There was a loud thud as both dragons touched down at the Craigs of Tel'naeír in near perfect sync, and Eragon took in the sight before him. The small hut was positioned among the many bluffs, on a small outcropping that would be difficult to reach but for the dragons. There was an area large enough for both Saphira and Glaedr to lay, and Eragon saw as well that already set up outside was a small table, with two chairs positioned to look out into the forest.
Eragon unstrapped himself from Saphira and jumped down, before beginning the process of removing her saddle. She had been wearing it for days now, and though he would need to put it back on her for their return to Ellesméra, Eragon had a feeling that they would spend a significant amount of time here. Placing the saddle gently down, Eragon watched as Saphira turned to Glaedr, the both of them blocking their minds from the riders. Leaving them to it, Eragon followed Oromis and took a seat on one of the chairs near the table, watching as his master went inside for a moment.
Oromis returned, with two cups held in his grasp. The elder rider offered him one, and with a nod Eragon grasped the warm cup, gently taking a sip of the hot tea. They sat in silence for many minutes, and Eragon reflected on how they used to do the same back when Oromis was his teacher. Knowing that now he had the right to begin the conversation, Eragon remained silent, letting his mind wander about.
It wasn't long before Oromis sighed, tea finished, and turned to Eragon. "There is much we need to discuss, Eragon."
Eragon nodded, his expression tightening for a moment. He could feel Saphira aware of their conversation, but she made no move to join in. "Yes, Oromis-elda. Would you mind telling me how?"
At once the old elf knew what he asked, his gaze turning to Glaedr briefly. "During the Fall, two of The Forsworn attacked Glaedr and I. Kialandí and Formora. They captured us and using a spell that they learned from the shade Durza, the one that taught Galbatorix the blackest of magic, separated me from the energy around me. I can only use now the smallest amount of energy for spells, as well as the occasional seizure. Formora then took Glaedr's leg, during our escape. We remained here in Du Weldenvarden, hidden away from the world."
He felt a bitterness rise up in him, and if it were not for the fact that The Forsworn were already dead, would have been hard pressed to not give chase to the traitors. Eragon remained quiet, letting his master's words wash over him.
Oromis continued, "Later on I will give you the full account of the battle, but my wounds are not why we are here."
Agreeing, Eragon said, "No, I suppose not. What do you wish to know, Oromis-elda?"
Oromis reached out, gesturing for Eragon's hands. Knowing already what was to happen, Eragon let the frail elf take hold. After several moments of silence, did Oromis finally speak again, his eyes still peering at Eragon's hands.
"You are different now, then you were the last time I did this. More refined swordsmanship then before, and a great deal more proficient with written words then you have ever been. Though, I suspect, you haven't had much opportunity as of late to practice writing. Your hands are tough, tougher than any elf's, and many humans. You've known hardship since you've left, and you bear the scars, even as you hide them from others."
Always knowing more about me than myself, Eragon thought, a sense of amusement and unease settling in him. Not responding, Eragon simply watched as Oromis withdrew his hands, settling back into his seat once more. His old master was silent for a moment, before finally speaking.
"We know what happened to you, Eragon, a hundred years after you became a rider. But we do not know why you left, or why you did not return for the last two hundred. Back when there was still a council of riders, I do not remember us ever giving leave to any rider to travel as far or as long as you have."
There was no accusation in Oromis's words, only a sense of curiosity. Grateful, as always, for his master's patience and calmness, Eragon took a moment to gather his words.
"After. Well. After what happened, Vrael-elda asked me what I wished to do. We both knew that I couldn't stay with the main corps of riders, not for a while at least, and when Saphira and I came up with the idea to roam the lands, Vrael-elda gladly agreed. I didn't know that he never told anyone," Eragon said, his voice thick with emotion. He didn't want to recall what happened, not now.
