Chapter 2: Getting Your Bearings

After walking for about an hour, Anri happened upon a village, probably the only village for miles. It wasn't large, and there wasn't much to it. By her guess the village would be home to a few hundred at most, not more than three or four. It looked like a simple farming village, there was evidence of fields and farming equipment was everywhere. Unfortunately though, it was gone.

The scene she was met with was utter desolation, and unfortunately it was a sight she was all too familiar with. Lothric, Astora, the lands far and few between, the Age of Fire was home to many acts of cruelty and madness. It was no different here, or at least in this part of the world. It was also changed, as if she had stepped through time, and suddenly the season changed to Winter. Perhaps the glade really was untouched by time.

All that remained here was smoking remnants, burned wood houses, and piles of bodies that were burnt to a crisp. The smell of burning wood and flesh invaded her nose, even this long after the fact. Crows were plentiful, searching for the scraps that remained, and Anri thought that she had seen a wolf or two about. From the remains she had discovered that her observations were correct, many of the bodies were peasants and farmers, those that weren't burned anyways.

The houses were mostly all gone. It seemed that the village was made of primarily wood and maybe thatch, very flammable. From what she could see there wasn't a single stone building to be found outside of the looted granaries and desolate windmills. There probably wasn't much for her here, there were telltale signs of looting and pillaging, but she searched the village anyways. She needed something, something that would tell her about the world she found herself in.

Breaking down doors and searching yielded some results, information, and some supplies.

There was a form of currency, she had found minted golden coins with symbols on both sides. Whatever souls she had with her would be utterly useless here it seemed. She took what she could, whatever was left, but unfortunately she didn't know anything about how much money she actually had. Hopefully gold was valuable here as it was everywhere else she knew of.

She had also found a language, not in paper, but carved into the wood of one of the houses. Stick figures with names; which led her to believe it was probably a child's drawing. Just another reminder of the atrocity that was committed here. But what was ultimately important, was that she could read the names.

'Garrow' was next to the taller one.

'Eragon' was next to the shorter one.

Hopefully they found comfort in whatever afterlife they believed in.

Inside of that house she found some hardtack which she had put into her bag. She also found rather large egg shells. They were hidden in a small box that had been buried behind the house. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, if the egg was whole she could have easily mistaken it for some kind of gemstone. She didn't have any frame of reference, but there was a possibility that this was the egg that the dragon had hatched out of. Which meant that her charge was here at one point.

For a terrible moment she had thought that she was already too late, but then why would she be summoned after her charge had already died? No, the mysterious "Rider" and his dragon were still alive. She was sure of it.

The sun had risen and was moving well to the west by the time she had finished searching every house. It may have been disrespectful, but Anri had learned very early on that morality could and would be sacrificed by Undead if it meant procuring valuable supplies. She didn't want to remember how many times she had found more souls or an important item after doubling back to places she had already visited. It wouldn't do to call it quits when there might be something valuable. Luckily for her, her morally dubious actions had paid off.

Somehow, in a chest and untouched by the flames, was a rolled up map of the land. She had nearly ripped it because she was so eager to open it up.

The land was totally unfamiliar to her, with foreign names and landscapes. Cross Referencing the map and what she could see of the landscape around her; she was in a village called Carvahall that was located in the mountain range known as The Spine. If she were to follow a river south, she would most likely run into another village by the name of Therinsford. Perhaps there she would receive the answers she so desperately needed. Maybe she would even find her charge.

"Stop right there!"

For a moment Anri considered drawing her sword. The overweight and dirty man that stepped out of the bush looked more like a hollow than an actual human. Scared the life out of her!

"This 'er is my bridge! Got's t' pay t' get over!" the… man… yelled. He didn't seem very happy either.

"… how much?" She had asked when she finally processed what the man had said. He spoke with a very interesting dialect, or maybe he just spoke with an accent? She wasn't sure…

"Ten crowns! I've been robbed so 'm charging double! Yer lucky it ain't more!" spittle flew from his mouth as she approached, this man really wasn't pleasant in any way.

