Answers to reviews:
Dragomancer: He's not dense. Do remember, he is still human at heart and soul despite his body's countering arguments. He's not just gonna accept the idea of being attracted to Saphira.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Inheritance Cycle. I only own the OC Michael Draven/Ancalagon.
"Now remember, grip with your knees, guide her with your thoughts, and stay as flat as you can on her back. Nothing will go wrong if you don't panic." Brom was telling Eragon who was getting ready to fly Saphira today. The dragoness was giddy with excitement and anticipation, though she was impatient as well which amused Ancalagon greatly. It was one thing to read the scene through words, it was another to witness it with your own eyes.
You are like a hatchling, you know that? Ancalagon remarked to the dragoness who swiveled her head to snap a glare at him.
What was that? She snapped.
Ancalagon was still amused. You. You stand there, giddy with excitement and anticipation, yet you fidget with impatience. You really are like a hatch- Gah!
Ancalagon had been cut off as Saphira pounced on him, tackling him as the two of them play wrestled.
"Are you two done?" Brom asked, a little amused at the sight of the two dragons wrestling. The dragons righted themselves and Ancalagon shook the dirt and leaves off his body, flicking some of it at Saphira with his tail.
I'll get you back. Saphira growled.
Ancalagon's lips curled into a fanged grin. I look forward to it, my dear.
Saphira turned her attention back to Eragon as he got onto the saddle and tightened the bands around his legs. Are you ready?she asked.
He sucked in the fresh morning air. No, but let's do it!She agreed enthusiastically. He braced himself as she crouched. Her powerful legs surged and the air whipped past him, snatching his breath away. With three smooth strokes of her wings, she was in the sky, climbing rapidly.
The last time Eragon had ridden Saphira, every flap of her wings had been strained. Now she flew steadily and effortlessly. He clenched his arms around her neck as she turned on edge, banking. The river shrank to a wispy gray line beneath them. Clouds floated around them.
When they leveled off high above the plains, the trees below were no more than specks. The air was thin, chilly, and perfectly clear. "This is wonderfu—" His words were lost as Saphira tilted and rolled completely around to avoid Ancalagon who sailed past her, his wings flapping once as he soared around them. "Don't do that!" Eragon cried. "I feel like I'm going to fall off."
Blame that idiot in front of us. Saphira remarked. But, you must become accustomed to it. If I'm attacked in the air, that's one of the simplest maneuvers I will do.
While Saphira and Eragon enjoyed their flight, Ancalagon flew back down to join Brom. "Not joining them?" The old man inquired as the silver-scaled dragon walked next to him.
Ancalagon shook his head. Saphira's been waiting for her Rider to pluck up the courage to ride her again after the first attempt. This is their moment, I shouldn't ruin it or be involved. Besides, there are some things that I must discuss with you.
"And that would be?" Brom inquired.
Why give him Morzan's blade? That blade has a dark reputation thanks to its precious owner. It wouldn't take some long to know the blade and who it once belonged to. Ancalagon asked. That had always been something that made him curious. Zar'roc belonged to a dragon killer, and Brom thought it best to give him the sword. He wanted to know why.
Brom sighed. "Believe me, it wasn't a very easy decision. But it's the only blade made for a Rider, aside from Galbatorix's, and he needs that advantage until he can have one properly made for himself."
I see...
"Anything else?"
Now this is the part that Ancalagon hesitated at. It was something that had weighed heavily on his mind for the past few weeks. Nonetheless, he spoke. I... had a vision.
"A vision?" Brom raised an eyebrow. "You sure it wasn't a dream?"
No, this felt real. So very real. Ancalagon said seriously, looking at the old man.
"Alright, and what did you see in this vision of yours?"
Your death.
Brom paused at that and Ancalagon did the same. Brom looked at him, not completely serious. "What?"
I saw you die at the hands of the Ra'zac, who tried to kill Eragon but you took the knife to the chest instead. I was hesitant to bring it up because... I wasn't sure if I should prevent it. Ancalagon sighed.
Brom's expression tightened with anger. "'Wasn't sure'?! Why the blazes would you try not to?!"
Ancalagon lowered his head like a young man scolded by his father for saying something out of place or causing a mistake. He laid down on his belly and locked eyes with Brom.
I wasn't sure if you'd want to. Brom, you are one of the last three Dragon Riders in all the land. You've lost so much, your fellow Riders that you called brothers, sisters, friends even. Your dragon, the love of your life... but all you have left is your son, the boy you are teaching and training to become a Rider. Brom's eyes widened at what Ancalagon said, but the silver dragon wasn't finished. Yes, I know Eragon is your son. You two are more alike than you know, it's subtle but noticeable if you're looking. Plus, his scent matches yours in the way that means you are family. I wasn't sure if you'd want to be with the woman you love and your partner, both of whom I know are waiting for you.