Oromis nodded his head, "Vrael-elda always held certain matters close at hand, and I can see now why he did so with you. He knew one day you would return, and perhaps he hoped that by the time you did, many would have forgotten what happened to you."
Eragon remained silent, turning his head away from his master. He could feel the old riders gaze upon him, but unlike most of those who had ever looked at the rider, he sensed nothing but kindness. "What happened to you, what you had to do, was never your fault, Eragon. I have always known, even when you disappeared, that you would never have run, especially if you knew what was happening. The simplest explanation that Glaedr and I could have come up with is that you and Saphira had died fighting as well, never to be recovered, like so many of our other brethren."
Feeling his throat closing up, Eragon's hands quickly balled up, straining to regain control of his emotions. Letting out a sigh, Eragon felt his emotions roll away, settling for the moment. "Others will not think as such, Master. Many will call me a coward."
Oromis's eyes tightened for a moment, before saying, "Then they do not know you, Eragon. They do not know what you have been through."
Wishing to move the conversation along, Eragon broached a different topic, "What news, then, do you have master, of the land?"
If there was one thing that he could count on, it was that Oromis and Glaedr were always well informed. They liked to scry the land, even back when they were Council members and Elder Riders, always trying to know what was happening and what would happen. They considered it their duty, and one of the reasons Eragon revered his old mentors above any of the other Council members.
Sensing Eragon's wishes, the old Rider responded, "There has been a group, growing in the last few decades, one that Islanzadí has secretly supported, called the Varden. They are true revolutionaries, wishing to bring down the corruption and cruelty inflicted by Galbatorix."
Tilting his head, Eragon asked, "Who formed this Varden? Where are they?"
His eyes crinkling, Oromis answered his queries, "They currently reside in Farthen Dûr, in the Beor Mountains. They were formed by your father, Eragon."
Eyes widening, Eragon saw Saphira's head swing wide to gaze up Oromis. He lives? Saphira asked, joining the conversation for the first time.
Oromis nodded, "Aye, Saphira, Brom is still alive. Or at least we think so. It's been quite a few years since we've last heard from him. Last we could tell he was heading up to Carvahall, to seek out those that remained of your mother's lineage. We know that she had a brother, before she passed, that remained behind. Other than that, we don't know too much."
Stunned, Eragon watched as Glaedr moved his head, giant golden eye gazing upon the younger rider, Know this, Eragon. Brom is tough one to kill. I have no doubt that he is still alive, and if word reaches him of you, it wouldn't surprise me if he comes looking.
Nodding, Eragon sat deep in thought. Though they did not part last on good terms, especially with what happened, Eragon was unsurprised that his father had survived.
"What of Saphira, his dragon?" Eragon asked, his heart heavy, already fearing the answer.
Oromis shook his head, "During the battle at Doru Araeba, I'm afraid she was among the fallen, killed by Morzan."
Feeling sadness well inside both him and Saphira, Eragon nodded. There seemed to be no end to the number of fallen. Even those he believed unbeatable, Vrael and his own father, could not but help to endure loss. "How was he, after?"
"Biter. Mad, struck with grief. Brom himself swore revenge on Morzan. His love for Morzan gave way to hate, like a candle before an inferno. He was responsible for eight total deaths of The Forsworn, Morzan included, and three of which he killed directly," Oromis said, calmly. It was as if he was conflicted on how to feel of Brom's accomplishments. No doubt proud that his once pupil was so strong, but sad at the deaths that laid before him.
The knowledge that his father, even after he lost his own dragon, was strong enough to accomplish so much by himself made Eragon feel proud to have been called Bromson. There was much between Eragon and Brom, but in that moment Eragon could never have placed himself in his shoes. To lose a part of yourself, his dragon, to believe that your own son was dead. He wanted in that moment to leap up and run to Saphira, and to journey straight to Carvahall himself. He could feel the desire deep inside Saphira as well, but together they pushed it down. They knew better than to do anything so rash. Not before they learned more.
