A/N: To those who have read this story thus far, I am really sorry about the long wait. I cannot guarantee that it won't happen again, because I know it will, fanfiction is a secondary hobby to my other writing projects, but I will never, ever abandon this story without posting that I have decided to. And I don't plan on abandoning this unless something catastrophic happens. So if nothing is posted, it means there will be another chapter.
Lavel sat on a low branch, facing the gigantic Menoa tree. Nearby, Vasem sat in muted anticipation. All around, elves were gathering near the massive and sacred tree, partly thankful and partly solemn. Lanterns dotted the many branches, providing a soft light in the forest gloom. It was the eve of the Agaetí Blödhren, and it was a wonder indeed that the festivity was even held this century.
A little over six months ago, Riders and dragons roamed Alagaësia almost freely. The wise elf Vrael led the Order alongside his noble dragon partner Umaroth. King Evandar of the elves ruled justly alongside his mate, Islanzadí. King Argrenost of the humans ruled safely in Ilirea, now dubbed Urû'baen. He and Vasem had been unaware that the coming events would leave them among the few known Riders and dragons left on the land, that Galbatorix would anoint himself king over his newly formed Empire, or that so many other leaders would have died, throwing all but the dwarves into political chaos.
Six months ago, they were not so alone. Many other Riders and dragons, alongside friends and family, would have joined them for this Blood-oath Celebration. Now Vasem is the last sane and fully whole dragon known, and Lavel was the last elf of his house. Thel's and Ardwen's bodies were never recovered from the plains surrounding Ilirea, though one survivor delivered to Lavel the news of their demise.
Queen Islanzadí approached the base of the Menoa tree, dressed still in the clothes of the mourning. So many elves present, including Lavel himself, bore some sign indicating the loss of someone near and dear. Black robes and tunics were the most common, adding to the overall dismal mood. Others wore black brooches and jewelry, sometimes to indicate sorrow over the great amount of death that had swept the elven race and the dragons. All were here to celebrate the pact between the Riders and the dragons, though there was little to celebrate.
Only three Riders had gathered by Oromis's reckoning and two dragons. Besides Galbatorix and the Wyrdfell, only a few other dragon-less Riders were known to still live, and they were unable to attend, hiding from certain doom or struggling to fight back. Glaedr believed no other dragons, bonded or wild, still flew.
The elven queen opened her palm, allowing light to gather in the form of an orb, which she placed in a hollow on the tree, an indication that the Blood-oath Celebration had begun.
Still sitting on his branch, Lavel watched as some elves brought out tables and plates of various foods. Elsewhere, elves began to sing their songs, enchanting the entire area with various spells and murmuring stories and poems. Many began to dance to the eerie melodies. Many began to descend into trances.
Lavel thought it looked as if the world was slowly going mad. Elven festivities, he had noted over the years, usually had that feeling.
But it was more than just the effects of the magic. It was the fact that the world had just changed faster than anyone would like, down a path of pain and sorrow and loss. The Mad Rider has become the Mad King, ruling over the humans with an army at his disposal and twelve willing but broken Rider servants. Much had occurred, and yet many elves, slow to change, held onto traditions as if this festival would keep their enemies at bay.
"Maybe they celebrate this deeply to forget," Vasem said. "Maybe they wish for a few nights of relative normalcy before returning to the dreary world."
A few other elves around seemed to have warded themselves against the enchantments of the songs, similar to Lavel and Vasem. They stood or sat at the edges of activity, watching but not joining in. Among them was the elven Rider Maeruna, who had lost her dragon and nearly her life while protecting those elves who had retreated from Ilirea to the forest. Like Oromis and Glaedr, she bore permanent scars from the fight, and like him in his first life after Vasem's death, she desired an end to the pain.
Lavel noted she had her purple sword with her, its amethyst pommel catching the gentle light from the Menoa tree's lanterns. Her dull eyes caught his, then looked away.
