Inheritance Cycle 1. Prologue

**Legacy – Inheritance cycle book 5 fanfic**

Author's note; this work is a fanfiction based on the novels written by Christopher Paolini. Though what will be written is my domain, the foundations upon which it is based is solely his property. This work has been submitted for public and free reading as an idle enjoyment for fans of the Inheritance cycle.

Though the Inheritance cycle rarely used a clear timeline to express the goings on of Eragon and his friends, I will. The death of Galbatorix is a clear way of starting a new age and my timeline will start from here (1 AG is one year after Galbatorix's death).

**An account of Eragon's departure from Alagaesia**

At the end of Inheritance, Eragon was seen departing the known lands of Alagaesia by boat, sailing east on the Edda river where it would eventually join with the Az Ragni. The land to the east was a mystery to all but a few, accounts of what lay beyond hidden in old and decaying scrolls from before the time of Galbatorix. It was these scrolls, written by Riders past, which gave Eragon hope. For after the vast plain, broken only by the winding of the river, there lay many things.

After a week of riding on swift currents, the small party found itself entering a mountain range smaller in size but similar in height to the Beor mountains. On the other side of the range lay the eastern coast of Alagaesia and the endless expanse of the sea. As Eragon and his companions left behind the safety of the mountains, they sailed for a dark smudge on the horizon. As they got closer, what they saw was a collection of islands grouped together.

By the third week of their journey, they had reached the strange isles, to find that the power of the sea had reduced the outlying islands to little more than jagged spires rising from the surface of the ocean. The innermost island however, showed signs of early habitation by a long gone civilization. A collection of decayed buildings the size of a large town lay not too far from its shores and where the buildings still stood there were signs of masterful building, and the possibility that the inhabitants were attacked and forced to leave.

With the template of Vroengard's natural defensive strength in mind, the group agreed as a whole that the island could serve as a safe haven for the raising of the dragons. The outer islands serving as sombre sentinels to any who'd approach, the swirling currents difficult to navigate once past the outer isles as were the rocks hidden from view just under the sea surface.

And so this strange island was transformed, and named Dyr Aurbodain as it was in the scrolls. The buildings rebuilt with skill only the elves possess and remodelled with their new occupants in mind, vast chambers fitted for dragons added to their sturdy foundations. Even after these tasks accomplished, taking the better part of two years, their work was not finished. Venturing into the wooded areas that surrounded this newly built town, the elves sought to tame the trees and encouraged them to grow in ways that still eluded Eragon, building homes of bowers and branches as well as of stone.

Over time, the town grew larger and more populated. Some elves chose to go back to Alagaesia and share the memories of their time on the island with others so more could return if they chose. Eragon, Blodhgarm and a handful of others though had thoughts only of the eldunari and those still lost to Galbatorix's malicious mind. Of all the projects concerning the building of this new haven, none was more important than the safety of the eldunari and the remaining dragon eggs. In the centre of the town, a building was thus constructed for their safety, unassuming and sturdy to the untrained eye. Into this unassuming building the legacy of the dragons went, Eragon and the elves safeguarding them with spells more numerous than those under the leafy expanse of Du Weldenvarden.

For a decade, Eragon and the elves laboured over their surroundings. Eragon, allowing the elves to do what he could not, withdrew into himself and the needs of the eldunari, not a day going by when he did not sink into the depths of conversation with the eldunari. With the aid of Glaedr, Cuaroc and Umaroth, Eragon sought to repair the disjointed minds of the eldunari held by Galbatorix. Using the Name of Names, Eragon's success was more than it should have been, though still limited as only Blodhgarm had been permitted in its knowledge and use since it had been revealed to him.

In the fifth year of this self-imposed exile, the first of the wild dragons hatched. Such joy emanated from the elves that day that had not been seen in over a hundred years even Eragon's heart soared with Saphira's. A male dragon of woodland brown, named Fundor by Eragon, it grew quickly as did all wild dragons before disappearing and reappearing as is a wild dragons wont. By the twentieth year, Fundor was joined by another dozen wild dragons five of whom were female.

21 years after Galbatorix's death, the island saw an increase in numbers as several ships docked at its shores. Contingents of men, dwarves, Urgals and elves had arrived from Alagaesia along with the first Urgal and Dwarven Dragon Riders in history. From the stories that had been shared in the evening that night, the eggs had hatched at a similar time to that of the first female dragon on the island. Such celebrations amongst the Urgals and Dwarves were seen that rocked Alagaesia to its core that Lady Nasuada, King Orrin and even Murtaugh had been summoned to attend the newfound joy and pride of the two races.

The new Riders had journeyed long and far in their travels, seeking always to further the union that had started with Eragon. During their extended stay in Ellesmera as guests of Queen Arya, their education was supplemented by the wisest of all the races as were the hidden talents of their magic. As not all Riders could command magic as quickly as others, it had taken a matter of months for the two new Riders to realize their magical potential and even longer to fully understand it. Arya herself had made sure the spirit that was Oromis' and Glaedrs teaching had not been lost on the two new pairings.

While the two new Riders remained with a few members of each race, Eragon saw to it that those who would return to their native lands would not do so empty-handed. After extracting promises in the ancient language to all present, Eragon, with the blessing of the eldunari, and the elves presented them with four eggs of the Riders. Each egg was to be guarded by one member of each race, four in total with at least one skilled in magic and all sworn to protect it. These eggs and their guardians would stay for extended periods in the territories of all four races until they hatched, and then the guardians would ensure the safety of both dragon and Rider through to their training.

And so the ships left with their treasure, precious beyond measure. Their guardians ensuring that the feared Nidhwal of the deep waters could not detect their passage, covering their passage and the disturbance of the sea with magic.

It was in this way that the years passed slowly for Eragon. The sudden arrival of the new Riders serving as a reminder that his vision was too narrow, he sought to learn all he could of the land he had left behind. Scrying the land, helping the eldunari and furthering his knowledge occupied most of his time. His constant companions Saphira and the elf Blodhgarm giving him the kind of tranquillity he remembered fleetingly from his time of Ellesmera.

Between 40 and 47 AG, many changes swept Alagaesia. Lady Nasuada finally succumbed to old age, as did King Orrin and the witch-child Elva; Nasuada and Orrin having left children and heirs to rule in their stead. Elva though, having the mark of a Rider, forsook her greatly expanded lifespan by choice and used her unique magic and herbs supplied by Angela to bring about a mortal death without the pain of her curse. It was her death, more than any other that wounded Eragon deeply.

In the year 48 AG, Roran and Katrina arrived by ship on the shores of Dyr Aubodain. Having lived their lives to the fullest, they sought only to look once more upon the face of their kinsman before they died. For a week they stayed with Eragon and shared memories long since gone, speaking of their children and grandchildren, how they had left all they had to family so to journey once more to distant places never to return. It transpired that they had stayed awhile in both Farthen Dur; the crown jewel of the dwarven realm once more, and Tialdari Hall in Ellesmera.

That week passed far too quickly for Eragon as it seemed but a moment before he laid them to rest in a place of honour in the Halls of Eternal Peace, a place where white marble gave of a gentle light of its own which illuminated statues and monuments to the victorious dead. His cousin's passing was a bitter pill to swallow for Eragon as it played upon his own fears towards immortality, though it was Saphira and Glaedr who were always there when he spiralled into depression.

In this manner the years began to pass by more quickly for the inhabitants of Alagaesia. Though the glory of the Dragon Riders was restored, their numbers grew slowly, around a dozen every few decades. Dragons both wild and bonded began to once again entrust eggs to Eragon and the eldunari for safekeeping, always a fraction of them spelled for future Riders.

Though Eragon kept them on the island as long as their training lasted; a process lasting several years instead of the rushed education he himself recieved, the younger Riders began to stay on the island less frequently, preferring the hazy peace of Du Weldenvarden and the hubbub of the large cities to the isolated, fortress-like island. Fearful of repeating the past, Eragon and his companions ever kept a watchful eye on their charges and the goings on of the powerful, for several of them began to feel yet again a storm approaching on the horizon in their minds.

Unease began to gnaw at Eragon, his dreams and visions growing ever darker and warning of dark times ahead. Holding council with others, he learnt that he was not the only one with troubled minds and that even the eldunari became withdrawn, as if seeking answers from within. The only ones not affected were the young and those who didn't stay long on the island, as if their very surroundings poisoned their dreams. These visions were unclear apart from one, a scene of battle where lay many bodies including dragons and their Riders in front of which stood a man, like a guard before a door. What troubled Eragon and all others who shared this vision was the man seemed familiar to them, as if he were a long lost link of their past.

As much as they tried to seek answers to this vision, fearful of the time of its passing, Eragon began to consider the source of the darkness and its intent. One such day spent contemplating such matters was interrupted by a sharp ringing in his mind and a mysterious voice crying _we're nearly there Mirien, we can make it_, the origin of which was an heirloom long since forgotten and once upon a time bestowed on his cousin Roran and his beloved Katrina. In that moment, the vision of bloodshed fell upon Eragon once more, as if the two things were connected. Without a thought, Eragon said to Saphira, ever-present in his mind, _we must leave immediately._


	2. Chapter 1 - The Days Darken

**Chapter 1 – The Days Darken**

There was nobody about in the darkened hallways of the majestic castle apart from a young boy of fifteen trying desperately to remain quiet and inconspicuous within the dark shadows on his journey to the front door. This castle was dwarven-crafted from the earth with a skill rarely seen this close to the Spine. A relatively small castle compared to those closer to the great city of Ilirea many leagues distant, it marked the edges of the Palancar valley and stood sentinel at the base of Utgard mountain maintaining views of both the Valley and the surrounding area.

The young boy, Geran by name, paused to open the doors, silently grateful of the way the thick doors swung open and closed without a sound before he ventured outside into the pre-dawn chill. Before moving much more than ten yards Geran looked up sharply to take in the partial sight of Ristvak'baen, or all that was left of it, in all its ruined glory. The ruins glowed in the light of the rising sun, not yet capable of shining on Geran from his place far below it. Having seen the magnificence of such buildings in his travels, he could almost envisage the building as it originally was before the fall, before the legacy of Eragon Shadeslayer.

Eragon Shadeslayer; Geran had been told by his parents when he was but an infant that he was a distant relative, a cousin of Roran Stronghammer of whom he was directly related on his father's side. When he was a child, his parents told him and his younger sister tales of the dragon Rider's and how Galbatorix had all but destroyed what had taken thousands of years to build. When he heard of how Eragon Shadeslayer refused both lands and titles after killing Galbatorix, choosing instead exile with strange companions and mysterious tales in his wake, Geran couldn't understand why. When he asked of it, his father could only say that there were things more important to a Rider than those offered.

Now though, all those years later, he began to understand some of those reasons. Only last year he had been present in the city of Gil'ead when a group of strangers occupied the city centre with a dragon's egg in their midst. People had passed by it with a brief touch of its surface, young people in particular were given longer in its presence, though by the end of the day nothing had happened and the strangers seemed to melt into the receding crowd. When Geran had asked someone nearby what was going on, a wizened old man had told him that the strangers were seeking a new Rider and that they were there to protect it at all costs. The old man went on to say that several years ago, some fool he knew had thought to steal such an egg from under the guardians' eyes only to be stopped before the attempt was even made.

Those strangers held some power that scared people, power they used to protect the egg together. Geran couldn't help noticing the Urgal side by side with an elf, human and dwarf. Even though the four races were ostensibly at peace with one another and had been for some time, there was something about the Urgal in general that made men's skin crawl. There was also some mutterings among people who had chanced a glimpse of a dragon and it's Rider, Geran's mind drifted to his father's stories at that point as he imagined himself in the place of Eragon Shadeslayer, fighting imaginary foes and vanquishing evil.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Geran glanced down at his right hand and at the ring that gleamed on his index finger as the sun finally rose in earnest, bathing his face in its warm glow. He had been given the ring on his thirteenth birthday by his mother, against the wishes of his father who thought him too young for such an important gift. Confused by his father's admonition, he asked why the ring was so important only to be told that the ring was a gift from Eragon himself to his cousin Roran nearly two hundred years ago. Excited at having such a princely gift at such a tender age, his father then shared what he too had been told by his father; that the ring was forged with magic.

His father said the ring had been examined by a skilled spellcaster in his youth, only to be told that it was beyond his ability to fathom. Father had also said that the ring would warn you if you were in danger and alert those who would aid you, though whether this was truth or just a myth was beyond him.

Geran smiled wistfully at the thought that the ring would be of use other than a pretty ornament on his finger. His mother still wore its twin on her ring finger with her wedding band of gold and pink diamond, which will go to his younger sister when she herself reached her thirteenth birthday.

A shrill bird-whistle caused him to turn in surprise, only to see his younger sister smiling at him from behind a tree. His sister, named Mirien, laughed at his surprise then as she bounded over to him and hugged him. Both brother and sister shared the intense grey eyes, but where he was tall and well-built with dark hair, she remained slight and small for her age, her face framed by a sheet of copper-coloured hair and in a way that enhanced her natural beauty. There was no surprise in her presence here, for she had been waiting for him outside. When Geran was younger and first heard the tales of Riders and Eragon Shadeslayer, he dreamed of adventure and started braving the edge of the spine as Eragon himself did where he eventually became proficient in hunting its recesses for game. In Carvahall however, all game had been eliminated as the people rebuilt the town from the ground, a stark reminder of what victory against Galbatorix had cost.

Instead, when they were deemed old enough, Geran came to stay at the castle at the edge of the valley, where trading was big business from here to Yazuac and Daret. It was here that he became proficient in the use of a bow with help from trappers and others. Mirien had to wait to become older to join him away from home at night in the castle. Though the castle belonged to their family, Mother and Father still preferred the small, modest household in Carvahall with the exception of the two young siblings.

As winter approached however, game had retreated further into the protection of the woods and their territories. Snow had not as yet arrived but as Geran lifted his head to the sky and saw clouds in the distance being blown in their direction, there was a crispness that made him think today might be different. _A few hours and we will be back_ he thought as he pushed for the tree line.

"Do you think we will catch anything today?" Mirien asked hopefully.

"We'll see won't we? There were a few tracks around yesterday that I don't recognise though, maybe we follow them?" Geran said in reply.

"Ooh what did they look like?"

"They were weird. Whatever made them might even walk on two feet."

"Hah, you followed a trapper then, you know how they come and go to check their hauls every now and again and reset their empty traps." Mirien said grinning.

"No they're not, I'm sure of that. These prints belonged to something else, they don't resemble boot prints but if anything, large lizard feet or even birds feet," Geran said, slightly insulted.

"Where are they then? Are they close by?"

In answer, Geran stopped and pointed. Barely a few feet ahead of them, the prints were as clear as day. And even Mirien had to agree, they were not tracks easily identifiable to either of them, though what gave them pause what whatever creature had made them had left two tracks, one set running straight for the castle and one returning, right into the heart of the Spine. A morning breeze blew through the trees and whipped around their warm cloaks, causing them to cringe in the biting touch as if in warning.

Without a word, they cautiously followed the twin trails, stopping only at a hollow tree in which they stow their bows and arrows and taking the time to string them. Geran's was made by his father for his birthday a year ago, but when Mirien insisted on accompanying him into the range, Geran had asked a trapper to show him how to make one and presented his first earnest effort to his sister.

As the sun was nearing its highest point, Geran felt a tug on his arm from Mirien though he didn't need one to slow to a stop, the ring on his finger seared blisteringly hot all of a sudden; he almost tried yanking it off even as the heat faded. This was the furthest they had ever dared track game into the Spine and the very air itself seemed to be pulled from their lungs. The tracks they had been following now appeared fresh, as if their makers weren't far ahead and even though the sun still filtered through the vast wooded canopy, a dark chill settled on them. With unspoken consent, they both pulled out an arrow and nocked their bows, warily looking around.

In the silence that followed, their necks itched as the hairs on their bodies stood on end. Unseen eyes could be felt trained on them, even though Geran could see nothing. A long screech was all it took for the on-edge siblings to turn and run with all their speed back in the direction they came. Before they had made it a hundred yards, they knew without a doubt they were being pursued and they ran even faster. Geran kept pace with his young sister, though his legs were urging him ever on and to leave her behind. Not daring a look over his shoulder, he fled with his sister over the uneven ground and turned into an open clearing hoping to make up more ground across the dewy grass.

A loud screech of frustration caused him to finally glance back in fear as his sister copied him. What he saw awakened fear like he'd never known; a pair of black faces stared at him from the last line of trees, bulbous eyes and a beak was all he could make out from that distance. That was enough though to have him frantic with panic though, stories of an ancient menace told around the safety of a fire at home came alive in his mind. _They've been dead years_ he thought;_ surely they're not what we just saw_.

As they regained the woods on the far side of the clearing, they heard the screeches again. This time distinct and from two different directions, as if the sources had split up in order to coordinate an attack on two sides. Fear pushed the siblings ever on, the safety of the castle their only chance of escape. What distance had taken hours of tracking to cross, now seemed to melt away as they finally caught sight of the castles banner in the gaps of the canopy.

As elation filled them and their safety was within sight, Mirien suddenly disappeared from Geran's side with a yelp. He turned around to see her on the floor, writhing in agony and clutching her ankle which stuck out at an unnatural angle. Without pausing to think, Geran dropped his bow and quiver and was instantly at her side, lifting her unceremoniously onto his shoulder and saying with panting breaths, "we're nearly there Mirien, we can make it."

Mirien's only answer was to sob into his back from over his shoulder, no doubt from the pain emanating from her ankle which was broken for sure. Geran could not slow down though for anything, the shrieks of their mysterious pursuers getting closer and closer. Within minutes he saw the break in the tree-line and made for it as fast as he could, his sister's weight threatening to turn his limbs to lead.

Into the sunshine he ran, leaving the woods and the Spine behind him. The castle showing signs of life finally as people milled around the great doors and went about their business. Geran could only watch as people began looking their way, shock on their faces at the bizarre sight giving way to terror as Geran heard a shrill cry from Mirien behind him as pain flared up in his right knee dropping him and his sister like a stone. As he struggled to his feet once more, he noticed the shaft of an arrow protruding from his knee as it failed miserably in supporting his weight. Blinding pain made him see stars as his head ended up facing the woods once more, his nightmares coming to life as he finally saw what was coming for him.

"Geran!" came the cry from behind him as he turned to see his sister staring with glazed eyes, not at their pursuers but at the sky to the east. His vision fading to darkness from pain, he could only raise his head to see something gleaming in the light of the sun, something blue. The last thought running through his head was, _Father was right about the ring_.


	3. Chapter 2 - Old ties

**Chapter 2 – Old ties**

When Eragon had heard the cry in his mind, he knew something was different. Over the years his mind had twitched in the way that signified something had happened to the bearer of his cousin's ring, but never in a way that signalled immediate peril. Within seconds he had scrambled to his living quarters in the bower that was his home and assembled provisions and anything he might need. His armour, bow and arrows, and sword, Brisingr, all retrieved from a corner of the room and Saphira's saddle buckled to her now-enormous frame.

Reaching out to Glaedr and Umaroth in their eldunari, he quickly threw everything he knew and felt at them, including his vision and fear that what they feared of the future was dawning. Blodhgarm too was summoned and informed of what had transpired, his face showing a grave expression as he nodded at what was said.

Within minutes, Eragon was found in the centre of the town in front of the low building that stored the eldunari, on top of a saddled Saphira and looking down upon Blodhgarm and the remaining seven of what once was his twelve elven companions.

"I will take with me Glaedr and Umaroth, the others must remain in your care Blodhgarm-elda," Eragon said to Blodhgarm as the latter looked on with concern.

"We all know what's at stake Shadeslayer, we can only hope the dark times are not yet upon us once more, I will ensure their safety with the aid of Cuaroc and Valdr." Blodhgarm replied, the automaton with the dragon head looking on indifferently from his defensive position at the buildings entrance.

Eragon nodded at Blodhgarm solemnly as everyone else looked on reverently. It had been nearly two hundred years since last Eragon Shadeslayer set foot in Alagaesia and wore the attire of warfare. Stepping back from Saphira, Blodhgarm then summoned the collective energies of those eldunari who would remain and started chanting in the ancient language the spell that would transport Eragon to the vicinity of the ring-bearer. Eragon could feel the spell latching onto the ring all those leagues away through his very being. It was a spell that could traverse the leagues with little difficulty and was similar to one Ebrithil Oromis had used to help him when his mind was attacked by the remnants of Durza's consciousness. The same spell that would intertwine all the eldunari and make available their energy, if needed, to Eragon and his companions the moment he left Dyr Aurbodain.

As the spell began to take effect, Eragon put the image of the rings in the forefront of his mind as everything took a hazy edge to it before disappearing in a bright flash of light. What he felt then was like nothing he had ever experienced before; he felt like he was being compressed in all directions, uncomfortable but not painfully so as if he was squeezed through a space too small to fit.

When the feeling had subsided, Eragon found himself in the bright skies of a new morning which was no longer as strange as it used to be, the sun having already risen where he had just been far to the east. Plummeting to the ground as Saphira unfurled her massive wings, Eragon took to examining the ground below, breathing in once more the air over Alagaesia. His ecstasy and quenched longing of the moment was broken by Saphira as she pulled at his mind, pulling him into hers.

What he saw through tinted eyes of superior vision, even to an elf-human hybrid such as himself, was a young boy and girl fleeing some unknown danger at the wooded edge of what could only be the Spine. As they broke from the trees, the boy fell even as he carried the girl back towards a majestic castle Eragon did not recognise. Without hesitation Saphira dived to their aid as Eragon used his mind to latch onto the ring on the finger of the boy, who even now struggled to regain his feet.

What they saw next though chilled them to their hearts involuntarily for they recognised the pursuers immediately. Breaking from the tree-line and braving the sun to capture their prey, the two Ra'zac closed the distance between them with astonishing speed; it was all he could do for Eragon to snarl "Brisingr" at the sight of their hated enemy.

At his command, fire erupted from the ground between predator and prey causing the Ra'zac to stop and giving Saphira the time to land in the fire's wake. With his back to the wounded duo, Eragon unsheathed Brisingr and advanced on the foul creatures of darkness even as they lifted swords of their own and threw aside their cloaks to reveal what lay underneath. Without the need to communicate or even see her, he knew Saphira had coiled her body in a defensive stance around the children and watched on as fire danced in her nostrils and between her massive jaws.

Unperturbed by their appearance, Eragon used his elven speed to close what little distance there was and engaged them with fierce strokes of his sword. The fight lasted all of thirty seconds against his foes, minor wards guarding their bodies insufficient to stop a Rider's blade for long. Before he could dispatch the second one though, a jet of flame flew past him and engulfed the doomed creature head to foot in searing flame as it turned to flee back into the woods.

Eragon couldn't help flashing back to the avenging of his uncle in the deep recesses of his mind as he watched Saphira rise from her position and approach the reeking bodies to consume them in blue-white fire emanating from her maw. All that was left of the foul creatures moments later was a smoking pile of ash in the middle of sparse patches of grass and mud.

"Ra'zac!" he spat viciously as he turned to the still forms of the two behind him. Without a second thought he went over to the boy and girl, finding them alive though unconscious where they'd fallen. Repairing the injuries to both, he noticed the small crowd gather at the entrance to the strangely low-built castle. A few people had braved a closer look and now stood not far off from where he was, eyes cast downwards at the would-be victims of the Ra'zac with the occasional stealthy glance at Eragon or Saphira.

Without further ado, Eragon picked up the larger of the two, the boy and, picking a large muscular man nearby said, "you! Bring her in" motioning at the young girl at his feet. With a sense of urgency, the man stumbled forward to obey and, picking up the girl gingerly in his arms led the way back into the castle, the crowd parting as the sea before a ship as Saphira made to follow to the door.

The large man knew where to go as Eragon followed on his heels. The route through the castle took them past many doors and corridors, even as their inhabitants were rising as news of the attack on the youngsters spread. At the end of the short walk, Eragon found himself in a long, low room full of beds; a hospital for the sick and elderly. Choosing two beds separate from the few inhabitants who lay within, the strange man and Eragon both lay the children next to each other in neighbouring beds, even as they slept on.

As a nurse came over to check their condition, Eragon stepped in front of her and said, "all these two require is sleep for now. If they should wake, send for me immediately and give them plenty of water. I wish to have words with them as soon as they have recovered sufficiently, but until they do I will remain outside with my dragon awaiting your word."

It was all the nurse could do to nod at him before she busied herself by covering her new patients with blankets and mopping their faces with a cool cloth. Seeing the care they received, Eragon was satisfied his requests would be seen to without further questions and made to leave them be. It had been a long time since he had spoken anything of length in the common language and his tongue no longer wanted to form the now archaic-seeming words, the clarity and force of the ancient language now absent in the air.

Re-emerging from the castle to see Saphira stand sentinel to the new morning, a wave of nostalgia swept over Eragon as he recalled the days when Saphira was a hatchling and she eagerly awaited the beginning of a new day. Rather than immediately removing her saddle, he moved to her side and stroked her flank as she nuzzled towards his touch, the years may have passed quickly but so had their bond deepened. Making sure no magician was near them, they expanded their minds to include Umaroth and Glaedr and allow them to also witness something different.

On Dyr Aurbodain, it was not uncommon for Eragon and Saphira to include especially Glaedr in their mental union. Whenever Saphira hunted, Glaedr's eldunari was fastened securely to her empty saddle so he too could re-experience the thrill of the hunt through his talented student, as his mind mingled with hers. As Eragon and Saphira learnt all they could from the other eldunari, Glaedr helped them understand what was sometimes only conveyed through images, sounds and smells. In return, the rich and new experiences passed on to Glaedr were shared with the eldunari as Eragon and Saphira rested, for even though some of the maddened eldunari still slumbered in a deep sleep, the subtle shifts in their emotions indicated the special brand of therapy may have been of some help no matter how little.

The hours passed as they waited patiently for word of the children's awakening. Content to remain in a state between consciousness and meditation, the only break in Eragon's vigil at the courtyard of the castle was to run through the Rimgar, the set of exercises designed to improve elven flexibility. Though he was now capable of performing all the levels, Eragon still wished he had that final smoothness which his master had demonstrated all those years ago. Still, it was refreshing for relaxing his body and mind and allowing him to focus on the moment, as it was to wash his body of grime using a bucket of water supplied by the early morning inhabitants.

Just as the sun reached its peak and started its descent once more, the nurse he had talked to before emerged from the castle and seeing them walked over to them hesitantly. Replacing his armour with a forest green lamarae shirt and wearing his warm cloak again he buckled on his sword and waved her forward.

"My Lord, the two children have just awoken and are asking for you," the nurse said respectfully.

"How do they fare? Do they appear recovered to you?" Eragon asked, ignoring the title of Lord for now.

"Nothing that can't be fixed with some more water in them; which we pull from the well. That is why I came in person," she replied, waving her hand in the direction of the stone-walled well.

Nodding at her reply and her eagerness to see her charges health improved, Eragon gave her a hand in lifting the water from the well by using his considerable strength and then insisted on being the one to carry the heavy load inside.

In the infirmary, Eragon saw the two youngsters sitting upright in their beds, wary of their surroundings as they zeroed in on him the moment he entered the room. Rather than address them straight away, Eragon set the bucket down with a sloshing sound as he filled two clay cups with water and wordlessly passed them over.

The two quickly drained their cups, though they did not deign ask for another as they resumed their gaze upon Eragon. Taking their cups, the nurse refilled them anyway and passed them back as Eragon seated himself on a wooden chair at the foot of their beds as they drank the cups slowly this time.

"How are you feeling?" Eragon asked, breaking the silence at last.

"Tired, and hungry I guess." The boy said after a moment's hesitation as the girl gasped, as if her companion said something out of place.

Eragon chuckled slightly, alleviating the fear on the girls face slightly, "Most are after magic is used to heal them. You did well just to be able to flee after those things following you, I was afraid I might be too late." He said as shock registered on their faces.

"You healed us and killed the two….things pursuing us? What were they? Who are you? Why are you here?" The girl rambled, one question riding on the back of the last.

"Questions can wait for later, now though," Eragon said as he turned to the door. A few seconds of bewildered silence was followed by loud footsteps from down the hall, someone running towards them and another. The footsteps ended just beyond the door as it was thrown open, its hinges shrieking in protest as a man and a woman entered the room. Dishevelled and wearing clothes ill-suited to the approaching cold of winter, the woman took in the sight of the children and wailed before running to the girl and enfolding her in an embrace. The man could only look on with relief before approaching the boy and wrapping an arm around him in a reserved manner.

