I do not own any part of the Harry Potter or Eragon universes.
A/N: I have changed Harry's animagus form to a wolf. I think it will make more sense in the future. Before I started writing this, I had a few scenes in my head that I really wanted to write. Arya's fight vs Durza was one of them and the ending in this chapter is one as well. I don't know when the next update will be, but to those that are interested I post updates on my profile.
I hope you enjoy it!
"It's really warm today," Harry remarked.
They had started traveling across Lake Eldor early in the morning, while Celdin and Edurna stayed behind on the shore. Hours passed, and they reached the river Gaena, with the strong rays of the midday sun beating down on them.
Since there wasn't much to do, Harry curiously looked around, but the river was surrounded by a thicket of trees and bushes. He recognized ash trees sprouting from the ground, which would even rival the size of a giant. Here and there, he also saw a silver willow or an elm. The trees stood so closely together that Harry couldn't see far.
"Why can't we just fly to Ellesméra again?" Harry grumbled irritably.
Behind him, he heard Arya mutter something incomprehensible.
"Ouch!" Harry exclaimed and rubbed his side where Arya had pinched him.
Harry turned to her accusingly, but she only raised an elegant eyebrow at him.
"If you would listen better, you'd know. I explained it to you and the others before we left Cerís," Arya said, rolling her eyes as Harry began to sulk.
"Queen Islanzadí must be the first to know about us, and we can't risk being seen by other elves."
"And elves have exceptionally good and far-reaching vision, so we'd have to fly well above Du Weldenvarden, or we'd risk being attacked," Harry continued to complain. "Still, I wish we could fly. It would save us a lot of time."
Arya nodded. "That's true, but once we reach Ellesméra, you won't need to hide anymore. Especially since no one expects you or Artemis. And now, paddle."
Harry sighed and started paddling. They were in the last of the three boats. In front of them were Orik and Lifaen, and in front of them were Eragon and Narí.
Since it was still daytime, neither Artemis nor Saphira were with them. They had decided that as long as they were near a town, it would be best for them to fly after them at night, when there was the least chance of being seen.
Artemis had reluctantly agreed to Arya's plan.
As they continued to paddle, Harry decided to dispel his boredom. He closed his eyes for a moment, out of Arya's sight, and began to move his index finger in a circular motion. He noticed that Arya was focused on looking straight ahead, so she didn't notice how a fine stream of water slowly rose behind their canoe and approached them. Harry stopped moving his finger and pointed forward. Magic flowed through him, and it didn't take long for him to hear a soft gasp.
"Harry," a warning voice sounded. He turned slowly and saw Arya looking at him sternly. Her green eyes were narrow and mischievously glinting. She stopped paddling, slowly extended her arm, and touched the surface of the river with her fingertips.
"Adurna," she said, and Harry's eyes widened as a wall of water rose from the river. He swallowed and said hastily, "Arya, that wasn't meant to be-"
Arya's mouth twisted into a wide grin. "Then you won't hold it against me," she said, and the water shot over Harry, throwing him over the canoe and into the river.
Harry clung to the canoe, spluttering water out of his mouth, and slowly pulled himself back into the boat. He was completely soaked, his hair clung wetly to his head, and his clothes were dripping.
She chuckled softly and shook her head. "Well, you just mentioned how warm it is today; that was your personal refreshment."
Harry looked up, his face still wet, and grinned at Arya.
He shook himself vigorously like a drenched cat, and Arya lifted her arms, laughing, to shield herself from the approaching water droplets.
While the two calmed down, Eragon and Lifaen were deeply engrossed in conversation.
"Brom could have told you. He was there when it happened. Before Vrael's death, we fought one last battle against Galbatorix in the plains outside Ilirea, and there Evandar -" explained Lifaen.
"Where is this Ilirea? When we were in Teirm, I studied Jeod's maps carefully, and nowhere was the name of this city mentioned," Eragon asked, puzzled.
"Ilirea is an elven city. That is Urû'baen, boy," said Orik. As Eragon turned around, he saw Orik sitting in front of Narí in the canoe.
Eragon raised his eyebrows in surprise when he saw the grim expression on Orik's face and his arms crossed over his chest.
Orik followed his gaze and grunted in frustration. "The paddle is too long for my arms. It's fallen into the water twice already."
Eragon snorted, but Lifaen continued. "Orik-Vodhr is right. It was once a city for elves, but humans and dwarves also lived in Ilirea. It was founded after the demise of King Palancar, when humans were also included into the magic that connected us to the dragons."
