Answers to reviews:
Yubel578: Glad to see another review from you, though it's not even surprising anymore. If we ever go a chapter without a review from you, then it'll be a surprise. Anyway, Stryker and I are glad you're enjoying the story and the way we're going with it. As for Arya… she will get a scolding, but don't expect anything TOO harsh or downright cruel. It might not be quite like what you're thinking, but she will get a scolding, that's all I can say. And if you're disappointed by it, then Stryker and I apologize for it, but if I don't see it fitting with the story, or needed, then I say no to it. So when you see the scene, don't put too much expectation into it.
The New Dragon
-chapter 49-
…And that's it. That's everything. Ancalagon said, finally finishing a long explanation on what has happened since Stargazer's death, though the crystal dragon was aware of a few events that took place following, as he did check in from time to time during his reformation process. Ancalagon, Almandine and Saphira held nothing back in their explanation to Stargazer.
The family was still at Rhunön's forge, the elf having left to give them a moment of privacy. The unknown elf, who had identified herself as Linnëa, stood with them and Eragon.
"You still need to name it, you know." The elf stated nonchalantly, as if she couldn't care less.
Eragon glanced at her, then at Saphira who was watching Ancalagon, Almandine and Stargazer be deep in conversation. What do you think?
Saphira glanced at him and snorted quietly. I'm not the one wielding the sword, Eragon. Name it as you see fit.
Stargazer looked over at Eragon, who was looking at his sword, deep in thought. The crystal dragon walked over, brushed his snout against the iridescent metal, and let out an exhale. Lightning bolts flickered over the metal and they could all see the flames that seemed frozen within the metal come to life. Ancalagon was sent down memory lane as his father told the Rider one thing.
You must learn to see what you are looking at.
"What do you see, Rider?" Rhunön's voice surprised them and they looked over to see her leaning against the door frame. Her arms were crossed and she was staring at Eragon expectantly.
As he gazed into the depths of the steel, Eragon's eye chanced upon the flamelike pattern that marked the transition between the softer steel of the spine and that of the edges, and he recalled the word Brom had used to light his pipe, to light that fire when he couldn't. Then Eragon thought of Yazuac, where he had first used magic, and also of his duel with Durza in Farthen Dûr. Stargazer's words echoed in his mind once more.
You must learn to see what you are looking at.
In that instant he knew, without doubt, that he had found the right name for his sword.
Eragon consulted with Saphira, and when she agreed with his choice, he lifted the weapon to shoulder level and said, "I am decided. Sword, I name thee Brisingr!"
And with a sound like rushing wind, the blade burst into fire, an envelope of sapphire-blue flames writhing about the razor-sharp steel.
Uttering a startled cry, Eragon dropped the sword and jumped back, afraid of being burned. The blade continued to blaze on the ground, the translucent flames charring a nearby clump of grass. It was then that Eragon realized it was he who was providing the energy to sustain the unnatural fire. He quickly ended the magic, and the fire vanished from the sword. Puzzled by how he could have cast a spell without intending to, he picked up the sword again and tapped the blade with the tip of a finger. It was no hotter than before.
Aaaaand you just messed up an epic discovery. Ancalagon said with a huff.
You shouldn't talk. Almandine quipped, referring to when he was going to pass out when he was told Alma was gravid.
A heavy scowl on her brow, Rhunön stalked forward, seized the sword from Eragon, and examined it from tip to pommel. "You are fortunate I have already protected it with wards against heat and damage, else you would have just scratched the guard and destroyed the temper of the blade. Do not drop the sword again, Shadeslayer — even if it should turn into a snake — or else I shall take it back and give you a worn-out hammer instead." Eragon apologized, and appearing somewhat mollified, Rhunön handed the sword back to him. "Did you set fire to it on purpose?" she asked.
"No," said Eragon, unable to explain what had happened.
"Say it again," ordered Rhunön.
"What?"
"The name, the name, say it again."
Holding the sword as far away from his body as he could, Eragon exclaimed, "Brisingr!"
A column of flickering flames engulfed the blade of the sword, the heat warming Eragon's face. This time Eragon noticed the slight drain on his strength from the spell. After a few moments, he extinguished the smokeless fire.
Once more Eragon exclaimed, "Brisingr!" And once more the blade shimmered with blue, wraithlike tongues of flame.
Now there is a fitting sword for a Rider and dragon! said Saphira in a delighted tone. It breathes fire as easily as I do.
"But I wasn't trying to cast a spell!" protested Eragon. "All I did was say Brisingr and—" He yelped and swore as the sword again caught fire, which he put out for the fourth time.
"May I?" asked Rhunön, extending a hand toward Eragon. He gave her the sword, and she too said, "Brisingr!" A shiver seemed to run down the blade, but other than that, it remained inanimate. Her expression contemplative, Rhunön returned the sword to Eragon and said, "I can think of two explanations for this marvel. One is that because you were involved with the forging, you imbued the blade with a portion of your personality and therefore it has become attuned to your wishes. My other explanation is that you have discovered the true name of your sword. Perhaps both those things are what has happened. In any event, you have chosen well, Shadeslayer. Brisingr! Yes, I like it. It is a good name for a sword."
A very good name, Saphira agreed.
Indeed. Ancalagon nodded. Gotta admit… I want one, but these… He held up his claws. Are plenty enough.
I'm sure you need a good trimming. His father remarked nonchalantly, causing Linnëa to burst into laughter and lean against a tree.
Ancalagon shot his father a glare. Come near my claws with that intention and I'll fucking gut you.
Oi. Language. Almandine chided, poking at a ticklish spot on his side. Or I will tickle you into submission.
Please don't. I have a reputation to uphold. Ancalagon pleaded, inching away from his mother. The last thing he needed was people to see the fierce, destructive and mighty Ancalagon the Black be reduced to a tickling mess.
Oh I think it would be beneficial if I knew of these spots. Saphira chimed in, a smirk on her muzzle. Alma, care to share?
Don't encourage them! Ancalagon shot her a betrayed look.
Later. Almandine replied, sending a sly wink at the sapphire dragoness.
Ancalagon grumbled then shot his father a look. I blame you for this.
I'm sure you do. His father replied, looking bored. We need to get going. He leaned down and gently bumped Rhunön with his snout, making her crack a smile. Smile more. It will help your heart. That aside, are we done here?
"Wait, we should pick up Arya." Eragon said, strapping his newfound sword to its sheath. "She came with us."
Can't we just leave her? Ancalagon asked, not exactly pleased with the elf from their last… encounter.
Arya has returned to the Varden. Almandine explained, for both Eragon's sake, as well as her son's.
Good. I hate being used as a taxi. The only individual I would let ride me is Alma. Stargazer grumbled, knowing what he had to do in regards to punishing the elf for her words and actions.
Oh? Almandine asked, raising a brow.
… Well if you think of it that way then yes. Stargazer conceded before explaining. But I would only allow Gilderien, Linnëa and a couple others on my back for a flight. Say, how are you here Linnëa? Just curious.
"My loving friend here–" The elf patted one of Almandine's forelegs. "–has allowed me to take a physical form whenever I please by using a spell. This is the real me, but I am still tied to my tree and must return there to rest."
Does it hurt or drain your energy? Ancalagon asked with concern.
"Hurt?" Linnëa asked, tilting her head slightly. "No. But it does drain me slightly over time and in order to rest and regain my strength, I would have to return to my tree. I do not need to eat and I have slept since I became what I am. And I hope you all can keep quiet about me. The last thing I need is for elves to start pestering me over petty nonsense and drag me into their drama."
My mouth is shut. Ancalagon nodded, then looked at the others.
Shocking. Stargazer said, grinning.
Shut up. Ancalagon growled at him. Now, dad does have a point, we have delayed long enough. Best we say our goodbyes now and then make for the Varden. Oh, and dad… I'd check in on Gilderien and Glaedr before we leave. They were pretty upset when they were told of your fall.
They know. Almandine suddenly answered. They're doing fine as of right now.
You work fast. Ancalagon said, impressed.
Yeah well, this big lug next to me would've done it in fifty years. I tend to take care of things as soon as possible. His mother replied, leaning heavily against her mate.