Eragon sat quietly at the end of the bed, comfortable with giving the family the time to recover from the shock of the children's plight earlier. When the children were relieved of the attentions of who could only have been their parents, their gazes were still fixed on him as they finally brought their parents to regard the strange Rider who had saved their lives.

As the women finally realised they were not alone next to the beds, she let out a small cry as she tried to futilely cover what little she wore as clothing. Eragon passed over his travelling cloak which she gratefully accepted and donned quickly. The man wore a tunic and breeches; though they too had been put on hurriedly and was not sufficient for the approach of the cold winter. For now though, the hall was more than warm enough to beat off the chill, twin fires were lit at either end and burned bright.

"What do you say to getting some food into the children before we talk?" Eragon asked the parents.

They exchanged glances with each other and the children before the man replied, "Thank you, kind sir. The banquet hall is not far from here."

"Are you two up for a short walk to breakfast," Eragon asked the children kindly. The tension still present in the parents shoulders easing with the manner of the question.

"I…think so," they both said, though they cast their eyes at their own bodies, unsure their injuries were truly healed.

"Shall we?" Eragon asked, as he rose and the others did the same. The kids swung their bodies over the sides of their beds and winced as they tentatively put weight on their feet only to find no pain. Eragon smiled slightly as he noted their surprise, though he hid it as they glanced at him. Though they could manage to walk on their own, Eragon noted both parents were on hand to catch any slips or falls by the siblings.

Before leaving the hospital, the woman looked up at Eragon before asking, "Forgive me for asking, but you saved our children and we don't even know you name?"

Eragon's expression turned serious as he looked her in the eyes and said, "My name is Eragon Bromsson," before turning and following the nurse who would lead them to the banquet hall.

Astonishment and worry flickered though the parents' minds; even though Eragon filtered what he felt from the people around him, the spike penetrated the thrum of everyone else. The small family looked at each other in startled silence before following him to breakfast.


	4. Chapter 3 - Family Revealed

**3 – Family revealed**

The banquet hall was somewhat subdued in light of the revelation of his identity as Eragon dined with the family. Though their plates were loaded with meat of various types, Eragon had a plate dominated mostly by fruit and vegetables, though he was still comfortable with a few sausages and slices of bacon.

The silence was laid on thick as the plates were cleaned and then removed by the kitchen staff leaving an empty table and its inhabitants.

Eying the family sat opposite, Eragon broke the silence by saying, "So, you have my name. What about giving me yours?"

All four faces suddenly looked terrified as if they were a deer caught in the open by a dragon. As he suddenly guessed their fears Eragon abruptly burst out laughing for the first time in ages, causing the entire family to look like they were ready to bolt out of the room at the first provocation.

As he recovered Eragon smiled at them as he said, "magic-users don't require normal, everyday names to use it against someone, and I certainly wouldn't dream of using it against any of you. In any case I know one of your names already as you would be Mirien wouldn't you?" He finished the sentence with a pointed nod cast at the young girl next to her mother.

The mother responded with a hand on her daughters shoulder as though something terrible was going to happen to her. No names were going to be forthcoming just yet, so Eragon was forced to change tactic.

"Okay how about answering this question? Which two of you bears my cousins' Roran and Katrina's rings?"

That worked. The woman's eyes widened as she brought her hand up to her face and stared at the ring next to her wedding band as the young boy stared at him open-mouthed. Eragon responded by saying to the young boy, "I wondered how I heard your voice and where to find you. What about your name?"

Before he could be stopped, the boy blurted out "my names Geran. What do you mean you found me by my ring? Is there really an enchantment on it?"

Eragon replied before Geran could ask another question, "When my cousin Roran wed Katrina, we were at war with Galbatorix and so I tried to watch over and protect both of them in whatever way I could; so I spelled both their rings. How do you think your mother and I knew you were in trouble so quickly and came straight to you?"

This time it was the mother who spoke, "how did I know where to go? One second, I was rising from my bed and the next I heard Geran's voice and just knew he was in trouble. The ring made my hand tingle, how?"

"The wearer of one ring will be alerted whenever the other wearer is in danger; I also made it so the wearer's would also be able to find one another no matter where they are." Eragon explained.

The mother and father looked at each other slightly abashedly before the father said, "we never thought the rings were responsible for helping us find each other, we just thought it was a natural bond."

Eragon looked at them and shrugged before saying, "I never foresaw anyone other than Roran and Katrina wearing the rings, though the subtlety of the bond is such that no one would think otherwise without knowing the rings are the reason for it. The effects of magic have often had unforeseen characteristics, I'm surprised the rings would have worked for anyone other than Roran and Katrina as well."

"Why have you come yourself though and where have you been all these years? I thought you disappeared into the east after the Great War?" Geran asked eagerly.

"Hahhh, you remind me of myself when I was your age. You have as many questions as a tree has leaves my father told me once." Eragon replied wistfully, smiling at the memories the comparison invoked even as the young boy returned the smile at the comment.

"As to your questions," Eragon supplied, suddenly turning serious, "as if your relationship to my cousin wasn't enough or the oath I made to protect him and his wherever I could, there are other reasons. Of late, my dreams have been darker than usual and my companions have all shared a growing dread of something coming; something worse perhaps, than Galbatorix lurks beyond our sight and ability to fathom. For a time, I was content to oversee the return of the Riders' legacy even as my nights were plagued with these horrific visions, but no more. My family in peril, the Ra'zac reappearing after all these years and braving the sun in pursuit of prey; it would be folly to disregard these portents any longer."

He paused then as he looked at the fearful expressions of the family opposite him. In an attempt to alleviate the seriousness of his explanation, he regarded them with a small smile and said, "Do not fear the future so, to do so would be to undo all you've built in the past. I once feared the words of the witch who told me I would leave Alagaesia forever and though the wounds of departing those I loved were deep, they healed in time."

Silence met those words as they worked on the four people, though Eragon could not help but see that they instinctively reached for each other for comfort and reassurance. It was easier for him on Dyr Aurbodain to suppress such feelings as his heart would forever remain in Ellesmera with Arya. However, the bonds he had forged with those that went with him ran as deep as family after so many years together as they dedicated themselves first and foremost to the duty of their station.

Surprising them with a question of his own Eragon asked Geran, "How did you come across the Ra'zac so close to the castle?" with a wave at the massive structure they were in.

Both children instantly dropped their heads as they recoiled from the comfort of their parents at the question. Mirien's hands reached for her long curls and began twirling it in her fingers even as Geran used his fingernails to pick at a suddenly fascinating whorl in the wood of the table.

Their parents nudged them for an answer even as the father hissed, "go on, tell him!"

Reluctantly the girl Mirien answered, "they weren't when we first saw them. we found some tracks at dawn that we didn't recognise and they led us a mile or so deeper into the Spine. We've never gone further than a few hundred yards into the forest until today, but…"

"We told you never to enter the Spine at all Mirien, what were you thinking?" her mother interrupted, anger mingled with relief and shock on her face

"Peace, please save your anger for later after we have finished here," Eragon told her before saying, "tracks so close to the castle you spotted them from just within the edge of the forest?" he said questioningly as the two siblings nodded. "And you followed them back to their hideout?"

"We spotted them before we found their hideout; they were watching us even as the air grew thick and suffocating. That's when the ring burned on my finger and we saw their eyes. We ran away as fast as we could but they were right behind us all the way…." Geran said before he trailed off.

Eragon nodded as he finished, "at which part your sister fell and you broke through the edge of the forest with your sister on your back."

As the children nodded, Eragon switched his gaze alternately between the mother and father saying, "Your children did well to outrun such monsters as the Ra'zac, the hunters of men they are known as. There is no place fit for such creatures in Alagaesia," returning his gaze to the children he added, "though count yourself lucky it was in the middle of the day and not dark. That is when the Ra'zac are at their strongest. It may comfort you to know that I did not do so well the first time I saw them, rooted to the spot as I was in the dusk before they were distracted."

The children looked surprised at that admission even as Eragon rose to signal the end of the conversation. Before he departed however he asked them, "are you wishing to return to Carvahall tonight?"

The mother and father looked at each other before nodding in return.

"The children would tire quickly in light of their venture today. If you would stay here tonight both myself and Saphira would be glad to escort you home tomorrow. I would like to pay my respects to past friends before leaving for Illirea." Eragon told them.

The whole family agreed they would do as he said before departing for their sleeping quarters in the castle. Rather than take the room selected for him, Eragon returned outside to Saphira as they discussed the direction of the conversation. The resurgence of the Ra'zac had them wondering how many, if any, more of them survived the Riders' and post Galbatorix's purges. No doubt they had been protected originally by the fell priests of Helgrind who had escaped and gone into hiding.

Resigning himself to rest for the night, Eragon unrolled his well-used and worn bedroll and curled up next to Saphira even as she coiled her body round him, her wing keeping the nights chill at bay. Nightmares both old and new plagued them as they slept, though their power was lost on the comfort of each other's presence as their minds wove a fantastic web of ever-changing emotions and memories.


	5. Chapter 4 - Kings & Queens

**Chapter 4 – Kings and Queens**

The sun's rapid ascent into the clear sky was still visible to the occupants of Tialdari Hall as Arya Drottning dismissed the council of Lords and Ladies from session. Her seemingly-expressionless face lasted until only one Lord remained, at which point she visibly relaxed and rolled her shoulders before walking to a ewer of water and dabbing a wet cloth across her face.

"They only share my concern for your welfare my Queen," Dathedr said as he too adjusted from the formal to the friendly conversation.

"It is more than that as you know, they dislike my decision to go personally on the grounds that I am needed here which is not the case," Arya countered desperately.

"The Blood-oath celebration is only a few months away and we have to include you in the preparations if we are to open our borders and increase the number of those attending." Dathedr said plainly.

"A task which can easily fall to you, even if you have to coordinate with Gilderien here in the capital," Arya supplied with her own argument.

Waving her argument with an unusually melodramatic, and human, flourish of his hands and a sigh of exasperation, Dathedr asked, "Why do you have to go yourself?"

"You know why. As a race we cannot allow ourselves to fade back into myth as fey creatures of fancy, nor will I miss a chance to return to a city that once belonged to us and not the humans. It has been too long since the ties between our two races were renewed and the memories of men are short-lived compared to ours. I will not have the heirs of Nasuada and Orrin betray all that we built, nor the price that it took to bring peace thrown away for naught." Arya answered as she subtly shifted her shoulder to reveal the yawe tattoo to her most trusted advisor.

"For the betterment of our race," Dathedr echoed the meaning of the strange symbol before nodding, more to himself more than to Arya. "The Council will insist you don't go alone. They will at least ask Freyr to accompany you and for Vanir to be in the welcoming committee once you arrive."

Arya's expression soured at that comment. Freyr was among the first of the elven Riders to be bonded after the war, and though she was much younger than anyone on the Council, even Arya herself, she had an arrogance that can only betray her extreme youth. When she was still a student, her superior skills against her Urgal, dwarven and human counterparts made her contemptable and arrogant. It was only after her training was complete; both here in Ellesmera and in Dyr Aurbodain all those leagues away, that her air of superiority had been tempered to a degree and made her tolerable to others. More than once Arya had wondered at the methods Eragon had employed to gain such results, and in such a relatively small time.

_Maybe she thought he was an easy win in a swordfight. Hahh, before he left he was rapidly becoming the best swordsman I'd ever seen!_ She thought to herself, before steeling herself against the wave of nostalgia that swept over her at the thought of Eragon.

As she fought down the emotions with difficulty, Arya couldn't help but reflect on her races ability to school their thoughts effectively and whether the times for such personal measures were past them. Maintaining such a rigid mind-set had helped her accept her duty as Queen to her people but as a Rider she quickly began to baulk at the limited freedoms she had for herself and Firnen.

_Thinking about me, little one?_ Firnen asked almost immediately after her train of thought as he entered her mind.

_Dathedr and the council will at the least insist Freyr and Rachnar accompany us to Illirea to deliver the invitations to the nobles,_ she replied in an annoyed tone.

_Hahh, is that all? If that is the case, I think it best if we see how far Rachnar's endurance flying has gotten since last he flew with me; arrogance is not attractive in a dragon _Firnen suggested as a smile crept onto Arya's face to Dathedr's confusion.

_When are dragons not arrogant?_

_Dragons are never arrogant! We are however what we have always been and that's superior. I'm sure that you've been told we are the rulers of the sky before, that were it not for the danger it posed, trappers would all-too-gladly look to steal our glorious scales as they glint in the light of the sun._ Firnen replied eloquently if not truthfully as he became visible to Arya, gliding into the clearing immediately outside the Hall.

After he landed with a soft thud, Arya approached him and immediately stroked his favourite spot just at the base of his neck, the full length of which now exceeded the length of Arya's entire body. Like most dragons, the colour of Firnen's scales now ranged across a mesmerising spectrum of green tones, the darkest of which coated his head and down the length of his spines to his tail. The sword Tamerlain that now hung at Arya's side matched that colour perfectly even as Firnen's lower body, abdomen and limbs reflected lighter hues ending in a light hue similar to the light cast off leaves in the light of the afternoon sun. When he was young, Firnen would vanish into the Menoa tree and be invisible to all but the keenest of eyes. The shimmering of his scales against the gentle rustling of the leaves around him provided the perfect camouflage.

_At least we will be able to see Vanir again. How long has it been since you saw each other last? _Firnen asked, Dathedr tearing his eyes away from the dragon long enough to depart the Hall with a glance at Arya.

_Nearly five years now, the coronation of Queen Serai_ she replied, talking of the descendant of Nasuada and of Ajihad. The mention of Vanir's name lifted her mood slightly, as she had come to cherish the young elf as a good friend and confidante.

Vanir was the young elf who sparred with Eragon during his training in Ellesmera. Originally distrustful of the new Rider, Vanir had ridiculed and embarrassed Eragon at every opportunity during their sessions together. It was only after Eragon become a human-elf hybrid with increased strength and stamina that Vanir finally gave him any respect. During the war itself, Vanir had also been hit hard by the brutality that war required of an individual. Elves that had spent many lifetimes of man nurturing life in the forest were suddenly asked to take it from people who were by and large innocent and undeserving of death.

_He was so different back then_, Arya thought to herself as she remembered leading her people back to the forest. That was of course when Firnen decided to hatch for her, the moment at which the elven nation seemed lost to itself even as victory was won and Galbatorix was dead.

Within a year, a recovered Vanir had approached Arya herself and asked for her former position as ambassador to the other races. With the acceptance of the yawe symbol she herself wore, he had commenced to journey to and forth between Illirea, the Beor mountains and even the Urgal strongholds in their own mountain range villages. Indeed of all of Alagaesia, the only place that Vanir had not travelled to and desired to the most was the new Rider's stronghold in the east; a desire Arya herself felt.

_I wonder if Orik will come to Illirea or whether he will come straight here for the celebrations?_ Arya wondered, talking of the now-hale dwarf-king of the Beors and the thirteen clans that make up the dwarven realm.

It was still an alien thing for the dwarves and the Urgals to have any kind of presence during the blood-oath celebration even as the elves welcomed them in attendance. The towering Kull warriors who also accompanied their charges still unsettled Arya even as she remembered the time that they were enemies.

_I'm sure he will be as eager as you to depart from the tiresome duties of a two-legged-crown-bearer_, Firnen mused.

Even with the reassurance, Arya's thoughts were elsewhere as she climbed up the spikes of Firnen's back to perch at the base of his neck. Firnen taking to the sky and leaving the world behind as they both considered the journey ahead and departing for Illirea.


	6. Chapter 5 - The Buried Past

**Chapter 5 – The Buried Past**

As the sun rose to a new dawn, the party of six departed the castle and made for Carvahall at an easy pace, though Eragon and Saphira both widened their minds for any threat foolish enough to reveal itself. The children had recovered from their injuries and were well rested after their adventure the previous day, well enough to overcome their timid behaviour from before and, Eragon noted, well enough to keep an eye on the forest to their left.

_Yesterday was not the first time they had gone hunting, the way they take account of their surroundings and of the way they walk,_ he thought as Saphira hummed in reply.

As the sun reached its highest point and the few clouds in the sky began to disappear one by one, Saphira shivered with the desire to take to the sky and scout out the land ahead, all of her instincts alert for any danger.

"Oh please Mother let us go?" Mirien pleaded as she refused to come down from the saddle.

Worry etched across the parent's faces, whose names turned out to be Kastin and Lilliana, at the prospect of entrusting their children to a dragon. Eragon and Saphira both noted their hesitation as Saphira spoke to them directly saying, _there is no place safer for the children than on my back. I will look after them as if they were my own hatchlings._

Eragon started to secure them more tightly to the saddle as Kastin nodded his consent, Mirien's legs secured with the straps meant for wrists in combat flying and Geran behind was secured with the usual leg straps. Satisfied they were as secure as possible Eragon stepped back and watched with a smile as Saphira launched herself into the air eliciting a scream of delight from the young girl.

_Just try and stay within eyesight, they are not covered for the chilled air up high, and the parents would appreciate you staying visible to them_ Eragon cautioned as the link grew fainter between them, Saphira's slight chagrin was all he got in return as she revelled in the delights of the children on her back and of the experience flying always gave her.

It was hard for Kastin and Lilliana to make any kind of progress over the next hour, their eyes glued to the sky as they were, they went at a snail's pace until Saphira glided back down to the ground to meet up with them once more. As the children dismounted with stiff limbs, their weather-beaten faces were still alive with joy as their parents looked them over to assure themselves they were alright.

"I've never been so scared in my life….it was amazing looking at the ground so far below!" Mirien exclaimed to her mother.

"I thought I was going to be sick…..I didn't want to come back down at all, up there you are at the top of the world!" added Geran ecstatically.

"You wouldn't say that if you were stuck in that saddle all day," joked Eragon as he smiled at the kid's reaction to their first flying lesson. "If you ever go up again, Saphira may let you into her mind and show you how she sees and feels the world around her; it will give you a whole new thrill to look forward to."

All four of them just stared at them as he chuckled and led them on, Saphira's grating laugh joining his as they set off once more for Carvahall. As evening fell, they were just entering what was now the small town of Carvahall, though it was much bigger than what Eragon remembered.

Instead of hardy wood buildings with solid stone foundations built haphazardly around each other, there lay a proper town more the likes of some of the bigger cities. Though the buildings were still limited to one or two stories and had a more homely feel to them, they were arranged in a more uniform and orderly fashion and had grim exteriors. Eragon could only hope that their occupants didn't reflect the outside appearance of their homes. Indeed even as he looked at the houses, shutters and curtains moved a few inches as the people inside looked on at the travellers.

All of this Eragon could see by the lights that were set along the path through the town. Closer inspection revealed to Eragon that they were the Erisdar; enchanted lamps that were favoured by the dwarves in the tunnels under the Beor mountains.

Before they entered the town proper, the door to the nearest building opened to reveal a man in his mid-forties, towering at over six feet he approached them cautiously and, Eragon noted, with his right hand on the hilt of the sword hanging at his side. As soon as he saw Kastin and Lilliana however, his hand dropped away completely as he walked over to greet them.

"Kastin, Lilliana where did you two run off to? My wife ran into the kitchen yesterday as I was eating breakfast and told me you two ran out of town like a demon was on your tail! What caused you…" at which point he fell silent as he spotted their companions.

"Their children were in danger and for good reason too Sir," Eragon supplied as he stepped further into the light of the torches.

The man's reaction was immediate. His face went white and he almost fell to the ground as his knees threatened to buckle from underneath him. His mouth twitched nervously as he stammered "mmmmy L…Lord, our town is honoured to have you with us."

"Peace Goodman, I have not come to stay for long, only to have this family return home safely and to pay my respect to lost friends of times past." Eragon replied as he steadied the man with a grasp on his arm.

"Lost friends? But who do you….? It can't be true? Then you must be Eragon Shadeslayer returned to us at last!?" the man seemingly unable to finish his thoughts in order as complete shock registered on his features and his knees threatened to buckle again.

"I am he, though I prefer just Eragon amongst those who must be blood of any man from Carvahall," came the reply.

The man then did something unexpected, he touched his two fingers of his right hand to his lips and then curled the hand to his chest in the elven gesture of fealty and recited the words of the elvish greeting "atra esterni ono thelduin."

Surprised but returning the gesture in kind, Eragon replied "Mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr."

To which the man then added "Un du evarinya ono varda."

Eragon nodded to the man as he finished the third line and asked, "you know of the language of the elves?"

The man shook his head and said, "in my youth I travelled to Illirea and had the honour of speaking to one of the few elves I met there. It was he who taught me the traditional greeting and the codes of respect amongst their kind. Hahh, never in my wildest dreams did I think I would have cause to use it here in my hometown."

Eragon nodded as he looked the man over with a keen eye; the towering height, the dark brown hair and the muscular build reminded him of someone. "I'm sorry to ask but we never got round to your name?" Eragon asked.

"My name is Ostan, my Lord, please allow me to offer you a room and enough food for you and Saphira on this night." He replied with a gesture to his impressive house, one of the biggest in the town.

"You wouldn't happen to be related to Horst Ostrecsson by any chance would you?" Eragon asked as his memory finally clicked into place with his sight of the man's home.

The man blushed with pride as he answered, "He was my ancestor and the architect of much that you see here in this town. All that I know of you I learnt through my father and his father before him back to Horst. But please, let us talk of this further once we have been fed and watered."

Eragon eagerly accepted the offer to spend the night once it had been made to the family as well. Once the arrangements had been made, Kastin and his family departed awhile to prepare for the dinner even as Ostan led Saphira and Eragon to his own house.


	7. Chapter 6 - Memories of Home

Okay, now that I've managed to put a few chapters up I can address a few questions and lay down a few facts.

I began writing this because I thought the ending of inheritance was fairly unsatisfactory. This will be a sequel with much of the same characters as before and, like the others, concentrating on Eragon and company.

As to your questions, I will copy C.P.'s infuriating vagueness with my own answers mainly because I haven't fully structured my story yet;

Will we see shades and Raz'ac again? Most probably (see early chapters)

The Belt of Beloth the wise? I haven't forgotten it so later on.

The Dauthdaert and the golden flowers? The Orchid definitely, the others you'll have to see.

Helgrind and the Dragons Mountains? All I can say to that is…The Grey Folk!

Brom's tomb? That'll turn up in a way yes.

Werecats? Yes we will see them again.

Murtaugh and Arya will also turn up soon as I plan on having them around, maybe switch between the three characters.

Vroengard will get a mention later on, perhaps when we get to chapter 12-13.

Longer chapters? Bahhh, it takes me forever to do them as it is. In Microsoft Word they usually take up four or five pages and though I'm managing a chapter a week atm it is a stretch as I won't always be able to spend as much time as I do on this.

Language and speech? Yeah you probably have me there, I'll watch out for that in the future, though you're right the last chapter was tying up loose ends, but also we get to see Carvahall again if only briefly.

As to the teleport magic, Arya nearly passed out in Eragon (book) from trying to save Saphira's egg. As far as I understand magic in that way, the teleport magic, like any other, is more demanding with larger objects. Saphira is approaching the size Glaedr once was and teleporting her and Eragon required the massive effort of numerous eldunari.

I hope this answers a few of your questions. What I want to do is answer enough questions to satisfy myself and hopefully some of you readers without ruining some of the deeper mysteries like the ominous nature of the Spine etc.

When I started out reading the inheritance cycle, I also came across a great fanfic called edoc'sil by on though it's been taken down since and I can't find it anymore. His/hers idea of elemental magic (think avatar and the last airbender) was very interesting and I hope to add the same style to that kind of work.

Anyway, enough blustering from me. I hope I've satisfied some of your curiosity and am glad you're still with me on this.

Here's chapter 6 so enjoy!

**Chapter 6 – Memories of Home**

As darkness fell in earnest and more Erisdar came out to keep it at bay the dinner began. Outside the rear of the house lay a long sturdy dinner table groaning under the weight of the food on its surface as its occupants tore into it veraciously.

Ostan, it turned out, had one son and two daughters by his wife Serena. What was unusual about them though was their fair hair and complexion which matched Serena's much more than Ostan's. It did not lessen his love for them however as his son took up the family trade in the smithy and even the daughters learned the art of the seamstress from their mother.

The conversation was rich and the food hearty as Eragon sat opposite Ostan at the end of the table so he could sit next to Saphira, who was perfectly content with the slabs of meat put in front of her. After the family had relaxed in their presence, Eragon managed to learn much of the land that he had left behind all those years ago.

As they spoke, Eragon learnt that when the villagers returned to Carvahall after the war with Galbatorix, they rebuilt the town quickly; unwilling to let the shadow of the dead king sway their future. Roran and Horst led the way in much of the plans for the villages future, the extent of which resulted in Carvahall being rebuilt twice its size at least. By this point Roran had felt unable to return to his house and repair it as others did for their own home, instead taking on the large townhouse in the town centre at the wishes of the other villagers. The childhood home of Eragon and Roran was then turned into a shrine of sorts and a final resting place for all who gave up their livelihoods to follow Roran over the Spine. As difficult as it was to imagine Roran giving up on rebuilding his home, a fact he hadn't mentioned when he and Katrina travelled to Dyr Aurbodain, Eragon wasn't sure he could stomach returning to that place either.

Then the conversation shifted to more recent matters. As Nasuada and Orrin consolidated their power and secured their kingdoms, they sent missives to the elves, dwarves and Urgals with promises of friendship and alliance. The werecats all but vanished soon after the war, though a couple remained with the royal houses or roamed the land in solitude. Carvahall itself had seen the land change drastically with the arrival of spellcasters and multitudes of people who'd heard of the birthplace of Eragon Shadeslayer and Roran Stronghammer and wished to pay homage for the prosperity of the land.

That all changed though a few years ago according to his hosts, Eragon heard. The spellcasters stopped appearing in the town and those who stayed were frequently summoned back to the capital on urgent business. Trade in the town slowed as wild rumours started spreading that spellcasters were disappearing all over Alagaesia. Surda and the empire suffering equally, the presence of the Dragon Riders increased as reassurance to the people they were sworn to protect. This startled Eragon slightly as he had heard no mention of these changes from his students in their communications with him.

As Eragon was told this he was aware the atmosphere around the table had changed. He realised in the tense moments of silence that they too smelled change on the horizon, though what scared them most was the Lead Rider himself had returned to Alagaesia on the wings of dark tidings himself.

It was with subdued feelings that Eragon and his hosts retired to bed as Eragon lay in his bed and slept, all the while wishing for the proximity and comfort of Saphira's protective wing.

The next morning, Eragon bade Ostan and his family goodbye, reluctant as he was to share the moment when he would return to his home. Strange though it was to still call it home, Eragon knew that it was no longer so.

And so it was with trepidation that Eragon gazed down on what was once his home as it became visible to him, dismounting from Saphira as they came close. The scenery had completely changed from what Eragon held in his memory.

Where the cottage once lay in the middle of tilled fields, the entire area was razed and now given over to a graveyard several hundred yards in length and width. Grave markers of various sizes and shapes now dominated where there was once a bountiful harvest to be had. Gravestones carved in the likeness of men and women were scattered amongst other statues; small dragons, winged birds in flight and the various gods found throughout all of Alagaesia's religious worshippers marked where the dead lay.

The road that led right up to it ended underneath an archway wrought of some darkened granite obviously carved with dwarven skill and inlaid with runes. As Eragon was a member of Durgrimst Ingeitum by bond, he had spent much of his time in isolation studying the languages of Alagaesia and had developed a reasonable competence in all of them. The inscription written upon the archway was;

_Buried in earth and stone_

_All those who called this home_

_Strong and weak both did fall_

_But all now dine in Helzvogs hall_

_This is in memory of Eragon Shadeslayer and all those who stand guard against the darkness._

And so Eragon and Saphira passed within. Amongst the skilfully crafted sculptures, they eventually found the humble plot that was Eragon's families. A simple headstone marked the spot where his uncle Garrow had been reburied; having been moved back to what was where his house stood. To his left was a marker for Eragons aunt and to his right was a headstone in the likeness of a hammer for his cousin Roran. Even though Roran wasn't interred here, Eragon still paused in front of the stone running his hand over the smooth stone and the images carved there. Katrina and Roran shared this marker and so both their names were present under a picture of their likeness.

An hour passed before Eragon stirred from his spot; emerging from all his memories of the past he had shared with the names in front of him. Saphira nudged him on the shoulder before he returned to his saddle as he said, _we must leave soon_.

