Chapter 42 – Conversations in the Forest
When he awoke in the morning, Eragon's first thought was that Murtagh had snuck away in the middle of the night. Their temporary camp was absent of his presence, and Eragon sprung up from Saphira's side and cursed.
Little-one?
Saphira lifted her head and turned towards him, and a sapphire eye blinked.
Where's Murtagh? Eragon asked, his heart pumping fiercely as worry grew.
Twisting her neck, Saphira pointed with the tip of her nose at the forest to the north of them. He woke earlier than you. If he even slept at all.
What was Murtagh doing in the forest? Grasping Brisingr, Eragon walked wearily forward, trying to trace Murtagh's steps. Behind him he could hear Saphira stand and stretch, a gust of wind pushing against him as her wings flapped against the still air.
As he stepped through the tree line and into the forest, Eragon felt a rush of magic flow over him. The woods of Du Weldenvarden were teeming with powerful magic, though none of it felt particularly threatening to Eragon. A chill ran up his spine; he had forgotten the feeling of being in the forest, and how isolated from the outside world it made one feel.
It took him nearly five minutes to find his brother, who was standing before one of the many trees of the forest. Murtagh's palm was resting against a large oak and his was head was bowed, showing no sign of having heard Eragon's approach.
Purposefully, Eragon stepped onto a small branch, the snap echoing around them. Murtagh stiffened but did not move, his fringed hair covering his face from Eragon's view. The tension in his body did not abate after a few moments, and Eragon frowned. What was Murtagh doing? Eragon thought.
Striding forward, Eragon stopped next to his brother. He examined the tree Murtagh was leaning against, but could not discern any measurable difference in it from its neighbors.
His brother, surprisingly, broke the silence, startling Eragon out of his cursory study of the oak. "I thought that entering the forest would have a different affect on me," Murtagh muttered.
Eragon lowly asked, "What do you mean?"
"Ever since Galbatorix slew Evandar, the elves have warded the forest tightly against those under his command. I expected the very same magic to attempt to kill me as soon as I stepped through the wards."
Since Murtagh was neither injured nor dead, Eragon surmised that the wards had left him alone. Though why his brother would willingly enter the forest when he thought it would kill him left Eragon with a pit in his stomach.
"The magic in the forest is different than any other place I've visited," Eragon slowly said. "Not even the elves themselves fully understand it."
Murtagh lifted his head, and Eragon blinked at what he saw. Murtagh's face was awash in tears, and the sight of it froze Eragon. "I cannot feel him."
"Who?" Eragon asked, "Thorn?"
Murtagh shook his head. "No, not him. Our bond remains faint, even here. Galbatorix. For so long I have lived with his black magic looming over me that I forgot what it felt like to exist without him infesting my very being. I…" Swallowing heavily, Eragon resisted the urge to reach out towards him. Murtagh cleared his throat, working past whatever had made him pause. "It makes me remember what freedom feels like."
A hallow laugh left Murtagh, chilling Eragon. "Imagine, feeling free when I am a prisoner, both in body and soul."
"There are those here who can help you," Eragon firmly stated. "If anyone can help you to change your name and break free of the Mad King, then it is them."
"No one can help me," Murtagh growled. "And even if they could, why would they? The humans fear me, but they do not remember the atrocities I have committed. Only the elves know the truth of what I am, and the moment you leave they will have me killed."
Placing his hand on his brother's shoulder, Eragon ignored Murtagh's stiffening frame. "They will not harm you, not while you're under my protection. I want to help you, and Thorn. If nothing else, believe that."
Murtagh glanced at him briefly, though he did not respond. Instead his brother turned away back towards the tree line, Eragon's hand slipping off his shoulder. As he watched Murtagh walk away, Eragon slowly shook his head.
The trek back to Saphira was silent, as was the process of gathering the few supplies that had used and packing them away. Even as they clambered up into the saddle, they said nothing, and Saphira snorted heavily as she spread her wings and took off.
If ever I was unsure the two of you were brothers, Saphira commented, all it would take is one look at your faces.
Frowning, Eragon asked, what do you mean?
Your stubbornness is not just from Brom, it seems.
A small huff left his lips as Saphira crossed over the tree line.
Soon Murtagh's fate would be out of his hands, and if Eragon believed in any god he would have prayed for his brother.
Saphira climbed high into the sky, winging her way directly towards Ellesméra. Instead of stopping in the city they would fly directly for the Crags of Tel'naeír, where Glaedr and Oromis awaited them. Eragon had no doubt in his mind that they would sense their approach, having hopefully warned the elves who remained behind of Murtagh's appearance.
The midday sun was shining brightly down on them when Saphira began her decent, and Eragon felt Murtagh stiffen behind him when Glaedr's massive bulk appeared from behind the trees, the golden dragon lying down in his usual spot next to Oromis's hut. As Saphira flared her wings and touched down gently the dragon finally lifted his head, a golden eye tracking their movements.
Eragon swiftly unbuckled himself from the saddle and leapt down, running a hand across Saphira's scale as he approached Glaedr. Bowing, Eragon was about to begin the traditional elven greeting when instead Glaedr beat him to it, his mind pressing gently against Eragon's.
Glaedr finished with the third portion of the greeting before saying to him, it is good to see you with my own eyes, Skörungr. Turning towards Saphira, he extended his neck forward and sniffed at her. Your exhaustion is evident, and tells of a harrowing journey.
Through his bond with Saphira Eragon felt a great amount of energy pass into her from the golden dragon. The relief was immediate, and Eragon could see her posture straighten as Glaedr fed her his strength. Though he had replenished much of Saphira's energy with his and that which was stored in Brisingr, only a dragon had the strength to truly help one of their own.
Thank you, Glaedr-elda.
The golden dragon did not respond to her, instead swinging his head around her side. Murtagh had followed Eragon down the saddle but remained behind, though Eragon did not think it out of fear.
I can smell you, Morzansson, Glaedr stated, his tongue flicking out to taste the air. Come forward.
Murtagh did not hesitate, striding forward to stand before the golden dragon. His brother's face was clenched tightly, some strange mix of surprise and anger displayed for them to see. If he had recoiled at the mention of his father, Eragon was unable to see it.
