Editor Stryker here letting you all know that I also read your comments and reviews. It helps me, as Bladewolf's editor, to understand his audience's concerns and address them. And yes, believe me when I say that I whole-heartedly agree with those of you who stood by my side and said that the battle scene was too short.
I appreciate not being flamed for the first major battle of the series.
Anyway… I'll be handling the review responses this time around and I don't think author wolfie boi will have any problems with me in doing so because, I will admit, it was my fuck up last chapter. I also have to admit that Saphira's first flame wasn't that big of a deal in this story. I didn't see it as such since Ancalagon is a thing and… well… it'll be at least mentioned in this chapter. Nothing too detailed though. Sorry folks.
Answers to reviews:
Yubel578: I understand and yes I know and thank you for understanding. I didn't want to drag out the battle excessively. I will openly admit that wolfie and I are going to go all out for the Battle of the Burning Plains. Just a little teaser for that. As for Glaedr and Firnen… we'll see. Wolfie and I already have chapter 33 written and I'm pouring over the others to ensure that I don't get my ass handed to me… again. And when it comes to Thorn and Murtagh… I already have an idea in mind that I haven't even brought to wolf's attention.
Axelmos2356: Honestly? I can't answer anything you said in your review without spoiling future chapters. All you readers' minds are gonna explode next chapter. Chapter 29. As for the whole "bro is too calm killing humans it isn't normal" thing… Ancalagon understands that he must take lives to save lives. He's already come to terms with the reality that he will kill humans. Soooooo cope I guess? And another thing man… learn to English better. No offense, but you really suck at it. lol
Dragomancer: Backtracking a bit here to answer your review with more than just wolf's "It's my story I can do what I want" attitude. Yes. It is wolf's story. Respect it. And no. There will be none of that drawn out, over dramatic lovey dovey bullshit fiasco. They are dragons. Well… there will be some drama… but it will be nothing like anything you've read about before. 100% can guarantee that or I'll drop from being wolf's editor. This story is going to take an unprecedented turn, one that nobody saw coming.
Fear not readers. Everything will come full circle beginning this chapter… all the puzzle pieces will start taking shape and falling into place.
Enjoy.
"Will he be okay?" Murtagh asked Angela as soon as Eragon was brought to the healer's room, where the herbalist immediately set about taking Eragon into her care. The only ones in the room were Eragon, Arya, Murtagh and Angela, as Saphira and Ancalagon had to snake their heads in through the doorway since it was too small for their size.
"We can only hope. He took a wound from a Shade's sword." Angela informed them grimly as she looked at the bleeding wound on Eragon's back, having set to work on cleaning it. "To suffer such a wound… it will remain with him for the rest of his life."
But he will be safe, yes? He will be fine? Saphira asked agitatedly as she shifted, worried for her Rider. The only comfort she had right now was Ancalagon's presence, the black dragon having draped his wing over her. He was silent, unresponsive much, and seemed to be in deep thought since the aftermath of the battle.
Angela nodded, then shot them glares. "If I can have peace and quiet to work, then yes. Now go! You should all take your chance to rest up after the battle. When I'm done here, I will inform you of Eragon's condition."
She's right. We should leave her to her work. Eragon will be fine. Ancalagon assured them, finally speaking. Reluctantly, Arya and Murtagh nodded and left, passing through the dragons' legs. Saphgira stared at her unconscious Rider, unable to contain her worry and fear for his wellbeing. Ancalagon gently nudged her. Hey, we can stay in a nearby room until he awakens… and you can be the worried mother hen then.
Saphira snorted and nipped him, but understood he was trying to reassure and comfort her. So she nodded and allowed him to guide them out, throwing Eragon one last worried glance, then the doors shut. As they walked side-by-side, Saphira glanced at the black dragon beside her. He had been unusually silent after the battle, and had only just now spoken up. She didn't know what was on his mind, but it was no doubt about her given the glances he thought he discreetly gave her.