Returning to Carvahall, they looked for Kastin and Lilliana's house near where Ostans stood. It didn't take long as even in the early hours of the morning the residents were already stirring and emerging from their houses. Too many of the inhabitants stopping in their tracks to gawk at the famous Dragon Rider and whatever his business may be. Saphira pulled up and landed outside a modest dwelling marking Kastin's home even as he pulled the door shut behind him.

"Hail Shadeslayer, and a good morn to you" Kastin said as Eragon jumped from his saddle once more.

"And to you as well Kastin. I trust you slept well last night?" Eragon replied.

"Well enough I suppose, what can I do for you?"

"We make for Ellesmera in Du Weldenvarden, though I worry about leaving you and your family here after what happened." Eragon explained.

"But you killed those things didn't you? Doesn't that mean we're safe now?" Kastin asked as Lilliana opened the door and joined them with a basket in her arms.

"It should, though I would rather not say for certain. In any case, it is my wish for you all to travel to Ilirea and meet me there."

"Such a journey would take weeks though, even without burden of food or shelter." Lilliana started with concern in her eyes.

"Without aid given to you it would. Though I have the means to get you there quicker," Eragon answered as he dug into his saddlebags. Within seconds he had brought out two bulging coin pouches and a scroll sealed with a coat of arms unknown to Kastin or Lilliana.

Eragon caught them looking and said, "the seal of the Dragon Riders is not well-known throughout Alagaesia or Surda, though those who possess magic and therefore answer to the crown would know it and are bound to protect the company who carry it. You need only explain your need to them and they will deliver you safely to Uru'baen. The coin is for horses and provisions as you require."

The Dragon Riders seal was a fairly recent addition to their legacy since Galbatorix's fall. It consisted of a gleaming gold shield crossed by two swords, one blue and one red, and behind the shield reared a green dragon with wings spread. The colours were Eragon's idea as they represented the swords Zar'roc and Brisingr, the golden shield stood for the ancient and wise Glaedr and the green dragon stood for Firnen and the future of the Riders order. As most seals were of one colour only, it took a magic user to produce such a seal with multiple colours and so they could not be copied and/or reproduced without another magic user.

Kastin and Lilliana took a while to recover themselves as they stood on the porch, enough time for the children Geran and Mirien to emerge sleepy-eyed behind them, still wiping away the last shadows of sleep.

As he saw the kids, Eragon knelt in front of them and said, "I will take my leave and depart now, though I will have you promise not to go hunting in the near future. Dark times are ahead and even the wise can fall into folly."

Though they were half-asleep five seconds ago both of them now stood wide awake as they hastened to make the promise, pledging not to leave their parent's sight.

"I hope you won't have to go that far," Eragon said with a slight smile as he rose and returned to Saphira's side. "Though I have placed wards around all of you, I'd rather you not need them at all before we next meet."

Before he could clamber onto Saphira, Lilliana rushed forward with her basket and thrust it into his arms saying, "It's not much, but there is food and some other provisions for you on your journey in there."

"Thank you," was all Eragon could say as he stashed the provisions into bags about the saddle. As he readied for leaving, Saphira and Eragon both looked at them and said with their minds, _stay safe and we will see each other again and soon._

Saphira launched into the air leaving the family to watch them getting smaller and smaller as onlookers did the same. The dragon soon lost in the glare of the rising sun as they went east before people resumed their morning routines.


	8. Chapter 7 - Ellesmera

**Chapter 7 - Ellesmera**

_It would be nice to look upon Ellesmera again_ said Glaedr in a tone steeped in melancholy.

_It has been too long Ebrithil_ agreed Saphira.

Eragon added his agreement as he gazed down at the vast forest passing below Saphiras wings. Three days after leaving Carvahall found them only hours from Ellesmera that morning and the sleepy realm of the elves. Already they had passed through the boundary wards at the edge of the forest and Eragon now quested ahead with his mind, anticipating the traditional challenge of Gilderien the wise, the elven Prince of House Miolandra who has guarded the city since the war with the dragons.

Over the last three days, Eragon had puzzled over exactly why he had chosen to come to Du Weldenvarden before Uru'baen. He had thought to consult the wisest minds in Alagaesia over the exact nature of the portents he and others had foreseen at Dyr Aurbodain.

_We know that only more permanent residents on Dyr Aurbodain even felt such discord_ he mentioned one day, finally voicing his concerns to Saphira and the eldunari.

_And you don't think you will find answers at Ellesmera? Would you think it more likely to find such answers amongst the humans or even the dwarves? Nay Eragon, if answers can be found anywhere they will be found amongst the wisest of the elves, those who devote their lives to the lesser known aspects of gramarye and sift through all that survived the traitors reign._ Replied Glaedr even as Umaroth gave the equivalent of a mental nod in agreement.

Their remarks did much to quell Eragon's unease, though it didn't dissipate fully. In truth, his anxiety was not regarding the knowledge he might gain, rather the possibility of seeing Arya again after all these years. In many ways Eragon had grown substantially since they had last seen each other, but in the ways of the heart, Eragon was still but a novice. Many women over the years had caught his eye on Dyr Aurbodain on their brief stays, but Eragon knew such women were but fleeting fancies and his thoughts on them disappeared as soon as he noticed them.

It seemed but a moment later that Eragon finally came upon a mind like no other and knew their journey was approaching its end. A mind strengthened by years and wisdom without equal touched the edges of Eragon's mind as a slight irregularity in the green horizon marked the hidden city of Ellesmera.

_Gilderien-elda, I, Eragon Bromsson seek leave to enter Ellesmera_ intoned Eragon, ignoring the many titles bestowed upon himself even as Saphira, Glaedr and Umaroth repeated the greeting and request, also in the ancient language.

_Long have we awaited your return honoured Skulblakya, Shur'tugal. As long as you keep the peace, Ellesmera is open to you, _replied Gilderien, acknowledging them all as one.

_Atra evarinya ono varda_ added Eragon as he withdrew from the contact, eloquently rephrasing the third line of the traditional elven greeting.

Underneath them, the lush canopy of green started to give way to open areas, allowing the sunlight to penetrate to the ground in wide swaths. Even now, Eragon and Saphira could remember where Tialdari Hall lay amongst the dwellings made of bower and brook.

As the Hall came into view, Eragon was startled to see the entire council of elves awaiting them on the lush grass. A dozen of the oldest and wisest elves alive awaited them in veiled splendour, adorned in the richest hues and highest quality clothing accompanied by some with swords and other weapons at their sides. Their upturned faces showed their eagerness and excitement to meet them, though Eragon noticed that some marked the occasion with comprehensive expressions.

Saphira angled into a dive and flared her wings to land as the elves moved out of the immediate area. Saphira was so big now that the gap in the canopy and the clearing was barely sufficient to contain her immense size.

As soon as Eragon dismounted, he was greeted by several elves that carried small amounts of fruit and other foods in their arms; no doubt a repast from his journey. A pair of them also brought a bowl of water large enough to accommodate Saphira's thirst. As he partook of the crystal clear and cold water and a few bites of food, he saw Lord Dathedr approach at the head of a small retinue. Even now he recognised them as other members of the Elven Council and quickly composed himself for what was essentially a state visit out of the blue on his behalf.

"Atra esterni ono thelduin Shadeslayer, Bjartskular. You honour us with your presence," Lord Dathedr intoned in the ancient language as he approached, beginning with two fingers to his lips and his palm twisted flat against his sternum.

"And may peace live in your heart," replied Eragon as he too made the switch to the ancient language, "though how did word of my arrival spread so fast?"

"Our people on the outskirts of Ceunon spotted Saphira flying only yesterday," Univiel answered, an elven woman with auburn hair streaked with sun-blonde and pale blue eyes. "It could only have been Saphira that fit the description they gave us, not to mention Murtaugh's abrupt return last night."

"Murtaugh is here?" Eragon replied, slightly surprised.

"He returned from Hedarth after discovering you'd come back to Alagaesia. He brought his students back with him, though they don't know why, all of them were expected to fly to you after the blood-oath celebration." Lady Berelin explained.

It made sense that Murtaugh was in Hedarth. It had grown into a well-sized trading town in the last few decades. Originally a dwarven outpost, its relative proximity to the eastern borders of both Du Weldenvarden and the Beor Mountains meant that Riders could mingle with multiple races. A few decades also not enough to fully heal the rift between Murtaugh and the dwarven race, nor it seemed with Orik Longbeard.

Eragon and Saphira shouldn't have been surprised by how fast news of their return had spread, but it did. He remembered being awed by the admissions that Oromis and Arya had the strength to touch his mind across the length of Alagaesia, but it was obvious that spellcasters had done a good job of relaying information in recent years through scrying mirrors and their own slightly-weaker minds not bolstered by the Riders bond.

"They could still use the endurance training though," came a clear voice from behind him that Eragon instantly recognised.

Murtaugh wandered into the clearing as Eragon turned his head. The family resemblance between the half-brothers was more pronounced than it should have been now that the Riders bond had altered them so much. The prominent facial structure of their mother enhanced by the strong lines normally associated with only Elves and bonded humans spoke clearly of their shared blood even if their hair, eyes and bearing differed. Murtaugh was in inch or two taller than Eragon, and though both had tough whipcord muscle throughout their entire body Eragon had more of it and wider shoulders. Eragon had brown hair and eyes, but Murtaugh had an almost-black head of brown hair and grey eyes that ranged from storm-grey when angry to light grey when not.

"I'm sure they could," Eragon said as both brothers embraced each other roughly but warmly.

Breaking apart from Eragon, Murtaugh approached Saphira and rubbed her flank as he spoke to her. _Thorn is teaching the younger ones to hunt whilst their riders meditate outside Oromis' hut. He would welcome your company if you would like to join them_.

Saphira nuzzled Murtaugh's shoulder gently and hummed as she replied, _I do not hunger for much, but I would see the new additions to our race and speak to Thorn myself._

Eragon and the elves barely had time to remove the saddle and the provisions before Saphira took to the sky and disappeared from sight.

After carefully handling the saddlebags and the eldunari within, Eragon buckled on his sword belt and allowed everything else to be taken to his accommodations. The Council of Elves now knew of the eldunari of course, but other than their queen and experienced Riders they were still kept a tight secret. Hidden behind formidable minds of iron will, Eragon knew such knowledge was guarded well.

After the helpers had disappeared, Murtaugh and the Councillors could finally address Umaroth and Glaedr. Whilst the two greeted who were no doubt several old acquaintances, Eragon had a moment to speak again with Murtaugh.

"I'm sorry I cut the graduation short for your students," Eragon said.

"I'm not. They were too comfortable in Hedarth truth be told. The class has more humans in it than I've had before. Who would have thought I would miss training Urgals and dwarves. At least they attempt to be seen studying…" Murtaugh went on.

Eragon smiled slightly. Murtaugh had more often trained Urgals and Dwarves on purpose, though not quite because he wanted to. Humans and elves originally didn't trust him outright with Riders until Nasuada put her support behind him and dwarves gave him a bit of a reprieve because he was coerced by Galbatorix before turning against him. Urgals though, they admired strength, and with their shared blood and prowess in battle, accompanied with the novelty of joining the Riders pact, they overlooked Murtaugh's time at Galbatorix's side or the issue of his father.

_You cannot choose your father_ Eragon thought to himself as he looked more closely at what his brother wore. He'd obviously changed this morning into elven garb because he wore a simple tunic and hose made of the finest material. Rich, autumnal reds combined with the red of the rising or falling sun gave the perfect range of hues to accompany the sword at his side. Zar'roc was its name and misery was its fate two hundred years ago, but now a new glyph adorned its sheath and no doubt its blade, Camin'dail. Oddly appropriate as it meant Dawn's Forge, the dwarves would have loved the subtle reference to their twin gods Urur and Morgothal as well.

"….Tristan is a large kid; even after all the training I've done with him. Remember Frederic the arms master back at Farthen Dur? Imagine him with a bit of weight about the belly and you've got the kind of size he'll be a few years from now." Murtaugh was saying as the conversation ceased between the eldunari and the Councillors.

As the Councillors looked on, Lady Belerin approached the two Riders and said, "Arrangements have been made for you to stay the night if you wish, though Arya Drottning has already left for Ilirea, her pace will be slow for the sake of her travelling companions."

"I am grateful for the hospitality, my Lady. It has been too long since last I walked amongst the fair trees of Ellesmera," replied Eragon.

Lady Belerin nodded slightly at the compliment, "Our scholars have also dug up some scrolls on Dyr Aurbodain in the last few years and their ties to the Grey Folk if you care to go over them during your brief stay."

The Grey Folk! No one knew much about the originators of the ancient language, only that they were vastly more skilled in magic than the relatively young races of the dwarves and elves. Such scrolls would be priceless beyond even the compendiums of ancient language stored all over Alagaesia.

"I would look at them tonight, an hour after sunset if it suits you. For now, I would see Murtaugh's students," said Eragon as Murtaugh nodded in agreement.

Lady Berelin and the other Councillors, including Lord Dathedr, hearing this added their agreement and withdrew with a quick bow of deference which Eragon and Murtaugh mirrored even as Eragon and Murtaugh walked away from the clearing and towards the place where Eragon himself was taught.


	9. Chapter 8 - Teaching The Little Ones

Sorry for the wait guys, had a little hiccup getting online in the last few days to post this.

Anyways, enjoy!

**Chapter 8 – Teaching the little ones**

The sun was already beginning its descent in the sky by the time they came to Oromis' hut. Their arrival halted the flow of memories from Glaedr and Umaroth who were remembering their time here. Nothing had been changed from what Eragon could see, the hut still stood as it had always done, the only difference being a slightly larger dwelling closer to the stream and the treeline that was little more than shelter from overhead.

It was to this shelter that Eragon went whilst Murtaugh went to fetch his students. At this point, Eragon joined his mind with Umaroth and Glaedr whilst keeping it open to Saphira. The students wouldn't dare try to pry secrets from his mind but better to meld four minds into a cohesive whole rather than have the students question the minds of two who had no bodies. These students not experienced enough to disclose the existence of eldunari to.

A few minutes later, Eragon turned to see Murtaugh return at the head of a group of eight fairly young faces; three humans, two Urgals, two dwarves and an elf.

As Murtaugh put his students in a line, all of them struggling to make out the stranger surrounded in shade, Murtaugh quested a look at Eragon, instantly recognising the hidden minds behind his eyes. Of course, the elf also looked in his direction, no doubt having already had extensive training in magic and knowledge of using one's mind to determine your surroundings.

"Now many of you were wondering at your abrupt return to Ellesmera. The truth being that your teacher on Dyr Aurbodain actually arrived here this morning abruptly on important business, so I would like you all to meet Ebrithil Eragon Shadeslayer." Murtaugh said, switching back to the common language for the sake of his students.

As Eragon strolled out of the shelter to meet them, confusion turned to gasps of surprise met him along with soft growls from the Urgals and raised eyebrows from the elf. The humans, two women and a man, went into awkward bows and curtsies; the dwarves into bows so deep their beards touched the ground; the Urgals raised their heads to expose their throats in the gesture of respect and the elf put her palm to her chest in fealty.

Eragon spent the next five minutes greeting them and putting names to the faces; the students awed and delighted when Eragon talked in their own native tongues and using their own terms of respect and customs. Their names were Cora, Samia, Tristan, Boshan, Rathgin, Garza, Karlglun and the elf was named Sylbia.

When they were finished with introductions, the young man Tristan asked "so why have you returned Ebrithil, if not to help us finish our training?"

Eragon looked at him, Murtaugh was right, the kid was nearly his height and already had a barrel-sized chest, and replied "two Ra'zac attacked my family in Carvahall in broad daylight. I have also returned to consult the wisest amongst our races on an urgent matter."

"Dimonns!" snarled Garza, an Urgal big enough to be a Kull warrior, "they have been seen once more stalking our hidden villages and killing our people."

"Aye, they haven't attacked our people yet, but some traders from the human cities have gone missing from the roads on their way to Farthen Dur and the survivors have described their attackers as such," voiced the dwarf Boshan.

Murtaugh nodded his head and looked at Eragon, "Helgrinds followers are getting busy again as well. We have to purge the tunnels of Helgrind regularly now as they still use it for their initiates, though they go so deep that they must use them to hide from us. I have also stripped what magic's I can from the structure, but I'm sure it pre-dates the use of the ancient language. The followers are saying that their dark god stirs and readies to strike the faithless from the earth."

"Something is stirring alright," Eragon said ominously, "I just wish I knew what. No one on Dyr Aurbodain has slept soundlessly for a while now."

As the students shared concerned looks with each other, a faint thudding could be heard as the dragons signalled their return. Thorn's blood-red and Saphira's royal blue scales glittered in the descending sun along with the eight other dragons. The students stepped under the shelter to make sure the dragons could all land in the clearing even as the first hit the ground.

As Murtaugh went to stand by Thorn, who alighted near Saphira, Eragon had his first chance to get a good look at the young dragons. Cora's dragon, a light-brown called Talwyn, was the smallest of the lot, probably only a year old or so and was a rarity amongst Dragon Rider pairings. Less than one in twenty pairings of Dragons and their Riders were of the same sex and Eragon had only tutored three in the last two hundred years; an Urgal male and a male and female elf.

As Eragon finished inspecting the other dragons he could hear Thorn saying _it is important to be aware of what your partner-of-life is doing at all times. Tomorrow we will go over today's lesson again and make sure you get everything right before we leave for Ilirea._

"I will expect you all to be assembled here two hours after dawn provisioned for our journey to Ilirea," concluded Murtaugh in a tone of dismissal.

The students all mounted their dragons and disappeared after a lot of bowing and respectful gestures to Murtaugh, Eragon and the two much-larger dragons leaving them alone again.

After a moment's silence, Murtaugh said "after hearing of your return, I had a summons from Rhunon, saying I should bring you to her as soon as possible. I think it has something to do with you and Brom."

Eragon glanced at the sun as it touched the horizon before he replied "Lead the way."

As they moved away from the clearing and set a pace back towards Tialdari Hall and Rhunons forge, Eragon reflected on why Rhunon would want to see him. Though it was possible that it was curiosity and nothing else he doubted it. The Riders blades recovered from Galbatorix's hoards went straight to Rhunon, hundreds in all, for they were all of her creation, in order to be altered for the new generation of Riders. The first sword to be altered had been Tamerlein for Arya and since it had not broken the oath she had made, Rhunon had been able to adjust the existing swords for the new Riders on return from training with Eragon on the island.

No, Eragon thought, there is a reason he was summoned and he suspected he knew what it was. There was a rumour of one sword that Rhunon kept separate from the others, claiming it already had an owner.

A couple of minutes later found them outside Rhunon's House and the place where she worked. Eragon was surprised to see that she was not working but rather sat outside waiting for them, the forge behind her looked cold and empty.

When she saw them she rose from her seat and said in her gruff voice, "well it's about time, Shadeslayer, I've been waiting for you all day."

"I came as soon as I heard you awaited my presence," Eragon replied artfully.

"Well come inside then. There is something for you here," she said, gesturing for the two of them to follow her into her workplace.

Inside, they walked past the cold forge, a few embers still retaining what heat they had left, past the rack of tools marking her trade and some of her projects right into the back of the building.

The first things to catch their attention when they stopped covered the entirety of the rear wall. From left to right swords of every colour dominated wall mountings, blades pointed down, the occasional spear of extraordinary craftsmanship in amongst them as well.

On the wall to their left however, a space had been given over to two swords and a shield complete with the swords' sheaths next to them, generous space on either side giving them a kind of reverence on Rhunon's part. The diamond-shaped shield and one of the swords gave off a brilliant gold hue.

The other blade was of a blue similar to Brisingr and with the first glance would normally be mistaken for Eragons own blade. Indeed as Rhunon removed it from the wall and brought it over, it could have passed as a slightly lighter twin to Brisingr, whereas Brisingr most often appeared as the blue of a cold dawn, this sword had the blue of the clear noon sky.

"I was glad to see Undbitr amongst the swords that found their way back to us," Rhunon said with a slight smile as she relinquished it to Eragon.

With a certain numb satisfaction, Eragon thanked her "I never thought you'd find it, lest it was truly lost forever."

Rhunon nodded thoughtfully as she went for the scabbard and come back with a sophisticated-looking strap, "I didn't know if you'd mastered dual-blade fighting techniques, but this strap will help you draw the blades more easily than a hip placement."

So on went the strap over Eragons clothing. From the new belt rose something that looked like breeches, terminating at a single point on the belt at his waist from behind. The straps passing over each shoulder came together at his shoulder blades in a wide patch of leather used to secure the swords with tube-like fixtures and a pair of buckles. The sword hilts and the cross guards were visible on either side of his head and crossed each other before simple loops on the strap at his lower back secured the tip of the scabbards, keeping the swords from jostling too much.

Rhunon stepped back to allow Eragon to view himself in the mirror even as he moved his hunting knife from his pack and put it where Brisingr was previously. As he viewed himself in the mirror, he couldn't help thinking how formidable he now looked, a thought echoed by Murtaugh and Rhunon as he saw them nodding behind him.

"That strap could also cater for other weapons as well", Murtaugh said, more to himself than anyone in particular as he pointed to the part that doubled for a belt, half a dozen loops unused that could be used to secure knives, small shields, axes and even Eragons elven bow and arrow quivers.

As he thought about these things, Rhunon said, "You could equip yourself as well as a small army with this arrangement, given you also share our elven strength."

After a profuse round of gratitude and your welcome's, Murtaugh and Eragon left Rhunon in her forge to find the sun setting and Thorn and Saphira waiting for them. Thorn's scales shimmering like flames in the last rays of sunlight.

Setting off for Tialdari Hall and the company of Lady Berelin and Lord Dathedr, Eragon unsheathed Undbitr and gazed at it thoughtfully _Rhunon isn't wrong about being equipped better than I should be, but I never thought I would be able to wield my father's sword._


	10. Chapter 9 - The Grey folk

**Chapter 9 – The Grey Folk**

They arrived at Tialdari Hall a couple of minutes early, even waylaid as they were by Thorn and Saphira's sheer bulk and the care the two dragons took to avoid upsetting the arrangements of flowers either side of the narrow paths weaving in and out of the trees.

As they waited, Eragon and Murtaugh spent some time seeing what other arrangements the double sword back scabbard could cater for.

"Wait a moment will you?" Murtaugh chuckled as he adjusted the quiver.

"Just hurry up, I don't want the Council seeing us fidget so much," Eragon replied as he shrugged the strap into a more comfortable position. Brisingr was at his waist again, its place on his back taken up by his quiver, strung bow and full set of arrows inside.

_I don't see why you don't just leave one or two of them in the saddle; I end up carrying them in the end do I not?_ Saphira asked with a murmur of agreement from Thorn.

_What good are they in the saddle if you get separated in the heat of battle? _Glaedr countered with a question of his own, his wisdom undeniable as always.

_But a bow is only used at the start of a battle unless you want to risk hitting your friends_ Thorn added in a confused tone.

_Even so, they do YOU no good. No, it is best to keep them where they can be of use_ Glaedr said in a tone of finality as the Council made its entrance.

"I see you have come via Rhunon's", said Gilderien, who Eragon was surprised to see amongst the Council members. "Many of our kin lost someone to the traitors' reign; it heals our hearts to see such possessions returned to purpose."

"Thank you Lord Gilderien, though I fear blood will wet its blade all too soon. Have the others told you my reason for returning?" Eragon replied.

"They have, though they need not have. Word of trouble in Surda and the coastal cities have reached us over the last few days, as have rumours amongst mortal spellcasters and troubling nights even here with all our protection. Though messengers have been sent to the Queen, she has only recently passed the barrier spells around the forest."

As Lady Univiel moved forward, Eragon asked, "and the matter of the Grey Folk's connection to Dyr Aurbodain?"

A table was brought forward using magic as Dathedr produced a scroll with delicate hands and laid it on the table surface. It was all Eragon could do to stop himself bending in for a closer look.

"Even with a spell of preservation on it when locked away, the parchment comes out rarely in order to maintain it. The dialect however is hard to decipher, we think it another language used by the Grey Folk outside the speech they used to bind magic. It took our greatest and oldest minds to conjure up its meaning." Lady Berelin said in a hushed voice.

"So what does it say?" Murtaugh asked, excitement burning through his aged eyes.

Lord Dathedr motioned to one side and another elf stepped forward into the conversation, marble white skin and silver hair marking the oldest-looking elf Eragon had ever seen, his eyes so sunken they seemed hollow.

"This is Fandhrin, one of the oldest of our race still alive today and the only one allowed extensive access to this scroll", explained Dathedr.

It is an honour", Eragon said in greeting as Thorn, Saphira and Murtaugh followed suit.

"Thank you firebound ones," Fandhrin replied in a soft voice which was almost a whisper, his epithet startling Eragon slightly. He then moved over to the scroll and, as he held a fingertip almost to the ancient parchment, began talking in a slightly louder voice.

"The greatest mystery of the age was the very nature of magic. Whereas our strength in land and water magic could at times be majestic to behold, equal strength in air and fire magic could not be found. Air and fire magic belonged to the flying beings that plagued our people near the solitary mountain. These lizard-like creatures whose bodies shone with the brilliance of precious gems grew to immense lengths with…"

"They're talking about dragons!" breathed Eragon loud enough for Fandhrin to pause and look upon him disapprovingly before continuing.

"…..the ability to breathe flames without being consumed themselves. In our desire to enhance our power in fire and air, we observed the beings closely to no avail for many turnings of the seasons. A promising young mind amongst our number then decided to study the beings in isolation, trapping a solitary beast in his lab and visiting unspeakable horrors upon it and yet kept it alive."

"When the truth of the beast's fate came out at last, we ended the creatures suffering in revulsion, but too late. Within heartbeats of the creature's death, a change was wrought upon the young man that had never before been seen. His eyes became pits of flame, his skin turned hard as stone and the sound of madness burst forth from his mouth. As we fled, he marched on the mountain which marked the territory of the strange beasts with a rabid fervor, the creatures fleeing on swift wings before him."

"When news spread of this abomination, all who were capable set out to stop him, unsure of his intentions. No one has any memory of the confrontation other than a bright flash of light and being thrown to the ground. When we awoke, the flying beasts had returned to the mountain and remained, no sign of the abomination remained."

"That was the day our strength in water and earth all but left us, those who were using magic at the time in the far reaches of the realm later reported a surge of wild magic beyond control before it slipped from their grasp completely….."

"The text at this point becomes indecipherable for several lines," Univiel said as Fandhrin paused.

"When the text becomes clear again it starts with," Fandhrin spoke again, "the change we wrought stripped us of what strength we still possessed, though as we see the damage done to the land surrounding the dragon mountain we count ourselves fortunate that it wasn't more serious. Even now the short folk abandon the land for the formidable mountains to the east and their halls of stone."

"As for my people, we seek refuge in the lands far beyond the east. Safety will be found across the sea at the outpost for us, exiled from our own land even as some of us stay with the lesser races."

Fandhrin, having finished, then carefully stowed the scroll away as the listeners exhaled into the silence.

"What think you of this Eragon?" Dathedr asked, breaking the silence.

"The author speaks of the spell that binds the ancient language to magic doesn't it?" Eragon asked pointedly, already expecting his suspicions to be confirmed.

"They do, and they also mention that the Hadarac Desert was created by the magical fallout of whatever happened as they confronted their abomination, forcing the dwarves into the Beor Mountains" agreed Gilderien.

"The island you have chosen, Dyr Aurbodain, used to belong to the Grey Folk as an outpost against invasion. The name you found for it is a clue even for its old inhabitants, the meaning being "the Exiled Faithful". They left in penance of what happened but they couldn't leave Alagaesia completely, much like why you left Shadeslayer." Fandhrin said, his unblinking eyes locked onto Eragons.

"What of the abomination mentioned, how did one of them turn into something else?" Murtaugh asked.

"Transformation magic could achieve it, the likes which you occasionally see amongst our kind." Gilderien explained, "Though instead of changing just his appearance, the abomination was created by forcing magic through the eldunari of the captured dragon to change his very nature, something forbidden to all of us, even if somehow possible with magic. The result being a merging of dragon and Grey Folk which could only lead to madness, though if he had succeeded," Gilderien and all the other elves shuddered at the incomplete thought.

"I don't really get it," Murtaugh said, mirroring Eragon's confusion.

_Remember your lessons. Remember how I explained that a Rider or his Dragon should not try to shelter their partner's soul within his own body to save him from a body death. The only possible result known is madness. The abomination tried to force the dragon's soul from his eldunari and whether he used transformation magic to aid him before or after achieving that, the fact he succeeded even for a brief period should be cause to worry. _Glaedr spoke with revulsion tainting every word.