"Galbatorix was right," Murtagh murmured.
In what way, Rider?
Murtagh's gaze roamed over the golden dragon, taking in Glaedr's appearance. Eragon saw the moment his brother's gaze caught on the stump that was the golden dragon's left leg. "He always said that there were those who survived, hidden in the elven forest. At first Galbatorix thought it was Eragon, but the discussion we had before our first fight dissuaded him of that notion. Are you the only survivor?"
I am not alone, Glaedr replied. The elder dragon swung his head towards the hut, where Oromis was patiently waiting. It did not surprise Eragon that his former teacher was silent, listening to their conversation. Oromis thought that there was much to be learned about someone from their mannerisms, a tactic that worked numerous times on Eragon himself.
Murtagh's eyes widened at the sight of the Rider, his fists clenching at his side. "Oromis."
A kind smile broke out over the elf's face, though it was tinged with sadness. "Murtagh," Oromis replied. "It pains me to see you like this, so different from the young man who stood before the council and demanded to know Eragon's whereabouts."
Surprised, Eragon glanced at his brother. Murtagh tried to find him? Was this when we decided to leave Alagaësia?
Possibly, Saphira answered. We never told anyone of our journey. Murtagh must have been worried when you did not contact him.
We were never exactly close, Eragon replied.
But the two of you always planned to meet at least every few decades, at your mother's grave. Does it surprise you that he would become worried when we did not return to Carvahall as we always had?
He had forgotten about that. Those meetings often lacked conversation, but Eragon was always glad to see his brother in person at least once in a while. Eragon drew silent, turning his attention back to the conversation before him
"You told me that you did not know were Eragon was," Murtagh stated.
"And I spoke the truth," Oromis replied, striding closer to them to stand before Murtagh, "Or as much of it as I personally knew. Eragon was sent away by Vrael himself, and his reasoning for the secrecy were his own. Though perhaps it was for the best, given our current circumstances; who is to say what would be of Alagaësia if Eragon and Saphira had never survived?" Oromis shook his head and gestured towards the hut. "Come, I imagine that there is much for us to discuss."
Without another word the elf turned and moved towards the hut, and Eragon fell in step behind him. He sensed Murtagh hesitate for a moment before following, and Eragon heard Saphira settle down next to Glaedr. Her mind withdrew from his own as she began to converse with the older dragon, though some part of her was still aware of his actions, able to experience everything he did.
As they entered the hut, Eragon took in Oromis's posture; his former teacher moved easily, no longer handicapped by Kialandí's spell, a fluidness returning to his movements that Eragon had not seen since before he left Alagaësia. Oromis poured them some tea, setting the cups down on the lone table before taking a seat himself. Murtagh grabbed the chair furthest from the old Rider, and Eragon sighed as he sat down between them.
Murtagh's face was twisted, something darker taking hold of his brother's thoughts. Oromis took a small sip of his tea, clearly waiting for Murtagh to speak.
His brother completely ignored the offered cup, his gaze locked onto Oromis. "Why did you not help us?" Murtagh muttered lowly. "I should curse you, and Glaedr, for leaving us to Galbatorix. You could have saved us, if only you had not hidden behind the elves."
Eragon made to speak, but Oromis held up a hand to stop him. "It's alright, Eragon," his former master said. "Murtagh deserves an answer, and I must be the one to give it." The elf placed his cup of tea down on the table and returned Murtagh's stare. "I was not as I am now. During Ilirea's fall, Glaedr and I were forced to escape. There we were captured by two of The Forsworn, Kialandí and Formora. They trapped us, but we were able to break free at great cost."
Oromis's gaze fell towards one of the windows of the hut, where both Saphira and Glaedr could be seen conversing. "Kialandí casted a spell, one that was passed through Galbatorix to him by Durza. It isolated me from the energy around me and in myself, leaving me able to cast only the smallest of spells. I would suffer occasional seizures as well, ones that would leave me incapacitated for hours. Glaedr was not so lucky either; I take it you've seen Glaedr's leg. That we have to thank Formora for."
Murtagh was still silent, though some of the anger had left his face. He could see his brother was uncomfortable, though his gaze did not leave the elf in front of him. Whatever Murtagh thought of Oromis's wounds, Eragon could not glean.
"We thus retreated behind the wards of Du Weldenvarden," Oromis continued. "We heard tale of your capture by Brom, and though it pains me to admit it, we advised him against trying to free you. He had just lost his Saphira, and believed Eragon to be dead. It would have been impossible for him to do so alone, as he had originally planned, and instead we encouraged him to take up the fight with Evandar and the rest of the elven army."
Eragon blinked in surprise. Brom had wanted to free Murtagh? Why had his father declined to tell him?
"You said you were crippled," Murtagh stated, a sliver of skepticism in his voice. Though they spoke in the ancient language, and thus every word was as true as Oromis believed, it was clear that Murtagh needed more.
Oromis nodded his head. "Yes. During the last Blood-Oath Celebration, a memory of dragon's power healed me of illness, restoring my body to the state it was before Kialandí's spell. We were preparing to leave the forest behind for the first time in a century when Eragon told us of his plan."
Disbelief colored Murtagh's expression, "You're the one who is supposed to help me?"
"That is what Eragon asked of us," Oromis stated. "Whether you can break Galbatorix's hold over you is something only you can do. Changing one's true name is no easy feat. Of those who have done so willingly, it can take decades before any meaningful change occurs."
"Thorn doesn't have decades," Murtagh growled. "How am I to save him, stuck here twiddling my thumbs?"
Softness appeared on Oromis's face, and Murtagh seemed to shy away from the elf. "What has happened to Thorn is beyond a tragedy, and both Glaedr and I grieve for him. To think that Galbatorix would stoop so low as to turn a dragon into such a creature is unthinkable. I feared that he had gone mad long before the Fall, but it seems his mental state is worse than I had ever anticipated."
"You never answered my question."
"Ah, yes, forgive me. In order to best help Thorn, we will work together on your True Name. I should warn you that it will require delving into your very being, exposing sides of yourself that have long since been buried. Intense introspection is the only way that I can see us succeeding, and I will, with your permission, help you along this path as best I can." Oromis paused and waited for Murtagh to say something, though when his brother remained silent, the elf continued.