He wanted to help her and others through their pain. Death was an answer, but it was rarely the right answer. Maeruna wanted to die fighting for something worthwhile, but Lavel doubted she would end up fighting for anything, and his words would have little effect on her. Maeruna's pain was so absolute, and she lacked the drive for vengeance his Dosjoryan self had. Likely this ceremony was reminding her of her lost dragon, torturing her with the celebration of that which she lost. Deep down, Lavel knew she would soon join the dead in the void, and there was nothing he could do.
Careful not to knock over any of the tables or bump into any of the elves, Vasem slowly made his way into the clearing, sniffing the air. Lavel had insisted that Vasem should be able to celebrate if he chose, and without the burden of his saddle. For all the world, Vasem looked like a polite wild dragon willing to try some food that was not prey. It was a little something to smile at.
Maeruna's mind touched his, and he lowered his barriers. "All we are doing is watching our kind making fools of themselves," she said. "That and some useless art."
"The end of the ceremony is the most important, is it not?"
"It is, young Rider, for you, but until then we are just watching customs that the dragons would find odd. Dalyar... Dalyar never liked the Agaetí Blödhren." Her mind's voice grew very quiet with the naming of her late dragon.
"If you desire to leave, I can explain to the others so you may leave in peace."
"No, I shall stay for now. Perhaps one of these maddened fools would make me laugh a little."
Lavel looked away from her direction, eyes facing the ground as he closed his mind to her. At least she believed there might be humor left in her would. He was not so lucky in Dosjorya during the worst year of his life. But he was not an elf then, and though similar in concept, a Rider bond and an Innen bond are very different.
Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself and turned to Vasem, who was lapping at a large wooden bowl, splashing globs of thick green liquid on a table. One elf cried in dismay while several others laughed and joked about the honor of serving a dragon, and about the flavor properties of dragon saliva.
"Tastes funny but good," Vasem said. He sent impressions of what he tasted and Lavel identified mint and fireweed as the main components. "Would you agree to season my prey for me sometimes during my hunts, Lavel? I like this mint stuff."
"Maybe if you had cared more about plants as an Oundat, I could have done what you ask when you were still small. You eat too much for me to accept your request."
Looking away from the commotion, Lavel saw Maeruna watching what was happening, but she still looked despondent. Her mind once again brushed his.
"There is much suffering in this world and someone worries about a dragon drinking his herbal broth. What a disgrace. Lavel-vodhr, Vasem Blackstripe, I shall take your offer and bid you good night. I'll return when the Caretakers begin their dance."
Glancing at her purple sword, Arvindr, she retreated to the shadows beyond, unnoticed by everyone else.
With Maeruna's departure, and with Oromis not yet strong enough to partake in the festival until later on, Lavel felt suddenly alone, the only Rider present, the only symbol of what they all were celebrating.
Slowly, time crawled on, far too slowly for his liking. Except when either he or Vasem took a brief slumber guarded by Glaedr or hid from everyone, any number of elves would approach him, offering condolences for the losses of his brethren in the Order and in some cases, condolences for the loss of his family. A few inquired about their escape from Doru Araeba and fewer still showed interest in their life in Dosjorya. Vasem sometimes answered in Lavel's place, much to the delight of those who met them.
Sometime during the second day, several of the elves had persuaded Glaedr and Vasem to perform complex aerial acrobatics over the Menoa tree, shouting up words of encouragement and cheers when either dragon managed an impressive maneuver. It was not either dragon's contribution to the festival, just a demonstration of the might of the race that the elves had bound themselves to and a small piece of the past that now lays under blood and death.
When the dragons landed to rest, an elf by the name of Kveya, a friend of Lavel's from before he bonded to Vasem, convinced him to lower his wards to briefly partake in the madness.
"Let the festivities sweep you away for a time, Lavel-vor. You have let yourself drown in the darkness and pain of your station for far too long. Join me in the revelry, and trust me and Vasem to anchor you," Kveya had said. With a nod from Vasem, Lavel accepted, though asked for the experience to be kept short.