Stargazer looked down at her. Contractions again?
Almandine only nodded, wincing. I'll be fine… She looked up at her mate. I don't think I can trust myself to fly though.
That's fine. I can carry you. The crystal dragon replied softly, nuzzling her. You just conserve your energy.
Well… shall we go? Ancalagon asked, getting to his feet.
"Before we do, there's something I must do first." Eragon said, intending to check in on Sloan before they leave.
Stargazer sent Eragon a hard look. You can't be serious. It would be a waste of your time at the moment. He hasn't changed in the slightest since he arrived. No. He can wait.
"But-"
Eragon. Saphira shook her head, telling him not to push.
The crystal dragon growled. No means no. And don't try convincing Saphira either. You won't make any headway. We have a war to return to. Let's get moving. Honey, feel free to climb aboard Stargazer Airlines, free of charge.
Amusing. Ancalagon snorted, taking to the air first. I'll see you at the border of the forest!
Stargazer looked at his mate, who was slowly clambering up onto his back, and decided to lay down to make it easier for her. How fast do you want me to fly, my dear?
Almandine gave Star a deadpanned stare. You've broken the sound barrier with me on your back numerous times over the millennia. Set whatever pace you wish.
Once Eragon was on Saphira's back, Stargazer took off into the air, setting a gentle pace… for now. Wordlessly, he told Saphira to fly on ahead, so he'd have this silent moment with his mate. They were in desperate need of time alone to themselves.
As they flew on, they had an unexpected arrival in the form of Oromis and Glaedr, the golden dragon flying side-by-side with Stargazer.
It's good to see you again, Stargazer. Glaedr rumbled happily.
It's good to be back, Gladdy. Stargazer said gratefully.
Are you going to fly with us to the Varden? Saphira asked. The tip of her tail twitched with excitement.
"We shall fly with you to the border where Ancalagon awaits, but there our paths must part," said Oromis.
Disappointed, Eragon asked, "Will you return to Ellesméra then?"
Oromis shook his head. "No, Eragon. Then we shall continue onward to the rebuilding city of Gil'ead."
Saphira hissed with surprise, a sentiment Eragon shared. "Why to Gil'ead? It was destroyed by Ancalagon." he asked, bewildered.
It is being rebuilt, by Galbatorix's orders no doubt. Islanzadí and her army have marched there from Ceunon, and they are about to lay siege to the city, said Glaedr. The strange, gleaming structures of his mind brushed against Eragon's consciousness.
But do not you and Oromis wish to keep your existence hidden from the Empire? Saphira asked.
Oromis closed his eyes for a moment, his expression withdrawn and enigmatic. "The time for hiding has passed, Saphira. Glaedr and I have taught the two of you everything we could in the brief while you were able to study under us. It was a paltry education compared with that you would have received of old, but given how events press on us, we are fortunate to have been able to teach you as much as we did. Glaedr and I are satisfied that you now know everything that might help you to defeat Galbatorix.
"Therefore, since it seems unlikely that either of you will have a chance to return here for further instruction before the conclusion of this war, and since it seems even more unlikely that there shall ever be another dragon and Rider for us to instruct while Galbatorix still bestrides the warm earth, we have decided that we no longer have any reason to remain sequestered in Du Weldenvarden. It is more important that we help Islanzadí and the Varden overthrow Galbatorix than we tarry here in idle comfort while we wait for another Rider and dragon to seek us out.
"When Galbatorix learns that we are still alive, it shall undermine his confidence, for he shall not know if other dragons and Riders have survived his attempt to exterminate them. Also, knowledge of our existence shall bolster the spirits of the dwarves and the Varden and counteract any adverse effects Murtagh and Thorn's appearance on the Burning Plains may have had upon the resolution of their warriors. And it may well increase the number of recruits Nasuada receives from the Empire."
Eragon glanced at Naegling and said, "Surely, though, Master, you do not intend to venture into battle yourselves."
"And why should we not?" inquired Oromis, tilting his head to one side.
Since he did not want to offend Oromis or Glaedr, Eragon was uncertain how to respond. At last he said, "Forgive me, Master, but how can you fight when you cannot cast spells that require more than a small amount of energy? And what of the spasms you sometimes suffer? If one were to strike in the middle of a battle, it could prove fatal."
Oromis replied, "As you ought to know well by now, mere strength rarely decides the victor when two magicians duel. Even so, I have all the strength I need here, in the jewel of my sword." And he reached across his body and placed the palm of his right hand on the yellow diamond that formed the pommel of Naegling. "For over a hundred years, Glaedr and I have stored every iota of our excess strength in this diamond, and others have added their strength to the pool as well; twice a week, several elves from Ellesméra visit me here and transfer as much of their life force into the gem as they can without killing themselves. The amount of energy contained within this stone is formidable, Eragon; with it, I could shift an entire mountain. It is a small matter, then, to defend Glaedr and myself from swords and spears and arrows, or even from a boulder cast by a siege engine. As for my seizures, I have attached certain wards to the stone in Naegling that will protect me from harm if I become incapacitated upon the battlefield. So you see, Eragon, Glaedr and I are far from helpless."
Chastened, Eragon dipped his head and murmured, "Yes, Master."
Oromis's expression softened somewhat. "I appreciate your concern, Eragon, and you are right to be concerned, for war is a perilous endeavor and even the most accomplished warrior may find death waiting for him amid the heated frenzy of battle. However, our cause is a worthy one. If Glaedr and I go to our deaths, then we go willingly, for by our sacrifice, we may help to free Alagaësia from the shadow of Galbatorix's tyranny."
"But if you die," said Eragon, feeling very small, "and yet we still succeed in killing Galbatorix and freeing the last dragon egg, who will train that dragon and his Rider?"
Should we perish, you will have Stargazer and Almandine to help with that. Glaedr said. There are no greater teachers than them to help train the new Rider should mine and I perish in battle. However, as a precaution should our demise be soon, I have decided to give you my heart of hearts, Saphira Brightscales, Eragon Shadeslayer.
Saphira's astonishment was no less than Eragon's. Together, they stared at the majestic gold dragon who towered high above them. Saphira said, Master, you honor us beyond words, but... are you sure that you wish to entrust your heart to us?
I am sure, said Glaedr, and lowered his massive head until it was only slightly above Eragon. For many reasons, I am sure. If you hold my heart, you shall be able to communicate with Oromis and me — no matter how far apart we may be — and I shall be able to aid you with my strength whenever you are in difficulty. And if Oromis and I should fall in battle, our knowledge and experience, and also my strength, shall still be at your disposal. Long have I pondered this choice, and I am confident it is the right one.
"But if Oromis were to die," said Eragon in a soft voice, "would you really want to live on without him, and as an Eldunarí?"
Glaedr turned his head and focused one of his immense eyes upon Eragon. I do not wish to be parted from Oromis, but whatever happens, I shall continue to do what I can to topple Galbatorix from his throne. That is our only goal, and not even death shall deter us from pursuing it. The idea of losing Saphira horrifies you, Eragon, and rightly so. However, Oromis and I have had centuries to reconcile ourselves with the fact that such a parting is inevitable. No matter how careful we are, if we live long enough, eventually one of us will die. It is not a happy thought, but it is the truth. Such is the way of the world.
Shifting his stance, Oromis said, "I cannot pretend that I regard this with favor, but the purpose of life is not to do what we want but what needs to be done. This is what fate demands of us."
So now I ask you, said Glaedr, Saphira Brightscales and Eragon Shadeslayer, will you accept my gift and all that it entails?
I will, said Saphira.
I will, replied Eragon after a brief hesitation.
Then Glaedr drew back his head. The muscles of his abdomen rippled and clenched several times, and his throat began to convulse, as if something were stuck in it. Widening his stance, the gold dragon extended his neck straight out in front of him, every cord and sinew of his body standing in high relief underneath the armor of his sparkling scales. Glaedr's throat continued to flex and relax with increasing speed until at last he lowered his head so that it was level with Eragon and opened his jaws, hot, pungent air pouring from his massive maw. Eragon squinted and tried not to gag. As he gazed into the depths of Glaedr's mouth, Eragon saw the dragon's throat contract one last time, and then a hint of gold light appeared between the folds of dripping, blood-red tissue. A second later, a round object about a foot in diameter slid down Glaedr's crimson tongue and out of his mouth so fast, Eragon nearly missed catching it.