Her own heart flipped with nerves, as the battle had made her realize something. Throughout the entire thing, she had been worried for the well-being of her Rider and Ancalagon. If anything happened to them… she wouldn't know what to do. At several points in the battle, she connected to Ancalagon's mind to reassure herself that he was still there, that he was still alive. She knew they agreed to be close friends until they could address what was going on with them after everything was done, and now Saphira realized exactly what she felt for him.
She loved him. Ancestors help her, she loved him.
Ancalagon brought them to a room, with the door being big enough for them to squeeze through. He allowed her to go first, just watching her. His eyes started to roam her body, though she didn't notice it, and a primal growl nearly escaped him at the sight of some bloodied scratches on her from the Urgals despite the armor she had on during the battle. He didn't like the thought of Saphira being harmed by anything. He would kill to protect her, to protect Eragon, to protect his friends, but Saphira… God, how could he not have realized it any sooner? Now he understood what his heart wanted, what he had been denying for so long just because of stupid logic and stupidity itself.
He was in love with Saphira.
His emotions had been boiling and mixing, until he could no longer contain them any more. The sheer relief that she was safe and sound, mixed with the love he had for her… he could not contain it anymore.
We should- Saphira started to turn and address Ancalagon, when something happened that she did not anticipate.
Ancalagon darted his head forward and pressed his lipless maw against hers in a kiss.
So startled and caught off guard, Saphira fell backwards, taking Ancalagon with her. But the black dragon did not relent as he kissed her like his life depended on it. Saphira was so shocked at what he was doing, though she recognized the affectionate display, having seen it amongst humans and through her Rider's mind between his cousin and the woman he loves. It stunned her because… it meant Ancalagon felt the same for her as she felt him.
Overcoming her shock, even though dragons did not kiss and she wondered why Ancalagon would do it, she kissed him back anyway, pushing against his maw with a hum leaving her. Their jaws opened slightly, tongues darting out to meet in a battle of dominance. As their heated and passionate kiss continued, Saphira found herself very much enjoying this display of affection and couldn't wait to keep doing it more.
Soon, Ancalagon broke the kiss and pulled his head away slightly, just staring at her with such love in his eyes that Saphira's heart melted and fluttered.
Ancalagon… She started. What was… why did…?
I can't deny how my heart feels anymore, Saphira. Ancalagon said softly, raising a paw to caress her cheek. I should have realized sooner, I should have acted rather than deny and be a coward. But no more. Recent events have made me realize how short life can be… and how close I could come to losing you. To losing my friends.
You will never lose me. Saphira said softly, her tail caressing the underside of his.
Perhaps… but that doesn't stop the fear of the thought consuming my mind. You… are in my very soul, my heart, and I don't want to let you go. Ancalagon said with such strong devotion and love that a tear leaked from Saphira's eyes. Saphira… I love you.
There it is… the words he had wanted to say to her.
Oh Ancalagon… I love you too. Saphira darted her head up and kissed him passionately, with Ancalagon responding with equal passion and bliss. However, something occurred to Saphira as she pulled her head away. But… you're too early.
What? Ancalagon frowned.
A red hue came upon Saphira's cheeks. Mating season is only during Spring and Autumn, and we missed the Spring mating season… but not Autumn.
Autumn is soon, a month or two away. Ancalagon realized, before shaking his head. Regardless, I couldn't go any further without letting you know how I feel about you. If anything, think of this like… a proposal. That you will be mine, and when the season comes… I will choose you.
Then I will accept. Saphira said softly and kissed him again, then let out a low, seductive purr as she began nibbling at his neck. But just because we're not official... doesn't mean we can't still show our affection to one another.
T-True… Ancalagon stuttered, cheeks red as Saphira continued to massage the skin with her teeth, and the feeling of her tail caressing his underbelly felt good. He began licking her cheek and neck in return. Their actions became more and more sensual and they felt the heat rising to their faces.
A mischievous idea came to Saphira's mind and she couldn't help but comment. And besides… it seems you'll be keen to be on top of me during the mating.
What?! Ancalagon looked at her wide-eyed, but she only laughed at his red cheeks.
You're so easy to read, my love. Saphira said, continuing to chuckle as Ancalagon huffed, realizing she was teasing him… though a part of him did entertain the thought of her words but he quickly shook it away.