"Until such a time that you are no longer under Galbatorix's control, I am afraid that you will remain here in Ellesméra. When you are not in either Glaedr or my presence, you will be escorted by a contingent of guards, per Queen Islanzadí's orders. I have had one of the tree dwellings prepared for you, but it will be heavily warded for both your safety and our own."
"So I am a prisoner once more," Murtagh scowled.
Eragon reached forward and took a sip of his tea. It was lukewarm to the touch, long since having lost its heat during the conversation. Grimacing at the taste, Eragon whispered a spell under his breath to heat the liquid. He saw no reason to interject himself into the talk before him, feeling that it was best Oromis and Murtagh conversed between themselves.
The sadness that Oromis displayed was a true testament to who the elf was. Not so many people would feel empathy towards those who were to be considered their enemy, but Oromis's kindness was something Eragon had always strived, and sometimes failed, to emulate. "You will be free to wander Ellesméra as you see fit, so long as you are with your guard. I will not have you swear any oaths to me or any other, so long as you give us no reason. I know that you wish to help Thorn, and as such I will give you access to our knowledge of spirits and Shades. Eragon and I have already extensively studied them, though we were unable to glean anything of use. But yes, to answer your original question, you are still a prisoner."
"Just a bigger cell."
Oromis slowly nodded his head. "As it were. You will remain here in the forest until such a time that you are no longer under Galbatorix's control and Eragon has given you leave."
Murtagh's eyes flicked towards Eragon, for the first time acknowledging that he was present at all. To Oromis he said, "You were the one who named Eragon Leader, then."
"As is his right," Oromis stated. "Though the council may be gone, it would not be proper for one such as I to take such a position. He was, after all, Vrael's favored Rider, even if it was never acknowledged outside the council. It seems only fitting that he would be the one to lead us against Galbatorix."
Surprise coursed through Eragon. He had known Vrael thought well of him, but for the Rider council members to know that as well? Eragon had often done as Vrael asked, believing that his reclusion from the other Riders well suited to some of the minor favors he had to perform. Did Vrael's tasks make Eragon appear to the council as Vrael's favored Rider?
Eragon shook his head. Whatever Vrael thought of him, it mattered little for the situation at hand.
It seemed that conversation had started to grate on Murtagh, for his brother simply drew quiet. Seeing this, Oromis turned to Eragon. "After your departure from the Varden, I was able to sense Thorn approaching closer to the forest. It was only yesterday that he suddenly stopped. Please, tell me what has occurred."
Nodding, Eragon began to recount their trek from the moment they parted with Glaedr's Eldunarí. He did not mention the golden heart-of-heart in front of Murtagh, though he figured his brother would before long guess its existence. As he explained the perilous flight through Du Fells Nángoröth Murtagh turned his head away, seemingly unable to listen to Thorn's inevitable crash.
Oromis asked only a few questions during Eragon's explanation, easily enough answered. When Eragon was done he took another sip of the still warm tea, letting the flavor wash over his tongue. To Oromis, Eragon asked, "How long will it take him to recover?"
The old Rider shook his head, his gaze once more turning to Glaedr outside. "It would be hard to say. Such a fall would have severely injured a dragon of Thorn's size, but as a Shade? If what we know is true, then only a blow to the heart will spell the end of such a creature. I suspect that Thorn is recuperating, and I would advice caution when you and Saphira depart the forest."
"We intend to travel to Tronjheim," Eragon explained. "Nasuada asked that we be present during the election, and it is our hope that we can ensure a favorable King is elected."
"Then you cannot stay here long," Oromis surmised. At Eragon's nod the Rider continued, "It was a risk bringing Thorn's Eldunarí here, and I fear that the Shade will only follow you right into the heart of the dwarven empire. Though you were correct in your assumption that leaving it with the Varden would be disastrous. What is your plan for Thorn's Eldunarí?"
Glancing at Murtagh, Eragon cleared his throat. "We have a solution in mind, but it will take considerable energy to maintain, especially until we are able to return to the Varden."
"I see," Oromis said. The elf whispered lifted a hand and whispered a spell, and Eragon watched as the kettle he had brewed the tea in gently before floated over to the table. Oromis grasped it once it was close enough and refilled his own cup, gesturing at Eragon once he was done. Eragon shook his head in answer, and Oromis gently placed the kettle down on the table before them. Murtagh had not touched his tea at all, instead staring out the small window of Oromis's hut.
"Glaedr will give you what energy he can spare," Oromis eventually said, "And I have no doubt that if you ask many of the elves who remain behind will eagerly donate their own energy. Though I must admit that I am rather curious to this solution of yours."
"The mind concealment spell I used to conceal Saphira and I from Galbatorix," Eragon explained, "back when we stole the egg. I have never used it before on another other than Saphira, but we believe that it should work."
Oromis pondered over his words, taking a sip of his newly poured tea. "Are you certain that it will work against a Shade? We know not how the spirits inside Thorn are able to sense the Eldunarí, nor do we know how Thorn himself will react, even so deeply buried inside his own heart."
Eragon glanced at Murtagh, who returned his stare. "That is what we hoped Murtagh might help us with."
The mention of his name snapped Murtagh out of his stare. His brother turned his attention towards Eragon and frowned. "How?"
"We want you to enter his Eldunarí when we cast the spell," Eragon answered. "If Thorn reacts negatively, you can calm him. If the enchantment works you should know instantly as well from your bond."
"Have you tried this spell yourself," Oromis asked, "without Saphira being under its influence?"
"Yes. Saphira said that it distorted the bond between us, making it feel as though I was leagues away from her. In order to have for our minds to be able to touch we had to augment the wording slightly." Eragon remembered the many trials they had undergone with the spell. It was during one of the times in which they were alone together, and Eragon was glad that their boredom often led to them experimenting with magic.
Oromis nodded his head. "Then once we have gathered enough energy we will see if this spell will work. For now, let us retire. I know that you and Saphira must be eager to leave, but it would do you some good to rest for the day. Head for your tree home, Eragon. Murtagh's guards will be awaiting you there, and will escort Murtagh to his dwelling."
