Rider's glare.
This is more than just for us to appreciate the scenery, is it not? Saphira asked. Why have you shown this to us, little elf?
Arya stared at her pensively. She ran a finger around the rim of her goblet. "I do not know. I wished to show you where I came from but it is not how I wanted it to happen. I would have brought you to Father's grave but…"
"The memories," Eragon finished for her, apparently understanding. His eyes looked distant, and they seemed to belong to someone centuries older than the boy. "You have shown us your world, Arya. You just don't know it."
Arya brushed a strand of hair away from her face and smiled. "I wish to know yours, once everything is over."
"I'll be more than glad to."
It was a warm afternoon. The Riders joined the dragons for a day in a cluster of four gigantic mountains bigger than anything that could be found in the Beors. They discussed the history of the bond between dragons and Riders, the joining of humans, and the intertwined fates of the three races. They also discussed the spell that were cast among the eggs given to the Rider, and the effects of the dragon-Rider bond on those who were involved.
The conversation moved to their identities and their souls and some practices on how to separate their consciousnesses truly from their partners.
It was gruelling work, and Katrina felt her stomach growling not long after they started. The Riders have reached an agreement not to eat meat unless necessary since they could also feel what their meals felt before dying. Sometimes she still wondered whether it was a good idea. Not all of the elves' food were filling.
A surprise came when they departed back for the Crags of Tel'nair in the middle of the afternoon. Their lessons were not to end for at least three more hours, though there was an air of anticipation among the elder dragons when they rushed back to their own Riders. Aegar and Brand even seemed to forget the pestering that the female dragons were keeping up.
They reached the Crags of Tel'nair, where the elder Riders were waiting, dressed in their finest clothing. Naegling's gold hilt glinted on Oromis' hip. Massive Hrunting was slung across Serylda's back. It would have looked awkward if it hung from the slender Rider's belt. A pair of mismatched blades were brought by Ash. One was the deep blue Cailburn, which was her original Rider's blade, and the other one was the deep violet Arvindr, which she claimed was owned by "a very precious friend." Aside from the colors, both blades were identical.
They greeted their pupils quickly before mounting their own dragons. Oromis looked grim. "We received important news from Ellesmera. We must depart quickly. There are… visitors… that we must talk to."
"So we will have the rest of the day to ourselves?" Katrina asked in excitement. Remembering her position, she added a hasty, "Master?"
Ash laughed. "Of course not. This is a matter that concerns Riders, which includes you. Naturally. So you are coming with us, and we will all see what is happening for ourselves."
"Big things are happening, are they not?" Murtagh asked in excitement.
"Yes, that is true. How big, I am not sure. I do not even know if we can control anything that will happen from this point on."
Elves could be annoyingly cryptic and vague at times, Luneria noted in frustration.
Katrina rolled her eyes. We both know that.
The dragons took off, the elders taking the lead. What could be big enough for our masters to go out of hiding? Do you think there is an impending attack?
Don't be ridiculous. The Rider almost snorted. She patted Luneria's neck. You're too eager to fight. If we were under attack, our masters wouldn't be letting us go without some sort of armor or warning. I think there is big news. Something bigger than that Blood-Oath Celebration that Arya and Eragon have been pestering us about.
Solaris and Firnen converged on them, the three dragons starting their own conversations. Apparently, the revelation that they came from the same clutch of eggs drew them closer, though none of the elder dragons wanted to tell them the secret of their parentage – which was strange, since Saphira, Thorn, and Askanir already knew about their own sires and dams.
"Our masters are acting quite strange," Nasuada noted, her deep gold eyes intent on the horizon. Her voice seemed to shake from the effort to suppress her excitement. "I am sure that we're going to receive big news. Something good, I presume."
"I hope," Arya said. "I've never seen Master Serylda so grim ever since that day we actually first met them."
Upon reaching Ellesmera, it was easy to notice that something unusual was going on. Many elves milled about, clumped into groups and whispering frantically. The serene race was bubbling with excitement and anticipation.
"Shur'tugal!" Faolin was waiting for them, dressed in his finets clothes. "The meeting shall not begin until half an hour! I would suggest that you freshen up in Tialdari Hall for a moment. Niduen has prepared appropriate clothing for the young Riders. She is waiting among their Dragon Clearing."
Dragon Clearing. That was how some elves referred to the cluster of eight tree-houses – six which were currently occupied by the new Riders.
Arya leaned forward from Firnen's back. "Faolin, what is going on?"