You tease. He told her and they just continued to shower each other in much more intimate affections, both relieved to have finally confessed their love for the other.
Eragon didn't know where he was. He floated in nothingness, unable to move his body. Flashes from the Shade's mind enveloped him, and pressed down on him like a blanket, smothering him. Darkness surrounded him and he curled into a ball, trying to fight against the shadows around him. He clung to his memories of his own life like a shield; the images of his friends, his feelings towards them, and his experiences since finding Saphira's egg. He struggled to keep this light with him, battling back the evil.
Come to me, a clear voice rang out. Eragon felt the darkness halt, then retreat. He looked up to see a figure dressed in white standing in front of him.
Who are you... he asked weakly.
I am the Mourning Sage, and also the Cripple Who Is Whole, the person answered. Come to me, Eragon, for I have the answers that you seek.
But...where are you? Eragon pleaded. How do I find you?
Trust in Arya and go with her to Ellesmera... I await you there.
The figure turned and walked away into the distance. Eragon tried to stand and follow, but his body would not respond. Wait, please, he tried. The person stopped, then turned back to face Eragon, their face obscured by a silver light.
The time for answers will come, Eragon, he assured him. Rejoice in what you have done, and be proud. You have rid the world of a great evil. Eragon could feel the truth in his words, and a sense of peace washed over him. He had accomplished much, and his feats would merit him honor and recognition. No matter his trials in the future, he knew he was no longer just a pawn in the game of power. He had become what Ajihad had wanted; an authority independent of any king or leader.
Eragon sensed approval as he reached that conclusion. He could feel a strange sensation come from the mysterious figure, but it spoke before he could. Remember – you must go to the elves...
Rest Eragon...
"Eragon..."
"Eragon!"
He reluctantly forced his eyes open and found himself on a long bed, swathed in soft blankets. Angela sat in a chair beside him, staring at his face intently. "How do you feel?" she asked.
Disoriented and confused, he let his eyes roam over the small room. "I... I don't know," he said, his mouth dry and sore.
"Then don't move. You should conserve your strength," said Angela, running a hand through her curly hair. Eragon saw that she still wore her flanged armor. Why was that? A fit of coughing made him dizzy, lightheaded, and ache all over. His feverish limbs felt heavy. Angela lifted a gilt horn from the floor and held it to his lips. "Here, drink."
Cool mead ran down his throat, refreshing him. Warmth bloomed in his stomach and rose to his cheeks. He coughed again, which worsened his throbbing head. How did I get here? There was a battle... we were losing... then Durza and... "Saphira!" he exclaimed, sitting upright. He sagged back as his head swam and clenched his eyes, feeling sick. "What about Saphira? Is she all right? And Arya! Ancalagon! Everyone!"
"Easy, easy," Angela chided, gently holding him down. "Saphira is alright, as are the others."
"What happened? Where are they?" he asked, his eyes darting around the room.
"They are outside waiting for you to wake up. I will get them," she said, and got up to go to the door.
There was nothing but silence outside the room, save for the heavy breathing of the two dragons that laid together. Saphira had her head on top of her unofficial mate's, with him giving her comforting and reassuring strokes along her side with his tail, sending thoughts and emotions across their bond to each other. On the other side of the hall, Murtagh sat against the wall as well, his gaze directed at the floor. Arya stood a small distance away, similarly lost in contemplation.
They were all snapped from their silent musings and thoughts when they heard the door open. Saphira lifted her head as soon as she heard the doors opening and Angela popped her head out to look at them and smiled. "He's awake."
Arya and Murtagh entered while Ancalagon and Saphira snaked their heads into the room after them, their bodies too big to fit through the doorway. Saphira's chest vibrated as she hummed deeply, eyes sparkling.
It is good to see you well, little one, she said tenderly.
You too. But how –
The others wish to explain, and I will let them.
You breathed fire, I saw you! Even for a brief second.
Yes, she hummed with pride.