Still young and relatively inexperienced with elven celebrations, Lavel had quickly descended into the madness that pervaded. What he had done had been relayed to him later by Vasem, who had remained warded and tried to keep his Rider somewhere close to sane.
Lavel later learned that he had begun singing, imbuing his words with great power. He sang of his hopes for a brighter future for all races including the dragons, gradually transitioning to singing blessings for the Menoa tree and the other ancient sentinels around her. Vasem had watched, concerned, as Lavel poured all of his energy into the melody and even the very forest swayed to his words. Within his song, spells of protection and promises of ideal growing conditions wove themselves around the weaker trees.
It was Kveya who rebuilt Lavel's wards after the Rider passed out from magic use, caught by the roots of the Menoa tree who guarded him alongside Vasem until he woke. And it was Kveya who carried Lavel away from the clearing once he regained consciousness, letting him rest and eat in peace while Vasem explained what had happened.
"It is like you to wish for the betterment of others, for you have always been a kind soul deep in your core. I do not know why you focused on the trees, nor why Linnëa sought to keep others from you afterward," Vasem said. "I am glad you did not kill yourself, though. You had me worried."
"I am sorry."
Vasem sounded amused. "You should not apologize for letting yourself throw out all reason for the sake of casting away your burdens for a time. Before you sang your spells, I felt nothing but joy and happiness through our link."
"Maybe having many of my happiest Dosjoryan memories happening in a forest influenced me," Lavel mused.
"Or maybe something about you caught Linnëa's attention, and she influenced you as well as protected you when you fell unconscious. Though knowing her history, I would never expect her to find any sort of favor for any boy or man, especially elven."
Near the end of the ceremony, when the were light had begun to dim slightly, Lavel and Vasem were prompted to present their projects before all present. Nervously, Lavel nodded as Vasem retrieved their contribution.
"It is custom for dragon and Rider to present their own works to this most important of observances," Lavel said as Vasem approached in the distance, the fruits of their labor grasped securely and carefully in his talons. Lavel trusted his dragon to transport their piece intact. "However, given our circumstances and the reality we all find ourselves in, Vasem and I have chosen to collaborate on our contribution. It was not our intention to appear uncaring or ignorant; we both understand the importance of the Blood Oath and that which is expected to honor it. Fate has not given us the time to contemplate and pursue separate works if an acceptable quality."
With perfect timing, Vasem gently landed on three legs, the fourth carrying the large wooden sculpture they made together. Lavel helped him place it down on a flat piece of earth, all the while eyeing it for any signs of damage. He found none, but he did not expect to find any.
"Many of you present know of our unique past, of how we once lived and died in another world, yet we retain our memory of that previous life. This piece does not try to explain why or how, as we do not have those answers. But it does show what we were and what we have become."
He and Vasem appeared in the sculpture six times, six free-standing figures each on a single flat base. In all cases, Lavel was riding on Vasem's back and through the progression, Vasem was taking a stride and leaping into the air. In the first figure, they were completely Dosjoryan, but in the following figures, they gradually transformed into their Alagaësian forms. Wings sprouted out and grew on Vasem, limbs became more graceful and ears became pointed on Lavel.
By the last figure, they were completely elf and dragon, taking to the skies as the masters they would become. Throughout, they both appeared happy, calm, and carefree. They had each other. Everything they had endured in both Dosjorya and Alagaësia had taught them that as long as they had each other, things would be okay, and they both wanted to express that in the sculpture.
Vasem had found a fallen tree and carried it to where they both could carve it in private. Vasem did all of the rough cuts by using the rough scales on his tail as a giant rasp. Lavel carved in the fine details with a single knife. Vasem singed the entire piece with a controlled flame, and Lavel carved through some of the blackened wood to create highlights and add expression and depth.
As intricate and detailed as their project was, it was no masterpiece. Other wooden sculptures already presented showed far more craftsmanship and elegance. Neither of them was aiming for perfection, though. They were far too young still to master an art form. But they had what made them unique, and this work showed it.