Brom was silent for several seconds before he sighed and got off his horse, approaching the silver male... and placed a hand on his muzzle. "Thank you for considering my thoughts and opinion on the matter instead of doing what you thought was best. Not a day goes by where I don't miss Selena or my Saphira, but I know she is not truly gone. Her 'Heart' lies within the King's clutches, and she severed our connection, to protect me. Ever since then, I have been plagued with nightmares. Every. Single. Night... wondering what that monster is doing or has done to her."
He looked up at the dragon, his eyes filled with pain but also determination. He was in pain at the thought of what Galbatorix was doing to his dragon's Eldunari but determined to get her back.
"I want her back." Brom finished in a soft, pained but firmly determined voice.
Ancalagon nodded firmly. I will help. Galbatorix will pay for what he's done. All those who died, Rider and dragon, will be avenged. When this is all over, Galbatorix is going to die.
As Midday began to arrive, Ancalagon spotted something and went over to sniff it, snorting at the smell.
Strange tracks. He remarked as Brom came over to inspect them as well.
"Very strange indeed, I've never seen anything like it." Brom said before his expression went blank as he tried to contact Eragon only to curse. "That damn boy is blocking me out!"
I'll handle it. Ancalagon said and extended his mind to brush against Saphira's. The dragoness knew it was him and let her barriers down to let him in and he told her that Brom wanted her and Eragon down here now and she told him they'll be there soon.
When the duo landed and Eragon went to talk to Brom, Ancalagon approached Saphira. How did the flight go?
The little one will now fly with me as much as possible, just as a true Dragon Rider should. Saphira said, sitting on her haunches and holding her head up high with pride. The two dragons sat there and listened to Brom and Eragon.
"I was farther down the river when Ancalagon and I noticed that the Ra'zac's tracks had ceased. We backtracked until we found where they had disappeared. Look at the ground and tell me what you see." Brom instructed Eragon.
Eragon knelt and examined the dirt and found a confusion of impressions that were difficult to decipher. Numerous Ra'zac footprints overlapped each other. Eragon guessed that the tracks were only a few days old. Superimposed over them were long, thick gouges torn into the ground. They looked familiar, but Eragon could not say why.
He stood, shaking his head. "I don't have any idea what..." Then his eyes fell on Saphira and Ancalagon and he realized what had made the gouges. Every time they took off, their back claws dug into the ground and ripped it in the same manner. "This doesn't make any sense, but the only thing I can think of is that the Ra'zac flew off on dragons. Or else they got onto giant birds and disappeared into the heavens. Tell me you have a better explanation."
Brom shrugged. "I've heard reports of the Ra'zac moving from place to place with incredible speed, but this is the first evidence I've had of it. It will be almost impossible to find them if they have flying steeds. They aren't dragons—I know that much. A dragon would never consent to bear a Ra'zac."
"What do we do? The dragons can't track them through the sky. Even if they could, we would leave you far behind."
"There's no easy solution to this riddle," said Brom. "Let's have lunch while we think on it. Perhaps inspiration will strike us while we eat." Eragon glumly went to his bags for food. They ate in silence, staring at the empty sky.
Once again Eragon thought of home and wondered what Roran was doing. A vision of the burnt farm appeared before him and he clenched his fists. What will I do if we can't find the Ra'zac?
What is my purpose then? I could return to Carvahall—he plucked a twig from the ground and snapped it between two fingers—Or just travel with Brom and continue my training. Eragon stared out at the plains, hoping to quiet his thoughts.
When Brom finished eating, he stood and threw back his hood. "I have considered every trick I know, every word of power within my grasp, and all the skills we have, but I still don't see how we can find the Ra'zac." Eragon slumped against Saphira in despair. "The dragons could show themselves at some town. That would draw the Ra'zac like flies to honey. But it would be an extremely risky thing to attempt. The Ra'zac would bring soldiers with them, and the King might be interested enough to come himself, especially if words about Ancalagon's existence gets back to him, which would spell certain death for us all."
"So what now?" asked Eragon, throwing his hands up. Do you have any ideas, Saphira?
None. Saphira answered apologetically.
"That's up to you," said Brom. "This is your crusade."
Eragon was silent, then he looked at Ancalagon. "You've been pretty silent. What do you think?"