That explanation made Eragon and Murtaugh shudder as Thorn and Saphira shook themselves along their spines.

"No doubt the student thought he could gain power in air and fire magic through his experiments with no ill effects," Univiel said.

"We believe the floating crystals of Eoam to be one of the examples of wild magic mentioned as well as the drying of the Hadarac Desert due to his actions." Fandhrin said.

"What now Shadeslayer? For the last few years we have attempted to find answers to the question you pose regarding this new threat and yet so far it is to no avail. Perhaps the clues you need to find them lie in this island you have taken for your own?" Fandhrin asked.

As Eragon pondered the implications of what he had learned, he became very troubled, even when the conversation was steered towards the following day. It was agreed that Murtaugh, Eragon, Thorn and Saphira would leave at dawn provisioned for their journey to Ilirea. Their quicker pace meant they had a small chance of catching Arya and her escorts before reaching the city, something they wanted to do before the pomp and ceremony that would undoubtedly happen upon their arrival.

Still, Eragon was troubled by the lack of answers they had found and he found it more difficult than usual to find rest that night as Du Weldenvarden and its inhabitants fell into deep slumber.


	11. Chapter 10 - Slow Going Reunion

**Chapter 10 – Slow Going / Reunion**

A brief wind caressed the cheek of Arya, Queen of the elves as she turned towards the dawn of a new day and spotted Firnen gliding towards her. As he got closer, she could feel him revel in the air passing under his wings and felt a jolt of jealousy and chagrin, confined as she was to the ground for the majority of her journey.

It had been two days since spending a night and a morning in Gil'ead and Ilirea was now only one possibly two days away. Her contingent of two-dozen guards from Osilon set a steady pace more suitable for nobility amongst the mortals, but even Arya could see the benefit of catering to human standards on her return to the mortal cities.

It was Freyr and Rachnar that soured her mood. The glint of dull silver high in the sky marking the young dragon as both dragon and Rider were on the lookout for danger, an unnecessary task with the formidable group on the ground. Two-dozen of the most dangerous spellcasters in Alagaesia not to mention their skill in combat watched her every move as they crossed the same ground they had 200 years ago in the war against Galbatorix.

It was an excellent way to mend the divide between elves and humans in the years after Arya became Queen to visit the human cities they had conquered on their way to the penultimate battle between the four races and Galbatorix.

As they left Osilon, they went to Ceunon first, noting the solid city gates that had replaced the twisted ruin left by the elves. The crowds cheering this time rather than huddling in groups scared out of their wits as they were the first time elves set foot in the city in living memory. A similar welcome in Gil'ead was topped by a larger crowd and a boisterous feast set by the gentry to mark the occasion.

Underneath the cheering however, they noted, was an undercurrent of tension in the minds of the human populace that they couldn't place. A messenger from the forest had come only hours ago to inform her of the troubles found in the coastal cities and the unrest that had come about with the recalling of the human spellcasters to the capital.

"What do you think of the news?" Arya asked the Captain of her Royal Guard, Heimdaln.

"It is troubling Your Majesty. Though trouble on this journey becomes more likely with the telling, it makes the reasons for your coming that much more important."

Arya nodded in agreement. Heimdaln was present to guard her life but he also saw the necessity to stay within the hearts and minds of the mortal races, as she had argued to the Council in order to come. She wondered whether Heimdaln said what he did because he had heard of her impassioned arguments from someone.

"What of Vanir and Queen Serai? Did you scry for them this morning?" Arya inquired.

"Queen Serai expects you tomorrow evening and has prepared as such. Vanir has asked that an escort be allowed to meet us several miles outside the city and will therefore be with us in the afternoon."

"Tell Vanir that an escort is not a bad idea, I sense that Serai is behind the question as much as he is though," Arya replied with a fond thought of Vanir.

Heimdaln nodded before withdrawing to send the message. The following hours passed slowly for Arya as they covered as much ground as possible before making camp. The group carried much of its own equipment with the exception of half a dozen beautiful horses, whose burdens included Arya's own pack and several pieces of clothing and possessions befitting a Queen. As the sun fell, the group chose a spot near the Ramr river so they could wash the road from their bodies, across the swift flowing river the keen eyes of the dragon's even able to make out the outline of Ilirea in the distance.

The plan at dawn was for Firnen and Rachmar to carry everyone, horses included, over the river in order to cut out the necessity of going round the river's source or crossing it at a shallow point further south. The horses, having been bred by the elves, not fearing the dragon's as most do.

As the elves erected their tents, starting with Arya's, darkness was coming on in earnest. The last of the sun's rays came with a cry from one of the guards on watch, catching everyone's attention. As they all turned and cast eyes to where the guard was pointing at excitedly they saw a shimmer to the north-west which could only be a dragon and it's Rider. Within minutes, they saw that it was not one, but many dragons approaching, the familiar beat of many wings now audible to the group. Freyr and Rachmar launching themselves skyward in a rush of wind the moment they first heard it.

ROARRRR!

The sudden bellow from Firnen caused everyone to jump and instinctively cover their delicate ears as he spread his wings and launched himself into the air. He immediately flew off in the direction they were coming from and as the distance closed, Arya suddenly felt a spike of passion and excitement from him that he had not felt since…..

ROARRRR!

The reply came at last, causing Arya's heart to miss a beat. She knew then at least two amongst those who approached, though she could not see how. Now the oncoming group was close enough to see clearly, the two larger dragons of blue and red respectively clearly visible even in the failing light.

_It brings warmth to my heart and mine Rider to see you again Firnen_ Arya heard Saphira say through Firnen as they approached. Firnen circled the group once in delight before leading them towards the tents.

As they approached, Arya felt a familiar brush at the edge of her mind and immediately lowered her mental barriers.

_Eragon?_

_Arya, I'm so glad we caught up before you reached Ilirea._

_How is this possible? Have you returned to me?_

_I have, only to chase shadows and look upon the one who has had my heart since my departing._

Arya knew without a doubt then that it was he, for she felt exactly the same emotions she had felt that last night they had together. In a rush of emotion, she steadied herself by looking down at her clothing, thanking the stars that she had removed her travelling clothes for the night and now wore a flowing robe of deep red over her night clothes.

Firnen and Rachmar came down moments later with a crash not ten feet from her. Thorn and Saphira not far away, though the smaller dragons came down a good distance away in an effort of giving the reunion some privacy.

Murtaugh and Eragon then appeared side by side as they came through the middle of Thorn and Saphira. Arya gathered herself as they presented themselves to Heimdaln and her guards, noticing that the half-brothers sported similar tunics of earth colours; brown and green hues dominant.

It took only a few seconds to verify their identity as Heimdaln and Freyr stepped aside, Murtaugh conversing with Eragon for a moment before catching Arya's eyes and leading some of the guards over to the other Riders. Freyr looked slightly put out as she was led over to the younger Riders with Murtaugh and Heimdaln

Firnen walked over to Thorn and Saphira as Eragon finally approached Arya without them taking their eyes off each other. Stopping in front of her, Eragon gave her a stately bow and the gesture of fealty as they brought down all the barriers between their minds. Without words, they finally embraced each other in a hold that surpassed passion and comfort alone, their feelings for each other apparent to all.

Stepping back from one another, noticing the unabashed looks from those guards who remained, they drank in the images of each other before them.

"You are as lovely as you ever were Arya svit-kona," Eragon said as he finally spoke. "You are as radiant as your beloved mother."

"And you are still as eloquent and innocent as I remember Argetlam", replied Arya with the simple truth.

_Though not so much whilst in your presence I believe little one_ Saphira said in a jovial manner as Thorn, Saphira and Firnen came over to join them.

_Funny that as I was about to say the same_ added Firnen as he brought his head down and Eragon obliged him with a scratch behind the ear in greeting.

_It is good for us to meet before the capital for there is much that you need to know fair Queen in hand. However, I'm sure that it can be said tomorrow as we pass the many leagues that lie ahead of us _Thorn said as Murtaugh returned from where his students had erected tents of their own.

"Freyr and Rachmar will keep an eye on our students with the help of your guard of course Your Highness," Murtaugh said as he joined the group. "Heimdaln has agreed for an extra tent to be erected here for Eragon and myself."

Eragon of course would have liked nothing more than to have spent the night in Arya's tent, but the remnants of age-old reserve, position and even hesitance would not have allowed even its possibility. He could only relieve Saphira of her saddle and himself of his own burdens as a roomy tent was set up and he moved his stuff and Murtaugh's inside.

And so it was that Eragon found himself listening to Murtaugh's measured breathing that told him his brother had entered the same meditative trance he often used, perhaps even communicating with Glaedr and Umaroth from where they were hidden. Saphira, Firnen and Thorn were curled up together outside the tent, set up only yards from Arya's own. It was therefore with a measure of serenity that he allowed himself to drift off and join the minds of those around him in restive silence.


	12. Chapter 11 - The Marble City

Thank you for all the comments so far, I appreciate everyone who takes the time to read and rate this fanfic.

The next few chapters are going to delve into the politics and the state of the land, at least one will be from Geran's POV and his family as another source.

As I set the stage for this story I'll remind everyone that "Winter is coming" or some such as season 3 of Game of Thrones has recently premiered and was awesome!

Enjoy.

**Chapter 11 – The Marble City**

The group passed the next day with relative ease as they finally came in sight of the capital. For the most part Eragon, Arya and Murtaugh had chosen to remain on the ground as the dragons flew high in the sky with the younger Riders. Four of the horses bore Arya, Eragon, Murtaugh and Heimdaln as the two remaining bore their various possessions as the rest of the honour guard kept pace around them. The horses and elves alike setting an easy canter that could be kept up all day without pushing the horses too hard.

The first sign of Ilirea was as a glint on the horizon, the high reaches of the citadel reflecting what little sunlight there was coming through the clouds that had descended on the last leg of their journey. The cold northerly wind brought plummeting temperatures even as they approached what was the Hadarac desert and the sporadic rain forced the group to use spells to keep their clothes dry. At least they were having an easier time of it on the ground than their counterparts in the sky, Eragon had thought grimly more than once.

"….Blodhgarm and I designed the buildings with as much access to the dragons as possible. The Riders' dwellings are positioned so that the interiors are visible to the dragons, one wall being nothing more than a removable panel as Vrael's room is in Ellesmera." Eragon told them as he regaled his companions of his time spent apart from them.

"You mentioned some of you had homes within the forest surrounding your community as well?" Murtaugh asked, intrigued as he tried to imagine it.

"Aye, the elves in particular spend as much time as possible under its leafy expanse. Every year we encourage the young Riders to aid us in the same planting spells as the Dagshelgr Invocation." Eragon replied, citing the annual effort made by all elves in their guardianship of Du Weldenvarden.

"And the urges brought on by the spells?" Arya chimed in with a smile; no doubt remembering the first time Eragon entered Du Weldenvarden.

"The students are of course warded against its effects with the exception of the elves for obvious reasons," the elves being immune to the desires that gripped others.

"And the wild dragons?"

"Growing fast and hatching quickly. In the last few years, they have again started giving us a few of their eggs for the Riders," Eragon added as a smile swept across his features. The statement affecting the whole group in the same way.

"We must find a way to get more of the spelled eggs back to Alagaesia for hatching then," Arya said as everyone nodded their agreement.

_A good problem to have though, seeing as wild dragons tend to hatch quicker as they don't have to wait for their Rider_ Saphira said to them all as Thorn and Firnen voiced their agreement.

It was true that the wild dragons outnumbered the bonded ones fairly easily. Dyr Aurbodain was large for an island and plentiful when it came to feeding its residents, but the appetites of a hundred wild dragons and the resident bonded took a toll. The current number of Dragon Riders was only at forty-five even when counting the newly bonded in the skies above them.

It was at this moment, as they were barely an hour away from the city gates that the newly-familiar touch of Sylbia told them,_ the city guard has just spotted us. They are sending out mounted soldiers to meet you before the city._

_Stay in the sky for now, but refrain from getting any closer to the city_ Murtaugh cautioned them, even as the procession on the ground continued on.

"The city guard will insist they land, if only briefly for recognition surely?" Eragon asked, surprised his brother had taken the initiative.

"The guard will include a member of Du Vrangr Gata in their number to root out any deception," Murtaugh explained.

"Our numbers will give them a cause to be cautious I'm sure" said Heimdaln as he drew in closer to Arya.

Half a mile from the city the city guard stopped and awaited their arrival, before which Arya donned a robe of flowing red and gold silk and adorned her head with a simple circlet of pure gold. Likewise, Eragon and Murtaugh twisted and turned in their saddles as they put on fresh tunics of forest green and dug up similar circlets but of gleaming silver, all courtesy of the elven Council. With the exception of Brisingr and Camin'dail, Eragon and Murtaugh had left all but the change of clothes with Thorn and Saphira, including Glaedr and Umaroth.

As they approached the soldiers, Eragon withdrew inside himself slightly so as not to alarm whichever of them was the spellcaster. He soon felt the light touch of a probing mind and honed in on its owner, wondering which of them it was.

It was Vanir!

The once surly elf could only gape as he took in his Queens entourage from the front of the awaiting force. As if disbelieving his eyes, he could only stare at Eragons face before looking at the clothes he now wore. The Riders sigil visible on the green tunic over Eragons heart catching his attention as he alone approached the group at last.

"Your Majesty, Queen Serai sends you greetings and awaits your pleasure upon your arrival," Vanir said as he twisted his hand onto his chest and went into a low bow.

"I am eager to meet with her again, friend Vanir, if only to introduce her to Eragon and Murtaugh," replied Arya.

"The Queen and I have already met in the course of my duties as Rider," a spasm of pain disappearing as quickly as it came crossed Murtaugh's face as he spoke.

Eragon pondered Murtaugh's expression as he came down from his horse and pulled Vanir into a friendly embrace, the elf surprisingly showing no signs of discomfort at the very human show of friendship, no doubt the time amongst mortals well-spent.

_It is good to see you again as well _Vanir mindspoke to Eragon.

_Likewise, I hope we can talk in greater depth later _Eragon replied, inwardly delighted to see the elf again.

"In light of present company, I'm sure the Queen would agree to meet you on the steps of the citadel instead of the throne room. She will want to meet Saphira as much as she would you Shadeslayer." Vanir said as he summoned someone from the waiting guards.

As Vanir talked to the man, no doubt telling him to deliver the message, Eragon could not help but feel an eagerness to meet the new Queen. Murtaugh had told him little of her on the journey between Du Weldenvarden and catching up with Arya and her escort. He did find out however that Serai was approaching her middle years and her rule was as peaceful and prosperous as any regent could wish for. The recent unease amongst it's peoples that much more troubling even when their monarch was doing everything in her power to ease their concerns and cast away fears.

As the messenger wheeled his horse and departed in a gallop, Vanir motioned for the guards to join them. A minute later saw the group, as one, set off once more for the capital, Vanir's companions doubling the escort already in place around Arya.

Before Vanir took his customary place on the other side of the Queen, he leaned over in his saddle and said to Eragon, "as we near the outer gates, could you ask Saphira and the others to land? In light of the recent troubles, it would be a bad idea to unsettle people unnecessarily with a group as large as yours appearing in the skies, not to mention the honour the Queen gives you in not awaiting you in the throne room."

Eragon agreed with it immediately, seeing the wisdom of his words. And so when they came within two hundred yards of the city walls and he could clearly see its defenders look with keen interest in their direction, he cast his thoughts in Saphira's direction and told her to bring the others down with her.

The retreating clouds overhead then split as Saphira led the others in a dive to the ground, the sun beginning to shine once more as it played off the brilliance of the dragons' scales. A moment of worry passing through the city's defences easing up as the dragons kept their distance even as they descended from the heights. Their wings spread wide; the dragons all landed with an uncharacteristic lightness of foot, even Saphira who loved to pull out of a dive at the latest moment landed with barely a noise.

_We all had a light shower an hour ago; it wouldn't do to get dirty all over again would it?_ Saphira replied to Eragon's questioning look as she greeted Vanir with fondness.

_Vanir says that the Queen is worried and the city also, it would seem the shadow is reaching further than we thought if mortals feel it here._ Eragon told her.

_Then we must help alleviate them if we can,_ said Saphira in her usual offhand way.

It was an odd procession that passed through the city walls and on its way to the citadel. Murtaugh forsook his horse and reclaimed his place on Thorns back as they led the way, the main streets wide enough, if not by a large margin, to contain his and Saphira's bulk. Following Thorn were the younger Riders and their dragons, small enough to walk two abreast in comparison and at the rear walked Saphira and then Firnen. Arya was not on Firnen however but remained on her horse accompanied by Vanir and surrounded by her elven guards.

The city inhabitants came out in their droves to cheer and shout at the unusual sight, those lucky enough to own businesses and houses on the main street throwing their windows open and those on higher floors on the same eye-level as the dragons themselves. Once or twice Saphira's gaze met some lucky man or woman as she passed by, astonishment etched across their features. The mental and physical chorus of voices would have overwhelmed Eragon if not for his mental training; he could sense the unease amongst Murtaugh's students as they struggled to reinforce their shielding.

And so that was how they approached the gleaming centre of the city; the central spire of gleaming marble now standing where the rubble of Galbatorix's ruined castle once lay. The dwarven crafted foundations and veins of gold completed the awe-inspiring view; the magic-laden overhanging shelf that had survived Galbatorix's violent death still looming over the citadel as a sombre sentinel.

The spire itself was wide at its base and first few floors before it narrowed slightly in the middle section. It took a while for Eragon to see why the upper reaches of the building had a certain bulge to it before the spire rounded it off. Craning his neck, Eragon could now see that the upper floors had open apertures large enough for dragons to come and go. The design then became clear to him; the upper section accommodated dragons whilst the lower allowed for them also. The middle section would then be for the Queen and other dignitaries, a simple solution Eragon thought as the group finally slowed to a halt at the bottom of the steps.


	13. Chapter 12 - A Meeting Of Monarchs

**Chapter 12 – A Meeting of Monarchs**

Queen Serai looked up at the messenger as he knelt in front of her.

"What is your name, messenger?" she asked.

"It is Auldwin, Your Highness," he replied

"Is this true?" she asked in a quiet voice, tension hidden behind it.

"It is Your Highness. The elven ambassador bid me deliver it exactly as I have done so," Auldwin replied as she motioned for him to stand.

"This Eragon, what does he look like? Describe him to me," she ordered.

"He looks very much like Murtaugh besides his brown hair and eyes. His face resembles an elf more though with sharp and defined edges and there is no mistaking his Saphira even at a distance," he answered.

"Very well, I will grant their request of course. Thank you for delivering this to me Auldwin, you may leave with my response as I ready myself." She said as he bowed in her direction and left her chambers.

As she changed into a dress of deep red trimmed with a sand-coloured brown to accentuate her darker skin, she felt a shiver of fear and anticipation run through her. He was here! Surely the situation wasn't bad enough to bring in the one person with more power than the monarchies of Alagaesia combined?

Her legs felt like rubber as she went to summon her aides and councillors, never far away from her, and the weight of the crown on her head suddenly felt very oppressive to her, as she led the procession out through the main door and stepped out onto the dais at the top of the steps.

And that was how Eragon first saw her in the light of the marble surfaces around her. He suddenly understood Murtaugh's reaction to his questions earlier when he asked after her. The woman at the front of the group could well have been Nasuada as he remembered her, the fuller figure and the quiet dignity of her station precisely the kind of person Nasuada could have grown into in the first few years after he left Alagaesia. Eragon felt a pang of sympathy towards his brother, the feelings he knew Murtaugh had for Nasuada clear in his mind as he flashed a quick glance his way.

The younger Riders followed Murtaugh as he veered left on the wide expanse of steps, nervously fidgeting in their saddles; unlike their mentor, they were wearing their travelling clothes and their windswept look seemed out of place. Murtaugh ordered them to remain as he alone dismounted from Thorn as the two of them waited for Eragon and Arya to follow suit.

As for Eragon, he mirrored him by veering to the right with the leading elements of both the elven and city guards, Vanir and Heimdaln rightfully choosing to stay at the side of their monarch as she approached. Vanir quickened his steps to reach Serai first as Arya closed the gap and then stopped a short distance away; protocol dictating that she be introduced and recognised first, Heimdaln slightly behind her left shoulder as Firnen's long neck reached down over her right.

Vanir approached Serai and bowed low in front of her before turning back to Arya, careful not to turn his back on the mortal queen and said, "Your Majesty, I bring before you Arya Drottning, Queen of the elves and the realm of Du Weldenvarden and her dragon Firnen Greenleaf."

Vanir then motioned Murtaugh and Eragon to step forward, Saphira and Thorn following suit till Murtaugh, Arya and Eragon stood in a loose line before Serai. Vanir then looked at the Queen and continued, "I also bring before you Murtaugh Morzansson and Thorn Fireshade as well as Eragon Bromsson and Saphira Brightscales."

Arya and Serai acknowledged each other with small bows of the head whilst Murtaugh and Eragon followed with slightly lower bows, to Queen Serai's surprise. The dragons, however, followed Arya's lead and barely deigned to dip their heads, eyes not leaving the Queen or her retinue; the attendants looking on with wide eyes and open mouths.

Serai settled herself and her attendants before stepping forward a few paces and surveyed the scene in front of her. Quick glances taken back behind the new arrivals showed a growing crowd a short distance from the bottom of the steps, eager at this unusual sight.

Raising her voice to address the crowd as much as the dignitaries in front of her she said, "The crown of Ilirea welcomes Queen Arya and her fellow guests of such mighty renown, may the bonds of peace that exist between us remain ever strong and the land continue in prosperity."

Closing the gap even more, she continued in a quieter tone, "Food and drinks await you inside. I shall see you tonight, if it pleases you, but first I must set the hearts of my people to rest."

Serai turned back to the crowd and spoke in her clarion-clear voice once more, "let us rejoice tonight, for our champions of old have returned to us in veiled glory. Light the cook fires and let ale flow like water, for tonight shall the city ring of joy and celebration."

The crowd roared back their answer with cheers of delight, spreading the word through the city like a flood. As for the group on the steps, attendants came forward to help unsaddle the dragons as their Riders followed the Queens withdrawal into the building, Eragon again careful to carry the eldunari himself along with Undbitr and Brisingr. Thorn and Firnen then took to the skies and showed the younger dragons as well as Saphira where to fly to in the eyries of stone above.

The attendants themselves looked ill at ease at the fact that Eragon was carrying his possessions himself although he waved away any effort to relieve him. He entered the magnificent citadel between Vanir and Murtaugh, eager to talk to Vanir again as Arya moved up ahead to talk in low tones to Queen Serai.

"You have changed much since we last met," Vanir said as they eyed each other, the statement made in a neutral tone though Eragon sensed a deep undercurrent of approval in Vanir's eyes.

"As have you my old friend, it sets my heart at ease to see you in such fine company," Eragon replied in earnest warmth.

"Tell me of your island paradise on Dyr Aurbodain Eragon and its youngest inhabitants," Vanir asked.

"What is there to tell that I would not have you see with your own eyes Vanir; the dragon whose hide is the colour of the rising sun, the sight of a thunder of dragons in view of a full moon?"

"Alas that my travels have not taken me to your doors, though I have seen my share of fair Riders returning to their rightful places in the skies above," exclaimed Vanir in an exasperated tone.

"What can you tell me of Ilirea's new Queen? Surely she has made you welcome and included you and Ellesmera in her council?" Eragon asked, curious.

"She has been the perfect host to be sure, though she has seemed withdrawn of late and ominous feelings of my own have now been confirmed with your arrival."

"What have you gathered so far?"

"She has permitted me to know a few things, though they are also known to most of her staff. One such thing is that after a series of storms hit the northern coast of Alagaesia, we lost contact with the residents of Vroengard." Vanir said solemnly.

Vroengard was no longer the home of the Dragon Riders but in recent years, Eragon knew, efforts had been made by both his students and spellcasters of Du Vrangr Gata to make the island habitable again. A small contingent of spellcasters and soldiers manned the desolate place in an effort to secure the northern shores of Queen Serai's domain.

"The storms were abnormally powerful and every attempt to scry the island or its inhabitants is being blocked, though we don't know whether the failures are a result of the storms or not. And then a week ago she sent Gerland and Sifa to investigate," Vanir finished quickly.

Eragon then understood the Queen's uncertainty and slightly fearful thoughts as they made their entrance; it was not a Queen's place to command a Dragon Rider, least of all without seeking approval from Murtaugh, Arya or himself. Eragon hissed slightly at the Queen's choice though as Gerland was amongst a very few whose noble birth tied him to the Queens sovereignty even before he came a Rider.

Before he had a chance to think up a way to politely and subtly chastise the reigning Queen of Ilirea, the group entered a large room that had a large stone table in the centre. When the group got closer, Eragon smiled slightly as he saw that the table had sides on it corresponding to the various races and kingdoms who would meet at it. Vines chiselled into its smooth surface represented the elves, the former standard for the Varden of a dragon holding a rose over a field and sword had been adopted by what Nasuada had officially reinstated as the Broddring Kingdom and so on. The other spaces showed workings and representations for Surda, the Dwarves, the Urgals and even Werecats and Dragon Riders; the Riders being the mouthpieces for both wild and bonded dragons.

It was at that point that Murtaugh dismissed his students even as the retinues from both sides faded away into the background. As they took seats corresponding to their fiefdoms, Eragon couldn't help noticing the empty spaces for Surda, the werecats, the dwarves and the Urgals. There was no sign of the werecat that currently occupied the advisors role, no lesser lord to represent the other kingdoms.

"We normally never hold meetings in here. Given the circumstances however, I see that the Queen wishes to honour you as much as possible," Vanir said in a whisper.

"What about the empty spaces," Murtaugh asked in reply, glancing at where the other representatives were absent.

"This close to Agaeti-Blodhren they have all departed the city to arrange passage for the nobles they represent. Soon they will return with Lords and Ladies by the score and, of course, their liege lords."

"Will the dwarves be coming as well?" Eragon asked.

"They will indeed, though the word from them is that even King Orik will be amongst their clans and numbers." Vanir replied.

"Orik has rarely left Tronjheim in recent years, Eragon, and it's been even longer since he has dealt directly with the other races of Alagaesia." Murtaugh told Eragon even as they took the seats reserved for Riders.

As Eragon reflected on the possibility of seeing Orik again, he wondered at the dwarfs' great age. Though dwarves were long-lived beings, he knew that Orik had long since surpassed the age at which his foster-father Hrothgar breathed his last breath in the Battle of the Burning Plains. In remembering Hrothgar himself, Eragon was reminded that even as he seemed old and hale atop the uncomfortable granite throne, the last dwarf-King had been as formidable as they come in open battle with Volund in hand.

Returning to the moment, Eragon saw Queen Serai take her place at the table with a wizened old man immediately identified as a magician by his garb; loose robes with ample cloth about the arms and shortened sleeves.

Before the guards could close the warded doors though, a final figure slipped between the ever-closing gap with a show of speed and grace. A mop of unruly dark hair and a predatory set in the face that not even the feline features of the elves could match marked the arrival of what at first appeared to be a young boy. As he stepped into the light though, Eragon could see it for what it was. Unperturbed by its un-stately arrival, the werecat paused to gaze at Eragon's face with mild surprise before settling into a chair laden high with soft cushions and then proceeded to wait patiently for the talk to begin.


	14. Chapter 13 - A Strange Company

New chapter up now so thanks for the questions and I'm just looking over the latest atm so this is what I can say.

A large gathering of dragons is indeed a thunder, if I remember correctly from the novels. The dwarves are coming to ilirea in the next few chapters so we will see what happened to az sweldn rak anhuin (I think that's right for the banished clan) and we will discuss the advances in magic soon hopefully.

As to Angela, I'm hoping to bring her back soon as well as explore Tenga's origins, I'm afraid there's not much of a mystery there in my plans though they are connected to Heslant the monk and his society. And you guys know that wherever Angela is, Solembums not far behind (he's not the werecat we saw).

The incoming enemy will be seen, indirectly, soon and a clue to how our heroes can possibly defeat them? All I will say is the blood-oath celebration….

**Chapter 13 – A Strange Company**

Geran rubbed his backside again, trying to loosen the knots and cramps that came with hours of riding without relief. It was bad enough that the pace the group kept was rigorous and painful; they also had little time to recover other than sleep as soon as they stopped.

The town of Bullridge was a day behind them and already the fare they had for dinner seemed but a memory compared to the dried meat and cheese he had swallowed down a few hours ago.