As his hands closed around the slippery, saliva-covered Eldunarí, Eragon gasped and staggered backward, for he suddenly felt Glaedr's every thought and emotion, and all of the sensations of his body. The amount of information was overwhelming, as was the closeness of their contact. Eragon had expected as much, but it still shocked him to realize he was holding Glaedr's entire being between his hands.
Glaedr flinched, shaking his head as if he had been stung, and quickly shielded his mind from Eragon, although Eragon could still sense the flicker of his shifting thoughts, as well as the general color of his emotions.
The Eldunarí itself was like a giant gold jewel. Its surface was warm and covered with hundreds of sharp facets, which varied somewhat in size and sometimes projected at odd, slanting angles. The center of the Eldunarí glowed with a dull radiance, similar to that of a shuttered lantern, and the diffuse light throbbed with a slow, steady beat. Upon first inspection, the light appeared uniform, but the longer Eragon gazed at it, the more details he saw within it: small eddies and currents that coiled and twisted in seemingly random directions, darker motes that barely moved at all, and flurries of bright flashes no larger than the head of a pin that would flare for a moment, then fade back into the underlying field of light. It was alive.
"Here," said Oromis, and handed Eragon a sturdy cloth sack.
To Eragon's relief, his connection with Glaedr vanished as soon as he placed the Eldunarí in the bag and his hands were no longer touching the gemlike stone. Still somewhat shaken, Eragon clasped the cloth-covered Eldunarí against his chest, awed by the knowledge that his arms were wrapped around Glaedr's essence and afraid of what might happen to it if he allowed the heart of hearts out of his grasp.
"Thank you, Master," Eragon managed to say, bowing his head toward Glaedr.
We shall guard your heart with our lives, Saphira added.
"No!" exclaimed Oromis, his voice fierce. "Not with your lives! That is the very thing we wish to avoid. Do not allow any misfortune to befall Glaedr's heart because of carelessness on your part, but neither should you sacrifice yourself to protect him or me or anyone else. You have to stay alive at all costs, else our hopes shall be dashed and all will be darkness."
"Yes, Master." Eragon and Saphira said at the same time, he with his tongue and she with her thoughts.
From Ellesméra, the dragons flew without stopping, with Stargazer allowing Almandine to lay on his back due to her condition. Ancalagon flew close to them during the journey, letting Saphira take the lead. The dragons never felt exhaustion as Stargazer had assisted them with a tailwind, allowing them to simply glide through the air and conserve their energy.
They split off from Glaedr and Oromis at the edge of Du Weldenvarden, bidding farewell to them, and proceeded to fly all through that entire night, stopping only to drink and let Eragon have something to eat. Depending on their age, dragons could go a few weeks without sleep and food, and while Stargazer and Almandine were old enough to go a month without either, Ancalagon and Saphira could go at least a couple of weeks.
And with Almandine pregnant, her body demanded food on a different basis than what she was used to.
Thanks to Stargazer, the dragons' energy was so great that they were well through the Hadrac Desert as the sun rose. Stargazer calculated that they'll arrive at Feinster by night at best, given they'll need to stop a couple of times to accommodate Almandine's condition. Stubborn as she was to continue, Stargazer refused to have her go without sleep when her body demanded it, as well as hunger when it called. Ancalagon also stepped in, and Almandine had to relent to her mate and son's words.
During their flight, they saw lines of armed men marching over the fields below. Here and there, pillars of pale smoke rose from sacked villages. The sight of so much wanton destruction sickened them all, but to attack would bring attention to them, and the Varden had gone long enough with their absence.
Later that night, when dawn was only a few hours away, a dull red glow appeared upon the western horizon.
We're here. Ancalagon said with a little bit of eagerness in his body, hearing the call to battle in his veins. It was quite surprising to him how he had adjusted to such things compared to what he was like in the very beginning of his time in this world.
As they drew closer, the glow on the horizon resolved into thousands of individual points of light, from small handheld lanterns to cookfires to bonfires to huge patches of burning pitch that poured a foul black smoke into the night sky. By the ruddy light of the fires, they saw a sea of flashing spearpoints and gleaming helmets surging against the base of the large, well-fortified city, the walls of which teemed with tiny figures busy firing arrows at the army below, pouring cauldrons of boiling oil between the merlons of the parapet, cutting ropes thrown over the walls, and pushing away the rickety wooden ladders the besiegers kept leaning against the ramparts. Faint calls and cries floated upward from the ground, as well as the boom of a battering ram crashing against the city's iron gates.
Extending outward from the walls of Feinster were hundreds of ramshackle hovels crammed one against another, with hardly enough room for a horse to pass between: the dwellings of those too poor to afford a house within the main part of the city. Most of the hovels appeared deserted, and a wide swath had been demolished so that the Varden could approach the city walls in force. A score or more of the mean huts were burning, and even as he watched, the fires spread, leaping from one thatched roof to another. East of the hovels, curved black lines scored the earth where trenches had been excavated to protect the Varden's camp. On the other side of the city were docks and wharves similar to those Ancalagon, Saphira and Eragon remembered from Teirm, and then the dark and restless ocean that seemed to extend to infinity.
Time for you to make that sword taste it's first battle and the blood of your enemies, Eragon. Stargazer said.
They don't seem to have noticed us yet. Eragon noted as a feeling of excitement went through his body, just like it did with Saphira and Ancalagon, while Stargazer and Almandine had fanged smiles on their faces, their eyes gleaming slightly at the prospect of battle. Shall we announce our arrival?
You read my mind. Ancalagon growled and swooped down first into a dive, heading straight for a line of soldiers. He wasn't noticed, for the darkness of the night, as well as his black as night scales, made him blend in perfectly. When he was close enough, he shot his wings out, chest lighting up, traveling up his neck, and with a roar he expelled a fury of fire from his mouth in a straight line as he flew over the soldiers, their screams of agony following as they burned.
Ancalagon's arrival was certainly noticed as he tail smacked a catapult, rendering it into nothing but splinters. He let out another roar, announcing his arrival.
Heads up kid. My turn now! His father warned his son.
The moon disappeared as black thunderheads swirled over the city and surrounding area, red lightning forking through them and thunder rolling across the skies. Large hailstones then began pelting the beings on the ground, and as they lifted their shields to cover themselves, a single, blood chilling roar pierced the air. A sphere of pulsing purple light flared into existence directly above the city's gate, and the warriors of the Varden quickly scrambled away, desperate to stay out of the soon to be blast zone. Stargazer's voice bellowed across the plains, using the winds and air currents to carry his issue of challenge.
TO WAR!
And then the sphere of energy exploded, a bright blue halo releasing as the form of a massive dragon silhouetted against the light appeared, before it disappeared into a purple sphere. It screamed down and slammed into the gate. The doors were instantly vaporized, along with whatever soldiers were too close. The walls surrounding the gate were blown into dust and the bodies of the soldiers on the ramparts were thrown into the air.
CHARGE! THROUGH THE BREACH, WARRIORS OF THE VARDEN!
The Varden cheered, recognizing the dragons, especially the one who was meant to be 'dead'. As they charged, Saphira commented to her Rider and Almandine. Those two sure know how to make an entrance.
Like father, like son, as the old expression goes. Almandine snorted in amusement.
A mind then touched upon Eragon and Saphira's. After a half second of panic, Eragon recognized the consciousness as that of Trianna. Eragon, Saphira! cried the sorceress. You're just in time! Arya and another elf scaled the walls, but they were trapped by a large group of soldiers. They won't survive another minute unless someone helps them! Hurry!
We're on our way! Eragon said, then quickly told Almandine of the situation who told him to get moving as she went to join her mate and son in battle.
Saphira tucked her wings close to her body and tipped into a steep dive, hurtling toward the dark buildings of the city. Eragon ducked his head against the blast of wind that tore at his face. The world spun around them as Saphira rolled to her right so that the archers on the ground would have difficulty shooting her.