Anri counted out ten of the gold pieces; "crowns" as she now knew them to be, and handed them to the man. "This enough?" she asked.

The man swiped the coins from her hand and glared at her, counting all ten. He looked like he was going to say something but grunted and stepped aside. "Go on then!" he decided on before letting her pass. She heard muttering about "damn imperials," whatever that meant.

Therinsford she saw was even less orderly than what Carvahall once was. It was bigger, but the houses were spread about more, organized in every which way. For a few moments Anri simply let the novelty of a bustling village wash over her. Every village outside of Astora was abandoned or full of insane hollows. To see even a small settlement like this alive was a breath of fresh air.

She drew some odd looks but for the most part she was simply absorbed in the organized chaos that was village life. She asked around about anyone interesting passing through or about any dragons, but the latter only gained her confused looks like she had grown a second head. Dragons, as it turned out, had gone entirely extinct or had never existed outside of fairy tales depending on who she asked. She did learn one useful thing though.

"Ra'zac passed through here, two of 'em! Unnatural they were, all boney and dressed in black," the man shuddered before continuing, "bought two horses from the stables over there and fled like them was bein' chased!" She had to reassure the man multiple times that she didn't mean him any harm, and that he wouldn't be punished for talking. Apparently she looked like she was part of some empire, and from what she was beginning to understand they weren't exactly the kindest of individuals.

"Thank you, you've been nothing but helpful" she tossed the man a crown for his troubles before turning to leave.

"W-Wait a moment!" he called out, perhaps emboldened by her sudden generosity. "There was another man asking about the Ra'zac as well! Older gentleman, tall and well built. Sought to chase them he did! Something about what they did to Carvahall. I saw him and a boy leave the stables on horseback hot on them's heels!"

That got her attention, Carvahall and the boy especially. If the boy was at Carvahall when it was attacked, then he probably sought the ones who were responsible.

Finally,

It wasn't a lot, but at least she wasn't flying blind anymore. She gave the man another few crowns for the extra information and made her way to the stables herself. If her charge was on horseback then she would need a horse as well.

She didn't know… much about horses, but like all Elite Knights she had enough training to ride and care for one.

"Haberth's the name, we don't get many imperials around here, what do ya call yerself lass?" asked the man who kept the stables.

She nodded to him, removing her helmet, "Anri of Astora, a pleasure." She turned her wince into a smile. Astora didn't mean anything here, enough slip ups would lead to uncomfortable questions.

"Never heard of it, close to the capital?" Haberth asked as they entered the stables.

"Yes, I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it, it isn't exactly a famous place."

Haberth grunted in affirment, lifting a weight off of her shoulders. "So, what can I do for you, 'Anri of Astora?'"

"I'm here to purchase a horse, preferably one that can carry some amount of weight. Despite its looks my armor doesn't weigh that much, but I'd rather not cause needless grief to a poor animal." Her words caused the stablemaster to nod, obviously pleased at her consideration.

"Well, yer in luck, the last time Imperials were in they had lost someone, and they didn't need his steed anymore," he led her further in and to a gorgeous chestnut mare near the back. She was large too, reaching just about six feet high at the back. It was a war horse, through and through.

"Can't sell her for the life of me, but she'll carry more than yer weight and for as long as ya need."

"She's beautiful," Anri said in awe, reaching out to touch her. The mare huffed and pushed her nose against Anri's hand. "How much are you willing to part with her for?"

"Eighty crowns, A hundred to add a saddle and provisions."

She nodded, but froze as she counted out her crowns. Thirty short, thirty short of the eighty. She handed him the fifty much to his displeasure, but held up a hand before he had a chance to protest.

"I have something that might be able to cover the rest," and from out of her box she brought out the covetous gold and silver serpent rings. They increased the amount of souls she received from defeating enemies. They were literally useless to her now, since souls were not a currency here. The stablemaster wordlessly took them, and Anri realized that those may have been the two most valuable things he had ever held in his life. Not that she ever cared, but they were both pure gold and silver, had immaculate details carved into them, and even had gemstones in the eyes.