"This Varden," Eragon asked, his emotions still thick, "they are allied with the dwarves?"
Oromis nodded, "And the elves as well, remember."
"Lifean, my guide, said that there was no contact with the outside world," Eragon said his thoughts racing, "so who, then, is with the Varden?"
"You've come a long way, Eragon, to recognize something so quickly", Oromis smiled.
Eragon laughed, "It only took Saphira tossing me on my head a few times for me to learn to stop and think."
A few times? Saphira snorted, more like a few dozen. Do you know how blockheaded you are most of the time?
A great rumbling came from Glaedr, one that Eragon recognized as the sound of a dragon laughing. Sighing, Eragon said, "Yes, yes, I know."
Oromis, with the smile still firmly in place, finally answered Eragon's question, "The are three elves at the Varden, currently. One of which might surprise you."
"Oh," Eragon questioned, "do I know them?"
Shaking his head, Oromis glanced over at Glaedr, who spoke instead of the elf, No, you do not know them, but you know her father.
Eyes jumping between the two masters, Eragon could even feel even Saphira's curiosity win out.
Evandar? Saphira guessed, for as long as we have known him he wanted a child.
Nodding his head, Oromis responded, "Yes, Saphira, Evandar and Islanzadí had a child a hundred years after you left. She's made quite the name for herself, being named the only Elven Ambassador."
Eragon grew frustrated, "Her name, master! What is her name?"
Arya, Glaedr responded.
The sun was setting low in the sky by the time they left the Craigs, Saphira's saddle firmly in place. Eragon was to be given Vrael's old tree home, something that surprised the rider greatly. Oromis, as he recalled, said that he could no longer be the leader of the riders as he was, and as such said that the responsibility would fall upon Eragon. He didn't know whether to be grateful or not. Eragon was nearing his third century of life, after all, and was considered to be a full-fledged rider. He had known all his life his duty, and even now in the face of the greatest of the responsibilities he would not falter.
Saphira alighted inside the tree, and Eragon took in the interior of the home. It was well furnished, and recently cleaned as well. There was a bed, ready with new linen, as well as clothing folded on top. He knew that there was a basin for cleaning located not far off, and turned away to remove Saphira's saddle. Once that was done, Saphira gave Eragon a quick lick on the cheek before settling down.
Patting her scales softly as he walked past her, Eragon removed his blade from his hip. Though nearly three centuries had passed since Rhunön had forged Brisingr for him, the blade still gleamed as though new its hue closely matching Saphira's. Setting it down gently on the side table, Eragon began to remove his boots, grunting with the effort and dirt the fell around him. Whispering a spell to clean up, Eragon set his boots aside, before quickly removing the rest of his clothing.
He made his to the basin, whispering another spell to start the water and heat it. When the basin was full did Eragon finally relax inside the tub, his mind heavy with all that occurred. Not even a week ago Eragon and Saphira were out there, living off the land. They had journeyed far beyond what anyone had ever seen, met more people than they could have possibly known to exist. For two hundred years, of the near three hundred that they had lived, had they roamed, before finally seeking to return.
The only thing he wished was that he had done so sooner.
Saphira stirred in her spot, I know, little-one. I wish so too. But we must acclimate to the changing world, as we have before. What do you want to do now that we are here?
Eragon sighed, and began to wash the dirt off his body, the motion of the water somehow calming after all that he had learned. We need to know more. More of what happened, more of what is happening.
Yes, Saphira said, her voice leaking some of the pride she held, where once you would have rushed out, sword in hand to challenge any foe, now you wait, as a hunter should, and observe all that needs to be seen.
There was a moment of silence between them, before she continued, I would like to know how Galbatorix became so powerful.
Agreeing with her words, we should ask Oromis-elda and Glaedr-elda tomorrow. As well as what we can do to help. I have no doubt that they have a firmer grasp of the current world then we do. Though the news of a shade is troubling.