Eragon's limbs grew heavy as Saphira pulled out of the dive. Then she leveled out and the weight pressing down on him vanished. Like strange, shrieking hawks, arrows whistled past them, some missing their mark, while Eragon's wards deflected the rest.
Swooping low over the outer city walls, Saphira roared again and lashed out with her claws and tail, knocking groups of screaming men off the parapet and toward the hard ground eighty feet below.
A tall, square tower armed with four ballistae stood at the far end of the southern wall. The huge crossbows fired twelve-foot-long javelins toward the Varden massed before the broken city gates. Inside the curtain wall, Eragon and Saphira spotted a hundred or so soldiers gathered around a pair of warriors, who stood with their backs pressed against the base of the tower, desperately trying to fend off a thicket of thrusting blades.
Even in the gloom and from high above, Eragon recognized one of the warriors as Arya.
Saphira leaped down from the parapet and landed in the midst of the soldiers, crushing several men beneath her feet. The rest scattered, screaming with fear and surprise. Saphira roared, frustrated that her prey was escaping, and whipped her tail across the dirt, flattening a dozen more soldiers. A man tried to run past her. Fast as a striking snake, she caught him between her jaws and shook her head, snapping his spine. She disposed of another four in a similar manner.
By then the remaining men had vanished among the buildings.
Eragon quickly pulled loose his leg straps, then jumped to the ground. The additional weight of his armor drove him to one knee as he landed. He grunted and pushed himself up onto his feet.
"Eragon!" cried Arya, running up to him. She was panting and drenched with sweat. Her only armor was a padded jerkin and a light helm painted black so it would not cast unwanted reflections.
"Welcome, Bjartskular. Welcome, Shadeslayer," purred Blödhgarm from her side, his short fangs orange and glistening in the torchlight, his yellow eyes glowing. The ruff of fur on the elf's back and neck stood on end, which made him appear even fiercer than usual. Both he and Arya were stained with blood, although Eragon could not tell if the blood was theirs.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
Arya shook her head, and Blödhgarm said, "A few scratches, but nothing serious." She looked to the sky and blinked, mouth agape slightly. "Is… is that Stargazer?"
A roar was followed by stones being flung into the air and screams. The dark form of Ancalagon swept low over the city before he crashed into the rear lines of soldiers to assist his father.
"Yeah." Eragon smiled a little.
What are you doing here without reinforcements? asked Saphira.
"The gates," said Arya, gasping. "For three days, we've tried to break them, but they're impervious to magic, and the battering ram has barely dented the wood. So I convinced Nasuada to..."
When Arya paused to regain her breath, Blödhgarm picked up the thread of her narrative. "Arya convinced Nasuada to stage tonight's attack so that we could sneak into Feinster without being noticed and open the gates from within. Unfortunately, we encountered a trio of spellcasters. They engaged us with their minds and prevented us from using magic while they summoned soldiers to overwhelm us with sheer numbers."
While Blödhgarm spoke, Eragon placed a hand on the chest of one of the dead soldiers and transferred what energy remained in the man's flesh into his own body, and thence to Saphira. "Where are the spellcasters now?" he asked, proceeding to another corpse.
Blödhgarm's fur-covered shoulders rose and fell. "They seem to have taken fright at your appearance, Shur'tugal."
As well they should, growled Saphira.
Eragon drained the energy from three more soldiers, and from the last, he also took the man's round wooden shield. "Well then," he said, standing, "the gates and walls are broken thanks to Stargazer. The city should be ours soon, so let's go and end this battle, shall we?"
"Yes, and without delay," said Arya. She started forward, then cast a sideways glance at Eragon. "You have a new sword." It was not a question.
He nodded. "Rhunön helped me to forge it."
"And what is the name of your weapon, Shadeslayer?" asked Blödhgarm.
Eragon was about to answer when four soldiers ran out from the mouth of a dark alleyway, spears lowered. In a single, smooth motion, he drew Brisingr from its sheath and slashed through the haft of the lead man's spear and, continuing with the blow, decapitated the soldier. Brisingr seemed to shimmer with savage delight. Arya lunged forward and stabbed two of the other men before they could react while Blödhgarm leaped sideways and tackled the last soldier, killing him with his own dagger.
"Hurry!" cried Arya, and started to run toward where the two armies had converged and collided in a frenzy of battle, the sound of swords clanging.
Eragon and Blödhgarm raced after her while Saphira followed close behind, her claws loud against the paving stones of the street. Archers fired arrows at them from the parapet above, and three different times, soldiers rushed out from the main bulk of the city and flung themselves against them. Without slowing, Eragon, Arya, and Blödhgarm cut down the attackers, or else Saphira blasted them with a withering torrent of fire.
Eragon saw two men and a woman, who were garbed in dark robes, chanting. The three spellcasters fell silent when they noticed Eragon and his companions and, with their robes flapping, ran up the main street of Feinster, which led to the keep at the far side of the city.
They didn't get any further as Ancalagon snatched both of them in his claws, tossing one to Almandine who caught the woman in her jaws, and promptly made a meal out of her. Ancalagon threw one into the air and tail smacked the man towards his father, while Ancalagon commanded the shadows to impale the man in his grip with shadow-made spikes.
Home run! Stargazer laughed as the spellcaster flew through the air before a lightning bolt vaporized the pest.
Down below, the Varden were overtaking the soldiers and pushing through into the city. Eragon was pleased to see Roran and Horst and several other men from Carvahall in the fourth rank of the warriors. He hailed them, and Roran raised his hammer in greeting and ran toward him.
Eragon grasped Roran's right forearm and pulled him into a rough hug. Drawing back, he noticed that Roran seemed older and hollow-eyed compared with before.
"About time you got here," Roran grunted. "We've been dying by the hundreds trying to take the walls."
"Saphira and I came as fast as we could. How's Katrina?"
"She's fine. Father is with her."
"Once this is over, you'll have to tell me everything that's happened to you since I left."
Roran pressed his lips together and nodded. Then he pointed at Brisingr and said, "Where did you get the sword?"
"From the elves."
"What's it called?"
"Bris—" Eragon started to say, but then the eleven other elves whom Islanzadí had assigned to protect him and Saphira sprinted out of the column of men and surrounded the two of them. Arya and Blödhgarm rejoined them as well, Arya wiping clean the slim blade of her sword.
Before Eragon could resume speaking, Jörmundur rode through the gates and hailed him, shouting, "Shadeslayer! Well met indeed!"
Eragon greeted him in return and asked, "What should we do now?"
"Whatever you see fit," Jörmundur replied, reining in his brown charger. "We have to fight our way up to the keep. It doesn't look as if Saphira would fit between most of the houses, so fly around and harry their forces where you can. If you could break open the keep or capture Lady Lorana, it would be a great help."
"Where's Nasuada?"
Jörmundur gestured over his shoulder. "At the rear of the army, coordinating our forces with King Orrin." Jörmundur glanced out over the influx of warriors, then looked back at Eragon and Roran. "Stronghammer, your place is with your men, not gossiping with your cousin." Then the lean, wiry commander spurred his horse forward and rode up the gloomy street, shouting orders to the Varden.
Roran patted Eragon on the shoulder. "Be careful, yeah?"
Eragon smiled. "You be careful."
With that, they split off to different parts of the battle. Eragon climbed back onto Saphira. To Blödhgarm and his other guards, he said, "Work your way up to the keep. We'll meet you there."
Without waiting for the elf to answer, Saphira jumped onto the stairs leading to the top of the city walls. The stone steps cracked under her weight as she climbed up to the wide parapet, from which she took flight over the burning hovels outside Feinster, flapping quickly to gain altitude.
From the height she was at, it was easy for Saphira and Eragon to see the damage Ancalagon, Stargazer and Almandine were causing to those on the higher walls; nothing but flames engulfed several towers and walkways. Dead bodies that jerked every few seconds were telltale signs that they were electrocuted.
Get bored of being down there with the two-legs, love? Ancalagon asked teasingly while commanding a shadow to shoot a spike from it straight through a soldier.