As he gazed at the ever-growing company of guards that escorted them to the capital, Geran still felt dazed at the events of the last few weeks. What had started out as a bit of rebellion and adventurous youth had soon turned his life upside down. Eragon Shadeslayer himself descending on the creatures of nightmares, the realization of lost family and the hastily prepared departure from Carvahall left him feeling detached from himself. What bothered him more than anything else though was the desire to continue on; surely he should feel homesick or at least sad of leaving home behind?

No, he thought to himself, I always wanted to see the world in this fashion, though perhaps not so soon.

Just over two weeks ago, Geran and his family had said their goodbyes to Eragon Shadeslayer and immediately started to pack up small bundles of clothes and food. Kastin ran round to Ostan's house and begged him to look after what remained after explaining what had transpired. The burly man was worried for his friend but offered his help readily before blessing them on their journey.

As the sun started its descent, the family had lightened their coin pouches by a few gold coins and purchased four of the finest horses in Carvahall before setting off at a fast canter out of town to the sound of goodbyes made by the rest of the townsfolk. They made it to Therinsford by nightfall, making the journey in amazingly good time before settling in at the local inn and having a fine dinner before turning in for bed.

Little did the family, Geran included, know that as they left the following morning laden down with food enough to get them to Yazuac and Daret, they wouldn't have to spend another penny of their coins for the rest of the journey.

The clear skies overhead helping them on their way saw them arrive at Yazuac and Daret within days of each other. Knowing that the scroll given to them by Eragon would get them protection on their journey, Kastin approached the outpost of armed soldiers on the outskirts of Yazuac and explained their need. To the surprise of the entire family, the commanding officer himself selected half a dozen of his finest soldiers and a magician known as Darmud to accompany them. All the soldiers named had impressive ranks indicating years of service to the Queen and the Kingdom.

It was the same at Daret, two more soldiers with messages born for Gil'ead and the capital joined their group in addition to some spare mounts and food. It was during this time that Geran started to talk to the soldiers and even went with them to hunt game and bring back fresh meat for their cook-fires.

One of the soldiers, a younger man from Yazuac with blonde hair and named Benjenn, even showed some proficiency with a bow and helped refine Geran's skills. Benjenn even gave him a leather vambrace to protect his forearm from the stinging slap of the bow string. The other soldiers also relaxed around him and his family; one of them producing a string instrument and singing soft melodies in the night to the encouragement of Mirien and others showing them edible plants and animal tracks not found in Carvahall.

Despite his discomfort from riding in a saddle, Geran started to enjoy himself and saw that his family was doing the same. Though the soldiers were well disciplined, he could see they spoke easily with Kastin over matters of planting fields and collecting crops. Lilliana could also be seen helping them repair tears to their clothing in the evenings and discussing the latest fashions of the cities.

After they left Gil'ead behind them, Mirien pointed to the west and asked, "What is that?"

"What is what?" Geran asked as several soldiers craned their heads to follow her motion.

"Are those storm clouds?" Mirien asked, a puzzled expression on her face as a shadow crossed the faces of the soldiers who had looked. She was pointing at the sky above the Spine, an angry looking line of clouds hovering above and beyond them.

"Best not talk about them, young 'un," said one of the older soldiers darkly, flecks of grey in his otherwise chestnut-brown hair.

"They won't bother us from all the way over there," added Connar, another of the soldiers. "They would have to travel all the way over the Spine to do so and the sea is the place such weather brings."

Even as the soldiers steered the conversation away from the skies, Geran couldn't help but give the dark smudge on the horizon one last look before turning away. He knew the soldiers had done it deliberately and the uneasy feeling he had whilst looking at the clouds lingered even in the bright light of day.

That evening as they rested and supped together, the dark clouds swallowed by the dusk, Geran gathered the courage to ask the soldiers about them.

"Were those storm clouds normal for this time of year?" he asked innocently.

Some of the soldiers scowled at the question, whereas Benjenn replied, "Those clouds bring dark tidings, or so they say amongst the more superstitious in the cities."

"Ain't no superstition Bennie, before more of them came, those clouds first appeared in the same place on the horizon. Look at a map someday and you'll see that Vroengard lies in the same direction, I'll wager those clouds are directly overhead that ruinous city." Darmud spoke up.

"Vroengard! The old home of the Dragon Riders?" Geran asked.

"Aye, that's the place laddie," the grizzled voice of Selwyn told him, "dark and twisted magic runs through the ground like water on that island so I'm told, not to mention the odd things that live there as well."

"What things?" Mirien asked as she drew herself deeper into Lilliana's chest, even as her mother's expression begged them to change the conversation.

"Strange creatures that have been affected by magic, maybe they were once normal animals like wolves and deers, but it is a queer place with a dark past is Vroengard." Selwyn told them in a sombre tone.

"The Queen sent a Dragon Rider a while back to check on the rebuilding effort," said Draven suddenly, one of the messengers they picked up in Bullridge.

"How do you know that?" asked a surprised Benjenn as everyone mirrored him at the startling revelation.

"Watched the Rider leave I did, some noble's son with ties to the Queen got himself a dragon didn't he?"

"I bet she'll have a bee in her bonnet once Eragon Shadeslayer sees her, sending one of his own off without so much as a warning or permission." Selwyn said with a glance towards Geran and his family.

"Why?" Mirien dared ask again.

"Riders aren't like normal folk are they? They don't take orders from the Queen once their dragon hatches or from anyone for that matter. They are guarded by the same people who brought them the egg and then whisked off to the elves or some such for training aren't they," Darmud explained.

"So they can only be ordered to do something by another Rider, that makes sense I suppose but why don't they use Vroengard as they once did?" Kastin asked, joining the conversation.

"No one knows, do they? Some say the place has had an evil curse placed on it and others say it wasn't good enough for new Riders," Connar said with nods of agreement from the others.

As they turned in for the night, Geran thought on the conversation deeply. It surprised and amazed him that a Rider was exempt from the laws of Kings and Queens even if they had those duties before becoming a Rider. A spike of fear touched him when he wondered at the kind of arrival they might receive at Ilirea; a reminder that even a Queen's power was not immune from a Riders duty. Secretly, Geran hoped that Eragon would be there when they arrived, if only to avoid being in the same room alone with their sovereign.

His misgivings evaporated when he woke the following morning to a shower of water droplets falling on him from the tent in which he lay, shaken loose by Kastin as a means of getting the sleeping kid out of his blankets.

"Come on Geran, it's time to go. Connar says if we set off in the next hour, we could be through Ilirea's gates by late afternoon." Kastin said as he pulled his son out of the tent and shoved a bowl of food into his hands.

It seemed only ten minutes to Geran as tents were stowed away, humans and horses fed and fire damped before they were on the move again. The easy canter allowed the miles to pass by quickly as the city finally came into sight and Geran had his first glimpse at their destination. The central spire and a few of the larger estates gleamed in the light of day from their marble surfaces drew the young boys attention as they approached. Before the city walls there was a flurry of activity, a crowd of people pressed its way before the open gates of the city as even more erected tents and stalls.

The crowd reluctantly parted for the group as they passed through into the city proper, Selwyn taking a detour to find out why the city was so busy. When he came back he said, "The Queen has announced a week of celebration and tournaments to honour the return of Eragon Shadeslayer and the approach of the blood-oath ceremony."

"What is the blood-oath ceremony?" asked Mirien, as her family showed various faces of relief at Eragons presence in the city.

"It is the renewal of the pact between the Dragons and the other races of Alagaesia occurring once every hundred years. The Riders and the elves in particular take it very seriously. It is unusual for Her Majesty to honour it so much, the man I just spoke with says that the elven queen arrived two days ago and is expected to stay for it."

Benjenn then turned to Draven and said, "I think its best you go on ahead of us with your messages and inform Lord Eragon we have entered the city. You should also pass the news on to the Queen as well; she'll want to be told as soon as possible I'm sure."

"Then I expect to see you for a drink later," replied Draven to the senior Benjenn, winking at Geran and saying goodbye as he wheeled his horse and set off down the street.

They set off to follow him at a more leisurely pace when Darmud moved closer to Benjenn and spoke loud enough for the family to hear him say in a voice laden with surprise and excitement "the hawkers and sellers say that the Rider Murtaugh came in with the elves and Eragon. They also say that a large number of dwarves will be arriving before weeks end and that the few Riders in the city will put on an exhibition themselves during the tournaments."

"What will they be doing?" Mirien asked as the whole group shivered with awe and anticipation.

"The word going around is that they will show off their sparring skills with swords and the dragons will do some aerial acrobatics. The Queen is expected to attend with the elves and Riders themselves to watch. Men have begun working on the sparring grounds the other side of the city to accommodate the tournaments and the crowds."

Their excitement at the prospect was mirrored on the faces of everyone they saw as they made their way through the throngs of people that moved through the streets, gossip on the tips of a hundred tongues washed over them as they approached the citadel and the end of their journey.


	15. Chapter 14 - Talks and Thoughts

Sorry for the delay guys, so here's the next chapter.

A reveal about Helgrind and a mid-chapter switch of POV awaits.

One of my biggest weaknesses in writing this is my creativity, so, that in mind I borrowed heavily from my favourite books when I use names. Nowhere is that truer than the list of names I came up with for the elves towards the end of this chapter. 6 elvish names are taken directly from my favourite authors works (I do not include Paolini from previous Eragon novels) and I will give you a clue; one author is the source for more than one name. Just a little game you can play as I write the next chapter.

Anyways, Enjoy!

**Chapter 14 – Talks and Thoughts**

Eragon watched from the royal stand as the sparring grounds were transformed into competition arenas and standing space for spectators. The workers were diligently putting up fences and tournament boards with the occasional glance his way, which didn't surprise him at all, as he sat in the company of Arya and some of her elven guards, Murtaugh and the werecat, named Hefram, in his cat form.

The meeting that had taken place the previous day had been brief, but uncomfortable for the Queen Eragon had felt. Not used to entertaining so many equals, she seemed subdued by the talk surrounding the missing spellcasters of Vroengard and barely noticed the rebuke sent her way regarding Gerland and Sifa. The outcome of that particular topic had been to dispatch several more spellcasters to the coast and meet up with three of the more experienced Riders tutored by Eragon under the condition that they contact Ilirea should they find anything.

Bringing him back to the present was Heimdaln as he said, "not many of us know of how the Hadarac desert used to be. Back in our early years of immortality, the desert was half the size it is now and the rest was flat grasslands and fertile soil. We can only hope the poisonous magic of that fateful day is done spreading through the earth."

Towards the end of the meeting, Eragon and Murtaugh had shared what they had learned from Ellesmera regarding the Grey Folk in addition to the reasons for Eragon's return.

"Could it be? I haven't seen any evidence of it encroaching on Du Weldenvarden though that could be because of the protective spells in place, but what about everywhere else," asked Murtaugh.

"No, the damage was complete before Galbatorix came into power, though not long before," said Heimdaln.

I'm glad that's one less thing to worry about, Eragon thought, though as it is it still takes five days for an elf in a hurry to cross its expanse

"Finding out more about this abomination and how he came about might be important in the days to come," said Murtaugh. "Those storms hitting the coast and preventing us from contacting Vroengard are unnatural for this time of year and have a poisonous disposition in them. I can't help but think magic is involved in more than just blocking our attempts to scry, especially after this talk of the desert."

"What about Helgrind? What do we know about it?" Eragon asked suddenly, as if a thought had occurred. The werecat lying next to him on the seat touched his elbow as it stirred as if from sleep, though Eragon knew better than to suspect Hefram had not heard the entire conversation.

"That is a better question to ask, what indeed?" asked Hefram as Eragon turned to see a flash of gold through a half-closed eye.

"We don't know anything about Helgrind though; death worshippers are drawn to it as the Ra'zac were, its foundations run deeper than most and it has a habit of hiding those brave or foolish enough to enter," answered Murtaugh.

"We know more than that," added Eragon, "both you and I have been there and tried to undo layers of enchantments that still remain. The fact we failed should tell us the enchantments predate the ancient language."

"Take another look at Helgrind itself in the light of day," Hefram joined in with lazy satisfaction, as if he were a teacher and his students had finally stumbled across a solution with a little help. "The stone is black, in itself not unique, but chisel away the surface layer and you'll find that it should be reddish-brown. No doubt the surface layers were charred, burnt and melted when the abomination disappeared. Perhaps the dragon struggled against its captor, trying to kill itself by releasing dragon fire and magic."

Despite the fact that the werecat had confirmed that Helgrind was indeed a creation of the Grey Folk and possibly the place the abomination was created, no one felt happy at the news. The revelation was overshadowed by the thoughts conjured by such a place.

"A part of me isn't surprised," confessed Eragon as he turned his neck to gaze at the uppermost part of the citadel, where Saphira and the other dragons lay, listening in on the conversation. "I remember when I first mentioned the Ra'zac to Saphira back in Carvahall and she fled with me into the Spine. I haven't thought of it before but, regardless of the Ra'zac and their reputation, I remember being surprised at her fear, dragons are just as dangerous after all."

_What are you trying to say Eragon? _Saphira said in a guarded tone, unaccustomed to being portrayed as a weak hatchling.

"I felt your fear even as you tried to block me from your mind, remember? What I mean is that perhaps you weren't reacting to them as much as you were reacting to some ancestral memory or instinct you had at their lair in Helgrind. You were Galbatorix's prisoner for nearly a hundred years remember? Maybe on some level you knew from Galbatorix that Helgrind had something to do with the Grey Folk and the abomination, Galbatorix might even have found that tablet near the place."

"Then Saphira's not the only one. He can't explain it, but Thorn always feels slightly uneasy whenever we happen to be near Helgrind. Some memory of what happened passed from their ancestors perhaps," mused Murtaugh.

_You are correct in thinking Helgrind belonged to the Grey Folk, but there is more you should know if some remnant of their magic is responsible for our present situation, _voiced Umaroth in his unmistakable mindvoice. _That dark place stood when the war raged between dragons and elves. When regret gave way to anger and then rage, some of the elves became desperate and resorted to the darker aspects of magic when they entered the black mountain and found the metals that eventually birthed the Dauthdaertya._

"YOU LIE!?" Arya almost shouted, more out of shock and grief for her peoples actions than accusatory.

Had the other elves found their breath from the revelation, they too would have joined Arya in voicing their disbelief. Eragon knew though that even as shock was written on their faces, within their hearts the elves knew Umaroth wouldn't lie and the shame that was not their own stirred within them.

_I wish I were elf-queen. Vrael and I were told of this when we rose to the Head of the Riders Council and I still wish we hadn't. Despite my efforts, Vrael himself would not talk to me for a week afterwards and hung his head in shame whenever in another dragon's presence._ Umaroth's voice was full of sorrow, but nothing was aimed at the elves for the actions of their elders and ancestors.

"And this atrocity is somehow embedded in the ancestral memories of all dragons, if only in base instinct?" asked Murtaugh, recovering quickly from the information they had gleaned from the ancient dragon.

_Even in its abandoned state, we do not forget the evil that place spewed forth in the form of the abomination; and then for the elves to use its machines of war in their desperation is a constant reminder of a power even we fear _explained Umaroth.

The troubled silence that followed was soon broken by the approach of someone in the ragged travelling clothes of a messenger. By his appearance, he had spent at least a few days on the road, though his face showed no signs of fatigue. A dark head of hair and equally dark eyes completed a man who fell just short of Eragon's height to his eyes as the stranger approached the pavilion warily and bowed low before the group.

"My Lord Eragon, my name is Draven and I was bidden to tell you a family from Carvahall has just arrived with instructions that you be informed," the man said.

Impressed with the speed such a journey would have required to cover the distance so quickly, Eragon replied, "thank you for informing me. Where can I find them?"

"I left them at the walls of the city to deliver the news. By now they would be reaching the citadel; I also informed the Queen of their arrival as I sought to find you," the messenger named Draven answered.

As Eragon made to depart, the elves and Murtaugh followed suit as Arya said, "We would see this family of yours and Roran's also."

Smiling at the reception Rorans descendants were about to receive, Eragon motioned for Draven to lead them on their way. The pace was leisurely as Draven snaked his way through the throngs of the city with them behind, the crowds drawing back as the unusual group passed.

Within the citadel, they were given directions to one of the more modest guest quarters by a duty guard and in short order found the family and a few people Eragon guessed to be their travelling companions around a large and mostly empty table and enjoying a brief repast.

And that was how Geran came to look upon Eragon Shadeslayer once again. Surprisingly modest robes of forest green and breeches of wood brown offset by a leather thong to keep the hair off his face. The great blue sword he had seen aflame before silent in its sheath and a singular sapphire he had not noticed before upon his index finger.

And the company he kept.

Geran had never seen an elf before, but now nearly a dozen stood before him. Hair of silver starlight, raven black, sun-kissed blonde and fiery red framed angular faces that put him in mind of cats and other feline creatures. They had adorned tunics and robes of the finest quality and accompanied them with glittering gems stitched into the hems and belted waists. Swords he instinctively knew to be expertly crafted and equally deadly hung at their sides.

And the elven Queen stood at the forefront, gazing at Geran and his family with an inscrutable expression on her face. As her eyes fell on Geran, he felt the force of the gaze and involuntarily withdrew from it even as her expression softened and she moved on.

Drevan stepped between the two groups and announced, "Your Majesty, Lords Eragon and Murtaugh, may I introduce you to Kastin and Lilliana, their son Geran, their daughter Mirien and their companions Benjenn, Darmud,…." He continued on introducing everyone to the elves.

Eragon then introduced the elves, "and may I present Arya Drottning, Murtaugh, Vanir, Heimdaln, Nynaeve, Ingwe, Nyda, Durin, Menion and Elrohir."

As each elf was named, they stepped forward and into a little bow, twisting their hand to their chest in an odd gesture, Geran thought, before withdrawing slightly. Murtaugh though, Geran knew to be Eragon's half-brother, repeated the gesture before taking a seat next to him with a wry smile. The elf Vanir also bowed with less of a flourish and the same easy expression on his face.

"Vanir has spent more time in the city than the other elves," Murtaugh whispered into Geran's ear as the introductions were finished, startling him. Murtaugh winked at him as he leaned back into his chair as the elves made movements towards the unoccupied chairs that were scattered around the table.

The family and the soldiers who had accompanied them had taken seats more or less next to each other, leaving a wide swath of empty chairs opposite them which were taken up in short order by the elves. Murtaugh had taken the chair between Geran and Benjenn, one of the few in the midst of their group.

Eragon and Arya had taken seats directly opposite Geran and Eragon's gaze wandered between him and Murtaugh before telling Murtaugh, "What do you think Murtaugh? Does Geran remind you of someone?"

Confused, Geran turned to stare fully at Murtaugh who looked back and paused before chuckling, "No mistaking those grey eyes of his, definitely related to cousin Roran."

"And yourself remember? What did you say he was doing when you first saw him?" Arya asked Eragon as the tension around the table dissipated.

"Both of us do seem to have a knack for finding trouble when we go into the Spine," Eragon replied easily as Geran felt a smile cross his own face.

"What of Mirien and her mother's hair? Katrina had such a lovely shade of red to her hair and they have it too wouldn't you say?" Arya said as Mirien and Lilliana blushed furiously.

The conversation went on after that as it turned to the soldiers and how grateful Eragon was for their service. Vanir and Heimdaln spoke frequently and encouraged the other elves to join in as talking became more comfortable and they enjoyed a few of the fruits and vegetables on offer. Eragon was surprised by the level of ease with which the elves and human mingled and how even Arya shared in the little joys of life in Carvahall and the surrounding areas.

As the hours passed, the humans and elves eventually took their leave and disappeared to room that had been set aside for them. Mirien was carted off to bed by her mother despite her complaints as Geran retired without a word. Eragon, Arya and her guards left Murtaugh to talk quietly with the soldiers as they too retired to separate rooms. In full view of her guards, Eragon took Arya to one side and gently bade her goodnight with a brief kiss on the lips and a quick embrace before retiring with a smile and a rising blush.


	16. Chapter 15 - Dwarves and Tourneys

Sorry for the delay guys but I'm working with my nose to the grindstone these days and just couldn't spare the time this week. My hope is to get another chapter up before next weekend to make up for it, so fingers crossed.

As to my little competition, if you took the time to have a go, here are the answers;

(Heimdaln – Norse mythology and the Prose Edda, he is a god of Asgard who stands guard on the Bifrost bridge awaiting Armageddon and has keen sight and senses (he's in the Thor film played by Idris Elba as Heimdall))

Nynaeve – Major character in Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time saga.

Ingwe – elf who appears in Tolkien's The Silmarillion

Nyda – Mord-Sith in Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth series

Durin – minor character in Peter Brett's Demon Cycle

Menion – Shea and Flick's companion in the Sword of Shannara (Terry Brooks)

Elrohir – One of Elrond's sons in Tolkien's Lord of the Rings

As for you, tridentclaws, I used the name Serai from Gail Z Martins Chronicles of the Necromancer (though it's spelled Serae and she is Martris Draykes mother) though WoT is a good shout.

Anyway here's the next chapter.

**Chapter 15 Dwarves and Tourneys**

Arya woke up to the morning sun streaming through her windows and the smell of the bustling city in her nostrils, signs that the day had well and truly begun. As she made to move from the bed she thought back to the kiss last night before she and Eragon parted company.

A part of her thought how wildly inappropriate it was to be seen doing it in front of her guards, though a greater part revelled in the thrill the moment gave her. Her cheeks burned and her heart soared as she remembered its passion and also how the guards kept their silence, though their expressions said everything. Somehow they didn't seem the least bit surprised at the intimate moment between them.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she had asked Heimdaln as they rounded the corner and stopped outside her quarters.

"No Your Highness, apart from we all saw it coming," he replied as he cast a look at her other guards.

"You did! But how?" she asked, surprised and a little embarrassed.

"This is the first time I have seen you take more than a passing interest in a male since I have known you, be they mortal or no. Even when you don't realize it, you seek each other out in the corner of your eyes, and I'm sure he feels the same about you," explained Nyda with a small conspiratorial smile.

Arya had no defence for that argument. Nyda would know the truth of it as she had known her as well as anyone since Eragon had left and been a member of her personal guard nearly as long.

"You don't think it….well inappropriate in the circumstances?" she asked.

"Matters of the heart are rarely predictable and, given how long you have both been apart and your feelings for each other, it was inevitable this would happen anyway", said Elrohir with his simple honesty.

"He has grown from the teenage farm boy he once was as well," added Nynaeve.

Yet another truth. When they first met, Eragon had saved her from Durza thanks to luck and opportunity, risking his life for the beautiful elf he had only ever dreamed of. Eragon was a moondrunk romantic with feelings for someone five times his age and a heart filled with the innocence of youth.

Since then….the shock of his relationship with Murtaugh and the trials forced upon him for the future of Alagaesia had shaped him beyond anything they had dared hope. Thinking back on the improbability of their success against Galbatorix, it was Eragon who was the cornerstone that defied those odds. Magic seemed to come to him as easy as drawing breath only months after first discovering its use, an advancement of magical prowess unheard of even with Galbatorix. Arya remembered discussing it with Oromis before she left Ellesmera for the burning plains and Oromis was perturbed by his natural proficiency with magic, especially fire and the story of his first spell against the Urgals in Yazuac fresh in their minds.

Now….though he couldn't see it, Eragon looked as if he had aged five hundred years, not two hundred. Arya saw in his eyes and his features much more than the fire of passion he still held for her, she saw someone who had seen things only conjured by dreams and the minds of the bodiless dragons he had committed to helping all those years ago.

"He has changed much since he left," Ingwe agreed into the silence of Arya's pondering.

She used the reflective silence to retire to her bedroom, leaving her guards in the corridor and eventually drifting off to sleep, which is how she found herself roused by the dawn of a new day.

Dragging herself back to the present, she adorned herself with a purple robe and about her shoulders she affixed a deep red cloak with a broach stylized in a leafy design, which always reminded her of home. It was uncommon for a Queen to carry a sword other than in war, a restriction she hated but adhered to, so her sword Tamerlein was usually carried by Heimdaln wherever they went as a compromise, should she need it, but now it lay in the corner of the apartment with her other belongings.

She picked up the deep green sword with a sigh and held it before her eyes, drinking in the masterful craftsmanship behind it and studying the flowing lines along its edges before opening her door to find her guards.

At breakfast, she was joined by Vanir, Murtaugh and eventually Eragon as it drew to a close. His hesitation at the door was followed by a brief smile in her direction as he approached the table and sat down.

"The dwarves have been sighted from the walls," he said without preamble. "The messengers have just been told that the train is half a mile long and that Orik has come with them," he finished with a smile.

That changed the mood considerably. Orik was well known to most present as he had been the first dwarf in a generation to visit Du Weldenvarden and spend time amongst its residents. Even Arya found herself pleased with the news, an expansive past with the easy-going dwarf in Tronjheim made her time amongst the others of his race and humans easier to deal with.

After Eragon had a few bites of breakfast himself, the group departed for the upcoming reunion and the Queens welcome. Eragon stepped close to Arya and slipped her hand through the crook of his arm as they walked and although she felt a jolt of pleasure, like his, her attention seemed to be mostly elsewhere.

They were amongst the first to stand once more at the top of the stairs leading to the citadel and could see the crowds start to gather as news spread. The keen senses of the elves and Riders recognising the heavy fumes starting to rise from taverns marking the success their owners were making over the celebration period.

Murtaugh's students arrived not long after, though their dragons remained absent. Indeed the only dragons descending from the heights to join them were Saphira, Thorn and Firnen. The Queen arrived with her retinue as the crowds grew bigger and the clamour sent up increased in volume.

Before long, city guards approached at the head of a sizeable column of dwarves in a repeat of the scene two days ago, the crowd falling back once more to make way. Eragon's excitement peaked at seeing the crown-adorned head of Orik making its way to the foot of the stairs, his steps slow and stately.

Eragon then descended the stairs alone to intercept them, abandoning dictated protocol. A further surprise awaited him at the bottom of the stairs when the dwarf marching at Oriks side was none other than Gannel, chief priest of Durgrimst Quan. Up close Eragon could see how age had taken their toll on both dwarves; approaching three hundred years old each, their hair was turning grey to white, their steps slow on account of more than just the occasion.

As was his duty as a member of Durgrimst Ingeitum, Eragon pushed aside the implications of these observations and waited for the train to stop before going to one knee and bowing his head at Orik.

The crowd's confusion and decreasing volume turned to low murmurs and whispers, _who is this dwarven king that Eragon Shadeslayer should bow before him!_

"Grimstnzborith Orik, Akh Helzvog oen Gunteraz dorzâda! Os il dom qiranu carn dur thargen, zeitmen, oen grimst vor formv…." Eragon intoned in perfect dwarvish before translating for the crowd. "Hall-chief Orik, for Helzvog and Guntera's adoration! Let our flesh, honour, and hall be made as one once more as hall-guests of Queen Serai of Ilirea."

Orik then pulled Eragon to his feet and said "Akh sartos oen dûrgrimst!" _For family and clan_. They them embraced before the crowd as cheers went up once more.

Despite his frail appearance, the embrace told Eragon that there was still some strength left in Orik and was relieved as they separated. Eragon then glanced at Gannel, whose eyes strayed to his gift still worn about Eragon's neck as Eragon bowed and said, "Encesti Carn." _Holiest One. _

Gannel smiled slightly as he leaned on his staff of office and answered "eloquently put Shadeslayer, if a little inaccurate, though I think it best if we remain in the common tongue for the benefit of our hosts."

It was at that point that they turned and Eragon returned up the steps with Orik in between himself and Gannel, the other clans sending a representative of their own, including Az Sweldn Rak Anhuin.

"Durgrimst Az Sweldn rak Anhuin are represented here?" Eragon asked.

"Aye, they are Argetlam. When Vermund turned against you, he did not have the full support of his clan and his failure and banishment shocked even the most fanatical of his followers, not to mention your victory over Galbatorix." Gannel replied evenly.

"And Vermund himself?"

"He is dead. When he was banished along with his clan, they were after blood even as the rest of us refused to recognise his presence. He lasted two years in the deepest tunnels before the deep-dwellers found him and turned him over to them," Orik said.

Eragon remembered the bodyguard, Kvistor, who sacrificed his life to Vermund's deceit had been one of a family of deep-dwellers; dwarves who shunned the surface and open sky and were generally very religious. He wondered whether his family were responsible for avenging Kvistor's death.