Saphira snorted from her spot, and he heard her scales rubbing against the ground that she slept on as she moved her head to look at him. It wouldn't be the first shade that you have dealt with, Eragon.
No, Eragon said softly, I know, but a shade who has lived for a century is a more worrying opponent than one who was just created. And after what happened last time, I would rather avoid dealing with them at all.
Her great sapphire eye blinked at him, so you would hide, then, from the shade.
His frustration mounting, Eragon recognized what she was trying to do, No, Saphira, he responded, trying to keep both his memories and emotions at bay, I'm not a coward. I simply recognized that if we wanted to fight a shade we should do so with great care.
She gazed at him for a moment before closing her eyes, satisfied with his answer, good. It would ill become you to cower from a shade. He who holds the title Shadeslayer.
Humming softly under his breath, Eragon began to wash his hair. Perhaps it was time to cut it, lest the crow's nest that was his hair grow more ragged. I am glad to know that Evandar finally got his wish. Even if he didn't get to see it all the way through.
Saphira hummed, yes, he spoke often and long about his desire for a child. From what Glaedr told me, Evandar had a year with Arya before Galbatorix killed him. I would be glad to meet his offspring, see if her teeth and claws are as sharp as her fathers.
Feeling sadness rising inside him for his old dear friend, Eragon sighed. The thought that the King of the elves, one of the most powerful men he had ever met in his life, was killed by one such as Galbatorix angered him. Evandar was a kind elf, and one who was greatly outspoken, a contrast to the normally reserved elves.
I can't believe that it's been a century, Saphira, Eragon said softly, his mind filling once again with the loss. Too many where lost, and so long ago, that Eragon could scarcely believe it. All the riders he knew, all their dragons, gone in an instant. To know that they had no idea, being so far removed, only heightened his grief. He knew there was nothing he could have done even if he had known, but the feelings still persisted.
I know, little-one, she said, I feel it too.
Sighing, Eragon stood from the basin, and drained it of the dirtied water. Making his way to the bed, Eragon felt his thoughts rushing about him, trying to determine what he wanted to do with all that he learned.
"What have you decided, Eragon?" Oromis asked. It was the following day, with Eragon and Saphira rejoining their old masters at their home. Glaedr and Saphira took off together to hunt, no doubt glad to have another of their kin with them. The morning sun shined down at them, slowly driving the cold lingering air away. The dew was slowly evaporating away from the green foliage around them, and he could feel the humidity in the air as well.
"Saphira and I need to know more, Master, "Eragon spoke, his resolve firm, "We can not sit idly by while Galbatorix reigns in Ilirea. Not when he has destroyed so much of the world that I have known. We aim to join the Varden in our efforts, to provide them with something that has been missing for the last hundred years."
Oromis nodded, a bittersweet smile rising on the older elf's face. He knew that Oromis regretted his condition. He knew that if they were able, Oromis and Glaedr would have joined the fighting themselves, eager to bring justice to the Black King.
"A lot has happened while you were away, Eragon. I will share what is important to know, however. But I can see that you have a question of you own," Oromis said, before taking a sip of the still hot tea he had brought out earlier.
Eragon was quiet for a moment, before asking softly, knowing that it was a delicate subject, "how was Galbatorix able to defeat all the riders? How is he so powerful?"
Oromis nodded, as if he expected such a question. "You do not suspect how?"
Eragon's face twisted, "if it is how I think he did, then he is worse than I could have imagined. But I need you to say it aloud, master so that we both can be assured we are working with the same knowledge. Too many times have I assumed others know what I do, and too many I assumed that others do not."
Eragon watched as his mastered face filled with sadness, "The Eldunarí."
He felt Saphira cry out sadly through their bond. "The atrocities committed by this Black Kind are too many too count. To use the dragons in such a way is reprehensible," Eragon said, venom injecting itself into his voice.
He felt his hands clench at his side, eyeing the saddle bag that was next to him.