I swear, if you worry us like that again… I'll tie you to either myself or Saphira if it means you are safe and unharmed. Ancalagon said with a growl. First Gil'ead, and now this… was this how older brothers felt when their younger ones got themselves into so much trouble?
I'll try harder next time. Eragon said cheekily, earning a narrowed eyed-gaze from Ancalagon. He looked at Arya and Murtagh. "What happened?"
Arya looked sad. But Murtagh crowed, "We won! It was incredible! When the Shade's spirits—if that's what they were—flew across Farthen Dûr, the Urgals just watched them go. It was as though they were released from a spell then, because their clans suddenly turned and attacked each other. Their entire army disintegrated within minutes. We routed them after that!"
"They're all dead?" asked Eragon.
"No, many of them escaped into the tunnels. The Varden and dwarves are busy ferreting them out right now, but it's going to take a while." Murtagh said. "I was helping until an Urgal banged me on the head and I was sent back here. You're a hero! Everyone's talking about how you killed Durza. If it hadn't been for you, we would have lost. You and that wild dragon. He ripped the Lethrblaka apart, quite literally, although he suffered some injuries." Murtagh looked over to Arya who nodded. "Arya, alongside Almandine, healed his injuries before they disappeared to wherever it is they call home."
Eragon's cheeks reddened, flustered at the praise which earned amused chuckles from the dragons. Eragon ignored them and turned to Arya. Her large bright eyes had been fixed upon him the entire time. "And you? Are you okay?"
"I am well, Shadeslayer." Arya said, lips twitching for a second before she grimaced. "It is you who we are worried for."
A twinge of unease shot through Eragon, matching the intensity of his throbbing head. My back... But he felt no bandages there. "How long have I been here?" he asked with trepidation.
"Only a day and a half," answered Angela. "You're lucky I was around, otherwise it would've taken you weeks to heal—if you had even lived." Alarmed, Eragon pushed the blankets off his torso and twisted around to feel his back. Angela caught his wrist with her small hand, worry reflected in her eyes. "Eragon... you have to understand, my power is not like yours or Arya's. It depends on the use of herbs and potions. There are limits to what I can do, especially with such a large—"
He yanked his hand out of her grip and reached back, fingers groping. The skin on his back was smooth and warm, flawless. Hard muscles flexed under his fingertips as he moved. He slid his hand toward the base of his neck and unexpectedly felt a hard bump about a half-inch wide. He followed it down his back with growing horror. Durza's blow had left him with a huge, ropy scar, stretching from his right shoulder to the opposite hip.
Pity showed on Arya's face as she murmured, "You have paid a terrible price for your deed, Eragon Shadeslayer."
Murtagh laughed harshly. "Yes. Now you're just like me."
Scars can be badges of honor or a reminder of terrible prices. Ancalagon said grimly.
Dismay filled Eragon, and he closed his eyes. He was disfigured. Then he remembered something from when he was unconscious... a figure in white who had helped him. A cripple who was whole—Togira Ikonoka. He had said, Think of what you have done and rejoice, for you have rid the land of a great evil. You have wrought a deed no one else could. Many are in your debt...
Come to me Eragon, for I have answers to all you ask.
A measure of peace and satisfaction consoled Eragon.
I will come…
It had been three days.
Three days since the Varden and dwarves had fought the Urgals for possession of Tronjheim, the mile-high, conical city nestled in the center of Farthen Dûr, but the battlefield was still strewn with carnage. The sheer number of bodies had stymied their attempts to bury the dead. In the distance, a mountainous fire glowed sullenly by Farthen Dûr's wall where the Urgals were being burned. No burial or honored resting place for them.
Right now, Eragon, Ancalagon and Saphira were on what had been the battlefield, stepping over the bodies of men, dwarves and Urgals, listening to the keening of women who removed loved ones from the blood-muddied ground of Farthen Dûr.
Since waking to find his wound healed by Angela, Eragon had tried three times to assist in the recovery effort. On each occasion he had been racked by terrible pains that seemed to explode from his spine. The healers gave him various potions to drink. Arya and Angela said that he was perfectly sound. Nevertheless, he hurt.