They quietened as they hit the top of the stairs and were formally introduced to Serai and then Arya and Murtaugh.

The formal opening of the tourneys followed suit as Serai invited the dwarves to submit their warriors and competitors for various challenges and urged the elves, Riders and city-folk to do the same. The clamour of the crowd reached fever-pitch then as they would see an once-in-a-lifetime experience with all the different peoples gathered.

As the nobles and crowds all started to disperse, Murtaugh brought forth his students to present them to Orik and Gannel. The dwarf Riders in particular were already known to Orik through a practice of seeing all Riders from amongst the dwarves and their guardians off personally with missives of importance and blessings from Gannel. Any dwarf to become a Rider would instantly become imbued with wealth and the pride of their race.

Boshan and Rathgin conversed in fleeting dwarvish with Orik and Gannel whilst the others conversed in common as they were all received by the dwarf-King.

Eventually though, the clan chiefs all left them to organise their respective competitors and their clan members, and those who remained then went inside where Eragon's family awaited nervously. As Eragon explained recent events, Orik listened attentively as he greeted the family courteously

Suddenly Eragon started as he realized he had not allowed Orik to speak "now enough about us. What of you now? How is your wife doing, the beautiful Hvedra?"

"She is still as beautiful as ever Eragon. It is good to see you again as I despaired of leaving her behind as I once did." Orik said, his eyes shining.

They talked through the night discussing many things. The old enmity between the dwarves and Murtaugh was all but gone and Arya seemed comfortable talking about the differences in ruling two very different kingdoms. Orik may have been old for a dwarf but Eragon could not help but see intelligence and knowing in his gaze as it switched between him and Arya, who were sat very close together and perfectly comfortable with each other.

Dark had long since set in as Orik took his leave and everyone else did the same. The tournaments to take place tomorrow, three hours after first light had everyone turn in early, even Eragon, as they looked forward to what the day held.


	17. Chapter 16 - A Deadly Message

Woww, just blown through a chapter in the last two days and I was feeling particularly charitable so I thought I'd put it up before bed.

As to your responses, thank you as always for your opinions; I was asked the other day for a more detailed description of Dyr Aurbodain from an individual trying to write their own fanfic so I hope I can help in that regard. As to you guys stapet and Abraxus7RON, I agree that I have Eragon bowing a little too much, but I honestly don't see it as such an issue. Way back in Eldest, Eragon joined Ingeitum as Orik's foster brother and not just in allegiance to the dwarves, his bowing in the last chapter is much more in the way of respect rather than obedience. The same goes for him bowing to Serai when he arrives in Ilirea. Considering how powerful he is within the politics and machinations of Alagaesia, if he didn't show that kind of respect, the other rulers would suffer because of it in the eyes of their subjects.

So to summarise, I didn't mean for the bowing to be anything more than perfunctory (rather like the elven gesture of hand to chest).

Thanks for the comments and here is the next chapter.

**Chapter 16 – A Deadly Message**

CRASH!

The shield splintered under the force of the blow as the soldiers advanced on one another. Eragon could not help but flinch from the sudden spike of shock, pain and fear coming from the man whose arm had just been broken, the arm going limp and falling to one side with the remnants and splinters still secured in place.

The tournaments had commenced several hours ago and the crowd's emotions rolled like the sea on a stormy day. Despite rigorous mental training to prevent it, Eragon allowed himself to open up slightly to the torrent of excitement his mind was receiving. From his vantage point, he had a good view of the day's events and enjoyed the spectacle with Orik and everyone else.

"Will he be alright?" asked Mirien, who had momentarily turned away from the sickening blow.

"The healers will make him good as new by tomorrow morning," Vanir replied as the injured man conceded defeat through a haze of pain to the delight of half the crowd even as the other half grumbled whilst reaching for their coin pouches.

"The Queen is obliged to release the healers who work in the citadel as well, those whose skill lands them in the courts," explained Murtaugh even as healers helped the fallen soldier to his feet and escorted him from the field.

The dwarves in the crowd then gave a huge shout as the next competitors took the field; two dwarves astride a sturdy Feldunost each marching from the tents and taking position on opposite sides of the field. Eragon had only seen the Ghastgar once before, at Orik's wedding celebration in the Beor Mountains. The bravery of the participants weren't lost on him then either even as he mourned Saphira's absence during their brief time apart.

They watched as the dwarves dug their heels in and the mountain goats sprang towards each other. Most of the crowd who hadn't seen this particular sport before gasped as one of them launched a spear at the other when they were only twenty feet apart.

To everyone's surprise, the other dwarf didn't twist in his saddle to bring his buckler up, but rather brought his other hand up from his reigns in a lightning reflex and caught the spear a hands breadth to the side of his face.

Both dwarves received raucous applause from the people in the crowd for their feat, none more so than Orik, whose large hands met each other in repetitive claps of thunderous sound. "That was well done," his voice boomed over the noise, "this particular pair is well known for their more theatrical moves back home however."

He had barely finished speaking before they demonstrated his point by adjusting their positions in the saddle with audacious precision. When one of them found himself sitting the saddle in the wrong direction, he feigned a show of surprise as the spectators hollered in laughter and he faked a conversation with the other dwarf who had drawn up beside him. They eventually left the field to the moans and groans of those who had cheered them on.

"See what I mean?" Orik said as he wiped tears of mirth from his face and the laughter had begun to die down.

"I never thought to ride a horse in quite that manner," Eragon agreed in good humour.

The next pair were just as mesmerising. The elven Rider Sylbia took the field with Elrohir from Arya's personal guard and squared off with each other armed with the curved blades they so favoured. Even with the edges blunted with magic, the swings they took at each other were easily deadly and yet they evaded each thrust and swing with effortless grace as they reached inhuman speed. The crowd awed into silence by their sheer mastery, the bout eventually ended when Elrohir stepped in close and tore Sylbia's sword from her grip before bringing the point of his own to her chin.

As the crowd broke its silence to applaud, Murtaugh came in close to say, "Sylbia could have won if she had been watching how he moved. She tends not to give a backward step when it comes to combat, if she had, Elrohir would have been forced to overcommit himself and given her the advantage."

Eragon had to agree; when it came to The Way of Knowing and how he could read a person's actions, he could tell that, unlike Sylbia, Elrohir liked to wait for others to make a mistake, using the flow of the fight to work for him.

Performance followed by performance marked the passing of the day along with the venders selling their food and trinkets as the sky began to darken and it was time for the magic-users to give their contributions. A twinge in Eragon's gut was dismissed as being prone in a single position too long as he turned his gaze to the half dozen figures sporting the robes of Du Vrangr Gata on the open field.

"I thought that humans couldn't use magic without the queen's permission?" Geran asked as a hush fell over the crowd.

"They must have gained it for tonight. Their oaths normally forbid them from using magic so openly and of course against their ruler and their subjects. Mind-breaking in particular is only to be used to ascertain an individual's guilt if there's been a crime, and even that's rare because of the fear attached to the invasion of their innermost thoughts." Murtaugh said with a sober tone. Murtaugh had grown up with ferocious mental barriers protecting what he referred to as the sole sanctuary he always had; his mind.

As the magic-users took their places in the centre of the field, they formed a circle facing outwards and brought their hands together to form a living link between them. Timed to perfection with the coming dusk, their performance began as they sent streaks of flame to the sky where the stars were beginning to appear. The flames then appeared to explode in mid-air, bringing out whoops of delight from the crowd, including Geran and Mirien, and even Kastin and Lilliana were transfixed by the sight.

"How are they doing that?" Mirien shrieked in girlish delight as a particularly large flame exploded in the sky above.

"One of them is keeping small particles of explosive powder in the air and as the flame hits it, they give off a very small explosion," Vanir explained, though not without a shadow of admiration for their idea.

This time, as Eragon's gut knotted for the second time, he took notice. "Why does it require six of them though? Surely half those numbers would suffice for a show like this, requiring very little actual energy?" he asked, half to himself.

"I don't know…" started Murtaugh as the atmosphere suddenly changed.

The flames were no longer a warm orange but an ugly shade of deep red and black, the flames seemingly coming to life and flowing from one shape into another. Their creators now faced directly at the pavilion where they watched from. Beneath the cowl pulled over his face, Eragon thought he could see a sneer pass across the man closest to them. Even the crowd sensed the change and drew back as far as they could go; those at the front making themselves as small as possible.

As Eragon threw his mind out to dominate the will of the man he now knew meant him ill, a mind well hidden behind defences, he though OH NO! Too late he realised that the newly painted pavilion in which he stood was covered in the explosive substance just underneath the fresh paint.

Drawing Brisingr, Eragon leapt over the rail and raced for the man at the fore, closely followed by Murtaugh and Vanir, struggling to put themselves between those behind and the deadly magic now fuelled by the unnecessary additions to the spectacle.

Before they even got close, a jet of flame shot from the man's hands and blew into Eragon as he raised Brisingr in front of him. His enchanted blade flaring to life as it intercepted the torrid flame; Eragon could feel the slight drain on his strength as the sword tore through the spell. A flash of light temporarily blinded him as he kept Brisingr up to negate the energy behind it.

When the spots of his vision cleared, the six magic-users were desperately trying to escape the clutches of the elves and Riders who had now joined Vanir and Murtaugh. The magic-users robes on fire from being turned back by Brisingr were burning quickly as the flames seemed hungry to consume them.

Rather than be captured though, the rogue mages turned their power on themselves and committed suicide by magic. Their dying screams grating on the frayed nerves of the crowd as they watched on fearfully from the side-lines. The elves, who a moment ago were on the edge of conquering their minds, jumping back as the mages skin glowed from within as they too burst into flame and fell to the ground as their skin blackened.

The night fell into silence as the fire consuming the mages and their robes sputtered and died. Their features partially melted by their final act and twisted into gruesome grimaces of pain.

The crowd regained their wits as the silence and the occasional shriek was broken by the tide of gossip and murmurings amongst themselves. As they did so, Eragon and the others who had foiled the attack approached the corpses and inspected them more closely.

As they did so, Vanir cursed as he rolled a body onto its back and took in its features. "I recognise this man's face!" he shouted to the others in disbelief as they came running over in answer.

"How? You have seen him before?" Murtaugh demanded as Eragon extinguished the flames from Brisingr's blade.

"He was here several months ago. He is one of the spellcasters the Queen sent to Vroengard before communication stopped." He explained with a queasy expression.

"I do not like that answer. And how was he able to circumvent the oaths he took in the ancient language?" Heimdaln asked.

Murtaugh, Arya and Eragon all shared uneasy looks; they knew one such way of undoing such an oath, though the secret was a well-kept one. They did not voice it, nor have a chance to as Samia came forward and told them Serai had been ushered inside the citadel as soon as chaos broke out.

Instead, Murtaugh looked over at Eragon with concern and asked, "Are you alright after taking that hit? You must be dead on your feet after blocking that much energy, even with Brisingr's wards and unique ability."

Eragon shook his head as he said, "I'm fine, the sword did what it should and reflected it all back on them."

"But that's impossible! Your wards would have to have drawn as much energy from you as the fire itself drew from them. Three fully-fledged mages put their efforts into that spell and you aren't even affected." exclaimed Murtaugh.

"And why did it look like you were glowing the same blue as your sword for a moment, Ebrithil?" asked Cora.

"I was?" asked a very surprised Eragon, as he watched Kastin and Lilliana's heads disappear as they rushed the children back to their quarters.

"You were Eragon, for a moment, it seemed the flare from your sword covered your entire body in response to intercepting their magic," said Arya with a worried expression on her face.

Eragon could only shrug as he looked at Brisingr before sheathing it, _what do they mean I glowed?_ He thought as everyone stared at him questioningly as if he were a puzzle they couldn't figure out.

As order returned and the stewards got the crowds to leave the scene, Eragon was left to ponder why the magic levied against him hardly affected him. Thinking back through the heat of battle to the moment Brisingr flared, he thought he could remember something within him flare in response. _What the hell was that? _He asked him even as he doubted he even felt it in the first place.


	18. Chapter 17 - A Crazy Old Man

Well guys, this chapter was surprisingly hard to conjure up to my satisfaction, despite how quickly I can put it up.

Now for a few answers to the reviews;

Firstly, it has always been my intention for Brisingr to be more than just a normal blade, even a Rider's blade. I like how some of you seem excited about that and I definitely share the love for that part of great fantasy adventures (the heron-blade in WoT, the Sword of Truth, Narsil, Glamdring, Orcrist and Sting from LOTR). One sword that I have used for inspiration is Martris Draykes sword, Nexus, from Gail Z Martins brilliant Chronicles of the Necromancer series where its use comes with a price to its owner.

As for your comments Masteroftime, if you remember back in Eragon (novel), Brom says that wizards only have to adhere to the rules simply because of the backlash of a dying enemy, thus the need to control the mind before magic is used. As for the scene, Eragon doesn't have the Belt of Beloth and he didn't have time to link with anyone/thing else.

As for the ideas of Eragons affinity with fire, it will be explained in this chapter and the next few, I also can't go further prior to you reading this chapter but explanations will come. It will be a recycled idea to anyone who recognizes it, but good ones always are is my excuse and my opinion.

As for you Phoenician Rose, I will try to work at least a reference in soon, though thanks for the reminder.

**Chapter 17 – A Crazy Old Man**

The night's sleep did Eragon no good. The citadel was in an uproar over the previous day's events and the queen was sequestered in the most secure area of the building. Though they thanked Eragon profusely for what seemed like a miraculous intervention on his part, he saw that they were now wary of him and he could tell from the emotions rising to the surface of their minds that they wanted nothing more to do with him. It seemed that the welcome of his long-awaited return was now very short-lived.

Though they tried to stop it, too many people now knew the identity of the mysterious spell-caster who had originally been sent to Vroengard. If people weren't concerned about the cursed island before, now they most definitely were. The thought on everyone's mind was how he could become an enemy despite the oaths that should've prevented him.

It was just him and Murtaugh in the apartment in the early morning and they were discussing such problems. "Did you manage to read his mind before he died?" Murtaugh asked.

Eragon nodded, "There was something wrong with his mind. It was like a dark mist had clouded everything and its touch was evil. It comes close to what you see in animals when they go rabid, or even when you see a mind tampered by another. But this had malice, it had purpose and worse, whatever did it wanted to achieve what we saw; a mind completely broken."

"Almost like a Shade's," added Murtaugh.

"Who controlled him though? We didn't detect a malicious intent from anywhere close, and unlike a Shade, the dominant mind was external."

Changing the subject, Murtaugh said, "I'm sure it will make itself known all too soon. However, I want to know how you reacted so quickly?"

"The wardnet," Eragon explained, "the one the spellcasters put around the pavilion to protect us and the Queen. The display only required half their numbers, so the others were joining their minds and biding their time by probing the magical defences before attacking. I was already on guard for something and so felt their touch before they could."

"I felt the same," Murtaugh said sheepishly before going on," I thought that spellcasters in the crowd were getting too suspicious for their own good. It was only after I saw you move and the flames change colour that I put them together."

"And the men who painted the pavilion swore that nobody tampered with the solution. They didn't even know the powder had been added until I told them," Eragon continued as he remembered the fear those men felt at being put on the spot for the attack.

"They didn't even need to do that either. The energy they sent your way should've levelled the pavilion without its help, which is why we were surprised you weren't even tired by it." Murtaugh said before hesitating, he looked worried as he leaned forward and added, "When you brought out Brisingr, it flared instantly. You told me that it only does that if you say its name, and yet you didn't."

_I didn't._ Eragon had no answers, though he knew without thinking it had done, as if it had flared with an awareness of its own.

"Rhunon said when she and I forged it that it took on some of my characteristics, which is why only I can get it to light up without uttering a spell. For all I know, we could have seen this happen sooner if I had been using it more than sparingly these last few years." Eragon said, mystified as he looked to where Brisingr lay on his bed.

"Perhaps, but that doesn't explain how you weren't…." Murtaugh was interrupted by a knock on the door, as it was opened to reveal Geran standing there and twisting the bottom of his tunic in his hands.

"Eragon, Murtaugh…Sir," he stuttered, "We were in the main hall when a man came up the steps and approached us. He said that he would like to meet you as soon as possible and sent me to find you, like I was a messenger."

"Where is he now, Geran?" Murtaugh asked.

"He is still in the hall, with the others. He seemed to be talking to Mirien as I left," Geran replied nervously.

"What does this man look like?"

"Old sir, I know some people in Carvahall who are over sixty years and yet, this man looks like a skeleton next to them. He has old robes and white hair sticking out in all directions, he seems half-mad and he was babbling nonsense as he came up to us," Geran answered.

"I think we better see who this man is and what he wants," said Eragon as he got up from his chair. Likewise, Murtaugh did the same and headed to the door as Geran led the way, Eragon pausing only to pick up Brisingr as he followed.

Geran was striding along nervously as his pace told, Eragon and Murtaugh keeping pace with the young boy as he led them through the maze of rooms and corridors. Eventually though they ended up back in the large hall that opened onto the main entrance, men and women milling around and waiting for an audience with nobles, both major and minor for various reasons.

Geran's family were easy to spot; there was a wide circle around them as the old man in question was talking animatedly with Mirien who looked both afraid of him and amused at the same time. Everyone else giving them a wide berth with more than a few stares in their direction as Geran came back with his message delivered.

There was something about the old man that Eragon recognized, the feeling only growing as he started to hear the old man talking. He was saying "…has always been strong and patient, those who wield it proficiently tend not to be rash and they think things through thoroughly before acting, unlike water, where emotion is ridden as a ship does a wave."

As Mirien turned to see her brother approach, the old man followed her gaze and it was the keen eyes that stood out to Eragon as he got his first look at the man.

"YOU!" Eragon started as recognition flooded through him as well as shock.

The creased face split into a semblance of a smile, "Bergan! I assumed we would be seeing each other again," said Tenga, son of Ingvar.

"What are you doing here?" Eragon asked Tenga even as Murtaugh asked "why are you calling him Bergan? His name is Eragon."

The face was more worn than the last time Eragon had set eyes on it, but Tenga seemed to be full of energy as his gaze switched between the brothers, "because he told me that was his name when last we met. No doubt an effort to hide himself from you when you were still the traitors servant."

"What does he mean?" Murtaugh looked at Eragon.

Eragon sighed before replying, "After I killed the Ra'zac, I found Tenga in the ruins of the elven outpost Edur Ithindra on my way back to the Varden. My visit was brief but memorable," as he turned an apologetic eye to Tenga.

The old man cackled in an eccentric way, "Memorable it most certainly was. Your little stay aroused some old suspicions of mine; suspicions which were concluded yesterday during the interrupted performance last night."

"You were watching in the crowd?"

"I was indeed. Your actions confirmed what I already knew to be true; that the abilities of an elemental had not been lost as my people once feared." Tenga said.

"What do you mean elemental abilities? What does this have to do with me and last night?" Eragon asked.

"I mean an individual's affinity for wielding one or more of the elements found in nature; fire, air, water and earth. What you did last night is impossible for a normal mage without tapping external sources of magic, and yet you did it without help from your dragon, others or even your gem stores," Tenga explained.

"I did it with my sword," Eragon said uneasily as he gestured to Brisingr, uncomfortable at the additional people in this conversation.

"Ha-ha, further proof of what I've been saying. You forged the sword with your own hand did you not?" he hesitated long enough only for Eragon to nod quizzically. "An elemental using magic and steel to forge a blade imbues it with a limited sentience, ensorcelled with a portion of its master's magic. I saw it flare last night of its own accord, and the magic didn't originate from you, but came from within its steel. Here, let me see it." Tenga asked, holding out his hand.

"Not here," Murtaugh said sharply as he gestured at the growing interest people were taking in them. "I don't fully understand what you are trying to tell us, but it would do us good to talk elsewhere."

Murtaugh practically dragged the group into the nearest room, hidden in an alcove to the side of the hall. The thick doors slamming shut as their wards went up, crystals in their frames powering spells to prevent eavesdropping and other methods of gaining entrance as Murtaugh put his hand to them.

The room was dimly lit by windows made of similarly warded glass and Eragon wondered at the tenacity of Tenga as he waved a hand in the direction of the candles scattered in the candelabra above them with a wordless spell. Murtaugh did a double-take as he too noticed the silent display of magic even as Kastin and his family jumped as the candles flared to life, missing the significance.

As Murtaugh rounded on the old man, Eragon found himself holding his gaze. The aged eyes were full of knowing, but also of questioning, as if the mind behind them silently judged Eragon's intellect.

"Now, why do you need to see the sword?" Murtaugh asked as he stepped up to Tenga.

"To help you understand," came the answer as he held a stubborn hand out expecting the request to be allowed.

Eragon shrugged as he unbuckled the blade from his belt and passed it over, the old man taking it reverently in his hands as he studied it closely. Taking it out of the sheath he muttered "Expertly crafted, perfectly balanced; of course an ensorcelled blade can be no less than flawless if magic is wielded with the hammer blows," loud enough or them to hear.

He then ran his index finger along the blade along the blade as he muttered "Brisingr." As Eragon and Murtaugh expected, nothing happened as Tenga didn't utter it as a spell. As Tenga turned it their way therefore, they got a shock when the glyph marking its name had changed in a shimmer of blue light, as if the sun had caught it at the right angle, or as Eragon remembered, as Zar'roc had when Saphira touched it with her snout all those years ago as they fled the Spine with Brom.

The glyph now read, "Of blood and power."

"How did you do that? Now really, who are you to do such a thing to a Riders blade?" Murtaugh asked as Geran and the others crammed in for a closer look.

Tenga looked hard at Eragon for a second before Eragon realized that the old man expected him to answer the question. And it was with a weird sense of numbness that Eragon realised he did know, that even with the short time he had known the man there could only have been one logical, if unbelievable, answer.

Eragon smiled slightly as he returned the gaze and said, "He _is_ one of the Grey Folk."


	19. Chapter 18 - The Elementals

Here's the next chapter for you lucky people.

It was a tricky one to write though as it hopefully sets the tone for the rest of the book and the advancement on the rules of magic. (Think Avatar: the last airbender crossed with male Aes Sedai from WoT and a load of others for inspiration).

One thing that I have neglected of late is our favourite sky-blue dragoness, so next week I will put up a chapter where we will actually see, hear and rejoice in Saphira's honour, I might even throw in firnen and thorn as well.

Anyway, it's business as usual for you guys, please write your thoughts, your ideas and anything else that comes to mind after you've perused this chapter and let me know what you think.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 18 – The Elementals**

A triumphant gleam shone in Tenga's eyes as Eragon uttered those words, even as Murtaugh's face became one of dubious suspicion. Geran and his family, knowing nothing of the deep past and the legacy of the Grey Folk, just looked puzzled as they struggled to understand the import of what the trio were talking about.

"I thought you might have understood as much, your instincts serve you well as I knew they would Fireborn" said Tenga.

A memory tickled at the back of Eragon's mind as Tenga gave him the strange epithet. He then remembered how he had been called something similar,"firebound one", by Fandhrin in Ellesmera as they discussed the aged scroll.

"Why do you call me Fireborn? I have heard a name similar to it before, Firebound, and I don't know what you mean by it? Eragon asked.

"All Riders are in a way firebound, it is a Riders connection to a dragon to which it refers. Both you and your brother are firebound," Tenga said as he looked at Murtaugh and Eragon in turn. "Fireborn though, is something else entirely but to do this, you would have to learn more of the deeper secrets of the earth around you. Secrets that a bare handful of my kind understood and none since have come close to even questioning."

"And what secrets are these, may I ask?" Murtaugh asked, doubt written all over his face.

"The secrets of magic of course!" Tenga exclaimed as he shoved Brisingr under Murtaugh's nose, "secrets that even Galbatorix had not thought to question. How could you harness the power of light over the darkness, the power of earth over the raw fury of the sea? All these questions were asked long ago, but no more, and now the unnatural one returns, one who has gained such knowledge through foul means!"

"You know of the abomination?" Murtaugh started, his face clearing of any prejudices instantly.

"For aptly named is he the abomination. He brought shame and ruin upon us the day he brought pain to such a beautiful creature, the price of knowledge gained in such ways not even paid in full to this day." Tenga said sharply as his eyes turned inward and became moist with yet-to-fall tears.

"We know of how he came into being, but tell us more of these secrets you would divulge to us," Eragon urged.

"Alright, alright," the old man placated, "what little you know of magic is that energy comes from within you and from the beings around you, correct?"

"Or from within certain gems and objects already imbued with energy," Murtaugh added.

"Indeed, but their energy comes from the places I mentioned," Murtaugh looked scandalised, "but what of the other places where magic seemingly springs from nowhere, the floating crystals of Eoam, for example?"

Eragon and Murtaugh both shrugged, "we heard it had something to do with the abomination's march on the dragon mountain" Eragon said, intrigued.

"In a way you have it to rights boy, but there is more to it. All these rare instances of magic happen in the same kind of place; where the skeins of magic within the earth flow close to the surface. Not unlike how your "bodiless" friends protected the future of the dragons by hiding them beneath Vroengard, where the earth-fires are lit."

"Bodiless friends?" Eragon queried, alarmed by what Tenga implied.

"Hahh, do you think it was you alone who knew of the source of Galbatorix's strength? I spent time amongst the greatest of the Rider order back when Vrael was just a stripling and Umaroth still in his shell!" Tenga said to their surprise.

"And they shared the greatest kept secrets of the dragons with you!"

"When you have studied dragons and magic as long as I have, few can claim to know as much as I, not even the Rider's." Tenga boasted.

"You still haven't told us what you mean by fireborn," stated Murtaugh, bringing them all back to point.

"Magic isn't just the measure of an individual's strength, be they man, beast or plant. Magic flows through Alagaesia like water through a river, if you have the ability to access it." Tenga replied curtly.

"And you think I have this ability?" Eragon asked.

"I know you do. What you did yesterday proved it when you stopped that fire; though you didn't know how, your body reacted to the fire and opened you up to the nearest flow in order to protect yourself. When I say you are fireborn, I mean that you have the potential to use fire as a medium in which to access the rivers of energy and thus magic that flows under your feet. Earthborn magic-users channel through the ground to access it and waterborn through the underground rivers that eventually emerge to form what you see around you and so on. This is what it means to be an elemental."

"How do you become fireborn or an elemental?" asked Murtaugh.

"No one knows. In the few cases that were documented in the distant past, there was nothing linking them, nothing to indicate why they were elementals and others not. My theory is that you were born with the potential as you are a second-generation dragon Rider through you father. The fire-magic that ran through your father's veins and Riders bond opened you up to the skeins of energy early in life, awaiting only the trigger to bring it to life. It usually takes a life-threatening event, an emotional shock or some such to awaken it."

"So it's possible my brother is one too?" Eragon asked, indicating Murtaugh.

"It would be a rare thing indeed for two so close to both be elementals, though it is not impossible. In my opinion though, you are the only one who has the gift." Tenga replied with a small smile.

"How rare were these gifts for us never to have heard of them?" asked Murtaugh returning the smile with a wry one of his own.

"Only a handful of people were born with the potential in every generation; and very few of _them_ managed to use it. Those who were discovered to have the ability were instantly raised to what you would call nobility, their gifts became their calling in life and my people revered them." Tenga explained in the tone of a master bard.

Eragon and Murtaugh both noticed the hitch in his voice when he stumbled over the last word.

"Do you mean them, or us?" Murtaugh asked politely.

"I wondered if I gave myself away there for a second," the old man said, "nothing for it now it's out though. You are correct in that I too was once known as an elemental, but not so much anymore, not since the decay of my kind."

"What were you and how did you come to lose it?" Eragon said, asking two questions at once.

"Long ago I was one of the earthborn, tasked with building wondrous structures of stone that have since crumbled into nothingness or stand weathered in the face of time. Edur Ithindra is the last of them to remain proud and true," he replied.

"I thought the elves built Edur Ithindra?" Eragon said, caught off guard.

"I did say that didn't I? Technically they did call it home for a time before Galbatorix drove them into the forests and I moved back in. ever since then, I have called it home with the exception being the time that idealistic young queen tried to bring me and my magic to heel when you left," Tenga replied, talking about Nasuada.

"At least you didn't injure her spellcasters when you packed up and left," Eragon remembered.

"She thought a petty oath in the language of my people would bind me, my magic has never worked in that way, even when I felt the greatest part of my strength and power leave me." He said in an amused sort of way.

"How did you come to lose your elemental powers then?"

"The magic that all elementals used at the time of the abomination seemed to spiral out of control, like a river that suddenly broke its banks and left only a riverbed behind. It was almost as if the currents of magic lashed out like a living thing and was wounded in the process, I was told later it was a miracle I survived the backlash as it snapped back."