Eragon nodded and stood from the table, bidding Oromis a good day. Murtagh trailed behind him without another word, and Eragon caught a glimpse of sadness on the elf's face as they left. Saphira's head turned towards them at the sound of the door opening, slowly rising to her feet as they approached. Glaedr's eyes were shut as Eragon crossed in front of him, and from behind Eragon could sense Murtagh giving the older dragon a wide berth.
Clambering up into the saddle, Eragon waited for Murtagh to join him.
How was your talk? Saphira asked. Her words were heavy with exhaustion, even with the energy Glaedr had spared.
You would know since you heard everything yourself.
Saphira let out a snort and Murtagh paused as he was reaching, his hand stilling for a moment before one of her spikes. After a moment, his brother continued his climb, settling in behind Eragon. I know you that you wish to talk about it. I cannot imagine that Murtagh is pleased to be here, though I would think it is vastly different from Urû'baen.
As he replied, Saphira spread her wings and leapt into the sky. My brother may have his…problems, but that he has been able to withstand this much in his life is more than many could claim.
Then let us hope he has not endured too much.
Oromis's words proved correct. Six elves met them as Saphira landed outside his tree home. All of them were male, and each carried a sword on their hips, though none of them wore any armor that Eragon could see. As he jumped down from the saddle one of them approached him, bowing deeply first to Saphira. The elf had long blonde hair that was held up behind his head, introducing himself as Ryul.
"It is our honor to serve," Ryul said, twisting his hand over his sternum in the elven gesture of fealty. "We are sworn to watch over the Red Rider, as commanded by the Mourning Sage and our Queen."
Eragon gave the elf a nod. "We thank you for your service. You will not give them trouble, will you?" The last part he directed towards his half-brother, who had just finished his trek down Saphira's side.
Murtagh glared at him, though he slowly shook his head. His brother brushed hard against his shoulder, muttering under his breath, "I'm not the one who gets into trouble."
Saphira snorted in amusement.
The six elves surrounded Murtagh, though none of them drew their swords or made to touch the Rider. Eragon was surprised at the respectful distance they maintained, though he could see the weariness in their gazes and posture.
Ryul bowed to Saphira and Eragon and then gestured at Murtagh, leading his brother away. Eragon watched them depart until they were out of his sight, disappearing behind one of the many trees in Ellesméra. His brother caught his glance at the last second, and pity flowed briefly through Eragon.
Saphira leapt inside the tree with a single bound, disappearing into their home. Eragon walked slowly up the stairs, his thoughts consumed by his brother as he entered his home. He walked over to Saphira and undid her saddle, carefully carrying it over to its designated area. She gave him a grateful nudge, which sent him stumbling away from her, before settling down on the dais that was her bed.
Eragon unstrapped Brisingr from his hip, placing his blade down beside his own bed. Sitting down heavily on its surface, he began to undo his boots. When that was done, he sat there for a moment, and a sense of longing grew in his heart. The past few nights he had spent out under the stars, and though he was relieved to sleep in an actual bed he could not help but miss Arya's presence next to him.
They had spent much of their time as mates sharing a small cot, and he had grown used to her company. Now his bed looked much larger to him than it actually was, and Eragon lamented at the distance between him and Arya. The sun was still up, and for a while Eragon sat wondering what Arya was doing.
Probably marching, Eragon thought. He knew the Varden was currently on its way towards Feinster, and as the only Rider she would have wanted to stay close to the army incase anything happened. Blödhgarm and the elven spellcasters where with her, and he knew her capabilities better than anyone else, but he could not help the sliver of worry that festered inside.
It stunned him to realize that since he had first joined the Varden he had almost always travelled with Arya. The only time they spent significantly apart had been his trek to Helgrind and back. He missed her something fierce, and now that he was safe behind the wards of Du Weldenvarden the ache in his heart unraveled itself from where he had buried it. The flight across Alagaësia had consumed his thoughts, especially when Thorn had made his presence known, and had required him to cast aside all else in order to help Saphira ensure their safe arrival. T
There was nothing to hold back his feelings. They flowed over him, free from the confines he had placed around them. It was more than just missing Arya. His worry over the war combined with his grief over Thorn's predicament, only to be topped off by Murtagh's recent countenance towards him.
Saphira's presence as always helped sooth his mind, though she left him alone this time. They had realized long ago that sometimes they needed to work through their feelings by themselves. It was counterintuitive, but it only made their bond stronger in the end.
Though he was still overcome with emotions Eragon stood from the bed and ran his hand through his hair. Grimacing at the dirt that came away, Eragon decided that a bath was in order.
As he settled himself down into the warmth of the water, Eragon could feel it sooth the aches of both his body and heart.
Entry 65:
For so long I wondered what I was incapable of understanding, but now I see what I was unable to before. Two days ago I sat outside in my terrace, pondering over my latest failure. An acorn fell from a tree next to my home, and the sudden noise startled me out of my musings. Ideally, I would have returned to my thoughts upon discovering the source of the disturbance, but instead I found myself wondering what caused the seedling to fall. What exactly was this phenomenon known as gravity, and why was it so prevalent in our world?
Normally I would have left such a thought to a better time, but then another question occurred to me; if everything that exists is bound by gravities influence, even those few creatures who have the ability of flight, would time itself be subjected to its grasp? How would I go about testing such an occurrence when time itself remains outside my control?
Despite the no doubt difficulties ahead, I find myself for the first time filled with hope.
In the morning, an elf maiden delivered him both food and a set of clean clothes, and Eragon was grateful for the elven hospitality. Saphira had left to hunt as the sun had risen, only returning when she knew he would be ready to depart. They knew each other so well that they were able to time themselves perfectly, and as Eragon strapped Brisingr to his waist Saphira alighted through the opening in the tree.
"Good hunt?" Eragon asked, stepping over to grab the saddle.
She opened her mouth, displaying for him bloodied teeth. It was. I want to hunt again before we depart. It may be a while yet before I will have the time once we reach Tronjheim.
Used to her, Eragon did not flinch at the blood, giving her a nod in understanding. "I think it best that we leave tomorrow. It will give you some time to rest, and allow me to speak to Oromis and Murtagh again."
