The following morning, Eragon kept his word to Arya. He arrived at the sparring area before she did, claiming one of the areas for their use. He waited as others arrived, stretching his muscles lightly in the soft morning light. The other elves had already begun to spar, the metal of their swords ringing out into the glade. Every once in a while, he would catch them watching him, but no one approached.
Eragon only waited for ten or so minutes before Arya arrived, her sword dangling from her waist. She smiled lightly at him in greeting, which he eagerly returned. She motioned to the open area, so Eragon moved to stand in the middle. He drew Brisingr, warding the edge as he twirled it in his hand. Arya did the same, but she did not ready herself yet.
When he cocked his eyebrow at her, Arya asked, "Will you be joining Oromis and I today?"
Thinking it over, Eragon nodded quickly. "Aye, I need to speak with Oromis. If he does not have need of me, I will probably see if Queen Islanzadí can assist me with my research."
She frowned when he mentioned her mother, but said nothing concerning it. "Very well."
She readied herself, and he did the same. They spared for nearly two hours, their movements precise and steady. Arya was starting to learn his patterns, accounting for any deficiency he might have had. Eragon did the same, and near the end of the allotted time they were evenly matched with wins. Lowering Brisingr, Eragon bowed lightly to Arya, "You are one of the most formidable opponents I have ever sparred with."
Arya smiled at him, her teeth nearly blinding. "Thank you, Eragon. Your skills are unmatched with a blade."
They were both sweating, and he could feel his sword growing heavier in his hand. He sheathed Brisingr, calling an end to their sparring. "I will meet you when you are ready to depart."
Arya nodded, turning to disappear into the forest. He followed after a minute, letting his mind and body settle from the activity. Fight with Arya was something he looked forward to, but it drove him nearly mad being so close to her. Arya was beautiful, there was no doubt, but something about her drew him in like a moth to a flame. No matter how much he tried, he could not ignore her when she was nearby.
Eragon walked slowly back to his tree, knowing that Saphira had already gone. She left early, though he did not know where she went. Saphira only informed him that she would return after he was done sparring with Arya so that they could met with Oromis. He bathed and changed quickly, not wishing to keep Arya waiting. When he descended the steps to his home, he was surprised to find Fírnen waiting at the bottom, a saddle on his back.
Arya was standing next to him, lightly adjusting the straps as the dragon fidgeted. Walking up to them, Eragon asked, "Are you to ride with Fírnen now?"
The dragon was taller than last Eragon saw him, with the dragon's head now above Eragon's own. Arya shook her head, and he could see she was disappointed as she spoke. "Nay, Fírnen is not large enough to carry me such distance yet."
Eragon approached the green dragon, his hand coming to rest lightly on Fírnen's neck. "The two of you will fly together soon enough, I suspect."
Fírnen blinked an amber eye at him. He heard Saphira approached them, her massive wings crushing the air as she landed. Turning from the pair, Eragon made his way over to her. Saphira hummed at him, and he lightly hugged her neck. He could no longer wrap his arms around her, big as she was.
He felt their minds push together, sharing their experiences from their brief separation. Ever since they lived mostly alone with each other, Eragon and Saphira barely kept anything from the other. He clambered up her back, settling into the saddle he had placed on her this morning. She hummed lightly as they waited for Arya, who was still fiddling with the leather buckles as Fírnen squirmed.
When she was done, Eragon watched as she placed her head against Fírnen's. Their conversation was quiet, and before long she made her way to them. When Arya settled into the saddle Saphira took off, Fírnen following behind them. He felt Arya shift behind him, the arm she had around his waist adjusting as she turned. When he glanced over his shoulder, Eragon saw that she was watching Fírnen fly behind them as he attempted to keep up with Saphira.
Glaedr was lying beside the hut, raising his head as they approached. Oromis was next to the golden dragon, leaning his weight heavily on Glaedr. When they descended from Saphira's back, Oromis motioned them over.
"Forgive me, Arya." Oromis stated. Eragon noticed that the elf was pale, and he recognized the signs of a previous seizure in his old master. "I find that I cannot complete the training I had intended for today."