"The two of us pooled our abilities and strengths as we poured our hearts out making this. I hope you find this a satisfactory contribution to the Agaetí Blödhren," Lavel finished.
Islanzadí, who knew of their entire Dosjoryan past and had been more open to the idea than others, approached the sculpture and peered at it closely. All other elves had fallen silent, and most were observing the work from a distance. Even the Menoa tree appeared to lean closer. Lavel shuffled nervously and placed his right hand, the one with his gëdway ignasia, against Vasem's flank.
Just as the queen backed away from the piece, Oromis walked up and placed a careful finger on the pure Oundat sculpture. "Lavel-finiarel, Vasem Blackstripe." Lavel startled slightly; it was the first time their newest teachers had used that honorific for him. "From your own memories, this is a faithful representation of your past selves." His finger retreated. "You need not worry about the quality of your sculpting. I can see your purpose of this subject: your transformation from your past to your present. Together as one."
"Yes," said Islanzadí. "It is a work of much thought and collaboration. A wonderful contribution to the ceremony and a glimpse into the forces unknown to us that shaped you into the Rider and dragon you are today. I sense you two have opened up your soul in good faith hoping that it would yield no ill will, and it is with great honor that we are allowed to witness such an intimate part of two of the kingdom's most important subjects. What we see here is, on the surface, a wonderfully crafted sculpture, but truly it is simply a symbol of the piece of yourselves that you bravely revealed for all to see. That, I believe, is your true contribution and it is one that means the most."
Elves all around burst into claps and cheering, even those who Lavel knew had doubted their past. Many comments complimented them on their skill in carving the physical piece but far more praised them for showing something nearly as personal as a true name. The feeling was overwhelming, and Vasem had to nudge him forward a little as a reminder to answer everyone.
"Thank you, all," he said in as steady of a voice as he could manage. Vasem nodded, mind not connected to enough elves to properly thank them. In their short second lives, they had both been met with disbelief and disapproval and occasionally hostility for the mention that they remember life before reincarnation. The whole concept was not one anyone understood and this was his original reason for holding his tongue as much as possible. But to be received by nothing but praise, even understanding, filled both himself and Vasem with joy. That they could fit into this new world as themselves, not as just a last hope of a dying and battered order. They could open up about their past when needed, allow themselves to be vulnerable, and be seen as the sum of two lives instead of one.
Glaedr offered to carry the sculpture away to Tialdarí Hall for display, promising to take care of it. "No harm shall come of it, and any who wish to see it again or for the first time need not bother you in your dwelling."
"Yes, yes that will be fine, ebrithil."
"Is this yet warded against wear and tear? Oromis has offered to protect it with magic if necessary."
"No, I have not cast any wards yet. The only magic it has seen yet is that from Vasem's flames. No spells were necessary for this."
Vasem led him away from the clearing so that they could both calm down. The were light was dimming further and both wanted to have complete control of themselves again before the final ceremonies.
"I did not expect that," Vasem said.
"No. I am glad, and I had hoped, but I thought at least someone would speak up. Perhaps in the presence of the queen and Oromis, they did not dare."
Warm humid breath washed over him as Vasem spoke low. "Whether they fear those in power or truly respect our past, it was demonstrated now that they can at least hold their tongues. It is something."
When the were light was barely lit, they joined the other elves gathering around the Menoa tree. Islanzadí took to a perch on the tree's gnarled roots and addressed everyone present.
"As is our custom, and as was agreed upon at the end of the Dragon War by Queen Tarmunora, Eragön, and the white dragon who represented his race- he whose name cannot be uttered in this or any language- when they bound the fates of elves and dragons together, we have met to honor our blood-oath with song and dance and the fruits of our labor.
"But it is in a dark time indeed that we reaffirm our oath. Outside of the Mad Rider Galbatorix, Shruiken, and the Wyrdfell, only two dragons, Glaedr and Vasem, and several Riders, Oromis, Lavel, Maeruna, Brom, Cedric, and a few others remain, and not all are present with us in Ellesméra. We all either struggle to fight or struggle to save ourselves. The situation is dire but we must never lose hope. To lose hope is to completely surrender, and to surrender is to turn our back on the blood-oath between us and the dragons and that we can never do. Not when we have failed dragon kind."