Eragon stared at Lifaen. "King Palancar? Who was that? Did he have something to do with Palancar Valley?"
But before Lifaen could answer, they heard the sound of water and laughter. Elves, Dragon Riders, and dwarves turned to see Harry clinging to the edge of the canoe, laughing with Arya.
Lifaen and Narí turned away from them, but if you looked closely, you could see the joy in their eyes.
Lifaen cleared his throat and Eragon turned to him. "When your ancestors arrived in Alagaёsia hundreds of years ago, they sought a place to settle. Eventually, they found a well-protected place that neither we nor the dwarves had claimed."
He steered the canoe around a rock protruding from the water.
"Driven by his desire to expand his kingdom, King Palancar declared war on us. He attacked us three times, and three times he was defeated. His thirst for power seemed endless, and it was only through the cooperation of the elf Ilirea and his own son, Eoghan, that King Palancar was overthrown."
"Was the city named after the elf?" Eragon asked with curiosity.
Lifaen nodded. "The cooperation between Ilirea and Eoghan, showed Anurin, the leader of the Dragon Riders at the time, that elves and humans could work together. He proposed that there should also be human dragon riders."
Eragon's eyes widened. "Really? Even after Palancar attacked you?"
Lifaen nodded. "It seemed like the only way to avoid future conflict. It was a difficult decision, and there were many debates and disagreements between Anurin and the then-queen, Dellanir, so Anurin eventually formed an independent group with the Riders on Vroengard."
Orik's and Narí's canoe approached them, and the elf answered Eragon's question, which was written all over his face.
"The Dragon Riders could no longer ensure peace in Alagaёsia. It was only when Queen Dellanir realized that it might be to the advantage of all the people in Alagaёsia to have an independent group that she allowed them back into Du Weldenvarden," Narí remarked.
"But she disliked the idea that there was a might beyond her reach that would grow larger than her own over time."
Eragon pursed his lips. "But wasn't that the whole point though? To be independent from everyone else?"
"It's not that simple to answer, Eragon," Arya said. She and Harry had finally caught up and were now paddling alongside them. Harry's clothes were still damp, and Arya's black hair hung over her shoulder.
"The Dragon Riders were primarily meant to vigilantly observe the various governments and peoples in Alagaёsia and only intervene when there were disturbances and conflicts. But who controlled the Dragon Riders? Who would intervene if there were conflicts among them? Who would criticize their mistakes?"
"There was no one, and that led to their downfall," Harry remarked softly.
Arya looked sadly ahead as Eragon contemplated all of this.
"Who succeeded Dellanir on the throne?" Eragon then asked.
Lifaen and Narí exchanged a concerned glance that no one saw. No one seemed to speak until Arya finally said, "Evandar… He ascended the throne five hundred years ago when Dellanir abdicated to study the mysteries of magic and remained king until his death. Since then, his mate, Islanzadí, has ruled us."
Eragon's jaw dropped. "Wait – are you telling me that elves are immortal?"
Harry turned around with tense shoulders and watched Lifaen, who answered in a quiet voice, "Once, we were as short-lived as you. But now, our lifespans surpass the flow of time. Yes, we are immortal, but physical injuries can still take our lives."
Eragon stared at the elves in disbelief, and the ground seemed to vanish from beneath his feet.
"What does this mean for me?" he asked quietly.
Lifaen looked at him with glistening eyes. "Unless you suffer physical injuries, Eragon-Finiarel, you too will live eternally at Saphira's side."
The water rushed around them, and before Eragon could ask more questions, he heard loud, shrill laughter. He turned in his canoe and saw Harry holding his hands in front of his face. His fingers were clenched, and through his fingers, Eragon could see his wide-open eyes.
They sat together by the evening fire while Harry, lost in thought, was sitting apart from the others. He didn't move as someone gently touched his shoulder. He knew who it was. Harry looked up from the ground and saw that Arya had sat down beside him.
"Harry? Is everything okay?" she asked him softly.
Harry looked into her face, and in the subdued light of the fire, he could see a warm glow in her eyes.
"No... maybe... I just don't know," Harry admitted softly.
He hung his head and stared into the darkness. For a moment, it was quiet.
"Is it what Lifaen mentioned earlier?" Arya asked him.
Harry nodded slowly. "I told you about Voldemort, didn't I?"
Arya furrowed her brow. "What does that have to do with him?"
Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his head on his knees.
"Voldemort." The fire hissed angrily as Harry uttered the name.
"Voldemort killed my parents. For years, I had to fight for my life against him. He killed my parents and many others who stood in his way. Do you know what Voldemort wanted? What his goal was?"
Arya hesitated to say it, but Harry took it from her pale face.
"Yes, he wanted to kill me, but for one reason only. According to the prophecy, I was the only one who could be his equal - who could destroy him. He used the darkest magic there is to create objects that would bind his soul to life. If he had removed me from his path, no one could have defeated him. He would have been immortal."
Harry looked up at the vast sky and pressed his palm against the scar on his forehead.
"And now, years after I defeated him, I'm the one who's immortal. My life feels akin to an unfortunate punchline."
Arya was unsure how to react. She could barely imagine what Harry was going through. Even at a young age, when her father was no longer alive, her grandmother had assured her that she would live a long life. The concept of immortality was an unfathomable depth, and she struggled to find words that could do justice to her feelings.
She closed her eyes and moved closer to Harry. Exhausted from the recent revelation, he rested his head on her shoulder.
It gave her a warm feeling.
Her gaze rested on Harry, her words gentle and thoughtful. "Perhaps therein lies the essence of your immortality - the ability to appreciate every moment, to live each moment as if it were the only one. Time may surround you, but you can choose how to use it, how to fill it. You have the opportunity to experience and write a unique story that spans centuries."
"Maybe you're right," Harry murmured with his eyes closed.
"Ugh!" Harry groaned and clutched his stomach.
Eragon frowned. He had tried to catch the elves sleeping since he hadn't seen any of them sleeping yet. But it was in vain as both of them were looking down amused at Eragon from the branches above.
Startled, Eragon stumbled back a few steps and accidentally stepped on Harry's stomach.
"Sorry, Harry," Eragon said with a red face, helping Harry to his feet.
"If you want to wake me up next time, just pour a bucket of water on my face," grumbled Harry. It didn't take long for them to pack up their camp and swim upstream with the canoe.
"Are they not beautiful?" Narí exclaimed with a radiant face. "See how the sunlight catches in their scales! No treasure in the world can compare to this beauty."
"If I hear one more time how beautiful Artemis's wings or Saphira's claws are, I'm going to be sick," Orik grumbled into his long beard.
Artemis landed with a mighty splash near Orik in the waters of the river Gaena, and the dwarf had to raise his arms to protect himself from the approaching water. She turned her head to Orik. Apparently, she had heard him.
"Compliments from time to time aren't a bad thing. Dwarves could learn a lot from the elves, instead of always worshiping their dull stone," Artemis said to Harry, who suppressed a snort.
She submerged her head underwater and snapped her teeth at a school of fish.
"Give the dwarves time, Artemis. They will learn to appreciate your beauty as well."
Under the water's surface, Artemis looked up at him with large eyes. "Are you talking to me again? You hardly said a word all morning."
Harry ran his hand through his hair. "I'll need a few days to process this," he said. "It's not every day I find out I'm immortal."
Artemis stuck her head out of the water. She sniffed, and water splashed on Harry's face.
"And if you're not careful, the klutz that you are, you'll slip someday and land on a sword with your back," Artemis growled.
"Stop brooding about something that's already happened. Accept it and make the best of it."
Harry wiped the water from his face and looked back at Arya, who was sitting behind him again.
"Never ask a dragon for advice."
Arya laughed softly before they both looked over to Eragon. He had removed his glove, and the Gedwёy Ignasia shone in a silver light. The pendant on the necklace Gannel had given him grew hot, and Eragon felt the amulet draining his energy.
Someone was trying to scry him.
They saw him clutching the necklace tightly in his hands. In the next moment, the amulet cooled, and Eragon pushed it back under his shirt.
"Was that Galbatorix?" Artemis asked angrily.
"I doubt it. After all, Galbatorix has never set foot in Du Weldenvarden," Arya said with a furrowed brow. "And I don't believe it was the Du Gata Vrangr either. Nasuada forbade them from contacting you before we left. Whether friend or foe, we should hurry and reach Ellesméra as soon as possible, and you can begin your training."
The hours passed in silence until they reached a roaring waterfall. They kept paddling until they reached a massive ledge.
Harry raised an eyebrow when he saw Arya's expectant look, and she smirked at him. Following Harry's instructions, they all sat in their canoes with their backpacks on.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry muttered, making a snake-like motion in the air with his wand.