"And there hasn't been an elemental since?"

"Until now," Tenga said, "when we first met, I felt the earth respond to the bond between you and your dragon. Weakened though I am now, I still share a unique bond with the earth and it was easy to sense just your potential, as if the return of a true Rider and dragon pairing gave Alagaesia the strength to heal." Tenga laughed as he added, "I almost expected the flowers to bud right then and there in front of my eyes when you came into sight, the plants and animals singing loudly of your passage in their own way."

"These channels of magic, how do I summon the energy from them as I did yesterday?" Eragon asked.

"The first time is always the hardest, because you don't know you should even reach for it. When next you use your mind and dig into its recesses for the magic, you will sense the currents all around you, as if you've somehow missed seeing them all your life and you are suddenly drowning in them, which is what you should channel." Tenga said, his face suddenly turning sad.

"Can you still sense them?" Murtaugh asked, curious about the reaction.

The old man could only nod. "That is what it means for me to live, not just in the ways of magic either. I can still sense the currents but it is like hearing or seeing them from a distance, beyond my reach. If only I still had the company of others like me, the woman who had just a marvellous wit and lovely curls of hair, the last offspring of my kind to leave."

_Those wood-carvings of animals left in his house_ Eragon reflected, _what a lonely existence it is to be alone._

It was therefore with a heavy heart and mindful of ponderous knowledge that Eragon and the others left the old man in the hall, with a promise to see him in the evening for dinner. As they emerged from the darkened room, the candles burning low in their brackets, they were surprised that the sun remained high in the sky as it reflected of the scales of the dragons, barely specks so far above the ground.

_Saphira, _Eragon called as his eyes found her signature blue amongst the shimmering thunder of dragons;_ you've just missed an interesting chat_.


	20. Chapter 19 - The Darkness Comes

Sorry for the wait guys, this is the first time I've had more than five minutes to myself since the last chapter, but I've finally finished it so I beg your forgiveness.

A little more content in this chapter and of course, Saphira's return.

I'm hoping to get back to one chapter per week and so I'm crossing fingers for you guys to get a new chapter up soon as well.

Again thanks for your comments, I'm hoping for 100 reviews and followers by weeks end and 50 favourites as well, so if you know any like-minded fans like yourself, plz advertise my fanfic and increase my motivation for continuing at a quick pace.

Anyways, Enjoy, and lots of good stuff to come in later chapters as well.

**Chapter 19 – The Darkness Comes**

_What Tenga says about you certainly seems interesting, _Saphira said as Eragon squirmed in his saddle.

Saphira and Eragon were thousands of feet in the air above the capital, the isolation and the feeling of freedom allowed them both to relax somewhat from the noises of the city below. Saphira had been gone for too long of late, hunting outside the city's expansive limits for food and in the company of the other dragons. It was an unforgettable joy and continuous source of contentment to take to the air with Saphira; she had always loved to fly and was well aware of her grace and strength whilst airborne.

Now that the dragon's had hunted their fill of what nearby wooded areas there was, Saphira and Eragon were finally given the chance to catch up on the conversation with Tenga. Saphira was curious about the claim that he was one of the Grey Folk and eager to meet him herself.

_But how come we have never heard of these elementals before_ Eragon asked Saphira in the depths of their mind-sharing.

_Who's to say you haven't, what you are describing sounds a lot like how us dragon's feel when we manage to use magic of our own,_ Saphira said.

_What do you mean?_

_The world around us comes into perfect clarity, the people we see suddenly burn with an inner fire, as if we are looking at their very souls, their essence. _Saphira explained.

_Do you see more than that? What of the plants and animals, the energy stored in gems, what of them? _Eragon asked, curious of a man he once met who had been blinded in the fields of battle.

_At Orik's coronation, I remember fixing Isidar Mithrim. Your emotions guided me to the magic and for a moment you burned like the sun, twelve stars gathered at your waist within the Belt of Beloth and an even brighter star shining through your hand. You were not the only one either; Orik himself was bathed in light. Saphira said._

Saphira sent Eragon her memories of the experience and allowed him to see for himself what she meant. Losing his sense of self, he delved into the memory and the scene which he remembered but fleetingly came into view from a whole different angle. The gift-bearers heaping presents before Orik, the almost-holy visage of the dwarf-god and the undefinable presence felt at his appearance, all resonated with what Eragon himself felt at the time.

Then came the time for Saphira's moment and the Star Sapphire's restoration. Eragon, in Saphira's body, moved towards the scaffolding holding the countless fragments together and he felt Saphira quest in her mind for the unbidden magic to come. It was the first time that Eragon felt his own emotions feedback to him through Saphira; knowing that he sometimes kept contemptible emotions from her. This time though, he felt a true acceptance of the sorrow and regret they felt and suddenly a veil fell from the deepest recesses of her mind.

From his own memory, Eragon remembered the magnitude of the energy Saphira channelled via his bond. This time, from her point of view, he felt the same torrent of magic rush out of her, but it was also as if the world, having been dull and grey all his life, for a moment lit up in countless colours and brilliance. Saphira was not even turned in Eragon's direction as the magic came to her, but it was easy to single his body out in the crowd; in a sea of stars, Eragon marvelled at how brightly he stood out of the crowd, exactly as Saphira described. The glow within his chest, accompanied by another from Aren on his finger and the belt radiating a dozen of its own blinded Saphira to those nearest him.

Eragon also stood out in different ways though. In that instant of clarity, those precious few moments frozen forever in Saphira's mind, Eragon saw that this brilliance about him seemed to swirl, almost as if he were looking at an eldunari, and it radiated out of him in thin lines, leading to the ground in which he stood. A thicker line connected Eragon's body to Saphira's, what he assumed was a visual representation of the Rider's bond. From beginning to end, Eragon saw his glow wax and wane as light passed between himself, Saphira and the floor of Tronjheim, leaving through one line and returning through another.

Returning to the present and himself back in the saddle, Eragon gasped _That was intoxicating! I felt afire with energy and your body must have thrummed with the sheer bliss._

_I have felt something like it before, but without the sight that it granted me. The dagshelgr invocation made me drunk on energy and set my body racing _Saphira explained.

_But could that be the same for Murtaugh and the other Rider's? Maybe what you saw is common to all of them and not necessarily proof that I am different. We have been told more than once that the Rider's bond affects everything around us in a very profound way after all, _Eragon said, still doubtful.

_Would it be so bad if it were true? Or are you worried about something else?_ Saphira asked.

_I just don't want to be the crux of everyone's hopes more than I already am. With the Varden, I was the cornerstone of their hopes and desires even as I was crippled by Durza, _Eragon explained, referring to the Shade that nearly ripped him of his sanity. _Now, my decision to leave Alagaesia may have been correct but even so, in my absence legends have sprung out of the ground and a few people are even convinced that I must be a god walking amongst mere mortals, and that is before they even meet you and the other Riders._

_You would deny your strength? Deny the people to look at you and dream of bettering themselves in the process? _

_I guess, in all the tales I've read of the heroes of old, they never mention the responsibility heaped on their shoulders and even the hint of how they are swept up in their own importance. Even Umaroth never reveals that part of his past life, though it is apparent that Vrael and he felt the burden they carried _Eragon sighed.

_You have not been the farm boy for whom I hatched in a while Eragon, we have made our own lives and are better for it. Let people believe what they will, so when they follow us they make their own choices._

Eragon agreed with the idea if not with the situation so he just mentally nodded as they climbed ever higher. The sun was visible above the clouds and drove away the chill from his bones, even with the warm clothes he wore. From up high, they could see for miles in every direction and as they dipped back below the clouds, the far-away cities of Dras-Leona and Gil'ead were even visible as specks near the horizon. To the south however a storm was gathering and a shiver of unease ran through Eragon and Saphira both as their gaze lingered.

_We better get back, _Eragon said as Saphira angled downward in unspoken agreement _we've been absent long enough, and we need to know if the spellcasters have any news from their contacts._

They were not the only ones to plummet to the ground; to the east of their position, the younger Rider's at a lower altitude saw Saphira's dive and followed suit, abandoning their aerial lessons at Eragon's command. The momentary thrill of Saphira's dive and the race to the ground was lost on Eragon as he rebuilt his mental barriers and tried to dispel the sense of foreboding building inside of him.

As they landed, Vanir approached on quick feet from the citadel and bowed hurriedly to Saphira, "Eragon, you must come quickly! We have word from one of Serai's spellcasters in Surda."

Saphira stayed still long enough for Eragon to jump down from the saddle before taking off, _the students can take off the saddle, now go! And stay in contact!_

Vanir set off at a run as Eragon followed, startled nobles jumping out the way as the two barrelled through the citadel at inhuman speed. Stopping outside a door with no less than twenty guards armed to the teeth with everything from spears to brass knuckle-dusters, they were quickly admitted with a password from Vanir.

It was chaos inside; a full-length mirror was visible behind a crowd consisting partly of Murtaugh, Orik,Arya and Serai. As they made way through to the front, Eragon could hear the voice from the mirror saying, "the navy is being destroyed, the defences will not last long against what's out there, the city will fall in a matter of hours."

"And what are you doing about it? What about Lord Alaric, where is he?" Serai demanded, struggling to remain composed as she sighted Eragon and Vanir arrive.

"He is overseeing the evacuation, if he hasn't already left. The civilians were the first to go, then the swords and heavy arms. We are outmatched against what's coming and he knew it, the only ones who remain are the light infantry, myself and the bowmen. Anyone with a horse is manning the permanent ballistae with a bow and a full quiver to take in retreat. If the enemy make the Jiet River, orders are to harry them as much as possible and give Dauth as much time as possible." The spellcaster was a woman of middling age and dark hair, the face smudged with dirt and blood, tiredness apparent even without her arm in a sling.

"What of the enemy? We need to know numbers, ship sizes, weapons and anything else you know?" Eragon said as calmly as he could.

The spellcaster looked at Eragon and blinked before turning to Queen Serai, Eragon saw Serai nod in his direction as the spellcaster added, "their ships number in the hundreds, the smaller ones came first and rammed our vessels, exploding with a fire that water does not quench. It is not done with magic, that much I do know and the larger vessels are coming up behind, sweeping up what's left. As for other weapons, they have used the fire and cannons against the walls which are holding so far. Communication is a problem though; it is taking us a lot of effort to send this message, more so than usual, as if someone is trying to prevent it."

"The storm?" Orik asked.

"We think so; it is preventing scrying and any other means of magical communication. It is the wrong season for it as well and it serves to increase the fear of whoever sees it. The storms came nearly a day ago, a good thing really as the more superstitious people took one look and fled the city before the armada was spotted hiding around Parlim and Uden by our fishermen."

"You have done well to get word to us," Serai said.

"And what are our orders now?" the woman asked with a faintly scared expression on her face.

"Stay as long as you can and then get out of there as quickly as you can, Lord Alaric's idea is a good one. I assume he asked you to invoke the Union Pact on his behalf and that of his King?"

The woman nodded as relief passed over her face.

"Consider it done; I will see it done immediately. You have done your duty so spend no more talking and go now!" Serai said with finality as the image of the woman faded and went dark. As the mirror reflected those in front once more, Serai looked at Eragon and he saw fear there. A fear born of inexperience and a peaceful rule now threatened.

Serai stepped forward into the space immediately in front of the mirror and looked at Arya, "The Union Pact has been invoked by the sovereign of Surda, will your people honour it?" she asked with a hint of a plea.

Arya quickly flicked her eyes in Eragon and Vanirs' direction before nodding, "We will."

"And yours?" Serai asked Orik.

"Yes, of course" Orik said with a hint of irritation.

"I must contact the Urgals as well," Serai said with relief before she looked at Eragon and Murtaugh and her expression suddenly became troubled. Eragon saw her briefly gather her courage and dignity before looking him in the eye and asked, "And what of the Rider's assistance?"

Eragon saw Murtaugh staring at him in the corner of his eye as well as, to his surprise, Tenga who had somehow gotten himself an invitation. He felt as much as saw Tenga's gaze on him as he returned the queen's gaze and said, "you have it as well."


	21. Chapter 20 - Sounding the War Drums

Next Chapter's up for you guys. I've got a bit of free time as I'm submitting this so I'm going to plough straight through and get a start on chapter 21. Hopefully I can get that one up by mid-week and win back the delay on this chapter.

As usual, thanks have to go out to all your comments. I always read through them as I submit a chapter and I'm glad I could make your days that little bit better. As for Scorpord; your comments about Lan and the WoT struck a chord, I wasn't specifically thinking about that passage you mentioned but it was that kind of statement I wanted to get across and I'm glad for the comparison and the link.

Enough time-wasting though, so enjoy!

**Chapter 20 – Sounding the War Drums**

Ilirea was in uproar as word of the attack at Aroughs spread. Though the rumours spread fast, on account of the loose tongues on some of the nobles and their staff, it wasn't until the following morning that Serai ordered the war-drums to beat from within the citadel. This was followed by a brief proclamation by the Queen and the recall of all soldiers in the outlying lands. Nobles were asked to give up their men-at-arms and personal guardsmen for the potential defence of the city as the army was brought onto full alert.

As Eragon surveyed the city, he saw the tension all around him; a roiling miasma of fear and anticipation in the minds all around him. Even the dragons and their riders had things to do in and around the city.

"The students must stay here, they are too inexperienced and vulnerable in battle at the moment," Murtaugh was telling him as they marshalled the distribution of weapons and kept a visible presence in the midst of the preparations.

"Agreed, I will have them continue their studies in the time they still have, perhaps give them a taste of battlefield strategies, scryings and meetings lest any of them try and follow after we've left." Eragon replied.

"What of the more experienced of our students, have you managed to contact any of those who have actually finished their training?"

"Coalan, Tov and Berwyn are in Belatona; I will send them to Feinster and make sure the enemy cannot control the coastline. Same goes for Jennsen and Ruben, as of yesterday they were at Orthiad so we'll send them to Aberon and Reavstone to join Grodin and keep the breach contained. As for the two of us, we will fly to Dauth and join with Gadrinne, Ragnar, Gerak and Kirgan out of Dras-Leona," Eragon explained.

"I have sent a message to Ceunon and the settlement outside the wards of Kirtan, the elves and the Riders who are there need to know of our need as well," Murtaugh said.

"Good, but we cannot delay much further. Have everyone else rally between here and Bullridge with instructions to distribute themselves amongst Serai's forces. I fear our first confrontation will be a probing attack to test our strength, though a clever one with the use of the Jiet river to see our reaction," Eragon pressed.

Murtaugh nodded in agreement as the two brothers walked through the crowds, the crowd gave way to the striking image they presented. Indeed, dressed as they were, they cut an invincible image of power and grace in the eyes of the nervous onlookers.

Only hours ago, the hoard of treasure collected in Galbatorix's reign had been rummaged for the machines of warfare used in the deep past. Over clothes of the finest make, Eragon and Murtaugh now wore gleaming sets of chainmail, the individual links shaped like dragon scales, burnished dragons also adorning the greaves and vambraces on their arms and legs. The best collection of dragon and Rider attire in the whole of Alagaesia was being brought up for use once more from the bowels of the citadel.

As for the dragons, they were not spared either. A whole line of soldiers had the hapless job of struggling under the weight of several sets of dragon armor brought up as well. The rare and priceless armor would still have to remain in Ilirea though as the journey to Dauth, due to start in the evening, would require speed in order to reach it in good time.

"What of Arya?" Murtaugh asked, as Eragon grimaced.

"She will stay here, though it wasn't easy convincing her and Firnen of that. Her guards were in uproar over the possibility of her coming along without them, and she is their Queen as well as a Rider."

"Dathedr and Gilderien must know their queen is safe. With the Agaeti-Blodhren so close, they were loath to let Arya come in the first place, and the council moves slowly to any decision were it not for them three." Murtaugh agreed.

_It helps when your queen has a dragon, _Saphira chimed in, as Murtaugh and Eragon caught her coming into sight above them. She went on,_ though the fact that the elves can't say no to a dragon apparently doesn't go so far as to allow said dragon to go where he will when he is needed._

In Saphira's claws were several of the massive boulders used by the catapults and trebuchets on and behind the outer walls. The other dragons followed suit in a long line as soldiers rushed to provide places to put them even as they kept their distance.

_You must rest Saphira, we have to leave soon and I would not have you tire so soon_ Eragon told her.

_Even a journey to Dauth requires a brief stop if we are to arrive battle-ready, _Murtaugh added as he saw Thorn with a load of his own.

_But our presence here reassures people, and the work is easy enough_ Saphira replied.

_Then be careful, you may need the energy before long._

It was not long before all the preparations were made and the time to go was upon them. Saphira and Thorn were both saddled and ready to leave as Murtaugh and Eragon joined them in the light of the descending sun. There was also a sizeable contingent of men, elves and dwarves to see them on their way as they arrived. Kastin, Lilliana and their children were doing their best to remain obscure next to Tenga, an impossible task as the remnant of the grey folk easily stood out amongst all the richly dressed nobles.

"I wish you did not have to make this journey so early as there is much I can teach you on your abilities. So all I will say is trust your magic and who you are as a person, all elementals must be at one with themselves or they are only as powerful as a normal spellcaster." Tenga said as Eragon paused on his way past him.

"I only wish I can thank you for the help you have already given. I would be forever in your debt if you remained here and helped where you could," Eragon said.

"I have already decided to remain here for the time being. I will keep an eye on your family as well if I can spare it," Tenga replied as Orik approached.

"As will we," Orik said, overhearing the conversation, "in your absence, they will be protected as my own family and clan by the blood-bond we all share."

Eragon nodded solemnly even as he felt pride and awe at the implications of such protection. He had no idea that his foster-brother would grant the honour of acceptance into the clan to the rest of his family.

Queen Serai was sharing a few words with Murtaugh as he moved towards Saphira and managed to catch her eye as he ran into Arya and Heimdaln. As Firnen and Saphira were making farewells of their own, her emotions mingled with Eragon's as the goodbyes suddenly became intolerable and all they wanted to do was remain.

"May the winds favour and return you to us swiftly," Heimdaln murmured as he quietly moved away from Eragon and Arya.

"And may that day come soon," Arya added as she looked into Eragon's eyes.

Eragon removed Undbitr from its placement on his back and gently placed it in Arya's hands, "Now I have more reason not to stay away," he said as he enclosed his hands around hers and the lighter twin to Brisingr. "I promise I will return for this," he said before he let go, not only referring to the sword in her hands.

Twin pools started to shimmer in her brilliant green eyes as they moved apart, both of them wishing they could say or do more at their parting. Firnen, sensing Arya's anguish amongst his own, stepped away from Saphira and took up station at her side as he brushed up against Eragon.

_May you prey quiver at the sight of you and your swords and claws stay ever sharp_ Firnen growled in his deep, grating voice.

_And the mastery of our race keep you safe_ Saphira replied, as melancholy as Eragon had ever seen her.

Murtaugh and Serai separated as Eragon made his way into his saddle, the Queen looking pale in the setting sun as Murtaugh mounted up. Saphira spread her wings and shivered in anticipation as everyone took a few steps back.

"Lord Alaric will be in Dauth by now if he has not fallen, but seek out the Lady Ylena when you get there and she will do as you command," Serai said to Eragon before they could leave the ground.

Eragon nodded at her before a wash of air rippled across them as Thorn took a gigantic leap into the air. Saphira followed a beat later as they circled the group below once before setting for the south. The small loop was enough to see every dwarf and elf raise their weapons to the sky and bellow "Argetlam!"

Eragon could feel Saphira's sense of loss almost immediately turn into a kind of frustration as she let loose with a massive ROARRR! and spewed forth a torrent of fire. The city turning deathly quiet for a beat before Firnen replied in kind and the younger dragons roared in unison.

The ensuing silence was briefly broken by three single beats of the cities war drums, the beats informing its people that scouts had gone forth from the city.

Saphira and Thorn rose steadily until they were high into the clouds, where the eddies of warmer drafts would aid them as they flew south on steady wings. Both their Rider's lost in thought as the city fell out of view behind them.

Again, I'll try and get the next chapter up ASAP.


	22. Chapter 21 - The Besieged City

Sorry for the delay guys, submitting this now with the hope that I can get another chapter done by tomorrow.

Enjoy.

**Chapter 21 – The Besieged City**

The morning sun crept up on the city to reveal the damage done to the hamlets on the horizon and the line of weary people still struggling to make the safety of the city. Of course, the question remained regarding how safe the city really was thought Lady Ylena.

The refugees had started pouring in days ago; first in small groups with carts of belongings and money for lodgings in the city, then the mass of humanity outrunning the nightmare of recent events in Aroughs. She had listened to countless tales over the last day from those that had watched the port city fall to these invaders across the sea. Stories of fire that water could not quench seemed childish the first few times she heard it until the same facts rose from the tongues of a thousand people.

Lady Ylena could only watch from her balcony as every bit of open space was taken up by tents and meagre lean-to's made from whatever scrap materials people could find. Despite the fact most of them believed the city wouldn't be safe for much longer, people were either too tired to leave or resigned to whatever happened. They knew that there could only be one reason a first attack targeted Aroughs and that was for the access the Jiet River along its shores gave into the heart of Surda and the Broddring Kingdom.

Missives had been sent out urgently through scrying mirrors, but the warnings and the pleas for help had been sent out too late. Ylena noticed that every so often, someone would glance to the sky hoping for the glint of dragon-scales come to save them, but she knew that even on dragon back, the distances were too great for a timely answer.

It was not just refugees pouring through the gates though. Groups of horse-riders came and went with packhorses laden with bows, arrows and buckets of pitch to slow the advance of the ships coming their way. Lord Alaric was desperately rallying over a thousand soldiers on horseback and retreating in good order upriver. Ylena could just picture in her head hundreds of arrows taking flight even as the archers with empty quivers took flight for the nearest full one, each group leap-frogging the others as they slowly but surely lost ground to the enemy fleet.

The hours passed as she started to hear explosions in the distance, the smoke visible in the distance as the sun reached its highest point. The horse-riders that came in no longer went out as frequently, but returned with men, women and children now draped over their horses' backs. Some of the soldiers' faces so worn and tired that they failed to notice their horse's passengers were already dead from horrific burns and arrows jutting out at odd angles.

Despite that, the healer's tents were full to bursting and the flow of injuries never stopped. Even those with minor cuts and burns could be seen assisting the few spellcasters whose skills lay in healing, some of them had already fainted from the effort and were being force-fed food and revitalising remedies.

Lady Ylena was about to abandon her thoughts and go down to the tents to lend a hand when she saw a line of horses running full tilt to the city. Even at this distance, she could see the standards of Du Vrangr Gata and Lord Alaric as the mounted group entered the city without even checking their pace and skilfully stopped in the middle of the courtyard.

Ylena hurried down to greet them and found them on their way in, Lord Alaric was bleeding from a serious-looking gash on his leg, a rough tourniquet tied above the broken arrow-head that was still stuck in the meat of his thigh.

"You should be in the tents to treat that wound my Lord," she said as sternly as she could.

Alaric's eyes hardened as he replied, "the healers have enough work to do without troubling them with this. Just find me a fire and a poker with some brandy," his companions shuffling in behind him.

Ylena muttered something about the foolishness of men before asking, "And your men? How long can they hold?"

"Not long enough. The enemy will be here in a few hours and me and my men have had no food or sleep in three days. I lost over five hundred men yesterday when they managed to raise the barrier defences, not that it bought us more than half a day to their accursed skills at magic and their waterproof fire."

Amongst the barrier defences was a spell-wrought chain stretched across the river to bar any illegal or hostile forces, gate-towers on either side of the river containing the chains and turning mechanisms that allowed it to rise and fall.

"I spoke to Queen Serai earlier. She was not alone either, the elven queen and dragon rider was there also, when she should be on her way here," Ylena said scornfully, distrustful of the elves and their secret ways.

"What did they say?" Alaric asked, with a glance to a woman at his side.

"The elven queen said that help should be here soon. As if we should trust her, Serai said nothing though when I asked," Ylena replied.

"And what of the others you saw in the scrying mirror? Was anyone else in the room?" asked the woman, a dark-haired woman with an arm in a sling and a mud-spattered face.

"No, it was just the two of them, why?" Ylena said

"When I made contact three days ago, there were over a dozen people in view. There was someone who stood out though, a Rider or an elf judging by his appearance and a leader as well. Even the two queens gave some kind of deference to him, and I'm not talking about Murtaugh either."

Ylena shrugged, nonplussed. The others seemed to be put-out at her reaction for a split second before Alaric turned to his people and said, "Get food in you and your men and find a corner to get a few hours' sleep. Come tonight, this city will be under siege and we need all the sleep we can get."

The majority of the group trudged off immediately for trenchers of food and watered down ale. Lord Alaric however stayed behind with the spellcaster, who looked dead on her feet.

"How bad was it?" Ylena asked, judging their expressions to be of almost disbelief.

"Bad," Alaric said wearily as he took a chair from the corner of the dimly lit room. He waved a tired arm at the spellcaster "from what Helena here says, their spellcasters are in a different league to us. We lost dozens of ours as the enemy simply walked through the toughest wards and enchantments we knew as if they weren't even there."

Another explosion sounded in the distance as Ylena asked the question she could avoid no longer, "how long does this city have?"

"My men will hold for a few more hours at the most, but I haven't got the numbers to hold them past nightfall. We need to get as many people out of the city as possible at this point,"

Alaric replied.

"Try telling them yourself. What you see outside are those that will not or cannot leave, the carts full of elderly or infirm have already left and the children were amongst the first to go."

"In that case, I need to see your city defences and marshal what forces we still have to reinforce the weakest areas. The non-fighters need to be indoors, behind sturdy doors and warded walls, the healers and sick as well," Alaric said with a grimace as he made to get up.

The expression was not missed by Ylena, or apparently the other woman. "That spell won't last forever you know, you need to get it seen to otherwise the effects will wear off without warning."

"What spell?" Ylena asked, intrigued at never having seen such subtle magic's.

"Just a minor spell to ease the pain and prevent infection for a while, but a healer can do more than just pinch the wound partially closed. I don't have the energy or the knowledge to deal with such a wound," the woman said.

Alaric didn't even bother to answer as he waved her away and limped slightly on his way out. The spellcaster looked despairingly at Ylena as she hastened to follow, trying to steer him towards the healing tents as they continued talking.

Ylena sighed to herself as despair threatened to break her. She brushed it off as best she could with a meal of her own and eventually found her way to a cot in what was left of her room in the main building. Her own bed had long since been taken and torn apart for makeshift bandages and the leftovers handed person to person to put under their heads as they lay on the ground wherever they could.

The sky was darkening when she found herself awakened by a deafening CRASH! Momentarily stunned and disorientated in the blackened room, Ylena found her way to the window by the glow of what she found to be the unnatural fire she had heard about over the last few days.

The enemy hadn't even deigned to send soldiers to the city. They stood out of bow range just off the river and their boats and used war machines of their own to send massive gobs of fire into the air. Even as she watched, Ylena saw the fire strike the outer walls and burst apart, the unfortunate squad manning the wall top screaming in agony as the fire stuck to them and ate clothes and flesh.

The answering barrages of the city defences seemed puny in comparison. The few lucky shots were able to answer the problem of range as they splintered hulls and caused chaos to the ships coming behind. The enemy numbered too many though, Ylena thought to herself, even as more came into view.

She started to tremble in fear as Lord Alaric's knock on the door nearly scared her out of her senses. The man looked even worse than before, if such a thing was possible, various parts of his clothes looked like they'd been cut away with a knife and half his hair was singed off.

He caught her looking at the ruined uniform, "the only way to save yourself from the flames is to cut away the areas where it's burning before it burns through," he explained in a dejected and beaten tone.

"There is nothing we can do, is there?" Ylena asked, though she already knew the answer. She heard a distant phwapp-phwapp sounding in the distance; the bastards want to beat their war drums when it's just a massacre she thought.

"They want to burn us out, like rats in a bucket." He said as the phwapp-phwapp sound came again, this time louder.

In the next silence, the third phwapp-phwapp was loud enough to draw heads, including those on the walls. It took a few seconds for Alaric and Ylena to realise the noises were coming from the north, the opposite direction to the invaders, as they saw faces turn towards them from the walls.

Ylena narrowed her eyes as she gazed into the gathering dusk, hoping to pierce the veil of darkness for the source of the sound.

ROARR!

ROARR!

ROARR!

ROARR!