A smile quirked up Faolin's lips. He was a very kind elf, as un-elflike as her sister, and always having time to spare for the six Riders. He was a very good friend to all of them, like a brother herding an entire flock of younger siblings. "I do not wish to spoil it. Now go on and get ready. Niduen shall be fetching you when it's about time."
Askanir lowered his head to face Faolin. For a dragon who could be considered mild-mannered – for his own kind, that is – he looked absolutely fierce and terrifying. And if this is not worth the excitement and speculation, you and I are having a long talk.
Faolin went white momentarily before resuming his usual absent-minded grin. "Very well, Askanir Bjartskular."
After a few more exchange of pleasantries and greetings, the dragons departed, wings gently guiding them to their home. Katrina thought she saw Vanir and Nidavel among the crowd of elves. The dragons split up to land on their perches, and Katrina scrambled into her bedroom. Luneria watched her lazily though her tail quivered with anticipation too.
On the bed was the most beautiful piece of elven clothing that Katrina ever saw. The tunic was silver – like many others that Niduen wove before. The elf seemed to love playing with the dragons' lovely hues. It was trimmed with metallic violet thread, forming dragons dancing near the hem. Her cloak was a billowing violet decorated with silver moons and wispy clouds of the same hue.
What is she playing at? Katrina asked, donning the clothes on. This is getting ridiculous.
Luneria watched her intently. I think it looks lovely from you.
How do you know? You're a dragon.
Because you're my Rider.
Katrina held the cloak together with a dragon-shaped brooch set with moonstones – apparently Queen Islanzadi gifted them all with similar items. Why the elves were free with their gifts and why they were set on coding the Riders through their dragons' colors, Katrina could not understand.
She quickly ran a comb through her hair, casting a small spell to untangle it. She barely had time to gather herself before Niduen entered her bedroom without a sound, a faint smile on her face. "I was expecting this," she said.
"You expect so many things."
The odd elf nodded. "I see them, sometimes. In my sleep." She shrugged. She brushed a loose strand of hair from Katrina's face. She looked bothered. "Sometimes they are good things, like when I see little details like this announcement. Sometimes, the future I see terrify me."
"You dream… of the future?" Katrina asked in wonder.
"I believe you can call it that." Niduen nodded in agreement. "Very well, we must go. Your friends await us."
"What is happening?" Katrina demanded. "No one wants to give us a straight answer."
Niduen nodded. "That is for the best, I believe."
Murtagh unconsciously straightened his golden cloak as they followed Niduen through the woods. The dragons soared above them, their own conversations a mere murmur in their Riders' minds. It seemed like all of the elves of Ellesmera were out of their own homes and other buildings. They whispered among themselves, hope and excitement in the eyes of the older, contempt and smugness among many of the younger.
They watched the Riders walking in their fine clothes. Though of course, all elves wore nothing but the best, their raiment stood out. Murtagh did his best to ignore them, and he felt Thorn's amusement deep within their link.
More elves swarmed Tialdari Hall, though they kept a respectful distance from their queen's ancestral home. Queen Islanzadi, dressed in bright yellow and her swan-feather cape, awaited them. Beside her were Lord Dathedr and two very familiar faces.
Murtagh broke into a smile. "Brom! And Aesyr! You've grown!" he exclaimed.
Their old mentor looked as grumpy as ever, though his weathered face broke into a small smile. "I wondered when I would be seeing the lot of you," he grunted.
Aesyr smiled. She was definitely taller, a bit more sure of herself – a far cry from the shy messenger girl that was once sent to fetch the Riders around Tronjheim. Her once long hair now barely brushed her shoulders, but her gray eyes were the same – nervous and kind. "Shur'tugal," she said with a bow.
"None of that," scoffed Eragon. "We are family and friends here."
"This is a pleasant surprise," Arya said. "What brings you here? And how exactly did you gain permission?"
Islanzadi regarded her daughter passively. "Brom has been elf-friend for years. He is one of our most steadfast allies, since the Fall of the Riders. He is held in high regards here, so he and his pupil are welcome to walk our land."
Katrina smiled at Aesyr. "Pupil, then? It is good to hear that you have both been positively occupied. I hope he was not such a grump."
"He always is," Aesyr said with a small nod.
Brom stared at them flatly. "I hope you do not talk so about people when they are right in front of you."
"Well said, Brom-elda," Lord Dathedr said.
"The rest of the council are already waiting inside, along with Orik, the Mourning Sage and his family," Islanzadi said, raising her voice for all to hear. "It is time for us to convene inside, and fully hear the news that you bring, Brom-elda." From the tone of her voice, though, most of those in Ellesmera already knew the gist of it.