Not even close, my sweet. Saphira snorted.
And here I thought this was going to be a challenge. Stargazer grumbled as he ripped a pike from his shoulder that had found a gap between his scales and literally hurled it through five soldiers. This is boring. He complained. Oh, I should show you two what I was up to while I was away. Remind me once this is done.
Sure. Ancalagon said, then directed his attention back to Eragon and Saphira. Eragon, Saffy, you two head back down to the city, we're fine up here with the ones on higher walls.
A sense of dread washed over them. Shit! Not again! Almandine cried out. They're forming a Shade! Quick! Arya, Eragon, to the keep!
Saphira flew back down to the city to have Eragon meet up with Arya so they can face this Shade.
Lovely, a second Shade. Ancalagon grumbled. Wasn't Durza enough?
Isn't one psychotic man sitting on a throne enough for anyone? Stargazer asked as he casually crushed a few dozen soldiers with his tail against a wall.
By then, Blödhgarm and his fellow elves had joined Eragon and Saphira in the courtyard, but Eragon ignored them and looked for Arya. When he spotted her, running alongside Jörmundur on his charger, Eragon hailed her and brandished his shield to attract her attention.
Arya heeded his call and loped over, her stride as graceful as a gazelle's. She had acquired a shield, a full-sized helm, and a mail hauberk since they had parted, and the metal of her armor gleamed in the gray half-light that pervaded the city. As she drew to a stop, Eragon said, "Almandine sensed a Shade!"
Arya nodded. "I felt it." She said grimly. "We will hunt it down. Head for the keep first. We must capture Lady Lorana."
Springing from the ground onto one of Saphira's front legs, Eragon climbed into her saddle. Arya followed his example an instant later and sat close behind him, the links of her hauberk pressing against his back.
Saphira unfurled her velvety wings and took flight, leaving Blödhgarm and the other elves gazing up at her with looks of frustration.
"You should not abandon your guards so lightly," Arya murmured in Eragon's left ear. She wrapped her sword arm around his waist and held him tightly as Saphira wheeled above the courtyard.
Before Eragon could respond, he felt the touch of Glaedr's vast mind. For a moment, the city below vanished, and he saw and felt only what Glaedr saw and felt.
Little-stinging-hornet-arrows bounced off his belly as he rose above the scattered wood-caves of the two-legs-round-ears. The air was smooth and firm beneath his wings, perfect for the flying he would need to do. On his back, the saddle rubbed against his scales as Oromis altered his position.
Glaedr flicked his tongue out and tasted the enticing aroma of burnt-wood-cooked-meat-spilled-blood. He had been to this place many times before. In his youth, it had been known by a different name than Gil'ead, and then the only inhabitants had been the somber-laughing-quick-tongued-elves and the friends of elves. His previous visits had always been pleasant, but it pained him to remember the two nest-mates who had died here, slain by the twisted-mind-Forsworn.
The lazy-one-eye-sun hovered just above the horizon. To the north, the big-water-Isenstar was a rippling sheet of polished silver. Below, the herd of pointed-ears commanded by Islanzadí was arrayed around the broken-anthill-city. Their armor glittered like crushed ice. A pall of blue smoke lay over the whole area, thick as cold morning mist.
And from the south, the small-angry-rip-claw-Thorn winged his way toward Gil'ead, bellowing his challenge for all to hear. Morzan-son-Murtagh sat upon his back, and in Murtagh's right hand, Zar'roc shone as bright as a nail.
Sorrow filled Glaedr as he beheld the two miserable hatchlings. He wished he and Oromis did not have to kill them. Once more, he thought, dragon must fight dragon and Rider must fight Rider, and all because of that egg-breaker-Galbatorix. His mood grim, Glaedr quickened his flapping and spread his claws in preparation for tearing at his oncoming foes.
Eragon's head whipped on his neck as Saphira lurched to one side and dropped a score of feet before she regained her equilibrium. Did you see that as well? she asked.
I did. Worried, Eragon glanced back at the saddlebags, where Glaedr's heart of hearts was hidden, and wondered if he and Saphira should try to help Oromis and Glaedr but then reassured himself with the knowledge that there were numerous spellcasters among the elves. His teachers would not want assistance.
"What is wrong?" asked Arya, her voice loud in Eragon's ear.
Oromis and Glaedr are about to fight Thorn and Murtagh, said Saphira.
Eragon felt Arya stiffen against him. "How do you know?" she asked.
"I'll explain later. I just hope they don't get hurt."
"As do I," said Arya.
Saphira flew high above the keep, then floated downward on silent wings and alighted upon the spire of the tallest tower. As Eragon and Arya clambered onto the steep roof, Saphira said, I will meet you in the chamber below. The window here is too small for me. And she took off, the gusts from her wings buffeting them.
Eragon and Arya lowered themselves over the edge of the roof and dropped to a narrow stone ledge eight feet below. Ignoring the vertigo-inducing fall that awaited him if he slipped, Eragon inched along the ledge to a cross-shaped window, where he pulled himself into a large square room lined with sheaves of quarrels and racks of heavy crossbows. If anyone had been in the room when Saphira landed, they had already fled.
Arya climbed through the window after him. She inspected the room, then gestured at the stairs in the far corner and padded toward them, her leather boots silent on the stone floor.
As Eragon followed her, he sensed a strange confluence of energies below them and also the minds of five people whose thoughts were closed to him. Wary of a mental attack, Eragon withdrew into himself and concentrated upon reciting a scrap of elvish poetry. He touched Arya on the shoulder and whispered, "Do you feel that?"
She nodded. "We should have brought Blödhgarm with us."
Together, they descended the stairs, making every effort to be quiet. The next room in the tower was much larger than the last; the ceiling was over thirty feet high, and from it hung a lantern with faceted panes of glass. A yellow flame burned inside. Hundreds of oil paintings covered the walls: portraits of bearded men in ornate robes and expressionless women sitting amid children with sharp, flat teeth; gloomy, windswept seascapes depicting the drowning of sailors; and scenes of battle, where humans slaughtered bands of grotesque Urgals. A row of tall wooden shutters set within the northern wall opened onto a balcony with a stone balustrade. Opposite the window, near the far wall, was a collection of small round tables littered with scrolls, three padded chairs, and two oversized brass urns filled with bouquets of dried flowers. A stout, gray-haired woman garbed in a lavender dress sat in one of the chairs. She bore a strong resemblance to several of the men in the paintings. A silver diadem adorned with jade and topaz rested upon her head.
In the center of the room stood the three magicians Eragon had glimpsed before in the city. The two men and a woman were facing each other, the hoods of their robes thrown back and their arms extended out to each side, so that the tips of their fingers touched. They swayed in unison, murmuring an unfamiliar spell in the ancient language. A fourth person sat in the middle of the triangle they formed: a man garbed in an identical fashion, but who said nothing, and who grimaced as if in pain.
Eragon threw himself at the mind of one of the male spellcasters, but the man was so focused on his task, Eragon failed to gain entry to his consciousness and thus was unable to subordinate him to his will. The man did not even seem to notice the attack. Arya must have attempted the same thing, for she frowned and whispered, "They were trained well."
Then the woman in the lavender dress looked up and saw Eragon and Arya crouched upon the stone stairs. To Eragon's surprise, the woman did not call for help but rather placed a finger upon her lips, then beckoned.
Eragon exchanged a perplexed glance with Arya. "It could be a trap," he whispered.
"It most likely is," she said.
"What should we do?"
"Is Saphira almost here?"
"Yes."
"Then let us go and greet our host."
Matching their steps, they padded down the remaining stairs and snuck across the room, never taking their eyes off the engrossed magicians. "Are you Lady Lorana?" asked Arya in a soft voice as they halted before the seated woman.
The woman inclined her head. "That I am, fair elf." She turned her gaze upon Eragon then and said, "And are you the Dragon Rider of whom we have heard so much about recently? Are you Eragon Shadeslayer?"
"I am," said Eragon.
A relieved expression appeared upon the woman's distinguished face. "Ah, I had hoped you would come. You must stop them, Shadeslayer." And she gestured at the magicians.