Then it is settled, Saphira said. She knelt down as much as she could for him, and Eragon threw the saddle onto her back. As Eragon strapped down the leather braces Saphira continued, her words taking on a softer tone. Do you feel better this morning?
"I do." His fingers moved quickly as he worked, the practice of secure the straps second nature to him. "The bath helped clear my mind."
If only your elf could see how you pined for her, Saphira teased. Eragon huffed as he finished with the straps, climbing up easily into the saddle. She twisted her body around and leapt out of the tree with a single bound, her wings spreading to catch their fall.
I do not pine, Eragon protested.
Saphira carried them high above the trees, and they turned towards the outskirts of Ellesméra. They were headed directly for the Crags, and Saphira snorted in his mind. You most certainly do, little-one.
Her teasing remarks continued all the way until the reached Oromis's home. Glaedr was absent this early in the morning, the lack of his presence making Oromis's small hut seemingly larger than it usually was. His former teacher had already moved out one of his tables and two chairs, and as Saphira landed Oromis held out a hand in greeting.
When Eragon leapt from Saphira's back she spread her wings out again. I'll be back later, she said, giving no indication to where she was headed.
Eragon nodded, watching as Saphira leapt back into the sky and winged her way out of his sight. He felt her presence recede in their bond as the distance grew larger between them until he could barely feel her at all.
Oromis was waiting patiently in one of the chairs, Eragon joined the Elder Rider.
They sat quietly together as the sun continued to climb in the sky, and Eragon closed his eyes as he enjoyed the brief respite the time spent with Oromis bought him. Neither of them made to break the silence between them for some time, though after a few hours Oromis stood and went into his home briefly. When the elf returned, he carried with him two cups of tea, and Eragon accepted one of them with a soft thanks.
"I've asked that Murtagh join me later," Oromis stated as he settled back into his chair. "Though we may not have the time, he still needs to adjust to his new situation."
"Thank you for helping Murtagh," Eragon said, bowing his head slightly to the elf. "It means much that Glaedr and you are doing this for me."
Oromis shook his head slowly, a kind smile on his face. "Helping those who need it is one of the core principles of the Order," the elf said. "And it is the right thing to do. Though we long to leave the forest behind and face Galbatorix ourselves, we both know that we may be the only ones capable of helping Murtagh."
"Do you think it will work?"
"That will depend entirely on Murtagh. Under normal circumstances I would say that undergoing such a transformation could take years of discipline and careful introspection, but you and your brother are as they say, 'cut from the same cloth.'" At Eragon's look Oromis continued, though the elf turned his gaze away towards the horizon in front of them. "You both have ways of shaping the world through your actions. Your family has always been stubborn to fault, but I do not doubt that when either of you put your mind to it, there is nothing you cannot accomplish."
"Even if this works," Eragon considered, "we do not know if Murtagh will join us against Galbatorix. Or if the other races will even accept them."
"That is not why you seek to help him," Oromis pointed out. "I suspect that Murtagh will fight Galbatorix, even in his own way, but I would not expect your brother to remain with us afterwards. Too much has happened, and if we are successful in helping Thorn, then they both may very well wish to leave these lands."
The thought of Murtagh leaving displeased Eragon, but he could understand why his brother might end up deciding to do so. The other races had lived in fear of Murtagh for a century, and that was not something that could disappear overnight. Leaning forward, Eragon placed his elbows on the table and leaned his chin against his intertwined hands. "You once taught me that a traumatic situation could change one's True Name."
Oromis nodded. "It could."
"Then do you think…" Eragon trailed off, his words dying in his throat.
His former teacher must have known his train of thought, for the elf nodded his head again. "Possibly. What Murtagh and Thorn are currently experiencing might very well change them if it hasn't already. My only hope is to be able to guide Murtagh during this harrowing time." Oromis, whose gaze had remained the whole time on the horizon, turned and faced Eragon directly. "I believe we have spoken enough over your brother. I wish instead to know all that has happened to you since you left the forest. Glaedr has told me much, and from my own scrying of the land I've been able to discern more, but there are somethings that only you can describe for me."
Nodding, Eragon explained everything that happened since he left Ellesméra. His former teacher listened raptly, taking in everything that Eragon spoke of with a quiet intensity. Every so often when Eragon would pause Oromis asked poignant questions, though his usual brand of kindness softened them. Eventually, Eragon finished his tale, ending it when they decided to leave the Varden. As he had already told Oromis all that happened during their flight, he felt it unnecessary to repeat himself.
When he was done, the two Rider's sat quiet for some time. Oromis's gaze remained on Eragon the whole time, and Eragon fought the sensation to fidget unnecessarily. Eventually Oromis cleared his throat and said, "You have conducted yourself exceedingly well for your position, Eragon. Though I may not agree personally on your judgement of Sloan, I cannot say that you were wrong to do so. I would only advise caution in your application in the future; the elves may remember the power and responsibility we once wielded, as do some of the dwarves, but the humans of the Varden have known nothing but Galbatorix's perversion of what the Rider's stood for."
"I understand," Eragon responded. He turned his eyes towards the horizon much like Oromis had done, taking in all that the elf had said.
"I know that you do." Oromis drew silent for a moment, and Eragon had the sudden feeling that whatever the elf wanted to speak of next would be something that was uncomfortable for the both of them. "If this were any circumstance it would not be my place to ask this, but given how few Riders are in our Order, and how important our cause is, I must. Glaedr has told me his suspicions, but I would like to hear the truth. What is between you and Arya?"
Shocked at the line of questioning, Eragon's gaze snapped towards the elf. He felt heat beginning to grow on his cheeks, and he had to take a calming breath in order to answer Oromis. "We are mates," Eragon stated lowly.
"I see."
It was unclear what Oromis was thinking, though the elf's face had never lost the soft kindness that he usually displayed.
"Are you going to tell me that it is wrong? That we should have waited until after the war?"
Oromis shook his head. "It is not my place to say such a thing. I only wish to ensure that the both of you understand your duties, and what may be required of you."
A small sliver of frustration rose inside Eragon, and he fought to keep his words calm. "We've spoken on this. Arya and I know our responsibilities, and we have agreed that it would be best for our relationship to remain quiet for the time being."
