Answers to reviews:
Dreagon D. Dragon: Well, but a possible Dragonborn x Arya story sounds interesting.
phoinex slayer5: I'll update them when I can. I'm trying my best here.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Inheritance Cycle. I only own the OC Michael/Ancalagon.
The sun rose lazily over the land, its illuminating rays spilling over the low mountains into the valley where the group slept, creating a dappled appearance on the ground as the sun's rays streamed through the small gaps in between the leaves of the tall trees. The light reflected off of the dragons' shiny scales, scattering little motes of light around the small clearing.
Ancalagon's eyes cracked open as he lifted his head to gaze about the clearing. Everyone was still asleep. He rose gently, lifting his wing slowly, so as not to wake Saphira, who was slumbering peacefully beside him. The dragoness shivered for a few moments as his wing was removed, exposing her to the cold morning air. Once she got comfortable again, Ancalagon slowly made his way into the woods, stretching his stiff muscles as he did so, preparing for flight. When he was certain that he had gone far enough that his lift-off would not wake the others, he took to the air.
He scanned the forest below, searching for prey. Spotting one, Ancalagon swooped down, dodging around trees, towards the buck that grazed in a small secluded meadow ahead. The buck only had a moment of warning before claws pierced its sides and fierce jaws tore its throat out, ending its life. As he flapped his wings, regaining altitude with the buck hanging limply from his claws, he mused on how easily it had become to simply kill another living being without a second thought. He landed and began to eat, bones cracking under his jaw's powerful bites.
After finishing, Ancalagon flew back to the campsite in time to see the others waking up. Brom was dousing the fire while Eragon packed up the bedrolls.
Saphira was after him as soon as he landed, Where have you been?
Seriously, Saphira was starting to act like she was his mother at this point. He almost rolled his eyes. Her concern was appreciated, but it was starting to grate his nerves.
Just hunting, Saphira. I would not go anywhere else without first telling you and the others. He answered.
This answer seemed to calm her, if only a little. Good, she said, brushing up against him, licking him on his scaly cheek. Just making sure you didn't pass out again.
I told you, I'm fine. Ancalagon huffed. Though he found Saphira's worrying flattering, it was starting to get annoying with how she fussed over him. Seriously, you'd think he was just a hatchling and he was her kid. He shook his head and muttered to himself. Females.
I heard that.
The days followed with a pattern for both the humans and the dragons. For Ancalagon and Saphira: First, they'd go hunting in the morning, either together or separately and bring a buck or doe back for the other. Next, they'd go find a place perfect for Saphira to continue testing and developing Ancalagon's combat skills, both in the ground and the air, as well as showing off her own to the black male. Ancalagon was starting to get better, he even bested Saphira twice in a playful fight. After sparring, they'd rejoin Eragon and Brom and lay down.
For Eragon: First, he struggled to learn the ancient words and to manipulate the pebble. Then, in the evening, he trained against Brom with the fake swords. Eragon was in constant discomfort, but he gradually began to change, almost without noticing. Soon the pebble no longer wobbled when he lifted it. He mastered the first exercises Brom gave him and undertook harder ones, and his knowledge of the ancient language grew.
In their sparring, Eragon gained confidence and speed, striking like a snake. His blows became heavier, and his arm no longer trembled when he warded off attacks. The clashes lasted longer as he learned how to fend off Brom. Now, when they went to sleep, Eragon was not the only one with bruises.
Saphira continued to grow as well, but more slowly than before. Her extended flights, along with periodic hunts, kept her fit and healthy. Her head was now equal in height to the underside of Ancalagon's chin.
They continued south, tracking the Ra'zac. It frustrated Eragon that no matter how fast they went, the Ra'zac always stayed a few days ahead of them. At times he was ready to give up, but then they would find some mark or print that would renew his hope.
There were no signs of habitation along the Ninor or in the plains, leaving the three companions undisturbed as the days slipped by. Finally, they neared Daret, the first village since Yazuac.
Daret was on the banks of the Ninor River—as it had to be to survive. The village was small and wild-looking, without any signs of inhabitants. Eragon and Brom approached it with great caution. Saphira and Ancalagon hid close to the town this time; if trouble arose, they would be at their sides within seconds.
They rode into Daret, striving to be silent. Brom gripped his sword with his good hand, eyes flashing everywhere. Eragon kept his bow partially drawn as they passed between the silent houses, glancing at each other with apprehension. This doesn't look good, commented Eragon to Saphira. She did not answer, but he felt her prepare to rush after them. He looked at the ground and was reassured to see the fresh footprints of children. But where are they?
Brom stiffened as they entered the center of Daret and found it empty. Wind blew through the desolate town, and dust devils swirled sporadically. Brom wheeled Snowfire about. "Let's get out of here. I don't like the feel of this." He spurred Snowfire into a gallop. Eragon followed him, urging Cadoc onward.
They advanced only a few strides before wagons toppled out from behind the houses and blocked their way. Cadoc snorted and dug in his hooves, sliding to a stop next to Snowfire. A swarthy man hopped over the wagon and planted himself before them, a broadsword slung at his side and a drawn bow in his hands. Eragon swung his own bow up and pointed it at the stranger, who commanded, "Halt! Put your weapons down. You're surrounded by sixty archers. They'll shoot if you move." As if on cue, a row of men stood up on the roofs of the surrounding houses.
Stay away, Saphira! Ancalagon! cried Eragon. There are too many. If you come, they'll shoot you out of the sky. Stay away! He wasn't sure if the dragons would obey but he knew they heard, well Saphira heard. He prepared to use magic. I'll have to stop the arrows before they hit me or Brom.