"You have yerself a deal lass, I'll fetch provisions and the best saddle I can find." and he ran off before she could utter another word.

Anri counted her blessings whenever she could, and so far she had been remarkably lucky. The warhorse; which she had named Mira after one of the children, had been saintly. She was very easy to ride and never expressed any sense of discomfort from the weight of Anri's armor. She was a truly gentle beast and Anri was very quickly beginning to like having a horse.

She had made excellent progress in the day that she had been traveling, and luckily it seemed that her actual mounted knight training had mostly remained. This was absolutely worth the crowns and the rings that she had paid. Unfortunately though, she was from the Age of Fire, and like always when she was catching a lucky break; fate always seemed ready to yank the rug from under her feet.

She had been caught in a thunderstorm, a very violent one.

Rain pelted off of her armor, landing like hundreds of miniature bolts fired from arbalests. It turned the titanite ice cold and what leather she was wearing was soaked through. Mira, bless her, was doing her best to keep up a pace but it was a fruitless effort. Anri could feel the horse's muscles quake under her saddle and she was snorting and heaving with every breath.

There was a sudden change in the air, what hairs that weren't soaked stood on end, the smell changed to one very familiar to her. Anri's eyes widened as she yanked the reins to the right, squeezing with her legs to get Mira to move. Not even a second later a lightning bolt struck where she had just been, causing Mira to tear onto her hind legs. It was only through prior experience and force of will that Anri stayed on and was able to calm her steed. They needed shelter, something to shield them from the storm. But there were only grasslands for miles! The last time she had looked at the map, it would be days before she made it to the next closest village.

She got Mira back onto the course they were following before searching through her box. There had to be something in here that would help them!

Fate, apparently, decided that she would get a lucky break. Inside of her bottomless box, she found a coiled sword. The memory of its origin was lost to her, maybe she had picked it up along the way? Maybe it was a gift from the mysterious power that had brought her here?

She didn't care at the moment.

She slid off of Mira's flank, landing heavily as a particularly strong gust of wind struck her side and nearly sent her to her knees. Already she was feeling slightly warmer, the innate properties and magic of the coiled sword stoking the ash that made up her very being. An idea had formed in her head, and she hoped beyond hope that it would work. She flipped the sword until it was in a reverse grip, and with both hands she plunged it into the dirt beneath her.

Immediately she felt the familiar embrace of a bonfire. Heat exploded around her and Mira, and the rain around them turned into a light drizzle. Opening her eyes she noticed that the new bonfire was surrounded almost in a visible bubble, where outside the storm raged, but inside it was like a calm sprinkle in spring. It wasn't perfect though. The Age of Fire was over, and she could tell right away that the coiled sword was a shadow of what it once was. The bonfire was small, embers burned but there was no roaring comforting fire. Anri took a moment to bask in the familiarity before taking out a fire gem.

Anri gently led Mira to lay down and huddled close, holding the fire gem in her hands. With the bonfire and the gem in her hands, warmth spread throughout her body, and her horse was shivering less as well. This shouldn't be working, and Anri had no plausible ideas as to how the coiled sword was maintaining its effects, but honestly she didn't care. She would take the small comfort of a bonfire in a new world, and when the storm lessened they would continue.

Unbeknownst to her, the bonfire was like a beacon. The world around them recoiled violently from the foreign magic. Invisible to most people in Alagaësia, magic permeated the world. It was in all things, the very fabric of reality. Every plant, animal, person, and rock held some innate magic. It wasn't a concept, it just simply was.

The bonfire was primordial, an ancient power from a bygone age. The magic of the world fled, creating a pocket of nothingness around the foreign intruder that had temporarily taken residency. The two magics were like water and oil, when the magic of the world reached out it was burned, recoiling in shock. Unease.