Immediately, all three canoes, along with their occupants, began to rise.
The elves looked around in amazement as they rose higher and higher in the air.
The ascent, which would have taken a good hour, was completed in just a few minutes.
Arya turned to Artemis and Saphira above. "Behind this bend is the lake Ardwen. One of our largest cities, Sílthrim, lies on its shores," Arya explained. "You can only follow us at night, and even then, you must be careful not to be seen."
Artemis looked from her to Harry. "I don't like being separated from you," she told him.
She stomped over to him and nudged him with her head against his chest.
"You're just brooding when you're alone. And then you just do silly things."
"I'll be fine, and I'm not brooding anymore," Harry laughed, running his hands over her scales. "Arya and the others will make sure I don't do anything foolish as long as you're not with me."
She blew warm breath in his face. "Then take care of yourself. Once we leave Sílthrim, I won't leave your side," she promised.
Harry grinned and hugged her tightly around the neck. She took a step back and began searching for a suitable hiding place with Saphira until nightfall. Arya came to Harry, and her fingers gently stroked the black cloak he was wearing as she lifted the hood, slowly obscuring his face in darkness.
"While we're in Sílthrim, you should wear the hood. You may resemble an elf to some extent, but you still have certain human characteristics that could attract unwanted attention," Arya explained softly.
"Alright," Harry sighed.
Harry's fingers tapped up and down the edge of the canoe out of curiosity.
"And you're sure we can't visit Sìlthrim?" he asked.
Arya shook her head. "Perhaps another time. It's crucial that we reach Ellesméra."
The Ardwen Lake was simply breathtaking. Unlike the Black Lake around Hogwarts, the surface of the lake Ardwen was eerily calm, only disrupted by the few white birch-bark boats gliding across it.
Harry leaned over the edge of the boat, amazed. Even in the darkness, he could see the clear water reaching up to a meter deep.
"Be careful," Arya murmured as an elf in a boat passed by them with the strength of an elf, creating a whirl in the water around them that seemed to glow as the boat glided through the water with almost supernatural ease.
As they continued up the Ardwen, his connection to Artemis grew weaker until only a faint thought connected them.
Harry sighed.
"That's the second time I've heard you sigh since we separated from Artemis and Saphira," she remarked.
Arya watched him thoughtfully. "Have you never had to separate before? Not even when you were chasing the Ra'zac?"
Harry held the paddle firmly in his hand. "Twice. Once in Teirm and the other time in Gil'ead... I've just gotten so used to the feeling of her being with me that I miss her immediately when she's gone. It feels so suffocating, like a part of me is missing."
Arya's eyes followed the lights in the distance. "I can't say I know what you're talking about because nobody can unless they're a dragon rider."
Harry agreed. If someone had asked him before Artemis hatched, he would probably have said it felt like the bond he had with Hedwig. His grip on the paddle tightened. But it was more than that.
"Let's camp here," Arya suggested, pointing to the lake's shore. "In the shade of the trees, we'll be shielded from the city's gaze."
In a matter of moments, they reached the shallow shore. Harry leaned forward, grabbed a large stone protruding from the water, and gently pulled the canoe ashore. The canoe glided smoothly through the calm water until it came to a safe stop.
Harry stepped out of the canoe, feeling the cold water soak his shoes. "We need to walk a bit further if we want a dry spot," Arya noted, dragging the canoe further up the land. She tied it to a rock, and they waited for the others who were still securing their canoes by the shore.
Harry straightened up. "I could use a drying charm to the area around us," he suggested.
But Arya shook her head. "It would only draw unnecessary attention to us. Besides, it's better if we go deeper into the forest. We need a well-protected place where Artemis and Saphira can join us without being seen from the lake."
Harry frowned and rubbed his arms. Something felt strange, but he couldn't put his finger on it. His skin tingled, and he got goosebumps.
He wanted to follow Arya, but she had gone ahead to find a good spot for their camp.
Harry cast one last glance at the Ardwen, where the distant lights of Sílthrim were reflected on the lake's surface. It was an incredible sight, and Harry felt a new sense of excitement, looking forward to seeing the Elven capital, Ellesméra.
The six of them sat around the fire, and Harry took out his old knife from his cloak.
He picked up a hand-sized stone from the ground and began to carve.
"What are you doing, Argetlam?" Lifaen asked curiously after a while.
Harry held the stone up to the firelight.