But one thing that took his mind off the pain was Ancalagon and Saphira informing him of their status, their confession to each other on their feelings. Eragon naturally congratulated them, as he had a feeling things were like that between them. Although, he made a joke about there being nieces and nephews for him to meet, which earned him a stuttering male dragon while Saphira merely laughed and took amusement in her unofficial mate's reaction. Although she said it's a topic that will be spoken about between them once they are official.
Eragon ran a hand over his face and looked up at the stars showing through Farthen Dûr's distant top, which were smudged with sooty smoke from the pyre. Three days. Three days since he had killed Durza; Three days since people began calling him Shadeslayer; Three days since the remnants of the sorcerer's consciousness had ravaged his mind and he had been saved by the mysterious Togira Ikonoka, the Cripple Who Is Whole. He had told no one about that vision but Saphira and Ancalagon. Fighting Durza and the dark spirits that controlled him had transformed Eragon; although for better or for worse he was still unsure. He felt fragile, as if a sudden shock would shatter his reconstructed body and consciousness.
And now he had come to the site of the combat, driven by a morbid desire to see its aftermath. Upon arriving, he found nothing but the uncomfortable presence of death and decay, not the glory that heroic songs had led him to expect.
This will not get easy… the aftermath of a battle. Ancalagon said as he looked upon what had been the battlefield, watching the dead be carted away. It was…. Different, to see this kind of sight compared to seeing it on TV, in movies, in shows… just a reminder of the harsh realities that was life and death, as well as war.
The sound of approaching footsteps caused them to look and spot Jörmundur coming towards them. When he came near, Jörmundur bowed, a gesture Eragon knew he would never have made just days before.
"I'm glad I found you three in time." He clutched a parchment note in one hand. "Ajihad is returning, and he wants you to be there when he arrives. The others are already waiting for him by Tronjheim's west gate. We'll have to hurry to get there in time."
Eragon nodded and headed toward the gate, keeping a hand on the dragons positioned on either side of him. Ajihad had been gone most of the three days, hunting down Urgals who had managed to escape into the dwarf tunnels that honeycombed the stone beneath the Beor Mountains. The one time Eragon had seen him between expeditions, Ajihad was in a rage over discovering that his daughter, Nasuada, had disobeyed his orders to leave with the other women and children before the battle. Instead, she had secretly fought among the Varden's archers.
Murtagh had accompanied Ajihad: because he was eager to continue proving that he bore the Varden no ill will. It surprised Eragon how much people's attitudes toward Murtagh had changed, considering that Murtagh's father was the Dragon Rider Morzan. Even though Murtagh despised his father and was loyal to Eragon, the Varden had not trusted him. But now, no one was willing to waste energy on a petty hate when so much work remained. Eragon missed talking with Murtagh and looked forward to discussing all that had happened, once he returned.
As they rounded Tronjheim, a small group became visible in the pool of lantern light before the timber gate. Among them were Orik—the dwarf shifting impatiently on his stout legs—and Arya. The white bandage around her upper arm gleamed in the darkness, reflecting a faint highlight onto the bottom of her hair. Eragon felt a strange thrill, as he always did when he saw the elf. He ignored the mental snort from Saphira and the chuckling from Ancalagon.
Arya looked at them, green eyes flashing, then continued watching for Ajihad.
Orik greeted them with a small grunt and nod of his head.
"Where will Ajihad come from?" asked Eragon.
Orik pointed at a cluster of lanterns staked around a large tunnel opening a couple of miles away. "He should be here soon."
Eragon waited patiently with the others, answering comments directed at him but preferring to speak with the dragons in the peace of their minds.
Half an hour passed before motion flickered in the distant tunnel. A group of ten men climbed out onto the ground, then turned and helped up as many dwarves. One of the men—Eragon assumed it was Ajihad—raised a hand, and the warriors assembled behind him in two straight lines. At a signal, the formation marched proudly toward Tronjheim.
Before they went more than five yards, the tunnel behind them swarmed with a flurry of activity as more figures jumped out. Eragon squinted, unable to see clearly from so far away.
Those are Urgals! exclaimed Saphira, her body tensing like a drawn bowstring.