Ancalagon looked at him for a long moment, then stretched his wings out to get rid of the building stiffness from lack of use. He gave Eragon his full attention as he laid on his stomach. Cease pursuing them and move on.
Eragon reeled back from the answer while Brom and Saphira looked on. "Quit? No! They burned down my home! They killed my uncle! They have to pay for that!"
Ancalagon leveled him with a glare. Revenge for sticks, stone and wood? Those can be replaced, houses can be rebuilt. I am sorry for the loss of your uncle, Eragon, I really am. But revenge is not the path to go down, young Rider. Take Galbatorix for example, what he did to the Riders because they denied him a second dragon after he foolishly got his own killed. There are no winners with revenge. Your uncle is dead, yes, but your cousin still draws breath, take comfort in that. And just think, if the Ra'zac do have flying mounts, why show a trail for us to follow only to then take off? They wanted you to chase them, and you've done exactly what they wanted. They would most likely keep this up until you find yourself going to Urû'baen itself and being brought before the King.
Eragon glowered at the ground, his fists tight that his knuckles were turning white. "Why didn't you say anything before?
Like Brom said, this is your crusade. And also, because of these. He gestured to the marks in the ground. I had hoped it would be just the Ra'zac we'd be dealing with, but it seems that where the Ra'zac go... the Lethrblaka are not that far behind.
Immediately, this had their attention.
"The what?" Eragon blinked.
The Lethrblaka are the full-grown adult form of the Ra'zac, so the parents of our prey. Nobody knows where they came from, but I can guess they followed the humans to Alagaësia. Ancalagon explained patiently. They of course participated in the Ra'zac war, but they were thought to be wiped out. Clearly two must have survived if we're dealing with Ra'zac in this day and age. They've often been called something akin to a twisted, cunning, evil dragon. As for what they look like, they are similar to newborn mice in terms of a hairless body. They have tight corded muscles, large, leathery wings, very strong hind legs, a thick hide, a beak 7 feet long, and eyes the size of a grown man's fist, with no pupil or iris. They also have long, ratlike tails. Their bodies have the appearance of starved, furless dogs and are roughly dragon-sized.
During his explanation, he attempted to carve an image of the creature on the ground, based off the picture he once saw on the Wiki site on the Internet back home. If he was honest, the first time he saw the creature, they looked like weird and messed up pterodactyls.
It is possible to kill them, though. Their weakness is magic. However, I advise going after them any further. Ancalagon said seriously, locking eyes with Brom as he added. It may end in one of us losing our lives.
Brom frowned in thought, no doubt recalling the earlier conversation between the two.
Eragon ground his teeth angrily and stalked away from Brom and the dragons. Just as he was about to enter the trees, his foot struck something hard. Lying on the ground was a metal flask with a leather strap just long enough to hang off someone's shoulder. A silver insignia Eragon recognized as the Ra'zac's symbol was wrought into it.
Excited, he picked up the flask and unscrewed its cap. A cloying smell filled the air—the same one he had noticed when he arrived at his farm.
Eragon! Drop that! Now! Ancalagon suddenly snarled, startling everyone.
"W-What is it?" Eragon asked as Brom walked over and took the flask, sniffing the top and grimacing at the smell before he put the lid back on and tightened it.
"This just proves Ancalagon is right. This is a trap." Brom said seriously to Eragon. "If you drank this, there would be nothing but a puddle of you left.
"What is it?" asked Eragon.
"Oil from the petals of the Seithr plant, which grows on a small island in the frigid northern seas. In its natural state, the oil is used for preserving pearls—it makes them lustrous and strong. But when specific words are spoken over the oil, along with a blood sacrifice, it gains the property to eat any flesh. That alone wouldn't make it special—there are plenty of acids that can dissolve sinew and bone—except for the fact that it leaves everything else untouched. You can dip anything into the oil and pull it out unharmed, unless it was once part of an animal or human. This has made it a weapon of choice for torture and assassination. It can be stored in wood, slathered on the point of a spear, or dripped onto sheets so that the next person to touch them will be burned. There are myriad uses for it, limited only by your ingenuity. Any injury caused by it is always slow to heal. It's rather rare and expensive, especially this converted form. Ancalagon just saved your life. You must think before you act, Eragon."
Eragon glanced at the silver-scaled male. "Thank you."
Ancalagon nodded, even as Saphira licked his cheek in gratitude for saving her Rider's life. Soon after, Eragon and Brom discussed the topic of tracking the selling of the oil, leading them to declare Teirm as their next destination. As they spoke about this, Saphira looked at Ancalagon.
Up for a race? She asked.
I am...
And that's it for this chapter.