"You still have it?" Oromis said, his voice soft.
Eragon nodded, reaching down towards the saddle, and removed one of the bags. Slowly, and with great care, Eragon removed the object inside. Cradling it gently his hands, Eragon gazed down at the purple stone. The color rang about the stone, its surface reflecting purple hue all around the two riders. Clutched in his hands, no bigger than a medium sized ball, was a Eldunarí.
He felt Oromis reach out towards the dragon, his mind softly caressing against the young hatchling. "He was so young, to have disgorged it. After everything that happened, Saphira and I wanted to try to help. It was one of the main reasons we left, Master. Not only because of what the magic of dragons did to me, but because of the crimes committed against one so young."
Oromis withdrew his mind, gazing at the stone. "I know, Eragon. I was one of the few Elders who knew you had the hatchling. I never questioned that you would care for him. How has he been?"
Eragon sighed, replacing the Eldunarí inside the bag. "He has spoken to us a few times. Well, mostly with images. He trusts Saphira the most, and has even given her his own strength before. But there is still so much turmoil within him. Whatever those foul creatures did, I do not know that he could ever recover. He doesn't even know his own name, or if he ever choose one for himself."
Oromis turned away, the sadness on his face evident. "Those who mess with spirits often do not know what they are doing, Eragon. To try what they did with a dragon? No, I am glad you managed to kill that shade, and even more so that you managed to recover the Eldunarí. It was, after all why the dragons healed you of your wound."
Eragon nodded, replacing the bag on the saddle, and ensured that the enchantments remained active. "How many does he have?" Eragon asked softly.
"Hundreds," Oromis answered, "at least, that's how many we except. If you wish to pit yourself against him, Eragon, you should know what you would go against. He also commands the Ra'zac, as well as many of the bands of Urgals."
Rubbing his hand against his face, Eragon sighed. So many opponents, so much strength aligned against him. He needed more strength, but he knew not where to get it. Pushing the matter aside for now, Eragon asked, "Anything else?"
Oromis shook his head briefly, before saying, "ah! Yes, there is something else. Arya, Evandar's daughter, has recently received word that one of the Varden spies knows how to gain access to Galbatorix's castle, and knows the route to the remaining egg."
Surprised gripped Eragon, "There's an egg left? Only one?"
Oromis's expression fell, "I forgot that you did not know, Eragon. My apologies. And tell Saphira my apologies as well. Yes, you are correct. Galbatorix has the only remaining egg."
"So, there are only five dragons left," Eragon said, "If you count Shruikan."
"I doubt that Shruikan has much sanity left inside him, Eragon. From what we know he his more beast than dragon," Oromis stated, pity deep in his expression. It was a sad fate that had befallen Shruikan, twisted with black magic. Eragon could never image a worse fate for a dragon. He knew that Saphira pitied the younger dragon, who was chained to fate not his own.
"When do they plan to steal the egg?" Eragon asked, hope blossoming for the first time since he arrived home. Of all the things that he had heard, to know that there was still an unhatched dragon, not yet tainted with the evil that was Galbatorix drove hard into his being, steeling his resolve.
"Not for a few months," Oromis answered, "plenty of time for you to prepare. I ask, however, that you or Saphira take no part in the operation inside the castle grounds. You are the only truly free rider left, and to lose you to Galbatorix would strike a blow and doom an entire race."
Eragon felt frustration well inside him, but he could see the truth of what his master said. "Yes, master. But know that I won't be coddled. Saphira and I are three hundred years old, old enough to know how to take care of ourselves."
Oromis smiled, "Forgive me, Eragon. Sometimes I still see you and Saphira as younglings, first learning to grasp the power that would be yours one day command."
Eragon nodded, his own memories of the time rising to the surface. It was a different time, a time when peace was the only life he had known. Even if the years following where bathed deep in blood, Eragon would always remember his time with his master fondly.