Concern washed over Eragon, and he could see the same on Arya. "Of course, Ebrithil." Arya murmured.
"I wanted for you and myself to fly with Glaedr for today's lesson, but we will have to wait until tomorrow. I cannot be separated from Glaedr right now." Oromis said. His hands stroked Glaedr's scales, as though trying to draw strength from the dragon.
If you will, Oromis-elda. Saphira said. She brought her head in low, peering at the elf. Glaedr-elda can inform me of the lesson, and I will fly with Arya and Fírnen.
Oromis glanced at Eragon before slowly nodding his head. "That is most kind of you, Saphira."
Glaedr turned to shift to Saphira, the two of them conversing without words. He caught flashes of indistinct images, and Eragon was unable to keep up with the two dragons. The conversation complete, Glaedr laid his head back down and closed his eyes.
"Ebrithil," Arya began, "Before we leave, might ask I something of you?"
Oromis nodded his head, straightening himself from the dragon. He seemed to sway lightly on his feet for a moment, but kept a steadying hand on Glaedr. "If it is within my power, I will."
"Release Eragon from his oath." Arya stated, surprising Eragon. He turned to her, finding her face firm in her resolve.
Oromis raised his eyebrows, glancing at Eragon. "There are many oaths Eragon has sworn, Arya. I do not have the power to release him from any of his oaths, for he has made none to me. He is the Leader of the Rider Order now, and may remove any of the old oaths he swore in his service to the Order himself."
Arya blinked, and a frown appeared. "Eragon said that only an Elder Rider can release him from the oath that binds him."
"Ah," Oromis stated softly. His eyes fell to the floor before them. "You speak of the events of Belatona. I see."
Oromis turned to Eragon, his expression stern. "You wish to tell her of the events of that night?"
"Yes." Eragon answered. He saw Arya look at him from the corner of his eye. "There is no reason to keep it a secret anymore. Arya will also be the only other member of our Order, and deserves to possess such knowledge."
The silver haired elf nodded lightly. "There are things you cannot tell her, of course. She has yet to complete her training, and that information is not ours to share."
"Of course," Eragon said, bowing lightly.
Oromis drew himself up as much as he could. The elf breathed in deeply, before stating, "As the last remaining Elder of the Order, I divest you of the oath you have given, Eragon. As the Leader of the Riders, you may share this information with any you chose."
Eragon felt the magic wash over him, and he saw Oromis flinch lightly as it took effect. The words unlocked something, and he could feel the magic loosen its hold over his mind. Eragon bowed again, "Thank you, Oromis-elda."
The elf breathed heavily for a moment, closing his eyes as he nodded. "Not here, please."
The words were directed at Arya, who was staring intently at Eragon. He knew that she wanted to know, desperate to have the secrets finally revealed to her. Arya nodded her head, murmured her acquiescence.
Oromis waved her off, "Go now and complete your lesson with Saphira, Arya. I imagine Eragon has something he wishes to ask of me."
"Only if you are feeling up to it, Oromis-elda." Eragon said. His worry over Oromis did not lessen. Seeing how much releasing him from his oath took, Eragon did not wish to strain the elf further. "There are other avenues I can take if you wish to rest."
"My body is ill," Oromis uttered, "Not my mind. That much still remains sharp."
The two watched as Arya mounted Saphira. The dragon launched herself into the sky and Fírnen followed behind, casting a glance once more at them before he left. Oromis gestured for Eragon to follow him to the hut. He walked wearily beside his former teacher, watching his movements carefully.
"I wish I could help you more," Eragon murmured. Oromis shook his head, a kind smile on his face.
"For near a century Glaedr and I have survived. I thought that our only hope lay in the egg Galbatorix possessed. With your return and Fírnen hatching, the world does not need two old relics to weight down the flow of time." Oromis stated. They entered the hut, Oromis sitting by the table inside. Eragon busied himself with preparing the two of them with tea, hoping the motion would calm him.
Setting the pot to boil with a whisper, Eragon carefully poured the water over the leaves. "That may be so, but I will always have need of your council, Oromis-elda."