ᚢ
"This is the rune Uruz. It means water and has a deep connection to the earth. Watch."
To show what he meant, he dug a small hole in the ground with his hands and placed the rune inside. Then he took his wand and conjured a yellow lily.
He placed the sapling in the hole and covered it with soil until the roots were covered.
Harry then knelt in front of the plant and extended his hand.
His Gedwёy Ignasia glowed, and he muttered softly, "Uruz!"
The sapling sprouted from the ground as if fast-forwarding in time, and within minutes, in front of Harry was a fully grown yellow lily.
"That's delightful," Narí replied, and the two elves watched as even more flowers continued to bloom.
Arya smiled as she gently ran a finger over one of the many flowers.
"You might not know this, but flowers have significant meaning among us Elves. Yellow flowers, in particular, stand for -" Arya began to explain.
Harry nodded. "For hope. I know. In my family, it was a tradition for the women to receive names reminiscent of flowers."
"Like Lily, your mother's name," Arya whispered, her eyes widening.
Harry gave her a faint smile and buried his hands in one of the many pockets of his cloak.
"Exactly. I found out my grandmother's name was Rose. I never met her... and my aunt's name was Petunia," Harry grumbled.
Arya furrowed her brow as Harry mentioned his aunt's name. The way Harry said his aunt's name raised new questions in her mind.
She plucked one of the flowers and smiled as she felt the slight warmth emanating from the lily.
Approaching Harry, she playfully grinned at him, using her left hand to grab his arm to prevent him from escaping, and with her right, she placed the flower behind his ear.
Harry couldn't help but smile. "Really?"
She nodded in satisfaction. "It suits you. You and Eragon are the reason we can have hope again for the first time since the fall of the dragon riders."
"Why I carry hope in me again," she added softly, so no one would hear.
Harry smiled and picked up the knife from the ground. Before he could stow the knife in his robe, Arya stopped him with a sharp look.
"Can I see it?" she asked, her eyes gleaming.
"Sure, here." He handed her the knife.
"I held it in my hand the first time we met and thought that protective charms were on this knife. It's not particularly sharp," she remarked as she ran her thumb over the blade.
She raised the blade to eye level and held it in front of her face. She closed one of her eyes and eventually said, "It's crooked from the centre, and the blade isn't evenly thick."
Arya extended the knife and furrowed her brow.
"Why do you carry such a knife with you?"
Harry took it in surprise. He hadn't expected Arya to know so much about knives. Perhaps she had picked up some knowledge while spending time with Baldr?
"I got it from my godfather. His name was Sirius. It was enchanted and could open any door for you," Harry said as he stowed it away in his robe.
"It was enchanted?" Arya asked, her slanted eyes gleaming in the darkness.
Harry nodded. "It's been a while, but Voldemort lured me into a trap. He let me know he had Sirius and was torturing him."
"You went after him," Arya continued. Thanks to the time they had spent together, she could already anticipate what Harry would do.
Harry sighed heavily. "Yes, I had no choice. Sirius was like family to me. I had to save him."
He grimaced as he recalled the Department of Mysteries.
"But it was a trap. In the end, my friends and I were locked in a room, and I tried to open the door with the knife," Harry said.
"It didn't work, and it melted in my hand... My mistake caused Sirius's death. Dumbledore brought me the remains and I had it reforged in Knockturn Alley. It's supposed to remind me of him," Harry explained.
"It is still good enough to open ordinary doors, which makes it really useful."
"I understand," Arya said softly. She still carried the bow her father had used. During her travels between Du Weldenvarden and the Varden, she often drew her bow to ensure she was doing the right thing.
Suddenly, her eyes widened. Confused, Arya turned to Sílthrim and listened with her ears. With one hand to her ear, she heard a soft female voice singing.
"This is not good," she said with wide eyes.
She saw Eragon being held back by Lifaen and Narí fighting Orik on the ground.
Her head turned, her hair swirling in the air like a wild spring breeze.
She looked at Harry in astonishment, who stood untouched before her.
"Harry? Are you okay?"
Harry frowned in concentration as he saw Arya before him. He heard the enchanting melodies in the distance, and they shivered with passion. They wanted to beguile his senses and lure him out into the velvety night. His blood pulsed in his veins until he shook his head and rubbed his neck awkwardly.
"I'm fine... I think. It's not the first time that magic has tried to influence me. What's happening here?" he asked.