The former master and student stayed silent for a while, letting their last words ring about the tall bluffs that surrounded them. When Saphira and Glaedr finally returned did Eragon move to get up. Reattaching Saphira's saddle, Oromis quietly came to his side.
"You have had a lot of change in these past few days, Eragon. I know that you want to travel to the Varden, and I am glad that you still feel the sense of duty. I ask that you but wait a few more days. There are still things you need to know, events that have shaped the land since you have gone. Your brother, for instance," Oromis spoke, breaking the silence.
Eragon glanced at the elder rider, surprise evident on his face. "You know then, why Murtagh serves the Black King?"
Oromis nodded, his face sullen, "He knows their true names. Or at least Murtagh's, that much is clear. How is unknown, but know that everything your brother does, it is not of his own volition."
Eragon nodded, both sadden by the thought, but also glad that his brother was not held responsible ultimately, despite what others might think of him.
"There is something else, Eragon. It concerns Saphira," Oromis stated.
The words rang in his head before he twisted around, worry deep in his gut. Even Saphira sounded surprised, her head swing to face the silver-haired elf. Glaedr laid down in his spot next to the hut, his golden eye watching the dragon and rider..
"What is it, Master?" Eragon asked, glancing briefly at Saphira.
Please, Oromis-elda, if there is something I need to know, tell us now, Saphira said, her words sharp, to let words be unspoken is to let a wound fester.
Oromis nodded, his hand coming up gently against Saphira's side. His movements surprised her, but she made no movement to disengage from the old elf. "Forgive me," Oromis said, " You are correct, as usual Saphira. No, do not be concerned. It is not terrible news."
Confusion flowed across their bond, and Eragon was unsure of what his former teacher was speaking of. "Master?" Eragon said, his voice quiet.
Oromis kept his hand against Saphira's hide, gently stroking her sapphire-colored scales, "Saphira is three hundred years old, Eragon. A three-hundred-year-old dragon is quite large, but not so large as Saphira is. Surely you remember our teachings of dragon growth."
Eragon nodded, still not seeing what the issue was, "of course master. We only figured that Saphira was just a fast grower. She's only a head by a couple decades."
Oromis shook his head, "No, you are right that she is growing faster than normal, but it is not because she herself is a fast grower. Whatever magic that the eldest dragons used on you, Eragon, to change your appearance to what it is, also changed Saphira. The how remains unclear, but it is clearly evident that it has. Saphira is much larger than she should be. Larger in fact, than Thorn."
Eragon titled, his head, his own hand reaching up to touch her scales. Worry emanated from Saphira, is this an issue, Oromis-elda?
"No, Saphira," Oromis said softly, "I only wished for you to know. The changes that they made to Eragon affect you, but we may never be certain how far deep they go. Still, I understand your worry. Unlike what Galbatorix wrought with Shruikan, your growth was caused by dragon magic. Your kin would never unleash a magic like that if it would do you harm, Saphira."
Eragon nodded, his confusion and angst fading, "Thank you master, for telling us."
Saphira bowed her head to Oromis as well, thank you master, for all that you do for us.
Glaedr snorted from his place of rest, no matter how old the two of you are, you are still hatchlings to us. We will always look out for you, regardless of if you need us to or not. It is only right.
Eragon bowed to the elder rider and dragon, "Still, thank you Glaedr-ebrithil, Oromis-ebrithil."
He turned away from his former teachers, a vaulted a top Saphira's back.
"Oh, Eragon" Oromis said, a smile on his face, "do replace Saphira's saddle. It has grown rather, used, in your care and if you intend to travel to the Varden, it would be uncomely to see such a sight on as beautiful a dragon as Saphira."
Eragon's grunted his acknowledgement, and he heard Glaedr's rumbled laughter echoing among the bluffs.
Saphira snorted below him, winds pushing them far into sky, I told you. But no, don't listen to me. Not like I wear this thing nearly every day.