Rand, Brom, and Eragon rode atop horses and into a white expanse of snow. They rode until Therinsford was but a small spec in the horizon and then rode even further until Utgard was not just a mirage clouded by drifting snow, but a slab of rock so steep, it had once been known as Edoc'sil– Unconquerable.
But, those who knew of its history called it by a different, sadder, name now. Ristvak'baen– the Place of Sorrow.
Fitting, thought Rand as he craned his neck in an attempt to see its crest. In his mind's eye, he envisioned Vrael riding atop the white dragon Umaroth, fleeing to its peak. He imagined Galbatorix chasing him there atop his twisted black mount. He tried to picture the duel that must have taken place.
He could almost see Galbatorix standing atop it, blood dripping from his sword, a maddened grin on his face knowing that the world was his. Standing there, the victor.
A thought rose unbidden in Rand's head.
I want to kill him here– in the place of his greatest victory and deliver him his ultimate defeat.
He didn't know where that desire came from. It was absurd. Merely killing the king would be near impossible. He would be lucky to flee with his life let alone land the killing blow. Hell, killing Galbatorix was supposed to be a clinical task, one that he undertook for his continued freedom. A selfish necessity, for Rand knew himself well enough to recognize that is all it was. That he wasn't some noble hero acting altruistically for the good of the people, and neither did he have a personal stake in the matter.
The Ra'zac hadn't killed his uncle, as would have been the case with Eragon. He wasn't Brom, Morzan hadn't betrayed him, and that betrayal hadn't resulted in the death of his dragon. He wasn't even from Alagasia. He owed these people nothing. Truthfully, he wasn't even convinced that Galbatorix was all that bad, not any more than any other politician who viewed the lives of people as numbers on a sheet of paper.
So why am I getting an ego about killing the king? Pride? Glory? Vanity?
None of them felt entirely right, but he couldn't deny that the idea of killing Glabatorix felt pleasurable, satisfying, and heady. It made his blood run hot and his heart pound in anticipation.
Is it just–
"They're here!" Eragon suddenly pointed upwards, a wide grin stretching his face.
Sure enough, in the white winter sky were two tiny specks growing larger and larger. Brom sucked in his breath, and when Rand turned around to look at the former rider he saw him wiping tears from his eyes.
"Get a grip, old man." Rand teased and hopped off his steed, a black horse with white socks. He had named her Alduin.
The dragons touched down seconds later.
Whitey, the gluton that he was, had grown considerably since Rand last saw him, and now the dragon's shoulder came higher than his own.
"Are you even supposed to grow this fast?" Rand asked. "I think you're big enough to ride."
His dragon made a show of looking at him from head to toe, and shook his head. "I don't think so."
"You're funny." Rand gave his dragon the finger, and turned to the much smaller Saphira. "-and you're quite beautiful. Have you and Eragon decided on a name yet?" He asked, crouching down beside her.
The sapphire dragon, barely larger than a dog, preened at his words, and Rand felt her mind touch his own. Already, the weight of her consciousness was heavier than every human mind Rand had felt in Carvahall, save Broms. "My… name… is Saphira," she said.
"A beautiful name, for a beautiful dragon." Rand grinned, then cautiously stepping forward, he gently rubbed her cheek. Grinning even wider when the blue dragoness leaned into his touch like a puppy.
Whitey puffed smoke from his nostrils.
"I remember when you were this cute." He projected his thoughts to Whitey and ran a thumb over Saphira's jewel like scales. Unconsciously, he started comparing the two dragons. Her manner of speaking was about the same as his own dragons when he was her age, but Whitey had grown considerably faster.
A male dragon thing, something to do with Whitey, or is how fast dragons grow just random?
"What did you name your dragon?" Eragon asked.
"Princess." Rand replied, not missing a beat.
"I– Saphira told me that he was a male?"
"Yeah, so?" Rand casually walked up to his seething dragon, and put both hands around his face, then in an exaggerated baby voice said, "Who's my little princess? You are, aren't y–" Only to stumble backward and fall into the snow when his dragon suddenly snapped his teeth.
Glaring at his dragon in mock outrage, Rand suddenly leapt forward and attempted to tackle his dragon in a choke hold. Only to have the wind knocked out of him when Whitey carefully swatted him with his barbed tail. Undeterred, Rand took a moment to catch his breath and tried again. He was no more successful than the last time. He kept trying anyway, uncaring of the odd looks Brom and Eragon gave him.
"You're too big now. This was a lot more fun when you were little." Rand said sullenly.
"Those sound like the words of a sore loser."
Rand stuck his tongue out. "Anyway, what do you think about Albus? I feel bad about calling you Whitey all the time."
"... Albus means white in one of your world's tongues."
Sensing it was another no, Rand sighed. "Fine, what about Ignee–"
"Albus. From now on, I shall be known as Albus."
"Wait, really? You're fine with Albus. You're not gonna say no because Albus Dumbledore or something?"
"No. I quite like the name. Short and sweet, as you're people say."
"I guess it's decided then." Rand grinned.
After the initial excitement of being reunited with their dragons wore off, the three humans set about building a camp. Brom guided them to an out of the way cave at the base of the mountain where they could take shelter in. From there it didn't take them long to start a fire over which they began cooking their food, a deer the two dragons had spotted on the way to the cave.
The three of them sat in companionable silence around the crackling flame. Each of their mouths chalk full of saliva from the scintillating scent of the meat. After the hours they had spent riding, Rand couldn't wait to dig in.