"Why don't you order them to surrender?" whispered Eragon.
"I cannot," said Lorana. "They answer only to the king and his new Rider. I have sworn myself to Galbatorix — I had no choice in the matter — so I cannot raise a hand against him or his servants; otherwise, I would have arranged their destruction myself."
"Why?" asked Arya. "What is it you fear so much?"
The skin around Lorana's eyes tightened. "They know they cannot hope to drive off the Varden as they are, and Galbatorix has not sent reinforcements to our aid. So they are attempting, I do not know how, to create a Shade in the hope that the monster will turn against the Varden and spread sorrow and confusion throughout your ranks."
"But a Shade might just as easily turn against them and everyone else in Feinster as it would against the Varden." Eragon pointed out.
Lorana nodded. "They do not care. They only wish to cause as much pain and destruction as they can before they die. They are insane, Shadeslayer. Please, you must stop them, for the sake of my people!"
As she finished speaking, Saphira landed upon the balcony outside the room, cracking the balustrade with her tail. She knocked aside the shutters with a single blow of her paw, breaking their frames like so much tinder, and then pushed her head and shoulders into the chamber and growled.
The magicians continued to chant, seemingly oblivious to her presence.
"Oh my," said Lady Lorana, gripping the arms of her chair.
"Right," said Eragon. He hefted Brisingr and started toward the magicians, as did Saphira from the opposite direction.
The world reeled around Eragon, and again he found himself peering through Glaedr's eyes.
Red. Black. Flashes of throbbing yellow. Pain... Bone-bending pain in his belly and in the shoulder of his left wing. Pain as he had not felt for over a hundred years. Then relief as partner-of-his-life-Oromis healed his injuries.
Glaedr regained his balance and looked for Thorn. The little-red-shrike-dragon was stronger and faster than Glaedr had anticipated, due to Galbatorix's meddling.
Thorn slammed into Glaedr's left side, his weak side, where he had lost his foreleg. They spun around each other, plummeting toward the hard-flat-wing-crushing-ground. Glaedr snapped and tore and raked with his hind feet, trying to batter the smaller dragon into submission.
You will not best me, youngling, he vowed to himself. I was old before you were born.
White-dagger-claws scratched Glaedr along his ribs and underside. He flexed his tail and struck snarling-long-fang-Thorn across one leg, stabbing him in the thigh with a spike on his tail. The fighting had long since exhausted both of their invisible-spell-shields, leaving them vulnerable to every sort of wound.
When the twirling ground was only a few thousand feet away, Glaedr inhaled and drew back his head. He tightened his neck, clenched his belly, and drew forth the dense-liquid-of-fire from deep within his gut. The liquid ignited as it combined with the air in his throat. He opened his jaws to their full extent and sprayed the red dragon with fire, engulfing him in a blistering cocoon. The torrent of hungry-grasping-writhing-flames tickled the inside of Glaedr's cheeks.
He closed off his throat, terminating the flow of fire as he and the squirming-squealing-slash-claw-dragon pulled away from each other. From on his back, Glaedr heard Oromis say, "Their strength is fading; I can see it in their bearing. Another few minutes and Murtagh's concentration shall fail and I will be able to assume control over his thoughts. That or we shall slay them with sword and fang."
Glaedr growled in agreement, frustrated that he and Oromis dared not communicate with their minds, as they usually did. Rising on warm-wind-from-tilled-earth, he turned toward Thorn, whose limbs dripped with crimson blood, and roared and prepared to grapple with him once more.
Eragon stared at the ceiling, disoriented. He was lying on his back within the keep tower. Kneeling next to him was Arya, concern etched upon her face. She grasped him by an arm and helped him upright, steadying him as he wobbled. Across the room, Eragon saw Saphira shake her head, and he felt her own confusion.
The three magicians still stood with their arms outstretched, swaying and chanting in the ancient language. The words of their spell rang with unusual force and lingered in the air long after they should have faded to silence. The man who sat at their feet gripped his knees, his entire body shuddering as he thrashed his head from side to side.
"What happened?" asked Arya in a strained undertone. She pulled Eragon closer and lowered her voice even further. "How can you know what Glaedr is thinking from so far away, and when his mind is closed even to Oromis? Forgive me for touching your thoughts without your permission, Eragon, but I was worried about your welfare. What sort of a bond do you and Saphira share with Glaedr?"
"Later," he said, and squared his shoulders.
"Did Oromis give you an amulet or some other trinket that allows you to contact Glaedr?"
"It would take too long to explain. Later, I promise."
Arya hesitated, then nodded and said, "I shall hold you to that."
Together, Eragon, Saphira, and Arya advanced toward the magicians and struck at a separate one each. A metallic peal filled the room as Brisingr glanced aside before it reached its intended target, wrenching Eragon's shoulder. Likewise, Arya's sword rebounded off a ward, as did Saphira's right front paw. Her claws screeched against the stone floor.
"Concentrate on this one!" Eragon shouted, and pointed at the tallest spellcaster, a pale man with a snarled beard. "Hurry, before they manage to summon any spirits!" Eragon or Arya could have attempted to circumvent or deplete the spellcasters' wards with spells of their own, but using magic against another magician was always a perilous proposition unless the magician's mind was under your control. Neither Eragon nor Arya wanted to risk being killed by a ward they were as yet ignorant of.
Attacking in turns, Eragon, Saphira, and Arya cut, stabbed, and battered at the bearded spellcaster for nearly a minute. None of their blows touched the man. Then, at last, after only the slightest hint of resistance, Eragon felt something give way beneath Brisingr, and the sword continued on its way and lopped off the spellcaster's head. The air in front of Eragon shimmered. At the same instant, he felt a sudden drain on his strength as his wards defended him from an unknown spell. The assault ceased after a few seconds, leaving him dizzy and light-headed. His stomach rumbled. He grimaced and fortified himself with energy from the belt of Beloth the Wise.
The only response the other two magicians evinced at the death of their companion was to increase the speed of their invocation. Yellow foam encrusted the corners of their mouths, and spittle flew from their lips, and the whites of their eyes showed, but still they made no attempt to flee or to attack.
Continuing on to the next spellcaster — a corpulent man with rings on his thumbs — Eragon, Saphira, and Arya repeated the process they had used on the first magician: alternating blows until they succeeded in wearing down his wards. It was Saphira who slew the man, knocking him through the air with a swipe of her claws. He hit the side of the staircase and cracked open his skull on the corner of a step. This time there was no magical retaliation.
As Eragon moved toward the female spellcaster, a cluster of multicolored lights hurtled into the room through the broken shutters and converged upon the man seated on the floor. The glowing spirits flashed with angry virulence as they whirled around the man, forming an impenetrable wall. He threw up his arms as if to shield himself and screamed. The air hummed and crackled with the energy that radiated from the flickering orbs. A sour, ironlike taste coated Eragon's tongue, and his skin prickled. The hair on the female spellcaster's head was standing on end. Across from her, Saphira hissed and arched her back, every muscle in her body rigid.
A bolt of fear shot through Eragon. No! he thought, feeling sick. Not now. Not after all we've gone through. He was stronger than he had been when he faced Durza in Tronjheim, but if anything, he was even more aware of just how dangerous a Shade could be. Only three warriors had ever survived the killing of a Shade: Laetrí the Elf, Irnstad the Rider, and himself — and he had no confidence he could duplicate the feat. Blödhgarm, where are you? Eragon shouted with his mind. We need your help!
And then everything around Eragon winked out of existence, and in its place he beheld:
Whiteness. Blank whiteness. The cold-soft-sky-water was soothing against Glaedr's limbs after the stifling heat of combat. He lapped at the air, welcoming the thin coat of moisture that accumulated on his dry-sticky-tongue.
He flapped once more and the sky-water parted before him, revealing the glaring-scorchback-sun and the hazy-green-brown-earth. Where is he? Glaedr wondered. He swung his head, looking for Thorn. The little-red-shrike-dragon had fled high above Gil'ead, higher than any bird normally flew, where the air was thin and one's breath water-smoked.
"Glaedr, behind us!" Oromis shouted.