The magic of the bonfire was almost lazy. It was old and faded, but it had lost none of its potency. It cared not for foreign magic around it. Why should it? The magic around it was abundant but shallow, it was the magic of the world. The bonfire was the magic of gods.

It was ageless, formless, nameless. It had no true name, unbound to the laws of this world. Anyone who tried would find their efforts to be for naught. Anyone happening to scry this specific area would simply find a hole, like a piece of the world had just disappeared. The bonfire was a spot of nothing, but that only made it shine all the brighter to certain people watching.

This all went on completely unnoticed by Anri, who simply watched lightning and rain fizzle as it touched the bubble she had found herself in. She let out a sigh as she stroked Mira's neck. This was going to take awhile.

Thankfully the storm cleared up enough for Anri to resume her journey, but nonetheless she mourned the lost time. After feeding Mira she pulled the coiled sword from its spot in the ground. Immediately the bubble collapsed in on itself, and Anri felt the familiar warmth rush out of her as the natural state of the world was allowed to resume. The sword itself was completely inert, a burnt out husk. Yet she could still feel its magic, slowly returning bit by bit. She didn't know how long it would take to return to a state of usefulness, or if it even would. If it did return, she also wondered how many uses she would get out of it before the primordial fire within finally flickered out.

By another stroke of luck, she was able to find traces of her quarry after a day of traveling. There was a campsite, a burnt out fire and a large section of earth that had been upturned, as if something heavy had slammed into the ground; leaving a deep groove in the soft earth. Too large to be a horse, but she didn't want to say it was a dragon just yet. There were plenty of creatures from her home that were easily larger than horses. She had seen crabs that were bigger than horses!

She at least hoped that this was a sign of her quarry, but even if it wasn't she wouldn't stop. She had tracked down Aldrich all the way from Lothric; by memory and rumors. She could do the same here; for eventually there would be talk. Nobody could keep a dragon a secret forever.

Anri would find them, it was only a matter of when.

"Gods above…" Eragon whispered.

There was a mountain of bodies above them. Men, women, children, none had been spared. Black and dirty arrows stuck out of all of them, and they were all covered in blood. Their last, terrified moments were captured on their faces forever. Worst of all was the body of an infant, stuck by a spear. Who… who had done this?

He had shot a crow that had attempted to make the infant its next meal when everything caught up with him, causing him to throw up over the side of Cadoc. Brom held a hand to his back, easing him through his small fit.

"Do you want to wait for me outside of Yazuac?" Brom asked when Eragon was done with his fit.

"No… I'll stay," was his solemn response. He avoided looking at the gruesome sight as they continued through the town. "Who could have done..?" He couldn't finish asking, bike riding in his throat again as his mind briefly flashed to the pile of corpses.

Brom lowered his head for a moment, "Those who love the pain and suffering of others. They wear many faces and go by many disguises, but there is only one name for them; evil. There is no understanding it. All we can do is pity and honor the victims." Brom dismounted Snowfire when they had reached the center of the town. dismounted Snowfire and walked around, inspecting the trampled ground carefully. "The Ra'zac passed this way," he said slowly, "but this wasn't their doing. This is Urgal work; the spear is of their make. A company of them came through here, perhaps as many as a hundred. It's odd; I know of only a few instances when they have gathered in such numbers. This is troubling, very troubling…"

Something had caught his eye, for Brom leapt to his feet and ran to the north. It took only a moment for Eragon to see what had caused Brom's sudden flight, and he followed as fast as he could.

Leaning against the wall of a fountain was a person, surrounded by at least a dozen dead creatures that Eragon assumed to be Ugrals! The one closest to the stranger had a masterfully crafted sword lodged in its back. The stranger himself was wearing a full suit of armor with a blue surcoat. It was a knight! Almost straight out of the fairytales he used to read as a young boy. On his left arm was a long kite shield, colored blue with a crest that Eragon had never seen on it. It was scratched and dented; hinting at extensive use, but it hadn't been pierced.