His hopes were dashed when Brom abruptly got up and started fiddling with his pack.
Right. Training. I almost forgot that's all Brom and Eragon did when they first left the village.
When the former rider returned, he was carrying a blade covered by a red sheath, two less elegant blades, and three decent sized sticks he had scavenged from the ground.
Oh yeah, he gives Eragon Morzan's sword. Almost forgot about that. Wait why is he–
"Here." Brom presented Zar'roc to Rand.
Rand blinked. "Why are you giving me that?"
Brom frowned. "It's a rider's blade, and you are a rider."
"What about Eragon?"
"You are the eldest of the riders, so rightfully it is yours. Had Saphira hatched before Whitey–"
"Hold up. His name is actually Albus, and I would appreciate it if you put some respect on my dragon's name." Rand corrected him.
Brom's eyebrow twitched. "...Had Saphira hatched before Albus, then I would be giving this blade to Eragon."
"Oh. Um, thank you. I'll take good care of it." Rand said. Brom nodded to him, and presented Eragon with a vastly inferior looking sword.
Seeing Eragon's forlorn expression at getting the shittier sword, Rand half expected the teen to make a fuss. It never came.
Pleasantly surprised about having avoided drama, Rand withdrew the Misery from its sheath. He swung it around a few times just to feel the weight, then banged it a few times on the cave wall. He almost burst into laughter when both Eragon and Brom flinched at the way he treated the beautiful blade.
Then, after he was done with his inspection of it, he tucked it back into its sheath, and held the blade out to Eragon.
"Here, take it."
Eragon looked helplessly between Rand, and a stone faced Brom. Not willing for the teen to decide if he wanted the sword or not, Rand just dropped the blade on his lap, snatched the shittier sword Brom had given him, and walked back to his spot around the fire.
"Wait- Brom gave the sword to you, I can't accept it."
"What do you mean? Brom gave it to me, so it became my sword to do with it as I wanted. If Brom has a problem with what I do with my belongings, I would tell him to mind his own business. Besides, he's man enough to air his own grievances, Eragon, you don't have to air them for him."
"But–"
"But nothing." Brom interrupted. "If Rand wants you to have Zar'roc, then it's yours. Now allow me to show you how to actually use a weapon." He tossed each of them a stick.
It wasn't long after that Rand learned that he was very shit at swordplay. To make matters worse, Eragon was fitter than him, despite the inordinate amount of time Rand had spent exercising in the last week. By the end of their two hour session though, both Rand and Eragon were covered in welts and bruises, starved for breath, and inordinately sweaty despite the cold chill in the air.
"Brom's a monster." Albus said.
"He was a former rider, and he single handedly put up a better fight against Galbatorix than the entire Order did with hundreds of dragons and entire armies at their backs. And he's still alive and kicking. Most men in his position would have just killed themselves."
"Or," Albus paused, "losing a bond with his dragon just made him stupid strong."
"What do you mean?"
"You mean to say you haven't noticed the similarities between Brom and Galbatorix. They lost their dragons, but instead of becoming weaker… they licked their wounds and inflicted more damage to seemingly all powerful foes than anyone could have expected them to. Their insanity gives them power."
Rand shook his head. "Perhaps, but I don't think it's a lack of sanity that drives Brom or Galbatorix. It's hate. Unreasonable, all consuming, and all powerful. Brom hated Morzan so bitterly, he pulled himself together out of sheer spite.
Brom wanted to take everything from that man, just like everything was taken from him. His dragon, his sword, the mother of his child… nothing was off limits. And he didn't stop until he had. Speaking of–"
"Zar'roc used to belong to Morzan, right?" Rand asked, more for Eragon's benefit than Brom's who the question was actually directed to. None of this would stay hidden from the younger rider for long, so it was better to rip the bandage off now lest he be surprised later. So, Rand grinned. "You took it from him, when you killed him?"
Eragon choked on the slice of meat he was eating, and looked at both Brom and Zar'roc with wide eyes. Probably realizing for the first time, the enormity of what his bond with Saphira meant.
Ignoring the teen, Rand instead focused on Brom. Rand had already made it clear to the former rider that he wouldn't let his desire to obfuscate his past get in their way, and Brom had agreed.
Yet, it was still a surprise when Brom clenched his jaw, and nodded.
"Then what about the swords of the other forsworn. If I know my history right, one died in Vroengard, three of them killed themselves when the names of their dragons were erased. That leaves nine forsworn that you and the Varden killed. What happened to their swords?"
Brom shrugged. "Galbatorix was happy to give them power when it suited his purposes. But, when the order was defeated, the Forsworn just became potential enemies. He stripped them of the power he had given them and took everything they could have used against him… including their swords. They are likely gathering dust in his castle right now."
"That sucks."
Brom shrugged. "It worked in our favor."
Eragon blinked. "Who are you two?"
Oh right. Rand sighed. "I'm just a… scholar well learned in certain parts of Alagasiea's history. I was nothing special until I was transported into the forest naked. As for Brom–"
The old man seemed to fold into himself. "I was a rider of the Old Order." He said, sliding his hand out of his gloves and showing them his Gedwey Ignasia.
Eragon's eyes widened. "Where are we going?"
Oh right, we never really told him.
"Gil'lead," said Rand. "There's an important elf princess being held there by a shade in Galbatorix's employ. We're gonna free her and run. Don't worry though, we have this whole plan figured out, we'll be in and out, no one will know we're there, it'll be cake."
Eragon didn't look too sure.