Eragon did not question her. "Urgals!" He shouted and leaped onto Saphira, berating himself for leaving his sword, Zar'roc, in his room. No one had expected an attack now that the Urgal army had been driven away.
His wound twinged as Saphira lifted her azure wings, then drove them down and jumped forward, gaining speed and altitude each second. Ancalagon took off with a thundering roar befitting of the fierce dragon he was as he joined his mate-to-be. Below them, Arya ran toward the tunnel, nearly keeping pace with the dragons. Orik trailed her with several men, while Jörmundur sprinted back toward the barracks.
Eragon was forced to watch helplessly as the Urgals fell on the rear of Ajihad's warriors; he could not work magic over such a distance. The monsters had the advantage of surprise and quickly cut down four men, forcing the rest of the warriors, men and dwarves alike, to cluster around Ajihad in an attempt to protect him. Swords and axes clashed as the groups pressed together.
For a minute, it seemed the defenders would be able to resist the Urgals, but then a swirl of motion disturbed the air, like a faint band of mist wrapping itself around the combatants. When it cleared, only two warriors were standing: Ajihad and Murtagh. The Urgals converged on them, blocking Eragon's view as he stared with rising horror and fear.
No! No! No!
Before Saphira or Ancalagon could reach the fight, the knot of Urgals streamed back to the tunnel and scrambled underground, leaving only prone forms behind.
The moment Saphira touched down, Eragon vaulted off, then faltered, overcome by grief and anger. I can't do this. It reminded him too much of when he had returned to the farm to think Garrow was dead, though it was later revealed Ancalagon had saved him. Fighting back his dread with every step, he began to search for survivors.
The site was eerily similar to the battlefield he had inspected earlier, except that here the blood was fresh.
In the center of the massacre lay Ajihad, his breastplate rent with numerous gashes, surrounded by five Urgals he had slain. His breath still came in ragged gasps. Eragon knelt by him and lowered his face so his tears would not land on the leader's ruined chest. No one could heal such wounds.
Eragon. Listen to him. Came the strong voice of Almandine.
"Eragon." The name slipped from Ajihad's lips—no more than a whisper.
"Yes, I am here."
"Listen to me, Eragon…. I have one last command for you." Eragon leaned closer to catch the dying man's words. "You must promise me something: promise that you… won't let the Varden fall into chaos. They are the only hope for resisting the Empire… They must be kept strong. You must promise me."
"I promise."
"I… I apologize for the… less than warm… welcome… you and your friends… received upon your arrival here."
"Already forgiven." Eragon said in an assuring tone, then watched as Ajihad breathed his last.
Arya joined them and closed her eyes in despair at the loss of the Varden's leader, blessed him in a ripple of the ancient language, then said in her musical voice, "Alas, his death will cause much strife. He is right, you must do all you can to avert a struggle for power. I will assist where possible."
The ground beneath them trembled slightly from the heavy footfalls of the massive dragons that now towered over the body of the fallen leader. Almandine and her mate glanced at one another before they lowered their heads and breathed out over Ajihad. The air rippled and shimmered as a casket made entirely of glittering emerald encased the warrior and leader.
Rest well for eternity, Nightstalker. The male dragon rumbled before he and Almandine disappeared in a blue flash.
Ancalagon closed his eyes at the loss of a great man. To distract himself, he looked over the carnage and noticed something that made him frown. Where is Murtagh? He is not among the dead. He said with hidden fear in his voice. The Twins weren't here to banish Murtagh to Galbatorix, and yet he was still gone… so how?
Eragon scanned the corpses. You're right! Elation surged within him as he hurried to the tunnel's mouth. There, pools of thickening blood filled the hollows in the worn marble steps like a series of black mirrors, glossy and oval, as if several torn bodies had been dragged down them. The Urgals must have taken them! But why? They don't keep prisoners or hostages. Despair instantly returned. It doesn't matter. We can't pursue them without reinforcements; you wouldn't even fit through the opening.
He may still be alive. Would you abandon him? Saphira challenged.