The kindness present on Oromis's face never faltered. "You overstate your own worth, Eragon. You and Saphira have not needed us for two hundred years."
"Maybe," Eragon admitted. "But if we succeed with bringing down Galbatorix, restoring the order will be a tall task."
His former teacher nodded, accepting the tea from Eragon when he approached. Eragon sat, waiting for his tea to cool. "Especially with so few dragons remaining."
Eragon sighed, "That is why I am worried over the rumors my father has discovered. If there are magicians out there who plan to create such madness…"
Oromis's eyes fell to the tea in front of him, his thumb running lightly over the side of the cup. "They managed to turn a dragon into a Shade, yes. But the creature was too unstable. It would have died within hours." The elf looked up, locking Eragon in his gaze. "Killing the Shade dragon prevented untold destruction, Eragon. I know you mourn the hatchlings loss, but you saved many lives that day."
"I know," Eragon stated. He ran a hand over his face, his emotions roiling beneath the surface. "I am worried that there is a group out there who plans to use the dragons. Though I do not know their end goal, if they succeed they will doom an entire race."
Not just our race, Glaedr said, his voice echoing inside Eragon's head. The dragons are tied to the elves and humans. There is no knowing what would happen if all of the remaining few of my kin vanished from Alagaësia.
Oromis nodded before taking a sip of the tea. "Your worry is not misplaced. Protecting the dragon's future is something that will fall to you and Arya now."
Eragon took a sip of the tea. He let the warmth settle inside him, his thoughts racing in his mind. "It's nice to not have to bear the responsibility alone." Eragon said quietly.
"We are never truly alone." Oromis stated.
The two of them finished their tea in silence, letting the previous conversation die. He was glad of the pause, as it allowed him to settle the feelings of frustration and worry that had risen. Done with the tea, Eragon collected the cups to place on the counter.
When he returned to his seat, Eragon glanced at the elf on the other side. Oromis looked better, as if the tea had rejuvenated the elf. His posture was not as slouched as before, and Eragon could see the color returning to his features.
"Now," Oromis began, "I imagine that what we discussed earlier is not all that you wished to talk to be about."
Eragon nodded, "No. I have need to talk to Queen Islanzadí, but I was hoping to see if you knew anything first."
"All the knowledge I have is at your disposal, my friend." Oromis remarked. "I have already given you all the scrolls pertaining to spirits and Shades that I possess."
"And they have been of great help in understanding the process of creating a shade," Eragon asserted. His brow furrowed as he continued. "They have taught me how to see the signs of magic that would radiate out from the spell casting, as well as ways to guard oneself from the magic."
"I sense there's more," Oromis prodded.
"I wish to ask if you know of a way to reverse the process." He watched as Oromis's eyes narrowed in thought.
The elf was silent for a moment, clearly conversing with Glaedr outside. After a minute, Oromis offered, "When a Shade is created, the spirit or spirits merge with the host. As far as Glaedr and I are aware, there is no way to separate them once the process has complete."
"That's true of any normal host," Eragon admitted. "But what of dragons? We know that a dragon can hide its consciousness inside its Eldunarí. That is how the purple hatchling survived."
The young one was driven mad by the experience, Glaedr thundered. I wouldn't say they survived the encounter unscathed.
"Yes, but the dragon was young," Oromis reasoned. "We have no way of knowing if a much older dragon would have been able to recover. Remember, the dragon was near Fírnen's age when he underwent the transformation."
The thought of Fírnen losing himself to the madness of spirits sent a shudder down Eragon's spine.
The hatchling was too young to disgorge its Eldunarí, Glaedr attested. Such a process should never be undertaken so early in life.
"Aye," Eragon said. "Could it then be possible to evict the spirits from a dragon's body?"
Oromis drummed his fingers against the table, his eyebrows slanted as he considered Eragon's words. "If the Eldunarí was disgorged, and the body remained…" Oromis trailed off.
"Glaedr-elda?" Eragon questioned. "Do you think it possible?"