Glaedr twisted, but he was too slow. The red dragon crashed into his right shoulder, knocking him tumbling. Snarling, Glaedr wrapped his single remaining foreleg around the nipping-scratching-ferocious-hatchling and strove to crush the life out of Thorn's squirming body. The red dragon bellowed and climbed halfway out of Glaedr's embrace, digging his claws into Glaedr's chest. Glaedr arched his neck and sank his teeth into Thorn's left hind leg and, with it, held him in place, although the red dragon writhed and kicked like a pinned wildcat. Hot-salty-blood filled Glaedr's mouth.
As they plummeted downward, Glaedr heard the sound of swords striking shields as Oromis and Murtagh exchanged a flurry of blows. Thorn convulsed, and Glaedr glimpsed Morzan-son-Murtagh. Glaedr thought the human appeared frightened, but he was not entirely sure. Even after so long bonded with Oromis, he still had difficulty deciphering the expressions of two-legs-no-horns, what with their soft, flat faces and their lack of tails.
The clanging of metal ceased, and Murtagh shouted, "Curse you for not showing yourself sooner! Curse you! You could have helped us! You could have—" Murtagh seemed to choke on his tongue for a moment.
Glaedr grunted as an unseen force brought their fall to an abrupt halt, nearly shaking him loose from Thorn's leg, and then lifted the four of them up through the sky, higher and higher, until the broken-anthill-city was only a faint blotch below and even Glaedr had difficulty breathing in the rarefied air.
What is the youngling doing? Glaedr wondered, concerned. Is he trying to kill himself?
Then Murtagh resumed speaking, and when he did, his voice was richer and deeper than before, and it echoed as if he were standing in an empty hall. Glaedr felt the scales on his shoulders crawl as he recognized the voice of their ancient foe.
"So you survived, Oromis, Glaedr," said Galbatorix. His words were round and smooth, like those of a practiced orator, and their tone was deceptively friendly. "Long have I thought that the elves might be hiding a dragon or a Rider from my sight. It is gratifying to have my suspicions confirmed."
"Begone, foul oath-breaker!" cried Oromis. "You shall not have any satisfaction from us!"
Galbatorix chuckled. "Such a harsh greeting. For shame, Oromis-elda. Have the elves forgotten their fabled courtesy over the past century?"
"You deserve no more courtesy than a rabid wolf."
"Tut-tut, Oromis. Remember what you said to me when I stood before you and the other Elders: 'Anger is a poison. You must purge it from your mind or else it will corrupt your better nature.' You should heed your own advice."
"You cannot confuse me with your snake's tongue, Galbatorix. You are an abomination, and we shall see to it that you are eliminated, even if it costs us our lives."
"But why should it, Oromis? Why should you pit yourself against me? It saddens me that you have allowed your hate to distort your wisdom, for you were wise once, Oromis, perhaps the wisest member of our entire order. You were the first to recognize the madness eating away at my soul, and it was you who convinced the other Elders to deny my request for another dragon egg. That was very wise of you, Oromis. Futile, but wise. And somehow you managed to escape from Kialandí and Formora, even after they had broken you, and then you hid until all but one of your enemies had died. That too was wise of you, elf."
A brief pause marked Galbatorix's speech. "There is no need to continue fighting me. I freely admit that I committed terrible crimes in my youth, but those days are long past, and when I reflect upon the blood I have shed, it torments my conscience. Still, what would you have of me? I cannot undo my deeds. Now, my greatest concern is ensuring the peace and prosperity of the empire over which I find myself lord and master. Cannot you see that I have lost my thirst for vengeance? The rage that drove me for so many years has burned itself to ashes. Ask yourself this, Oromis: who is responsible for the war that has swept across Alagaësia? Not I. The Varden were the ones who provoked this conflict. I would have been content to rule my people and leave the elves and the dwarves and the Surdans to their own devices. But the Varden could not leave well enough alone. It was they who chose to steal Saphira's egg, and they who cover the earth with mountains of corpses. Not I. You were wise once before, Oromis, and you can become wise once again. Give up your hatred and join me in Ilirea. With you by my side, we can bring an end to this conflict and usher in an era of peace that will endure for a thousand years or more."
Glaedr was not persuaded. He tightened his crushing-piercing-jaws, causing Thorn to yowl. The pain-noise seemed incredibly loud after Galbatorix's speech.
In clear, ringing tones, Oromis said, "No. You cannot make us forget your atrocities with a balm of honeyed lies. Release us! You have not the means to hold us here much longer, and I refuse to exchange pointless banter with a traitor like yourself."
"Bah! You are a senile old fool," said Galbatorix, and his voice acquired a harsh, angry cast. "You should have accepted my offer; you would have been first and foremost among my slaves. I will make you regret your mindless devotion to your so-called justice. And you are wrong. I can keep you thus as long as I want, for I have become as powerful as a god, and there are none who can stop me!"
"You shall not prevail," said Oromis. "Even gods do not endure forever."
At that Galbatorix uttered a foul oath. "Your philosophy does not constrain me, elf! I am the greatest of magicians, and soon I will be even greater still. Death will not take me. You, however, shall die. But first you will suffer. You will both suffer beyond imagining, and then I will kill you, Oromis, and I shall take your heart of hearts, Glaedr, and you will serve me until the end of time."
"Never!" exclaimed Oromis.
And Glaedr again heard the clash of swords on armor.
Glaedr had excluded Oromis from his mind for the duration of the fight, but their bond ran deeper than conscious thought, so he felt it when Oromis stiffened, incapacitated by the searing pain of his bone-blight-nerve-rot. Alarmed, Glaedr released Thorn's leg and tried to kick the red dragon away. Thorn howled at the impact but remained where he was. Galbatorix's spell held the two of them in place — neither able to move more than a few feet in any direction.
There was another metallic clang from above, and then Glaedr saw Naegling fall past him. The golden sword flashed and gleamed as it tumbled toward the ground. For the first time, the cold claw of fear gripped Glaedr. Most of Oromis's word-will-energy was stored within the sword, and his wards were bound to the blade. Without it, he would be defenseless.
Glaedr threw himself against the limits of Galbatorix's spell, struggling with all his might to break free. In spite of his efforts, however, he could not escape. And just as Oromis began to recover, Glaedr felt Zar'roc slash Oromis from shoulder to hip.
Glaedr howled.
He howled as Oromis had howled when Glaedr lost his leg.
An inexorable force gathered inside of Glaedr's belly. Without pausing to consider whether it was possible, he pushed Thorn and Murtagh away with a blast of magic, sending them flying like windblown leaves, and then tucked his wings against his sides and dove toward Gil'ead. If he could get there fast enough, then Islanzadí and her spellcasters would be able to save Oromis.
The city was too far away, though. Oromis's consciousness was faltering... fading... slipping away...
Glaedr poured his own strength into Oromis's ruined frame, trying to sustain him until they reached the ground. But for all the energy he gave to Oromis, he could not stop the bleeding, the terrible bleeding.
Glaedr... release me, Oromis murmured with his mind.
A moment later, in an even fainter voice, he whispered, Do not mourn me.
And then the partner of Glaedr's life passed into the void.
Gone.
Gone!
GONE!
Blackness. Emptiness.
He was alone.
A crimson haze descended over the world, throbbing in unison with his pulse. He flared his wings and looped back the way he had come, searching for Thorn and his Rider. He would not let them escape; he would catch them and tear at them and burn them until he had eradicated them from the world.
Glaedr! Stop! Another male voice gave him pause.
Who are you and why should I care? The golden dragon snarled, and that was when he came face to face with a massive dragon double his size.
The dragon was pitch black, like Ancalagon, yet each scale was outlined in a glowing, vibrant red. Crimson red eyes pulsing with raw, unrestrained power looked into golden eyes filled with pain. Endless pain. The dragon's voice was gentle yet carried a power that only one other could.
I know you have lost your heart, Glaedr. The other dragon began. Let us land and talk this out. I have sent Thorn away and cleared the duo's minds of the egg breaker's presence. You can trust me, Glaedr. I would never betray my family willingly as Star is the only family I have left.