Suddenly, they heard a rustling, and Artemis shot down from the sky. The dragon approached Harry cautiously and nudged him gently with her snout, finishing her greeting by resting her head on his.
"I didn't want to be near a city during the Dagshelgr invocation. We sing in the ancient language, and the lyrics invoke spells of passion and longing," Arya explained. "Spells that even we find hard to resist."
Harry blinked and watched amusedly as Lifaen and Narí calmed Eragon and Orik.
"That was quite an experience," Eragon muttered, and Orik scowled.
"Arya! By the beards of my ancestors, I won't be controlled by magic against my will! If that happens again, I'll return to Farthen Dûr immediately, and then you'll have to deal with the wrath of the Ingeitum," Orik declared.
Arya raised her hands soothingly. "It wasn't my intention, Orik. Due to the time we gained traveling through Artemis and Saphira, I misjudged the timing. But it won't be the last time you encounter magic in Du Weldenvarden. It permeates everything."
Orik grunted and buried his axe deep in the ground, then plopped down with a thud.
"As long as it doesn't cloud my mind."
"What are these spells about?" Artemis asked, surprisingly calm.
"Doesn't the spell affect you?" Arya asked curiously.
Artemis shook her head. "It's like a gentle tickling on my scales, but I can ignore it. My mental shields are better than my stubborn rider's."
Arya shook her head with a smile. "Every spring, we sing a magical song to the trees, plants, and animals to keep the forest healthy and fertile. Without us, Du Weldenvarden would never have grown as large as it is today."
As if to underscore her words, birds, deer, squirrels, wolves, frogs, toads, and all other animals in the vicinity emerged from their hiding places and rushed around, making loud noises.
Arya watched with a smile and frowned when a female wolf approached Harry and nuzzled against his side.
"They're searching for mates," Arya added, smiling, and Harry's face turned red as he desperately tried to shoo the wolf away.
Finally, Artemis had to growl loudly, and the animals in their environment disappeared within seconds.
No one closed an eye this night. Harry particularly didn't want to leave Artemis alone. When Eragon told them about Saphira, he felt Artemis withdraw within herself, sharing Saphira's sorrow.
"Saphira and I are alone. And even if we rescue the eggs from Galbatorix, there's no guarantee there will be a male dragon that I'll like. No matter what happens, the fate of us dragons is doomed," Artemis snorted bitterly.
Harry leaned his head against her side and pinched her skin between the scales. Artemis jumped in surprise and spun her head toward Harry. Her blue eyes, which usually sparkled with joy, seemed dangerously close to tears.
"Do you really believe that?" Harry asked sharply. He grabbed Artemis's head with both hands on either side as she turned away in shame.
"If you think there are only two dragon eggs left, you're mistaken," Harry said, staring at Artemis. "Neither you nor I know where your dragon egg came from. Saphira and you won't be the last dragons. I swear!"
Artemis shook her head and freed herself from Harry's grip. "How do you know that? Maybe my egg was the only one left. Buried somewhere in a box where no one could find it. How do you know we're not the last ones?"
Harry reached out with his arm and wiped away the tear that ran down Artemis's cheek.
"Quite simply, Artemis. Because I believe it."
As dawn broke, Harry was taken aback by the transformation that had taken place in the forest since the previous night. The lilies now displayed a vibrant shade of yellow, while the trees bore newly sprouted, pale green leaves and budding needles. Wherever he cast his gaze, it appeared as though every plant had visibly thrived and grown. The air smelled like after a rain shower.
Harry looked around and realized that Lifaen and Narí were missing. "Where are they?" Harry asked.
Arya responded by pointing toward the trees. Harry heard the breaking of a branch and saw the elves emerging from among the trees. They were each riding proud white stallions, with five identical horses following them.
"Blöthr, blöthr," Lifaen murmured softly as he dismounted.
He led Harry to one of the horses. "Arya told me that you have a skill with animals. We have been breeding elf horses for many centuries, but I have never seen one like this. His name is Istalrí," Lifaen introduced.
"The word for burning," Harry continued and stroked the noble horse's coat.
Lifaen smiled at Harry. "Very good, Argetlam. He burned his flank in his younger years and has despised fire of any kind since. Despite the irony of his name, he carries it with pride."
Harry reached out his hand, and the noble horse sniffed at it before slowly approaching his hand.
"I'd prefer a Feldûnost," Orik grumbled, eyeing the noble creature in front of him suspiciously.