The dragon rumbled outside, the sound showing his displeasure at as he spoke. To live outside the body, only to return to it after the spirits have departed? Possibly. Eragon felt the dragon shudder at the thought. If the link remained between the Eldunarí and the body, and the mind of the dragon was sane, it may merit some investigation.
"You have given us much to think about," Oromis said quietly. "We may not be able to separate the soul of the host from the spirits, but evicting a spirit that has not merged?"
This is all speculation, Glaedr prompted. I cannot see anyone who would be able to capture a dragon when so few remain. Galbatorix would not permit such a thing to happen to Shruikan, nor could I see Murtagh allowing Thorn to undergo such horrors either.
"I agree with you on Galbatorix, but Murtagh may not have the same protection that the mad king bestows upon his own dragon," Oromis said. The elf's eyes turned towards the window of the small hut.
If so, then I suggest you acquire any knowledge you can find, Glaedr urged, but do not be surprised if such a thing remains only speculation. The rumors Brom may have heard may not pander out as you think.
"True," Eragon granted. He followed his old mentors gaze, settling on Glaedr's form outside. "I would rather not be caught off guard if what my father hears is true."
"Speak with Queen Islanzadí," Oromis implored. "She may know of one who possess such knowledge. There are many elves in the forest who devote themselves to various studies."
Eragon nodded, standing from the table. He bowed to Oromis, "Thank you for your council as always."
Oromis was silent for a moment as he continued to stare out the window, before turning to Eragon. "Glaedr has offered to take you back to the city, Eragon."
Blinking, Eragon said, "I thought you could not have Glaedr leave your side today."
Oromis waved him off, " I have recovered somewhat, and Saphira will not be back for a while."
He bid the elf farewell, exiting the small structure. Glaedr stood up, stretching his remaining limbs as he readied himself for flight. Eragon thanked the dragon, watching as the massive golden dragon blinked in acknowledgement. He made his way up the dragons remaining foreleg, his steps light as he settled on the dragons back.
Glaedr wore no saddle, so Eragon warded his body against the rough scales of the dragon. Two massive wings spread out, their size covering the hut and much of the surrounding area as Glaedr readied himself. He could still see Oromis watching them, and Eragon waved lightly as Glaedr launched himself into the air.
Glaedr landed gracefully outside of Tialdarí Hall, his weight braced only by his three remaining limbs. The golden dragon bent down slightly, and Eragon leapt the great distance to the ground with ease.
Eragon turned to Glaedr and bowed, "Thank you Glaedr-elda."
The huge dragon snorted, bringing his head down to Eragon. Glaedr met his gaze, the golden iris of his eye observing Eragon. You hold the future of my kind in your hands, Eragon-vor. Something as simple as lending you my wings is nothing compared to what you will need to do.
Eragon frowned, his emotions rising like a tide. He knew the vast responsibility that rested on his shoulders. That he could share them with Arya helped ease his mind, but even she would look towards him for direction. "I only hope that I able to bear such a burden."
Glaedr blinked. You and Saphira are the finest dragon riders we have ever trained. The both of you were prodigies in your own right, and that you would return to us in our need has stoked the fire inside me. For the first time in a century, I wish to abandon this forest and take to the skies, so that our enemies might know some sense of what is to come.
"If you and Oromis were to fight…" Eragon trailed off. His face furrowed as he thought about Oromis and Glaedr emerging from the forest.
We will fight, Glaedr growled, because we will always be dragon and Rider. Do not forget that we are powerful in our own right.
"Of course, Glaedr-elda. I only wish that you did not need to." Eragon explained. Glaedr was still a force to be reckoned with, even though he was missing a foreleg. Oromis, however, would have to content with his illness.
Your concern is warming, my friend. Glaedr hummed. But do not worry over us.
Eragon smiled and placed his hand on the side of Glaedr's head. "I worry over everyone I care for, Glaedr."
The dragon rumbled, his laughter shaking the trees around them. When the sensation died down, Glaedr spread his massive wings. That you do, and is one of the reasons I am sure you will defeat Galbatorix. The black king cares for nothing besides himself, while you would defend the whole of the world.