Oromis raised his hand in the air in a calming gesture. "It is not my intention to offend you. I only asked this because I must, for Arya and you are far too important. So long as you both understand this, I am satisfied."
Letting out a large sigh, Eragon turned his head away from Oromis, uncomfortable with the situation. He understood why Oromis asked, and even respected his former teacher for doing so. Still, it was not pleasant being on the other side of the conversation, having to deal with others asking probing questions about his intentions and relations.
"We understand," Eragon promised after a minute had passed. He was speaking for Arya as well, but he knew that she would agree with him.
"I never doubted that either of you did." Oromis waited until Eragon turned his gaze back to him, and he was surprised to see a genuine smile on the elf's face. "I will only add this; I am heartened that the two of you have found each other, and I hope that you understand that my questions about you and Arya does not mean I disprove of the two of you together. Love is rare in war, and it would be foolish to cast it aside when it is found."
Eragon nodded his head and said, "Thank you, Oromis-elda."
"Let us speak of something else," Oromis offered. "I would very much like to hear more of this Tenga you've told me about."
Blinking, Eragon shifted in his seat, leaning back. "What would you like to know?"
"I find it worrying that such a powerful sorcerer has remained hidden even from myself. You've told me that you've had a prior encounter with this man."
"I have," Eragon said, glad that the conversation moved away from his personal life. "He was the one who taught me the spell to summon pure lightning, as well as the one I will use on Thorn's Eldunarí to hide his presence. Even the spell I used against Murtagh during the battle in the Burning Plains was his creation. His knowledge of the ancient language and the world is unprecedented; there are things that he knows that I would think mad if I have not seen some of the evidence for myself."
"His knowledge is certainly impressive," Oromis responded. "That he hides himself from the world only makes my suspicion of his intentions larger. How has your study of his journal and scroll gone?"
"I've read much of his words on time, though I am still only beginning to understand his meaning." Eragon fiddled with the cup of tea before him, which had long since cooled. "His scroll on Grey Folk magic I have yet to open. There's just not enough time for me to read both at once."
Oromis was silent for a while, and Eragon wondered what his old master was thinking.
"I advised caution in reading his works before," Oromis eventually said, "and I still agree with my previous guidance. However, I've been pondering extensively the possibility of what you've told me about Galbatorix. If he is indeed seeking the Name of Names, then our solution cannot lie in the ancient language. Galbatorix would be able to simply undo any spell you cast against him, and strip away all of your defenses. If Tenga's scroll on Grey Folk magic is authentic, then I find that may be our only recourse."
The thought of trying to read and understand both Tenga's notes on time and the Grey Folk magic made Eragon's head hurt, but he understood the necessity. "I believe so as well," Eragon agreed.
"Then you must devote any time you have to spare towards reading and practicing it," Oromis advised. "Such use of magic is dangerous, and will only spell disaster if you are not properly prepared. I taught you myself how to use basic magic without the use of the ancient language, but what will be required of you to face Galbatorix will be beyond even me."
There were few enough people, even elves, who would be willing to admit that their knowledge was lacking, and it only made Eragon admire his old master even more. "Aye," Eragon said. "I will."
Oromis gave him a smile, one that lightened the mood that had started to settle on them. "I will go gather us our lunch. Despite the severity of our talks, I have enjoyed spending this time with you."
"I as well," Eragon replied, returning the smile, and watching as Oromis stood from his chair. The elf moved with graceful movements, and Eragon was again taken aback about how completely healed Oromis was after the dragons' magic. When he had returned from the east and had first seen his former master, Eragon had been stricken with grief over the elf's condition. Oromis had assuaged him of his feelings, stating that there was nothing anyone could do for him.
Sometimes the power the dragons could wield surprised him even now.
Oromis returned with two bowls of soup in hand. Neither of them said anything as they ate, the sounds of nature around them filling the air. It was quite different from the busy sounds of the Varden, even if a part of Eragon missed the constant commotion that was daily life in an army. Two hundred odd years was a long time to be far from civilization, and Eragon had realized how much he missed being around others.
Saphira and himself had managed to find groups of people living outside of Alagaësia's borders, and even lived for time with the people of Dvarkbor -who had lived on a secluded far to the east where the land finally met the sea- but staying with others only made them more homesick.
When his mind finally managed to find its way back to the present, Eragon realized that Oromis had already finished his lunch and was waiting patiently for him. Pushing away the half-eaten soup, Eragon signaled to Oromis that he was ready for their conversation to resume.
"When will you leave for Farthen Dûr?" Oromis asked. The elf took Eragon's bowl of soup and placed it on the ground, and Eragon was surprised when a few squirrels and other critters emerged and made directly for the food.
He watched the creatures eat out his bowl, devouring the vegetables Oromis had prepared for them. "Tomorrow morning," Eragon said to Oromis. "The last we heard from Orik is that the clan-meetings have been…tense. Hopefully Saphira and I can persuade them back to the fight."
"Politics, especially for the dwarves, is no small matter. Their stubbornness can rival even that of the dragons, which has unfortunately led them to conflict. Even Vrael disliked dealing with the clans, as you well know."
Eragon did know; after the events of Belatona, Eragon had been sent by Vrael a few times to the dwarven capital to represent the Leader. It was there that Eragon met in person with Hrothgar, and had taken up learning the dwarven language. Despite his displeasure at the time, he was glad for Vrael's instance that he attended meetings with the dwarves, especially since many of the other Rider's often avoided dealing with the dwarves themselves. It had been the only times he and Saphira ever left the forest afterward, at least until they departed from Alagaësia for good.
His mind had been wandering noticeably during their conversation, and Oromis was kind enough to leave him to his thoughts until he was done.
"In the morning I will have Murtagh meet us here." Oromis explained. "Then we can see if your spell works as intended. If not, Glaedr and I have given the matter some thought and believe we may have an alternative until you return to the Varden."
"Then should we not use yours instead?" Eragon asked, curious as to what they had produced. "The concealment spell takes considerable energy to maintain."