Harry mounted Istalrí as Artemis approached them. The horse wasn't afraid of Artemis, but it squinted its eyes when it saw Artemis emit a small flame and neighed in warning.
Seated upon his imposing ebony throne, adorned with ancient inscriptions etched into the wood, Galbatorix's hand glided appreciatively over the ornate backrest. This piece of furniture was one of the earliest gifts exchanged between humans and elves, a symbol of their complex history.
Disruptive noises from outside the throne room abruptly broke his reverie, causing Galbatorix's lips to tighten in irritation. With a wave of his hand, the two soldiers guarding the grand entrance swung the massive doors open. Morzan entered, accompanied by another man, a figure Galbatorix did not think would return from the battle with Durza.
His partner had promised the benefits, yet he had only brought him countless troubles. Perhaps they had pushed him too far, but the screams had been exquisitely satisfying.
"What do you have to report?" the Black King inquired; his gaze fixed on Morzan.
Morzan advanced, his expression etched with a deep frown. He seized Nott by his cloak and hurled him forcefully to the floor. "We... We have found him," Nott stammered.
Excitement surged through Galbatorix as he gripped the arms of his throne. "Step forward," he commanded.
Nott crawled hesitantly, until his face was within arm's reach of Galbatorix's. "Show me," the king demanded.
For a fleeting moment, the madness in Nott's eyes gave way to sheer terror. Galbatorix probed Nott's fragile mind, and in a flash, visions unfolded before him. He witnessed Durza's demise at the hands of a young boy.
But what truly widened his eyes was the sight of someone else. Piercing green eyes glared at him from a distant place, igniting an excitement within him that he hadn't felt in decades. Galbatorix withdrew from the fragile wizard's mind, leaving Nott sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath and clutching his throbbing head.
Leaning back in his throne, Galbatorix reflected on Durza's demise. While regrettable, it had outlived its usefulness. The idea of having a Shade under his own control had always been a risky endeavor. Galbatorix had never managed to fully dominate Durza; unlike other beings, Shades lacked a true name due to the discord among the captive spirits within them.
Galbatorix stroked his beard in amusement. His servants had kept him informed of Durza's intentions to use the new dragon rider to overthrow him. Despite the warnings, Galbatorix had believed in Durza's usefulness, convinced that the power he granted the Shade would keep him in check. It seemed he had been mistaken.
His attention returned to the struggling man before him.
"They have brought him back," Morzan whispered, his eyes also fixed on the recovering wizard.
"Him?" Galbatorix inquired, meeting Morzan's intense gaze.
"Yes... the Ra'zac did not come back empty handed. My... son, Murtagh, has come back," Morzan confirmed.
Galbatorix's lips curled into a sly smile. He hadn't seen Murtagh in a long while. He rose from his throne and offered a warm smile to the broken wizard at his feet. "Good... Very good," Galbatorix declared, contemplating the boy's potential usefulness.
With a thoughtful hum, the Dark King knew he needed to send a message before meeting Morzan's son. It had been far too long since they last crossed paths, and he wasn't sure how the man would react.
One thing, however, was certain for him: Harry Potter's fate was sealed.
They rode through the forest for days, and Harry could only hope that Arya knew the way. It was impossible for him to see the right direction because he couldn't even tell where north was. The branches were so densely packed that he couldn't even see the sky. Only the direction from which the light filtered through the branches gave him a clue about the position of the sun.
When they stopped for the first time to set up camp, Harry had to laugh loudly as his horse, Istalrí, immediately went after the fire, trying to extinguish it, while Eragon and Orik desperately tried to kindle it. Eventually, Harry had to stand some distance away with the elf horse and tied it to a tree in a way that the horse couldn't see the fire.
For Harry, spending time in silence was a welcome change, as it gave him time to reflect on what had happened to him since Farthen Dûr. He was glad Arya didn't pester him with questions he wouldn't have answers to, like Hermione would have. She gave him space but also reassured him that he could talk to her when he was ready.
Deep down, Harry knew that Arya felt the same way. The time she had spent in Gil'ead still weighed on her. There were moments when she showed herself as someone else, laughing and telling stories, but the coldness would return just as quickly, causing her to withdraw from everyone. The only one she let in during those moments was Artemis.
It was around noon when Harry heard Arya command her horse to stop and slow down. He didn't even need to ask what was happening. They were enveloped in a radiant beam of light slanting down from the ceiling. He was dressed in flowing robes and wore a silver circlet upon his brow. His face was old, noble, and serene.