Islanzadí motioned for everyone to clear a large area in front of the Menoa tree. Lavel sat near the tree, joined by Oromis. Their dragons flanked their sides, standing as sentinels over what is to come. Maeruna did not join them, but Vasem said he spotted her in the distance, perched on the same tree branch Lavel had occupied at the beginning of the Agaetí Blödhren.
Though neither Lavel nor Vasem was old enough to have ever attended the Blood-oath ceremony before, both knew some of the ritual that would follow. Lavel felt Vasem's excitement trickle through their bond.
Twin elves, the Caretakers Iduna and Nëya, entered the clearing. Nearly identical in both looks and motions, they let their robes fall to the ground, revealing an iridescent rainbow-scaled tattoo of a dragon that stretched across both of their bodies. With an embrace, they stood with the appearance of a single dragon stretched across two bodies and began their dance.
As the Caretakers picked up their speed, more instruments joined the rhythm of their feet. Drums, harps, flutes. Then voices. Iduna and Nëya began the verses of their spell, soon joined by everyone present.
Lavel raised his voice, laced with power, to join the rest as Vasem hummed along. All in unison, together. They all sang of memories ancient and powerful, of war and peace, of the very fabric of the world. Most importantly, they sang of dragons, whose magic was responsible for the very pact they had with the Riders, and whose magic was responsible for shaping not only the Riders but also the races bound to them.
Primeval and complex, their enchantments wove strong magic in the air, within them, and to the tattoo that danced as if animate despite still being attached to the twins' bodies. Both elven women increased the speed of their dance, becoming a blur to even elf and dragon eyes.
With a flare of light beginning with the tattoo's head, the iridescent dragon came alive and launched off of the dancing elves' skin, attached solely to the Caretakers by its tail.
Deep in Lavel's heart, he felt a swirl of emotion. Awe at the ancient spectacle before him, fear at the untamed fierceness of the apparition that roared and flew among them, duty for that which he and Vasem were a part of and swore to defend at all costs.
Here before them, sustained by enchantments, was the embodiment of the memories of dragons.
The consciousness of the specter dragon entered his mind, and he could feel it entering the minds of the other Riders and dragons. Unsure of what to do, Lavel completely lowered his mental barriers and relinquished control of his being to the iridescent dragon; for at this moment, in this ritual, he belonged to the dragons. He owed everything of his Alagaësian self to the dragons.
Much of what happened during this ritual, he did not remember. All was fire within and without. An indeterminable amount of time passed before he returned to full control and the spectral dragon retreated to its position on the Caretakers' bodies. He drew a shaky breath, feeling utterly spent.
"Will you be okay?" Vasem asked, a curious mix of concern and excitement in his voice.
"Yes. I just need a little time to recover."
"Draw upon my strength if you need."
Lavel felt a trickle of his dragon's energy enter him without prompt. Gratefully he accepted it.
"I feel like an ocean of power. Do not worry about me. If I could use magic at will, I think I could move a mountain."
He glanced over at Oromis, who looked fatigued but not so severely. Glaedr stood proud on his three legs, no trace of the ancient hurts showing in his expression. Vasem looked much the same.
"Such is a powerful ceremony. Young Riders often lose control as you did," Oromis said in a low voice.
"I never felt a need to fight against the apparition. I surrendered control."
"Many fight before losing control. You were wise not to. If there is a next time, you will be better prepared to only give the dragon partial control. From then you may better learn and witness the importance of this ritual."
"Yes, ebrithil."
The older elf's eyes lit up a little. "However, Lavel-finiarel, you have acquitted yourself well during the entirety of the Agaetí Blödhren. You too, Vasem Blackstripe. Look how the were light dims to nothing. The end is nigh, the time to return to reason and logic. Rest well, my students. Do not be late tomorrow morning."