Dragons! Ylena thought as she heard the four ear-splitting roars crashing around her in quick unison. Indeed, coming out of the gloom, she saw four dark shapes descend on the city out of the north.

Even the enemy paused at the sight as Ylena heard for the fourth time a PHWAPP-like sound come from overhead.

**ROARRRR!**

**ROARRRR!**

This time, there was no need to locate the sound by ear, as two colossal shapes appeared in the sky between the city and the enemy. Descending from the heights with truly terrifying speed, Ylena caught the blood-red scales of one dragon and the startling blue of the other as relief flooded through her. She knew by the size of the red dragon that it was Thorn, Murtaugh's dragon, whom she had met a few years ago.

The blue dragon though, was the same size as Thorn, if not bigger and Ylena's thoughts weren't rattled enough when a new one flashed in her mind. If that's Thorn, then the blue dragon must be…


	23. Chapter 22 - Swords and Claws

Only a day later than I said guys so no frettin'.

Having said that, I am obviously terrible with my predictions, so all I'll say is one chapter per week is my goal and if I'm late one week, I'll repay you by getting the next chapter up double time if at all possible.

As for comments, thank you all for your support. A bit of feedback though;

Ky111 – I think you may be confused with the Battle of Belatona that takes place in Paolini's fourth book (Inheritance) because if you look at a map of Alagaesia, in my story the enemy has come from the south-west, missing the tip of the Spine, past the islands Illium, Uden and Parlim and have taken Aroughs. They are now going up the Jiet river and have to seize Dauth in order to secure their breach and their rearguard, which is where we are at now in the story.

I hope that clears it up for you.

Okeydokey guys, next chapter up so enjoy!

**Chapter 22 – Swords and claws**

The trip to Dauth was for the most part uneventful. The miles slipped quickly by as Thorn and Saphira set a brutal tempo for themselves which would have been impossible for the younger dragons. On the second day, they caught sight of Gadrinne, Ragnar, Gerak and Kirgan ahead of them and slowed down as they caught up. Like the other Rider's sent to the southern coastline, the four of them already had over a hundred years of experience on them and represented the best of their races. Gadrinne was an elf woman, whose passions defined her actions and loyalty, Ragnar and Gerak were dwarves, their steadfastness resembling the rock of the mountain range they called home and Kirgan, whose Urgal blood ran thick with warrior instincts and pride.

_Greetings Ebrithil, and may good fortune rule over you_, Gadrinne mind-spoke in the ancient language as they met in the skies above Alagaesia, speeding towards their destination.

_And may peace live in your heart, Gadrinne svit-kona,_ Eragon replied in kind to the respect and deference she showed as Murtaugh and the others made their introductions and welcomes.

_Ebrithil, if I may ask, what can you tell us about the enemy and their forces?_ asked good and honest Gerak, straightforward and to the point as always.

_They have attacked Aroughs and gained entrance to the Jiet river. Their spellcasters are showing a strength that has taken the Surdans by surprise and we have lost a lot of the more skilled magic-users in both Aroughs and Dauth,_ Murtaugh explained.

_We must assume that they are using strength either from their men or from another source to fuel their magic, reports also say that fire is being used that cannot be put out by water. We do know that it is the result of a strange science and not of magic though,_ Murtaugh added.

Kirgan's growl could even be heard in their heads as he mind-spoke in his grating tone, _many years ago, it is said that our shamans claimed success with similar processes by using various minerals found in the earth. When they failed, their own concoctions were used to kill them. They all died painfully as their skin blackened and scarred at the liquids touch, our war-chiefs delighting in their suffering. This was all before the joining though_, he finished, speaking of the addition to the Riders bond.

_Then you are not the only ones to experiment with such things,_ commented Ragnar_, our race still continues to experiment with the bounds of our magic and knowledge. Recent discoveries include powders that have to be made in darkness as they explode if exposed to light and liquids that can be mixed together to create powerful hallucinations and freedom from pain if ingested._

_In Du Weldenvarden, our herbalists and potions experts have found that poisons from various animals can actually help cure diseases and minor maladies,_ Gadrinne said_. In our war with the dragons, we used horrific mixtures that turned their fire against them; we called that area of study alchemy, trying to replace magical ability with knowledge of the world around us._

Gadrinne's dragon, a sunset orange named Fundor snorted in disgust as her expression hardened from the bitterness of the past.

The hours slipped by as they passed over the border and into Surda. When Feinster came into sight on their right (to the west), they adorned the dress of war and checked their wards at Murtaugh's instruction. When the superior eyesight of the dragon's sighted smoke ahead of them, their tempo involuntarily increased as the adrenaline started circulating in their blood, the aggressive nature of all dragons starting to show.

Reinforcing their mental shields, Eragon chose to shout to the students over the tumult of the wind as they closed formation, "your job is to secure the city above all else and then join us, do you understand?"

The students acquiesced with nods as the dragons responded by dropping their altitude and flying for the city. Eragon and Murtaugh, on Saphira and Thorn, however, chose to gain altitude and put a thick layer of cloud between them and the ground.

It was only at that point that Eragon opened the shielded sack hidden amongst his belongings, _Umaroth, Glaedr, you were listening?_

The eldunari hidden within responded, _the Surdans were right, the enemy spellcasters are more formidable than their own_ said Glaedr.

_The students felt nothing?_ Asked Umaroth.

_They are younger than us, and have no experience with battle-magic. No doubt they feel it, but they would not know what it means, _replied Murtaugh.

It was a faint, but distinct pressure on their minds. The students lacking the subtlety and experience age brought to detect the delicate probes of the enemy spellcasters. The Surdan and even Serai's spellcasters would have been unable to project over such a distance, let alone remain inconspicuous doing it.

_I think we should switch…_ Eragon started even as the pressure suddenly spiked; a jab to determine an opponent's strength, he continued …_our shields to mirrors._

One of the things that Eragon and Murtaugh had both managed to achieve over the years was to cloud their mind and make it less visible to probing thoughts. Instead of erecting a solid wall around their intimate thoughts, they now sought to surround their thoughts in fog and mist. As the dragons did the same, their mindscapes now appeared as a grey wasteland that only a fool would venture into, hidden dangers at every turn, instead of a mile-high wall of unbreakable iron.

The probes suddenly withdrew as they caught a sense of surprise from the minds responsible.

As the probes withdrew, they sensed the city pass beneath them as Thorn and Saphira prepared to dive, their wings flapping slowly now and sending powerful compressions downward. Even with their minds hidden and shielded, they could sense the emotions drifting from the city and they shivered uncontrollably.

Within a few wing beats and the city safely behind them, Thorn and Saphira pulled their wings into their sides just as they heard four massive bugles from the dragons heading to the city.

_Shall we show them how to do it properly? _Eragon asked as he let Saphira's excitement wash over him, erasing any tension and knots in his muscles.

The resulting roars made by Thorn and Saphira seemed to make the younger dragons pale in comparison. If Eragon had been in front of Saphira instead of behind, he would have lost his hearing and wouldn't have been able to undo the damage, having lost his head to its force as well.

That was how Ylena first saw the dragon of Lord Eragon, Saphira daughter of Vervada. Both dragon and Rider had very nearly passed into myth in this part of Alagaesia, the only proof of their existence lying in the accounts of men said to have lived in their time. Her great-great-great grandfather was the nephew of Martland Redbeard, a commanding officer at the time of the Varden's rebellion. A tapestry in the halls of the very building she was standing in a testament to the battle of the Burning Plains, a smoky twilight scene depicting figures grappling in the mud as a dark-blue representation of Saphira reared on her back legs and doused the enemy in fire, wings spread wide.

She could only watch as the two dragons descended on the foremost ships and unleashed a torrent of flame. She feared for a second as the wards on the ships held briefly and a volley of magic, flame and ballistae was returned and rushed to meet them.

She needn't have feared though, as the missiles disappeared in flashes of red and blue light or were burned in the twin fires of the dragons' breath. The first few ships were ashes in seconds and the men, ballistae and spellcasters nearest the shores also felt the flames that had been theirs to command against the people of Surda.

Ylena turned to run back into her room and nearly collided with Alaric, who stood wide-eyed at her side. She grabbed a pair of seeing-eyes and a second for Alaric as she returned to the balcony and gave a pair to Alaric before pressing her device to her eyes. The crude device used a long cylinder and two curved pieces of glass to bring far away objects closer to the eye. As she watched with bated breath, the dragons briefly turned back to the city and dropped to a few feet off the ground.

Right in front of the enemy soldiers still alive. Over a hundred of them!

She watched in awe as two figures clad in armour dropped from the dragons backs as the winged wonders went back to chasing the ships, the ones that hadn't seen sense enough to turn and run back downriver.

She was just wondering which one was Eragon as she returned her gaze to the two figures when one of them rose his sword in the air and it burst into flame. _The Sword of Flame_! She thought, as another tale told to her as a little girl became reality in front of her eyes. The other figure, Murtaugh, raised his own sword as well, the red blade glinting in the firelight as if it too were on fire.

That was when the shock of the moment was shattered and the soldiers in front of them broke into a charging run, determined to cut them down with sheer numbers.

It didn't happen quite as she expected, or feared.

Rather than wait for the charge, Eragon and Murtaugh leapt forward themselves. Ylena tracking them by the trail of fire and smoke given off by the blue sword even watched on in disbelief at their speed.

Eragon and Murtaugh spun into the soldiers like a thunderstorm. Ylena suspected magic may have been involved, but all she saw was a combination of sword and body weaving a pattern of destruction beautiful to behold. She knew very little about swordmanship, but judging from the strangling noises made by Alaric, they were witnessing a masterclass not only in the way of the sword, but also in the teamwork shown by the two brothers. As they watched on, the brothers moved as if in a dance, twisting and turning around each other, each movement resulting in death for another enemy.

Less than a minute later the soldiers were all dead and the brothers stood in a mass of corpses as silence fell.


	24. Chapter 23 - The Aftermath

Apologies for the wait guys, though I hope you'll understand if you work from 8am till 11pm with nary a break. Planning (though when does that ever mean anything) to get another chapter up by the end of the weekend so I can nullify the delay on this chapter.

Thanks again for the review and as for I cycle superfan;

How many chapters? No idea tbh, however many it takes.

The Island occupants? Perhaps, we haven't explored the long-distance communication issues yet have we?

Rorans family? Wait and see

Family Spoilers? It'll be subtle, though it's possible that magic is responsible for more than just Eragon's inherited / whatever connection to elementalism (is that a word?)

Tenga? Read this chapter and get back to me later, though I think we both know the answer

Abilities? Eragon will most likely learn through combat as much as stuffy old scrolls though he will get help.

The invasion? It's more a question of why now.

Hopefully I will be exploring the grey folk more fully now we know about the big bad and I loved Blodhgarm in the books so I will try getting him back into the story.

**Chapter 23 – The Aftermath**

The sword moved almost of its own accord as it slithered past the man's defences and into his gut, the fatal move almost too painful to bear in the few seconds it would take for him to die. Eragon grimaced as he felt his opponent's pain and fear as if it were his own, even as the heat of battle kept him steady on his feet and his mind distant. Not a one of the soldiers that came at him or Murtaugh remained alive, their broken bodies on the ground around them in a heap of blood and guts.

Replenishing their strength with energy from the dead bodies, Eragon looked at Murtaugh and said, "There was no spellcaster in this group."

"They probably remained on-board one of the ships, hoping for more protection and a quick getaway. Skilled spellcasters are probably as valuable to them as they are to us," Murtaugh replied as he looked at the wreckages burning in the river.

_A pity then that they thought to hide from us, _Saphira growled as her form appeared over them along with Thorn.

Eragon paused at one of the corpses, "what do you make of this?" he asked Murtaugh as he knelt down and came up with an ornate single-edged knife.

Murtaugh inspected it, noticing that it was of a much finer make than what most of the other soldiers carried. A quick cast of the eyes from Eragon at the other bodies revealed another dozen or so similar examples as Murtaugh asked, "Warded?"

Eragon nodded, "these ones have all been warded against minor spell-workings. Possibly offering non-magic users a chance to capture enemy spellcasters alive or slip past defensive wards on their own." He finished, eying the small nick a lucky soldier had scored on Murtaugh's arm, now just a faint scar as he healed himself.

"We should take them for our own men while we have the chance," Murtaugh said as they remounted Thorn and Saphira.

As they took to the air once more, the mind-probes were still there though slightly more withdrawn than before. No trace of fear was felt over the intervening distance, just an unattached and calculating mind watching their next moves. It disconcerted Eragon to feel such cool and emotionless threads from an individual's mind.

As Thorn and Saphira wheeled back to the city, the younger dragons rode out to meet them as their Riders helped tend the wounded within the walls. It was a matter of pride to Eragon, Murtaugh and even the eldunari that a Rider's training concentrated heavily on learning as much as possible on healing and personal safety. Even with their other halves in the sky, the students were drawing heavily on the energies of their dragons and gem stores to restore the health of many sick and wounded.

As tired as the defenders on the battlements must have been, they still had energy enough to rise to their feet and bang on their shields and cheer the return of the two brothers as Saphira and Thorn passed over them. The miasma of fear from before was now replaced with hope and admiration as the two older dragons landed in their midst, dragons now a common enough sight that they did not shy away from the sight before them.

Eragon made sure to bring Glaedr and Umaroth with him in separate sacks as he came down from the saddle and approached the healing tents.

_The threat will be diminished for now after this testing blow. Let us lend our strength to our charges as they toil on the sick_ Glaedr had said on their way.

They found Gadrinne first as she tended to a man with a gash on his belly; his insides red and inflamed, the edges of his wound already tinged with the first signs of rot. As the elf murmured spells to remove the swelling and rot, she sang the edges of the tissue back together and encouraged new skin to bridge the gap. The man's whimpering grew quieter and quieter until the very end, as if he hadn't even noticed the healing done to him. As Gadrinne finished and was about to move away, he grabbed her hand and held her gaze with a tear in his eye and wonderment on his face before he closed his eyes and slept.

"I borrowed some of his own energy to heal him," she explained to a startled human woman standing by. "This man will be likely to sleep for several hours now. When he wakes up, make sure he has some food and water before he tries to get up."

Eragon waited until the woman had nodded at her instruction before approaching. Gadrinne was just about to go to another patient before Eragon whispered to her, "I'll be leaving Glaedr with you so you can avoid exhausting yourselves."

Gadrinne was startled, "you brought Glaedr with you? Where is he?" she asked, even as her eyes were drawn to the intricate sack Eragon had in his hand.

Eragon handed the eldunari over carefully, making sure the shields were still up and said, "You need to drink your faelnirv when you get a chance and tell the others. We cannot afford for you to get unduly tired with work yet to do."

Gadrinne carefully placed her hand inside the bag and made contact with the eldunari within. She gasped as Glaedr transferred a portion of his strength into her, a tithe of what he had to give, but enough to completely rejuvenate her.

_You must be careful with what you can spare also Ebrithil, _Eragon cautioned against repeating it with the other students.

_I will be careful with what I give_ Glaedr replied.

Gadrinne had heard the warning, "I will see to it the others get sustenance another way. Livestock that should have lasted weeks are being butchered to feed the extra mouths of the refugees, we should be able to siphon off their energy and have some to spare in treating these people."

Eragon was satisfied. He knew Gadrinne, as an elf and not just a Rider, would die before allowing Glaedr to come to harm and was slightly relieved that he had found her first. He left the tents as Gadrinne found the others and delivered the words of caution, the sack containing Umaroth still on him.

Complete dark was settling in as he re-joined Murtaugh, Thorn and Saphira. The younger dragons content to stay airborne for the moment and maintain a vigil on the river to thwart any more surprises.

"Fundor and the others will alert us if anything comes upriver," Murtaugh voiced needlessly as the crowd of people gathered began to press, desperate for words of comfort and signs of hope.

At that moment, a group of people separated from the press and approached them very directly. One of the men's clothes was in tatters, cut up in odd places and a woman familiar to Eragon came with them. The group stopped in front of them and the leading woman bowed low at Murtaugh, "Rider Murtaugh, we thank you for answering our need."

Murtaugh waited until she straightened before replying, "A Riders purpose is such my lady. However, thanks must also go to my brother Eragon and Saphira, who have journeyed long and hard to get here," as he motioned to Eragon.

The crowd quietened as those closest heard his words.

_He said Eragon!_

_The tales are true! They have returned to save us!_

_I told you the dragon looked like Saphira!_

_I thought they were human, but they both look like elves?_

All this was picked up by Eragon's sharp ears as the woman's face betrayed nothing. She then bowed once more and said, "Lady Ylena of Dauth at your service, my Lord."

The grizzled man and the familiar woman also came up and bowed. "Lord Alaric of Aroughs also at your service," said the man as the woman showed the elven gesture of respect, "and Lady Helena of Du Vrangr Gata yours to command Lord Shur'tugal."

Eragon took in the tired faces as he said, "I am no Lord, Lady Helena, nor am I the leader of Du Vrangr Gata in Queen Serai's stead. It is you who speaks with her authority here; I speak for the Riders only as well as Murtaugh, though I have asked the Rider's we brought to help aid your healers as a courtesy."

Lady Helena looked shocked at his words as he looked at her and continued, "You were the one to alert us in Ilirea?"

She nodded.

"Then you have the thanks of your Queen and myself," he said, "how many spellcasters survived Aroughs and how many do we have in this city?"

Helena didn't reply for a few seconds as she came out of her reverie, "only half a dozen survived Aroughs, including me, and we have a total of thirty spellcasters in this city. A few of them are specialised as healers or are too weak to do much with their power, but they find other ways to contribute."

"Then we need to get them together and devise a way to shield this city from the enemy," Murtaugh said, to their confusion.

"What do you mean? They are not looking for us that way are they?" Ylena said with a quick glance at Helena, who shook her head.

"They are using their minds right now to divine your strengths and weaknesses, even if you can't feel it or recognise it" Eragon answered, confirming Murtaugh's revelation.

"How would we do it?" Lord Alaric grumbled in his low tone.

"All the spellcasters link minds and extend their mental shieldings to cover the city. Their oaths prevent them from prying into each other's minds and it will give the enemy no further advantage over you whilst we organise a counterattack across the coastline." Eragon explained.

"I like it," said Alaric, "gather them up then," he added as he looked Helena's way.

Helena bolted off towards the centre of the city and through the lean-to's as Eragon and Murtaugh followed Ylena and Alaric inside the building they had emerged from. The crowd parted uneasily around them as Saphira and Thorn followed to take up stations either side of the door.

As they found a room in which to await Helena's return, the conversation became very halting as everyone seemed to be uncomfortable around Murtaugh and Eragon. The brothers didn't mind though, linked as they were to each other and the dragons, both embodied and otherwise.

A few minutes passed before Eragon felt Saphira withdraw from him slightly, enough to prevent him reading her thoughts. What he did get from her was a certain amusement as she said _someone very interesting is on their way in._

They heard footsteps down the hall and the stuffy silence became one of apprehension as Eragon and Murtaugh looked at each other. They had both felt Saphira's amusement and her heads-up so they were equally surprised when the first spellcaster through the door was already known to them.

"Well this is interesting!" crowed a certain curly-haired herbalist.


	25. Chapter 24 - Two Surprises in One

OK guys sorry for the delay but unlike you lucky young fella's, I haven't had any kind of a holiday yet and this was the first chance I had to write and get a chapter up. Hope to get the next chapter up sooner, I promise as I felt like an ass keeping you waiting so long.

I also see a lack of reviews made recently, which I guess I deserve. Thank you to the handful of people who have PM'ed me though, asking about plot points and everything else.

One thing you should know when I write this is that I have no solid structure to the story or even any idea where I'm going more than one or two chapters ahead of what you're reading so plot suggestions etc. would be most welcome.

As it's getting harder to submit chapters on a regular basis, I fear your disappointment when I say that I might not be able to complete this story in any kind of timely manner. That time is not yet though, so don't hit panic buttons yet. I would be relieved though if an avid fan with more time than I on his / her hands would a) have some idea where I could go with the story or b) could take over the story in the event I can't or c) just give me a heads-up on if their writing a story of their own so I don't feel so bad in leaving you lovely readers in the cold.

Anyway, enough glum thoughts and here's the next chapter so enjoy and I hope you eagerly await next weeks.

**Chapter 24 – Two Surprises in One**

"Angela!" Eragon exclaimed in disbelief.

The woman smiled with her familiar cheeky grin, "welcome back to Alagaesia Eragon. I always knew we'd be seeing each other again."

Murtaugh looked at Angela and asked, "So this is the Angela you often spoke of Eragon?"

"He spoke of me? How lovely of him," Angela crooned as she looked his way, "I take it you're his brother then?"

"How'd you know of our kinship?" exclaimed a shocked Eragon as he and Murtaugh regarded her with surprise that their relationship was already known to her.

Angela laughed out loud as she replied, "the first time we met, I told you your father had fallen in love with the wrong woman. Did you think I could say that without having known who she was? Oh yes, I remember how trapped she was with Morzan and how she came to truly know him through the abuse of her first child."

"You also said you read the fate of a woman named Selena. I take it that is how you came to know her and why she ran away from Morzan with time enough to leave me in Carvahall?" added Eragon.

"What did you tell her to make her do that?" Murtaugh butted in; hungry to know more of the mother they had both never had a chance to know.

"I told her the truth. That her husband would cause her pain and the only way to save her firstborn would be to betray him and sacrifice her own life if she must," Angela said with a serious expression on his face.

"But she didn't save me did she? I was still a slave to him and Galbatorix for years," Murtaugh's confusion was mingled with a touch of anger.

"Didn't she? Her love of Brom and the Varden's rebellion led her to leave you it is true, but it also led to Eragon's birth and the ultimate overthrowing of Galbatorix at your hands. You forget that prophecies and fortune-telling care nothing for the slow passage of time, that doesn't mean they are not always true. Look at Eragon if you want to find a better example, his fate was to leave Alagaesia forever but if that's the case how is he here now? You need only ask if he's the same person he was when he stepped into my shop and had his reading," Angela quipped in answer.

Eragon made a cutting motion with his hand and said, "we can discuss this later you can be sure, but right now we want to know how it is you're here, in the middle of things once again?"

"I go where the action is Eragon, which you already know about of course. In this case though, it was more a case of chasing Solembum across Surda when he went missing a couple of days ago. I managed to track him near the vicinity of this city and felt the turmoil and invading presence surrounding it. Naturally I assumed he would be here also as his tracks show he was making a beeline in this direction but no such luck," she explained with a slightly hurt expression.

"Why are you trying to find him? Surely he can come and go as he pleases?" Eragon asked.

"And he has done in the past, but we have been companions for a long time, longer than even you have been alive and he has never just up and disappeared before. Since the last time I saw him I have been going over our most recent conversations trying to find some explanation for his leaving, and now you're back," she left the rest unfinished.

"Perhaps he meant for you to meet us here. Didn't he play an important role before when he helped in finding the lost eldunari under the rock of Kuthian?" Murtaugh asked as his gaze switched between his brother and the herbalist.

"Maybe," Angela replied, "though why not just tell me or bring me himself?"

"Werecats are known for being unpredictable and mysterious," Murtaugh added, his argument gaining momentum.

"They also have long memories. Perhaps Solembum knows something we don't about the threat we are facing, werecats are closely akin to dragons in magic and heritage after all." Angela countered.

Murtaugh and Eragon both knew the truth of it. Besides Angela, they had both spent more time around werecats than anyone else and with the countless experiences Eragon had gained through the eldunari of Dyr Aurbodain, could still only guess at the true extent of werecats ability.

"What of the other werecats? We saw one of them in Ilirea, but before that, it has been a decade since they have involved themselves or even appeared at a human court. Even in Ellesmera and the elven cities, they have all but disappeared. Maud hasn't been seen near Tialdari hall in some time and she was a long-term ambassador to the ruling elven body," Murtaugh explained, speaking of the werecat Eragon had met on his first visit to Du Weldenvarden.

_They do have ancestral memory similar to ours, _interjected Umaroth, the three of them pausing as he joined the conversation. _In a way theirs is much clearer than ours though we do not understand why. At the height of the Rider's glory, the leading theory behind it was that the werecats had more conscious control of their magic and their ability to shapeshift into human form meant their nature was as fluid as the flow of magic through the land._

"So what does that mean? Dragons and werecats can use unparalleled magic when they tap the rivers of magical energy around them, but werecats can at will because they spend more time near it?" Eragon asked.

"And why does that matter now? Maybe the werecats saw this invasion coming, which is why Solembum left, but his friendship with you meant that he led you right to us as a means of helping win it." Murtaugh said.

_If we felt the dischord on Dyr Aurbodain, you can be sure the werecats felt it as well. Even in human society, they were known for their wisdom in the nobles' courts and on multiple times recognised as omens of good and bad portents. _Glaedr rumbled.

The omens he spoke of are part of why Grimmr Halfpaw insisted that a werecat would be permanently installed on the right side of the ruling power in Ilirea in exchange for their help against Galbatorix.

"But if they felt it, why not tell anyone it was coming? They disappeared without a word instead of helping prepare against it," Eragon asked.

"Because that has always been our way, or would you see it differently young Rider?" a voice came from the door Angela had come through.

All three of them wheeled around to see who had spoken. Outlined against the door was a shaggy young boy with black hair and a feral grin, "greetings upon you on your return Shadeslayer," said Solembum.

Angela's look of shock changed to anger in the blink of an eye, before the brothers could even get over the sudden arrival. "Where have you been?" she thundered in a tone swaying between anger and relief.

"I have been with others of my kind. A gathering was called when the enemy was still to reach the shores of Alagaesia and for good reason. When your enemy treads carefully, you must too, or you become blinded to what he would have you see rather than what is," Solembum said.

"Why did your kind keep knowledge of the danger to yourself though?" Murtaugh repeated Eragon's question.

"More lives would have been lost had you been aware of the danger. The enemy is strong, but his reach is not and for that reason alone we kept our silence until we could discern our path," Solembum explained.

"Their reach grows by the day! Within a week, they have breached the shores of Surda and defeated our best spellcasters!" menaced Alaric, having overheard the last of the conversation. The retinue's also within the room had remained quiet throughout the duo's unseen appearance, but no more, Alaric looked angry to say nothing of Lady Ylena.

"And yet they were turned at the first sign of Eragon and Murtaugh! There is only one amongst their vast armies who can withstand the might of these two brothers and he has yet to unveil himself," Solembum growled in reply, his eyes flashing a storm-grey.

"Eragon has been gone for two hundred years and a myth for half of that! You rolled the dice on his return? What right did you have and how did you expect him to come?" Lady Ylena railed to the defence of Alaric.

"A threat as great as the one we face would not miss the notice of Vrael's successor, nor the dragons that stand at his side! This enemy is a thorn in the side of all creatures of magic; he cares nothing for the damage he would do merely to set foot on this land." Solembum replied as he struggled to compose his expression, a hard thing to do for such feline and ferocious features.

"What do you mean, merely to set foot on this land? The enemy is already here isn't he?" Helena asked worriedly.

"His armies are, but the abomination himself remains offshore, wielding his considerable power from afar, waiting for the moment to strike and deal a single deadly blow. You see, he knew we would prepare for him, the very ground under your feet sought to warn us of his coming," Solembum shook his head slowly.

Everyone assembled looked confused and glanced at the ground, Solembum laughed bitterly, "you are all too young to understand, which is why you failed to notice. The original pact sealed between the dragons, elves and the other races since also included the very earth upon which it was made, earth stretching the length of all Alagaesia."

"The bond, you mean it affects the world around you?" Eragon asked pointedly, remembering a tracking technique Arya had once used to find him.

"Some stronger than others. Why do you think you felt the dischord on Dyr Aurbodain, how did the elves feel it also? Blood running thick with the magic of the Rider's and dragons bonds with the earth in ways beyond our understanding, out of this bond arises the elementals of old and the incredible feats of magic we werecats and dragons can perform." Solembum replied.

Something didn't make sense. "But this abomination has no such bond and neither did the grey folk?"

"But he does and they did. The grey folk were more powerful and wise than you could imagine, their bond was formed naturally over the years in much the same way as the elves would have over the care they take of their forest homes. Another reason the abomination is so vile and why the very land seeks to warn you is that he forced the land to do his bidding in the transformation magic. He is a poison on this land, and were he victorious in defeating us, the land would gradually die from the infection of his very nature." Solembum said.

"So if this dischord is the land trying to warn us of his coming, what happens to it when the abomination sets foot on Alagaesean soil?" Murtaugh asked, slightly afraid of the answer.


End file.