"What do you want?" asked Brom calmly.
"Why have you come here?" demanded the man.
"To buy supplies and hear the news. Nothing more. We're on the way to my cousin's house in Dras-Leona."
"You're armed pretty heavily."
"So are you," said Brom. "These are dangerous times."
"True." The man looked at them carefully. "I don't think you mean us ill, but we've had too many encounters with Urgals and bandits for me to trust you only on your word."
"If it doesn't matter what we say, what happens now?" countered Brom. The men on top of the houses had not moved. By their very stillness, Eragon was sure that they were either highly disciplined... or frightened for their lives. He hoped it was the latter.
"You say that you only want supplies. Would you agree to stay here while we bring what you need, then pay us and leave immediately?"
"Yes."
"All right," said the man, lowering his bow, though he kept it ready. He waved at one of the archers, who slid to the ground and ran over. "Tell him what you want."
Brom recited a short list and then added, "Also, if you have a spare pair of gloves that would fit my nephew, I'd like to buy those too." The archer nodded and ran off.
"The name's Trevor," said the man standing in front of them. "Normally I'd shake your hand, but under the circumstances, I think I'll keep my distance. Tell me, where are you from?"
"North," said Brom, "but we haven't lived in any place long enough to call it home. Have Urgals forced you to take these measures?"
"Yes," said Trevor, "and worse fiends. Do you have any news from other towns? We receive word from them rarely, but there have been reports that they are also beleaguered."
Brom turned grave. "I wish it wasn't our lot to bring you these tidings. Nearly a fortnight ago we passed through Yazuac and found it pillaged. The villagers had been slaughtered and piled together. We would have tried to give them a decent burial, but two Urgals attacked us."
Shocked, Trevor stepped back and looked down with tears in his eyes. "Alas, this is indeed a dark day. Still, I don't see how two Urgals could have defeated all of Yazuac. The people there were good fighters—some were my friends."
"There were signs that a band of Urgals had ravaged the town," stated Brom. "I think the ones we encountered were deserters."
"How large was the company?"
Brom fiddled with his saddlebags for a minute. "Large enough to wipe out Yazuac, but small enough to go unnoticed in the countryside. No more than a hundred, and no less than fifty. If I'm not mistaken, either number would prove fatal to you." Trevor wearily agreed. "You should consider leaving," Brom continued. "This area has become far too perilous for anyone to live in peace."
"I know, but the people here refuse to consider moving. This is their home—as well as mine, though I have only been here a couple years—and they place its worth above their own lives." Trevor looked at him seriously. "We have repulsed individual Urgals, and that has given the townspeople a confidence far beyond their abilities. I fear that we will all wake up one morning with our throats slashed."
The archer hurried out of a house with a pile of goods in his arms. He set them next to the horses, and Brom paid him. As the man left, Brom asked, "Why did they choose you to defend Daret?"
Trevor shrugged. "I was in the King's army for some years."
Brom dug through the items, handed Eragon the pair of gloves, and packed the rest of the supplies into their saddlebags. Eragon pulled the gloves on, being careful to keep his palm facing down, and flexed his hands. The leather felt good and strong, though it was scarred from use. "Well," said Brom, "as I promised, we will go now."
Trevor nodded. "When you enter Dras-Leona, would you do us this favor? Alert the Empire to our plight and that of the other towns. If word of this hasn't reached the King by now, it's cause for worry. And if it has, but he has chosen to do nothing, that too is cause for worry."
"We will carry your message. May your swords stay sharp," said Brom.
"And yours."
The wagons were pulled out of their way, and they rode from Daret into the trees along the Ninor River. Eragon sent his thoughts to Saphira. We're on our way back. Everything turned out all right. Her only response was simmering anger.
Ancalagon watched Saphira pace back and fourth in the clearing they had picked to meet Brom and Eragon at. The black dragon was very amused at the anger coming off her, but he dared not say anything or try to calm her down. Every gut instinct is telling him to never try and direct a pissed off female's anger at you.
He lifted his head as Eragon and Brom returned from Daret, and as soon as Eragon was off his horse, Saphira tripped him up with her tail and pinned him with a claw. Ancalagon saw Eragon shoot him a pleading look and the black dragon snorted.
No way, you're on your own.
No way in hell was he going to have Saphira's anger directed at him.
Brom also decided it was wise to not get in between an angry dragoness and her Rider as he started to make a campfire with Ancalagon helping by breathing a little flame from his mouth, nudging any bits of wood to the fire to make it better.
Eventually Saphira finished her 'chat' with Eragon and laid down beside Ancalagon.
"Well?" Brom raised an eyebrow at Eragon as the Rider got back to his feet.
"She wants me to ride her tomorrow." Eragon said lamely and he heard a chuckle from Ancalagon. "You could've helped, you know!"
And have her be angry at me? No Eragon, you should know one thing when it comes to dragons: If you value your life, never get in-between an angry female and the one she's angry at. Ancalagon said, still amused.
"He's right, Eragon." Brom said, equally amused before he gave a sly look at the male dragon. "Although, a female's temper worsens when they are pregnant."
Both Saphira and Ancalagon stiffened at that and the male dragon levelled Brom with a look. And what exactly are you trying to say, old man?
Brom just gave him a wink and lit a pipe, not answering or speaking to the male dragon who huffed in annoyance...
Yeah, Brom knows what's going down between the two dragons.