What do you expect me to do? The dwarf tunnels are an endless maze! I would only get lost. And I couldn't catch Urgals on foot, though Arya might be able to.
Then ask her to.
Arya! Eragon hesitated, torn between his desire for action and his loathing to put her in danger. Still, if any one person in the Varden could handle the Urgals, it was she. With a groan, he explained what they had found.
Arya's slanted eyebrows met in a frown. "It makes no sense."
"Will you pursue them?"
She stared at him for a heavy moment. "Wiol ono." For you. Then she bounded forward, sword flashing in her hand as she dove into the earth's belly.
Orik arrived soon after with the men that had followed, and then Jormundur and his reinforcements as well. Jormundur put his hand on his fallen friend's shoulder and mourned freely. Behind him, the ranks of men bowed their heads in reverence, paying last respects to the leader of the Varden. They then raised Ajihad's gemstone casket on their shields and bore his body back towards Tronjheim while Ancalagon, Eragon and Saphira took to the middle of the procession.
Several hours after the ambush, Eragon sat in the dragon hold, reading some books, when Angela stormed into the room. Ancalagon and Saphira jolted at the sudden appearance of the herbalist, yet she didn't talk to them, which was concerning to say the least. Angela walked right up to Eragon, glanced at the dragons cuddling on the dias, then tossed a rolled up scroll on his lap and walked back out.
The hell? Ancalagon blurted.
Saphira stretched her neck out to sniff at the scroll only to recoil and hiss. That harbors great power. Be wary, Eragon. If Angela gave you this… this thing, do not let others know of its existence.
Hands shaking, Eragon grabbed the parchment, feeling the weathered paper and slowly unraveled it. Blood red lines forming glyphs written in the ancient language glowed on the paper and he read it aloud.
A farmer will find his path
Reborn, a race thought passed
An outsider will join the fight
And prove his will to those who burn with light
The black and the blue shall set a flame
That alights the fire in lightning's name
The forgotten couple will take the black
Under their wings where he will find peace at last
The king who sits upon the throne
Will finally be overthrown
The Riders will then leave the land
To flourish and blossom
And once more stand.
Silence enveloped the trio as they processed what was just read.
Alright, I'll bite first. Ancalagon said calmly before slamming a paw against the floor, shaking the entire hold and snarling. WHAT. THE ACTUAL. FUCK. WHY WERE WE NOT TOLD OF THIS SHIT SOONER? I HAVE HAD IT WITH THE SURPRISES AND RIDDLES! NO MORE!
Saphira tried to soothe her companion but he stood up and shot off into the darkness. Eragon and Saphira watched as he flew out through the mountain's top and the dragoness let out a sigh. Eragon didn't say anything and just rubbed her neck.
Ancalagon sat on a mountain peak and looked up at the stars twinkling above him, as if telling him something. The dragon's mind raged and he roared his thoughts to the heavens.
WHY? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? I JUST WANT STRAIGHT ANSWERS, NONE OF THIS BULLSHIT OF BEATING AROUND THE BUSH! The young male's final request was a whisper. The stars are beautiful… but I would like for you to answer me one question: Why? What makes me so special to you? I don't understand…
For several heartbeats, there was no answer, only the whispering of the wind. Until-
You know, if you continue yelling at me like a temperamental hatchling, then maybe I chose my champion incorrectly, Michael.
Ancalagon whipped his head around to see the annoyed, yet slightly amused, figure of the crystal dragon towering above him.
H-How do you… Ancalagon trailed off as he tried to process what he had just heard.
Almandine is only able to watch over these lands. The dragon began, chuckling all the while. I pay attention to what is beyond a little closer than you realize. I brought you here when your life was cut short unfairly. You knew the risks of this second life. And so far? You have not disappointed me yet and have now proven yourself. You have found the reward that you deserve all on your own. I could not be prouder of you, little one.
The dragon stood and placed his forehead against Ancalagon's and hummed.
My name is Stargazer. And I have chosen you, Michael, as my champion. It is a pleasure to finally be able to speak with you freely.
End of Eragon
Chapter 29 will begin in the Eldest phase.