I feel something, Thorn said, sounding uncomfortable. Something I should know, but I cannot remember what it is…
Murtagh stared at him flatly. How helpful.
They wove through the hall, taking twists and turns until they reached a big sitting room where the other elven lords and ladies that completed Queen Islanzadi's council were waiting for them perched on benches. Oromis and his daughters were in one corner, talking quietly. Orik was in another corner, lost in thought and barely acknowledging the newcomers. The elder dragons were resting on a massive indoor balcony circling the room. The younger dragons joined them, Solaris playfully nipping Aegar's tail until the irritated dragon flicked it painfully across her face.
Nasuada winced, obviously feeling what her dragon felt. Murtagh wanted to assure her that it was not all bad, but he kept his mouth shut.
The door shut behind them, and Lord Dathedr ushered the younger Riders and Aesyr to a pair of cushioned benches. Islanzadi took a slightly elevated seat as if to emphasize her position. Dathedr settled to her right, and Brom to her left.
Silence reigned for a few seconds.
Serylda was the one who broke it. "You said that there was news – news important enough to bring us far from our secluded haven. And now, none of you speak of it."
"She speaks true," Brom said. "My Queen, if you may…?"
"Brom brings news, news both and good enough. In these trying times, we need as many good news as we can. Our hopes first sparked twenty years ago, when Brom and his Varden agents discovered a hidden cache of eggs destined for Riders, apparently hidden long ago by the wild she-dragons who laid them. Our hope was quelled when they hatched for no one, until the winter of last year. Now six Riders stand before us. Now, I shall not deprive Brom of his time to speak."
"Thank you, Islanzadi Drottning." Brom stood up and showed them a pouch he was clutching close to him. "Our agent in Galbatorix's inner circle has discovered a terrible thing. The Black King hid five dragon eggs, until now. It appears like he is finally showing us more of his playing pieces."
Silence fell among the congregation, fear breaking through the elven lords and ladies' masks of serenity. The dragons above stirred and murmured to each other uneasily. Only Oromis and his daughters remained calm.
"I do not like this," Eragon murmured.
"Hush," Murtagh said. "I do not think that is all there is to this."
"You both be quiet. Master Oromis is going to speak," Roran scolded.
That effectively shut up both twins.
Oromis inclined his head. "I believe that is not your only news. Should you have wanted to, you could have simply sent word to us, have you not?"
Brom nodded. "Our agent managed to escape with two of the eggs, but was unable to retrieve the other three, due to her… limitations."
"Has mine king heard of this?" Orik asked.
"Yes, we passed through Tronjheim and Tarnag, bearing the position of Varden ambassadors. Grimstborith Undin was even kind enough to secure us with guides as we traveled along Az Ragni and to the fringe of Du Weldenvarden."
"Thank you, Brom."
"Even so, we are still at a disadvantage," a fair-haired elven lady said, sharper than an elf's usual tone of voice. "We have more enemies to look out for."
"If those three eggs hatch, the king shall have ten Riders, including him," a tall, red-haired elf lord – he looked so much like Randarion, who sparred with Roran every morning – shook his head. "But right now do we not have nine Riders already? Hatching two more, we will have eleven."
Ash nodded. "Still, the strange powers of the king and his Forsworn, he could bestow it to new Riders too, should those three eggs hatch. And should these two eggs that Brom-elda speak of also hatch, the have so much to learn and so little time."
"But enough talk of speculation," Serylda told her sister with a barely hidden roll of her eyes. "Brom, where are the dragon eggs?"
Brom broke into a smile. "While here, of course." He opened the upper flap of the pouch, revealing two dragon eggs – one white, one black, both looking like perfect ovals of polished stone. "As most of the earlier dragon eggs that we had already hatched for humans, it was only logical for us to turn to the elves for these two."
"That is wise of you," a petite elf lady said. Apparently, she was one of those who were not pleased with that fact.
"A lot of us has assumed as much when word was spread earlier this day that you arrive bearing the words that only a dragon-egg courier would bring." Dathedr smiled. "'Fire has burst forth from ashes,' indeed."
Islanzadi nodded, a smile lighting up her fair face. "We shall begin the hatching ceremony immediately."
Aesyr was not comfortable among so many elves. Though Arya and her brother had been perfectly friendly with her – Aesyr still can't imagine them being the queen's children – even inviting her to stand with them, Orik, and the other Riders, the other elves were so calm, beautiful, and serene. It was so unnatural. They stood outside Queen Islanzadi's lovely home right beside the two eggs placed on a big pedestal hastily fetched by an elf.