Harry got goosebumps as they approached the elf. A power surrounded the elf, giving Harry a warm feeling, as if he was coming home.
"Harry, Eragon," Arya murmured. "Dismount and show him your palms."
Harry removed the glove from his hand and showed the elf his palm, which bore the mark of the dragon riders, Gedwёy Ignasia.
The elf approached Harry and raised his hand. Harry didn't flinch as he brushed back Harry's hair and ran his fingers over his scar. For the first time in many years, Harry felt his scar tingle, and he suppressed the urge to step away from the elf.
The elf lowered his hand and stepped aside, smiling. He closed his eyes and spread his arms in a welcoming gesture.
"Come," Arya murmured, and they slowly rode past the elf. As they rode past, Harry could only see the elf folding his hands and disappearing in a flash of light.
"Who was that?" Harry blurted out as he caught up with Arya.
Arya hesitated for a moment. She had never seen Gilderien greet anyone in the way he did with Harry. "That was Gilderien the Wise, Prince of House Miolondra, wielder of the White Flame of Vándil, and guardian of Ellesméra since the days of Du Fyrn Skulblaka, our war with the dragons. No one is allowed to enter the city unless he permits it."
They continued on and a moment of quiet enveloped the surroundings, where it appeared initially as though the path stretched on endlessly, seemingly without conclusion.
But as they went further, Harry felt wards washing over him, and the numerous bushes covered with roses and berries began to pave a way for them. Oddly grown trees turned out to be buildings growing out of the trees.
The buildings made the trees perfect in a way that made it impossible for Harry to decide where nature began and where it ended.
Seeing this perfect interplay of nature made Harry think of his world. The elves accepted the world as it was and unlike the humans from his world, who thought to change it until it aligned with their desires.
Harry first saw a flicker as he noticed the first inhabitants.
First a hand, a sandaled foot, a face.
One by one, the elves hesitantly emerged from the shadows of the trees, their slanting eyes all focused on Arya, Artemis, Harry, Eragon, and Saphira.
Many women wore their hair in a tie, and those who didn't let their hair fall in curls down their backs and some even decorated their hair with beautiful colors.
They stopped and let the horses step away as they followed a stone path.
It was as if the elves were broken from their spell, and they sprang out and danced around them.
The elves especially paid attention to Artemis and Saphira, dancing and laughing around the dragons. Harry could feel Artemis' ego rising dangerously as the elves praised her with names and poems.
"I like it here," Artemis said happily.
They stood in front of a door made up of hundreds of seedlings.
As Arya approached, the door seemed to swing open of its own accord, revealing a large hall filled with trees. The long and thick branches of the trees grew together, forming a honeycombed ceiling.
Harry's eyes dropped and met with the elves in front of him.
Twelve elf lords and ladies sat in front of either side of them.
Handsome and untouchable by time, their eyes lit up with emotion and their faces shone with excitement. Their eyes shone with wonder, and several clutched the arms of their chair with trembling hands.
Unlike the other elves Harry has seen so far, they had swords belted at their waists, hilts studded with beryl's and garnets, and circlets that adorned their brows.
And at the head of the assembly stood a white pavilion that sheltered a throne of knotted roots.
Queen Islanzadí sat upon it.
She was as beautiful as an autumn sunset, proud and imperious, with two dark eyebrows slanted like upraised wings, lips as bright and red holly berries and midnight hair bound under a diamond diadem. And clasped at the hollow of her neck was a velvet cloak that fell to the ground in languid folds. Despite her imposing countenance, the queen seemed fragile, as if she concealed a great pain.
By her left hand was a curved rod with a chased crosspiece. A brilliant white raven perched on it, shuffling impatiently from foot to foot. He cocked his head and surveyed them with intelligence, Harry had only seen once in a single bird before.
Three people were standing next to her. To her left was a beautiful woman with silvery hair and blue eyes that evoked the depths of the ocean. In front of her stood a young girl who couldn't have been more than six years old. She wore her black hair in a braid over her shoulder and was in all likelihood her daughter.
The girl had the same features as the elf beside her, except for her eyes, which reminded Harry more of gray storm clouds.
His gaze wandered to the last person and his face turned pale.
With ruffled shoulder-length black hair and a roguish grin on his face, standing next to the Queen's throne was a person Harry had believed dead.
"Sirius."
Istalrí – Burning
Blöthr – Stop
Adurna - Water