Glaedr was nearly lost in his want for blood, but at the mention of Stargazer, his mind cleared. Very well, we will talk. The golden dragon emotionlessly replied while the two dragons glided to the ground below.
Infernicus, whose identity was still unknown to Glaedr, remained below him as an act of trust. He wouldn't take any chances. Not now. Not with what had just transpired. As the two dragons touched down, elves cried out in fear at the sight of the black and red dragon, readying their bows and spells. Infernicus only rolled his eyes and glared at their queen with a smirk on his face. Is this how family is to be treated, Izzy?
The elf's eyes shot wide open and her sword clattered to the stones beneath her as she froze. "This… this is impossible…" the elf queen breathed. "You… he…" she shook her head and refocused, turning to her army. "Do not harm this dragon! He is the brother of Stargazer and means us no harm."
With a start, Eragon returned to himself.
He was curled into a ball. Tears streaked his face. Gasping, he pushed himself up off the floor and looked for Saphira and Arya.
It took him a moment to comprehend what he saw.
The female spellcaster Eragon had been about to attack lay before him, slain by a single sword thrust. The spirits she and her companions had summoned were nowhere to be seen. Lady Lorana was still ensconced in her chair. Saphira was in the process of struggling to her feet on the opposite side of the room. And the man who had been sitting on the floor amid the three other spellcasters was standing next to him, holding Arya in the air by her throat.
The color had vanished from the man's skin, leaving him bone white. His hair, which had been brown, was now bright crimson, and when he looked at Eragon and smiled, Eragon saw that his eyes had become maroon. In every aspect of appearance and bearing, the man resembled Durza.
"Our name is Varaug," said the Shade. "Fear us." Arya kicked at him, but her blows seemed to have no effect.
The burning pressure of the Shade's consciousness pressed against Eragon's mind, trying to break down his defenses. The force of the attack immobilized Eragon; he could barely repel the burrowing tendrils of the Shade's mind, much less walk or swing a sword. For whatever reason, Varaug was even stronger than Durza, and Eragon was not sure how long he could withstand the Shade's might. He saw that Saphira was also under attack; she sat stiff and motionless by the balcony, a snarl carved on her face.
The veins in Arya's forehead bulged, and her face turned red and purple. Her mouth was open, but she was not breathing. With the palm of her right hand, she struck the Shade's locked elbow and broke the joint with a loud crack. Varaug's arm sagged, and for a moment, Arya's toes brushed the floor, but then the bones in the Shade's arm popped back into place, and he lifted her even higher.
"You shall die," growled Varaug. "You shall all die for imprisoning us in this cold, hard clay."
There was a furious roar from outside, before part of the wall crumbled and broke as a black tail smashed through it and smacked into the Shade, making him drop Arya, followed by an enraged voice.
You dare harm my mate?! Ancalagon snarled, as he stood poised on the balcony with Saphira, who was free from whatever spell the Shade inflicted into freezing her still.
"So there are two," the Shade spat, picking himself back up. "Two full of light that could sustain us indefinitely."
Ancalagon growled, his eyes narrowing, the fire building in his chest. The keep shuddered violently, stone crashing down onto Varaug and pinning him.
NOW! Stargazer roared, rage clearly evident at the mention of a creature draining the life from his son. DESTROY IT!
The fire went straight up Ancalagon's throat, his mouth opening, and with a roar the fire expelled from his mouth and onto the Shade. The black dragon didn't even stop after the first five seconds, he kept the fire burning and going for at least thirty actually, the brightness and intensity of it causing the nearby two-legged creatures to look away due to it stinging their eyes. Eventually, the fire stopped and Ancalagon shut his mouth with a powerful 'SNAP!' of his jaws.
The Shade, more like a blackened crisp now, groaned weakly as he pushed the debris off him and stumbled to his feet. "Do you think that will-"
He lurched forward as a sword was stabbed through him from behind, directly through the heart, thanks to Arya.
"I think you will be banished from this plane of existence now." the elf snarled, although she was panting for breath still and there were visible bruises on her neck from where Varaug had had hold of her.
Now that the threat was dead, Ancalagon tended to Saphira, who he could feel a turmoil of distressing emotions coming from. Wordlessly, he looked through her memories and saw, through her connection to Eragon, what happened at Gil'ead with Oromis, Glaedr and Galbatorix.
My brother is chatting with Glaedr. Stargazer's voice drifted into their heads, and they could all feel the crushing amount of sorrow that the dragon was keeping at bay for their sake.
What do we do? Ancalagon asked, draping his wing over Saphira and holding her close.
We must continue onward. Almandine said gently, her voice soothing. Now is not the time to grieve, but neither will we let Oromis's sacrifice be in vain.
We should go. Ancalagon said after a moment of silence, glancing from Saphira, to Eragon, to even Arya who he barely spared much of a glance at. The battle is over.
Yet the wheels of war continue to turn. Stargazer responded quietly. This is far from over, little ones.
As the group made their way outside into the courtyard, they were met by Stargazer and Almandine… the former's eyes burning with purple fire. He was glaring at Arya, who stopped dead in her tracks, her face pale.
I know what you did, elf. The crystal dragon growled, beginning to slowly stalk forward. The crowd surrounding them gave them a wide berth, watching silently with baited breath. Did you think your actions wouldn't have consequences, Dragon Friend?
"Stargazer, I-"
Silence! Stargazer barked, causing her to go silent. The crystal dragon shot Eragon a look when he saw the Rider about to come to the elf's defense. The glare from the dragon quickly halted Eragon in going through with that action. Stargazer returned his gaze back to Arya, eyes narrowed. I named you Dragon Friend, and while that grants you certain privileges that most would not have when it comes to dragons, that does not mean you can be arrogant and flaunt those privileges around like some stuck-up rich princess! I know of what you said to my son after his fight with Almandine.
Arya glanced at the floor, refusing to meet his eyes. Stargazer growled at this and forced her to look at him by using his tail to push her head up.
Look at me! He growled, leaning his head in closer, baring his teeth. The arrogance of your race astounds me, and not even you are the exception from it. You worship my people, yes, but that does not give you any right to belittle my son in the way that you did! You all but practically told him that he's only worth being Saphira's mate to have the race of dragons flourish, and he can be killed, so she can be with the other, unhatched dragon. This will NOT happen again. My son is to be treated like your kind treats any other dragon. I will hear no more remarks against him, no more insults . He is maturing on his own accord and he has come a long way from where he started. I am proud to call him mine, Alma is proud to call him hers and Saphira is proud to be mated to him as he is to her. You will apologize, and grow up… or else.
Arya knew better than to push, nor was she the type of elf to push someone's buttons when they are clearly angered. Instead, she approached Ancalagon, who watched her warily, and Arya surprised everyone when she fell to her knees before him.
"I humbly beg your forgiveness, Lord Ancalagon." Arya said, bestowing upon him the title of 'Lord' which caught him off guard as he tilted his head. "I am ashamed of the words I spoke to you, insulting the race of dragons, yourself, and Saphira as a whole. I know you may not forgive me for what I said but-"
Ancalagon leaned down onto his belly, reaching forward and gently tilting her chin up with a talon so she could look into his eyes, which looked at her with a soft gaze. Apology already accepted, and forgiveness granted. He said softly. We all need a moment in our lives to mature, to grow. The past is the past, Arya. I forgive you. As a wise dragon once told me, "Words are wind. They only bother us if we let them, but we can also learn from them." We are always learning, Arya. No matter how old or young we may be, we are always learning.
Arya smiled and gently stroked his snout, making him purr softly, before he drew back.
As his father walked past him, Ancalagon caught a glint of gold in his paw, and knew what he was holding. Glaedr's Eldunari. Tears streaked his face as he looked out over the fields into the setting sun.
Whatever happens, know that I love you, Michael. Stargazer murmured to his son, not looking away from the sunset.
I know. Ancalagon said quietly, feeling an uneasy feeling in his stomach from his father's words, a feeling he only felt once before but he shook that thought away. That wasn't going to happen again. No matter what happens…
Nobody else is going to die in this Godforsaken war.
End of Brisingr.
Chapter 50 will begin in the Inheritance phase.