"Unfortunately, our solution is not so elegant," Oromis stated. "Tenga's spell has proven successful to you in the past, and it seems in this instance that using a tried-and-true method may be the best approach."
"Let us dispense with these troubling conversations," Oromis continued after Eragon agreed, picking up the now empty bowl from the ground. The critters had finished their meal and wandered back into the forest, leaving no trace behind of the meal that had once been. "It has been too long since we've been able to sit and simply speak to one another without our respective duties taken precedence."
Eragon smiled. "Aye, I agree."
After his extended conversation with Oromis and Saphira returned, they ventured back to the city to meet with the few remaining elves who stayed behind after the Queen led their armies out of the forest. One of the elves from Islanzadí's council had stayed behind to run the city, and it was to him that Eragon asked his favor.
He had asked that as many elves spare him their strength as they would be willing, and Eragon was greatly surprised at the number of elves who eagerly came forward. There must have been at least fifty elves who volunteered after the call went out, though he figured many only did so because of Saphira's presence.
Despite him being unable to explain his need fully, the elves had agreed anyway. They lined up before him and Saphira, channeling their energy through him and into Brisingr's pommel.
Hours were spent this way, and by the time they were done, the energy that was stored in the gem was nearly half of what it was when he had first returned to Alagaësia.
Eragon had thanked each and every elf who lent their energy, many of them stumbling away from the city center in exhaustion. Many of the elves offered him gifts and other gems for his use, but Eragon politely declined, not wishing to take more then he needed from them.
That night in his home Eragon withdrew a small jewel from his bags, one that he had not used in decades. It was black as night opposed to Brisingr's sapphire hue, though its size and quality where an easy match for his sword. He had received them gem from a trade made with a merchant in the east, planning to use it similarly to the Belt of Beloth the Wise that Arya had received from Oromis. His plans fell through when he was unable to locate any similar jewels, though he kept the black jewel just in case.
Taking Brisingr in one hand and the jewel in the other, Eragon began the arduous task of transferring the energy from his sword into the black jewel. It would be much easier to have the jewel maintain the spell then his own sword, which would force him to keep Brisingr near Thorn's Eldunarí. This way he could be separated from Saphira and not worry about the drain it would cause from the distance.
The following day had them returning to the Crags early in the morning, the soft light of the rising sun barely able to penetrate through the thick forest of Du Weldenvarden. Saphira flared her wings and landed besides Glaedr, who gave them a quick blink of his golden eye in greeting.
Murtagh was already present, and Eragon was surprised to see that his guard was nowhere to be found. His brother stood away from them all, perched atop one of the many rock outcroppings that surrounded the Crags. He saw Murtagh glance at them as he climbed down from Saphira's back, but Oromis's arrival drew Eragon's attention away.
Oromis greeted him first, and Eragon could see pride shinning in the elf's face. That his former teachers thought so well of them that they would greet them first humbled Eragon.
He returned the greeting, and stood silent as Oromis turned to Saphira and did the same.
"Are you ready for your journey?" Oromis asked once all the necessary polities had been observed.
"As much as we could be," Eragon answered. "We met with councilmen Vundel, and he was able to help us gather the energy we needed."
"I am glad that my kin where able to be of service," Oromis nodded. "Many of the elves who remained behind do not agree with the Queen's march, but even they would not deny a Dragon Rider's request."
"I did not know so many refused to march," Eragon pointed out. "It was…surprising."
Oromis's gaze moved towards the forest beyond the Crags. "There are many who believe it best that we recluse ourselves from the other races, and not even Islanzadí would force them to a fate they did not agree with. They argue that the humans have proven themselves to be untrustworthy, and that we face a war that is unwinnable." His former teacher shook his head, as though to dispel the thought of them from his mind. "I'm afraid that it is not elven politics that should be your current concern."
"Have you any news from your scrying?"
"Nothing that we did not already know. Many of the dwarves, including Orik, are concealed behind magic, and all that I could glean from those who were not is that things are moving as slowly as they had in the beginning. Your presence may be just what they need."
Eragon nodded. "Then we should begin the concealment spell right away."
Turning back to Saphira, Eragon retrieved Thorn's Eldunarí from the saddle bag. As he returned to Oromis he saw Murtagh leapt down from his rock and stride purposefully towards them. How his brother felt was difficult for Eragon to decipher, especially after the conversation of the previous day.
Thorn's Eldunarí was still covered by one of his enchanted bags, and Eragon released the magic that bound the cloth. As Murtagh approached he withdrew the red Eldunarí, and when his hand grazed it, he was unsurprised to find that it remained the same as before. Thorn could not be felt from inside the Eldunarí, as though the dragon no longer resided inside the heart of hearts.
Murtagh stopped before him and reached out his hand, resting it gently on the surface of the Eldunarí. His face twitched in unpleasantness, but his brother did not remove his hand.
Watching carefully, Eragon softly asked, "Anything?"
His brother slowly shook his head.
Eragon shared a glance with Oromis. He could see the grief on the elf's face, reflecting his own feelings about Thorn's fate. Behind him Eragon could hear Saphira and Glaedr step over to them, their large heads towering over him as they gazed at the Eldunarí.
There was a moment in which no one spoke, their attention firmly on the slow pulse that was barely visible from the Eldunarí. It was Glaedr who broke the quiet first, his mind reaching out to touch Eragon's.
Let us begin. There is no point standing around with our tails in our mouths like hatchlings.
Oromis nodded in agreement. "When you are ready, Eragon. Glaedr and I will lend you our strength as well."
Eragon nodded and handed Murtagh Thorn's Eldunarí. His brother carefully took it, cradling his partner's heart close. Eragon reached into the bag that had once housed the Eldunarí and withdrew the black jewel he had prepared, holding it firmly in his hand.
Mirroring Murtagh's movements from earlier, Eragon softly resting his other hand on the surface of the red Eldunarí. Methodically he recited the spell he used to conceal Saphira and his minds, each word carefully articulated as it passed through his lips. The spell was slightly edited from the one Tenga had given him, worded so that it would draw from the black jewel instead of him.
Saphira and the others watched intently as Eragon kept chanting, and he had to block them out of his awareness in order to ensure that he did not misspeak a single word. When he was done, he felt a draw immediately from the black jewel and Eragon felt relieved.