The other elves of Du Weldenvarden – apparently many have already traveled to Ellesmera for an upcoming saturnalia – lined up, the queue winding through the forest. All of them eagerly waited for their chance to touch the eggs and maybe become the next dragon Riders. The other elven lords – even Queen Islanzadi, and Faolin, who was apparently her son – already tried their luck and failed.
First on the line was a silver-haired elf. She was the only one with visible lines on her face signifying her age. She must have been old before her race became ageless. She looked doubtful as she touched the eggs before scurrying away, apparently relieved that she was not chosen. How odd.
The next one was a tall, dark-haired boy who looked very young, like Arya. Maybe he was around Aesyr's age, slender and as tense as a drawn bowstring. His dark eyes flickered to the Riders with obvious contempt. He stepped forward and touched the black egg first, pausing long enough to wait for any kind of reaction. Then his hand moved to the other egg.
For a while, nothing happened.
Disappointed and apparently angry, the elf stalked off – or at least, did the elven version of stalking off. Before he could take five long strides though, there was a loud squeak. The boy paused, tilting his head. The entire forest held its collective breath.
There was another squeak, and a rattle. The white egg began to shake, cracks spreading along its smooth surface. The elf ran toward it eagerly, cradling it in its arm.
One of the elder Riders stepped forward – amazing, really, that they managed to stay hidden, but how difficult could it have been to at least give the Varden a slight clue? The woman was apparently called Ash, and she stared at the elf boy the way one examines a snake that might strike without warning. "It is better if you put it down and let the little one hatch, Vanir-finiarel."
An elf who looked slightly older than twenty stepped forward next, all confidence and haughtiness. He looked more dislikeable than that Vanir. His hand rested on the black egg, and silence fell again. He remained paused with his hand on the black stone, bitterness and rage taking over his smug face. His green eyes – so similar to Arya and Faolin's – bulged. He clutched the gleaming black egg to his chest, while all of the elves tensed.
None of them moved though, in fear that they might harm the baby dragon within.
"Why?" The elf asked. He"Why him, but not me?"
"In spite of his flaws, something that a dragon likes may be within him," Serylda said dispassionately. "I suppose you do not have the qualities that this young dragon wants or needs, Nidavel."
Rage and grief marred the young elf's face. He still clutched the egg. "You lie." Nidavel sounded half-mad with disappointment.
"Let go of the egg now, nephew," Queen Islanzadi said. "I do not want to harm you."
Nephew?
"No," snarled Nidavel. He raised the egg, as if to hurl it into the ground.
With a cry, Aesyr threw herself forward, fear building up in her. If there was one thing that Brom hammered into her head during their travel, it was to protect the dragon eggs at all cost. She hurled herself against Nidavel, throwing him off balance. The egg began to fall, its black surface glinting invitingly.
It landed on Aesyr's back. The girl was sprawled on the grassy forest floor, motionless for a while. Nidavel stared at her with anger. In a flash, Brom stood between them, hands stretched out. "Do not harm her, or I shall harm you. We have no blood ties, and I will not hesitate to harm you if so much as a scratch is found on the egg's surface."
"Leave, Nidavel. Leave before I change my mind about not harming you," Queen Islanzadi added.
With a wounded look that mixed sadness and rage, Nidavel departed.
"Stand up, girl, and replace that egg on the pedestal," Brom instructed.
Gently handling the egg, it was the first time that Aesry touched it with her bare hands. She always wore riding gloves before. The egg was smooth and warm to the touch. She paused for a minute, simply marveling at it. Then there was a loud squeak, and the egg began to rattle.
By the way, the villagers of Carvahall still have their livestock, it's just that Clovis was surprised that there were people... lots and lots of them xD
Yup, Himeria is going to pop up soon with a big, glittering, fire-breathing lizard. But who do you think are the other two gonna be? Speaking of big, glittering, fire-breathing lizards, what colors do you think are the other 3 eggs gonna be? And Vanir is still going to get a sore bum twice. One before and another after the Agaeti Blodhren. Brom will fight Morzan in the future, but not the real final battle. But enough to shake things up.
And for the random guest reviewer, there are only 3 ancient dragons. And speaking of, neither Aegar and Brand have their own kids. Only Glaedr survived among the dragons' parents.
Read and review, as always! The dragons would love to hear from you guys.