His awe turned to sadness though, when he noticed the stranger's surcoat largely covered in blood, a crude sword embedded in the knight's abdomen, and the downward position of their head. A brief flicker of hope returned though, when the knight shakily raised his head to look at the two approaching travelers. He was alive!

Brom reached him first, placing his hand over the wound and muttering some strange words. He stopped though with a grimace.

The knight looked at him, and then at Eragon, "w-what are you doing here?" He let out a wet-sounding cough, "thought that everybody h-here was dead." He looked hard at Eragon when he crouched on the other side of the knight, before looking back at Brom.

"What happened here?" Brom asked gently. It saddened Eragon, but the knight probably wasn't long for the world.

"G-got caught up in the storm, found myself here. The people were kind, t-took me in… Then the ugrals came. Just started–" the knight let out a pained groan, "–just started k-killing everybody… Tried to save as many as I could… w-wasn't enough." The faceplate of the helmet turned to the mountain of corpses briefly before turning down again.

"What's your name, noble knight?" Eragon asked softly, sorrow filling him.

The knight looked at him again, and it felt like he was looking for something more. "O-Oscar, Oscar of Astora," the now named Oscar let out a humorless laugh. "It's unfortunate, really. I-I'll never fulfill my purpose here."

"What purpose is that?" Eragon wasn't sure if it was him or Brom that asked, because the answer chilled him to the bone, and a similar look on Brom's face told Eragon that not even he could've predicted what they had heard.

"Supposed–" another ragged cough, "–supposed to find a kid named E-Eragon. Him and his dragon. I was s-supposed to keep them safe, p-protect, prot–" Oscar fell into another coughing fit, much worse than before. His breathing was coming out shallow now. He was close to death.

He chuckled weakly, "just my l-luck then. Couldn't finish the first task, c-can't do it now either…"

It was silent between the three of them, but Eragon couldn't let him die like this…

"It's… it's me. I'm the one you seek," he said, getting a harsh look from Brom, but he continued anyway as the knight's helmet faced him again.

"T-thought I recognized you from somewhere… funny how the world works, huh?" He laughed weakly, and Eragon heard the beating of wings behind them. Oscar's gaze went past them and to Saphira as she approached the three. Eragon would've admonished her, but there wasn't anybody alive for miles to see her.

"It's true then, you're the rider…" He coughed again, moaning painfully. "I want you to have this," Oscar said, weakly gesturing to his shield. "I-It's served me well, and you have n-need of it more than I."

He continued when Eragon took the shield, running a hand over the crest. "A lot m-more rests upon you than you realize. Y-You two have many ta-tasks ahead. You'll need each other, m-more than ever before." His gaze moved back to Eragon, "b-but know that you two aren't alone in this. I-I'm not the only one, there are more of us… e-echoes of the past, trying to help you. D-don't know who, b-but they're out there. Somewhere."

"Echoes of the past? More of you? What are you saying?" What did any of this mean?! But it seemed that he wouldn't get his answers, none of them would.

Oscar's breathing was evening out, slowing down. "I-I'm just glad that I saw you once, b-before the end. M-May the flames of old guide you, always…"

'Rest now, noble knight. Find peace wherever you find yourself.' Came the sad voice of Saphira inside of their heads. Oscar, Eragon had noticed, had stopped breathing entirely.

He and Brom looked at each other. Neither knew what to make of this, and they had only received more questions.

So soon after the last chapter? Odd, I know.

Sorry that I made you watch Oscar die a second time, but it was for a good cause!

So there's more than just Anri out there, who could they be? Where have they come from? When have they come from?

I also hope you enjoyed my part about the magic of Dark Souls and the magic of Alagaësia. This story is set well after the Age of Fire, so any magic from that period of time would be so utterly alien to the new world. The magic that kept the Age of Fire was unnatural, and it went against the natural order of things. There are no true names, the Fire is unyielding, unending. There is definitely more of this to come.

Anyways, not much else to say, I hope you enjoyed!

See you next soon~