Turning to Murtagh, Eragon carefully asked, "Do you feel him at all now?"
His brother's eyes were wide and full of pain, and Eragon's heart ached at the sight. "No," Murtagh whispered after a few minutes. "I could always feel… something, but now he's gone. If it weren't for his Eldunarí I would think him…"
Swallowing, Eragon was torn between being elated that the spell had worked and remorse for what he was putting his brother through. He felt his feelings echoed inside Saphira, her own mind struggling not to tumble down the dark path of what ifs.
Oromis spoke quietly to Murtagh, "What you feel is something that I believe everyone here fears to experience, and there are no words that I could utter to alleviate that pain. If you wish, you may retire for the day."
It took Murtagh a moment to respond, but when he did his brother's words were firm and filled with something that Eragon couldn't place. "No," Murtagh shook his head. His brother's eyes steeled, and Eragon realized that it was dedication that filled his brother's voice. "I need to help Thorn, and it's clear that changing my True Name is the only way. I cannot back down, not now. Not when he needs me the most."
You are stronger than you know, Murtagh, Glaedr said. Let the fierceness you feel in your heart guide you forward, and let the steel in your voice harden your resolve.
Murtagh did not respond, but Eragon could see something shifting inside his brother.
To Eragon, Oromis asked, "How long do you estimate this spell will last?"
Frowning, Eragon studied the black jewel in his hand. With his mind he could feel the energy draining from the gem, though the quantity that remained inside seemed barely affected from the few minutes they spent talking. "A week?" Eragon guessed. "The spell is hiding only one mind instead of two, so it's draw is less than I am accustomed to."
Then I will double that time, Glaedr vowed. With that Eragon felt a rush of energy flow into him from Glaedr. Quickly he had to redirect the stream into the jewel in his hand, and he watched with amazement as the energy inside quickly swelled.
Oromis's face tensed, and Eragon realized that he was channeling energy into Glaedr as well. He knew that Glaedr was powerful, but without a battle to draw his attention away Eragon experience the full brunt of his might. When the dragon ceased the flow, he saw Glaedr sway slightly, and none of them were eager to point out how exhausted the older dragon suddenly looked.
Saphira turned and bowed her head to Glaedr, who settled back down into his usual spot. Thank you for your strength, Glaedr-elda. I can only hope that one day I am as strong as you are.
Glaedr grumbled, but Eragon could tell he was pleased by Saphira's words. The golden dragon closed his eyes, and Eragon returned his attention towards the jewel he still held. Indeed, as Glaedr had said, the energy contained inside had very easily been doubled. Glancing up towards Oromis, Eragon said, "This will give us two weeks. Thank you both."
Oromis waved him off, though even the elf looked drained from the experience. "It is no matter. We both are eager to see this situation resolved, and if this is how we can lend our strength, then it is the path we will take."
Murtagh was silent through the whole experience, and Eragon regretfully reached out for the Eldunarí that was still in his grasp. His brother met his gaze when Eragon gently pulled at the red heart-of-hearts, and after a moment he gave Eragon a short nod.
Taking the Eldunarí, Eragon quickly stowed it away inside the bag. He placed the jewel inside as well, sealing the bag off with a quick spell. Staring at Murtagh for a moment, Eragon decided to tell him something he was told long ago. Solembum had once told him two things; the first about a weapon, and the second of something called the Vault of Souls. The latter could not help Murtagh, but the first seemed fit for his brother.
"When the time comes and you need a weapon," Eragon recited, "look under the roots of the Menoa tree."
Murtagh's eyes clouded over in confusion, "What?"
Eragon gave his half-brother a shrug, "Something a werecat told me. Thought it might come in use."
His brother blinked at him but said nothing.
"I will send what word I can about Thorn," Eragon promised, "and to what solutions we produce. Take care of yourself, Murtagh."
"Protect him," Murtagh bid. "He is all that I have left."
Not all, Eragon thought. He gave his brother a nod in agreement, but left his thoughts unspoken.
To Oromis Eragon bowed, "Thank you, Oromis-elda, for all that you have done for us."
Oromis nodded his head, his smile bright. "Fair winds to you both, Saphira, Eragon, and may the path you walk be filled with good fortune."
Thank you, Oromis-elda, Saphira said.
Eragon walked over towards Glaedr, and the golden dragon opened one eye as he stopped before him. "Glaedr-elda, your strength has been a blessing, and has allowed us to resist Galbatorix's clutches. We are eternally grateful."
Glaedr snorted, Saphira has taught you well. May your teeth stay sharp, and your claws bloodied by your enemies. Go, now, and fly towards the winds that await you.
Eragon nodded and turned to Saphira, climbing up her side and settling into her saddle. Once he had secured the Eldunarí in the bags at the back, Eragon raised his hand towards the others in farewell. He caught Murtagh's gaze as Saphira spread her wings and leapt into the sky. Murtagh did not return his wave, though he could see his brother offer a sharp nod as Saphira rose into the sky.
Not much to say regarding this chapter, but I am pretty satisfied with how things are progressing. I wasn't sure if I would post it or not, but well... here it is!
Thanks so much for your reviews as always, and for sharing how much the Eragon series meant for you guys (and girls) as well! I can never stop myself from returning to these books, and I think even with this story it proves how much I love them. This series isn't necessarily a re-write because I think the originals needed to be fixed, but more of a What If? situation. That's why I try to make Eragon act more mature then he does in the series, but keep with some essence of who he is as a person. Of course, their are going to be differences, especially with this Eragon's more "tragic" background, but I think I'm doing alright with it. Unless I'm not... lol.
Coming up next... Dwarven politics galore!
Ancient Language translations (Old Norse):
Italics represents the Old Norse translation; Bold represents Ancient Language.
Fyrir Neðan – Below Something. Fallen One
Du vættr Bani – The Bane of Spirits: Name of the Brotherhood
Vættr - being, creature; supernatural being, spirit
Bani - death; bane, cause of death, slayer
Skörungr – leader, notable or outstanding person, paragon. Title for Leader of the Riders; given as an honor.
Guliä waíse medh ono, Skörungr - Luck be with you, Leader.