Eragon wanted to reply, but Glaedr leapt into the air, his wings beating hard against the air. Eragon waved at the dragon as he left, watching as the sun reflected off of Glaedr's golden scales. All dragons were fearsome in their own right, but ever since he was young he had thought Glaedr the fiercest of them all. Turning towards the entrance to Tialdarí Hall, Eragon made his way to the entrance. He stopped before the archway, and place his hand on one of the doors.
Pushing his magic into his words, Eragon said, "Root of the tree, I have need to see Islanzadí."
For a moment nothing happened.
Suddenly it seemed like a shiver ran up the doors before they opened smoothly before him. He walked past the gardens, stopping when the trees thickened into the hallway. After a moment of consideration, he walked down the hall towards where he knew Evandar's old study to be. Stopping before the door, Eragon knocked lightly.
To his relief came a soft "Enter."
He pushed open the door, finding the room much unchanged since he last stepped foot over two centuries ago. It was a simple room, the interior carved from one of the trees that made up Tialdarí hall. Paintings of different locations in Alagaësia adorned the walls, each showing the home of one of the races. On the left wall was Ilirea before the fall, the massive spires tugging at his memories.
The wall to the right held Tronjheim, the city housed inside Farthen Dûr. Behind the oak desk opposite Eragon sat a painting of Ellesméra, the trees showing the autumn leaves of the season. Eragon knew that beside him in the entranceway would be a painting of the Spine, home of the Urgals. Queen Islanzadí sat behind the plain oak desk, reading a scroll in her hands. The Queen did not look up at him, so Eragon closed the door softly behind him.
He situated himself near the wall, waiting politely as Islanzadí finished reading. A frowned marred her face as she continued, her eyes roaming the scroll intently. Several minutes passed before the Queen glanced up at him. Her frown disappeared on taking him in, a small smile blooming in its place.
Her features so closely resembled Eragon that he took pause. Blinking rapidly, Eragon bowed to the Queen. He began the traditional greeting, twisting his wrist over his heart as he did.
Pleasantries concluded, Eragon smiled, "Islanzadí Dröttning, please forgive my interruption."
The queen waved her hand, dismissing his words. "It is of no consequence, Eragon-vor. Evandar would be remise if I did not greet his old friend kindly."
His smile dimming somewhat, Eragon stated, "I have need of your assistance, your highness."
"Is everything alright?" The queen asked, her face turning serious. "I've been told Arya's training has been progressing quickly. Is there an issue with something of note?"
"Nothing as such," Eragon explained. "I only ask for your help in my research. I have need of someone knowledgeable in such matters, and I hope that you would be able to point me in the right direction."
"Oh," Islanzadí said. "Of course. What is it that you are researching?"
Eragon spoke quietly, explaining everything he and Oromis had discussed, as well as what he and Saphira had already uncovered. As he talked, the queen's expression fell further, her eyebrows slanting.
When he finished the queen was silent, her mind taking in all that he said. He stood unmoving, his eyes fixing on the desk in front of him. "Spirits and Shades," Islanzadí murmured. "That you would seek such knowledge… If I did not already know your past, I would be suspicious of you asking after these things."
Eragon bowed his head slightly. "I do not want anything to do with spirits anymore, your highness. But I cannot ignore the worries that my father has."
"Brom has helped the elves as few others have since the fall," The queen said. "To ignore his council would be foolish indeed."
Her eyes roamed the room, and the Queen fell silent once more. Islanzadí drummed her fingers steadily against the desk, stopping only when his eyes fell upon them. "Forgive me," Islanzadí whispered, "A habit I picked up from my husband."
Eragon smiled, Evandar's face flashing into his mind. "It seems I am not the only one afflicted."
Islanzadí glanced up at him, her lips rising. "Is that so? Evandar always had a way of influencing others."
"Yes, that he did." Eragon commented.
"There is someone who might possess such knowledge." Islanzadí stated. "She lives in Osilon, and has been studying spirits since before even Oromis was born. She would be the best person to ask after for such things. If she were to know of your plight, she may be willing to help."
Eragon sighed, relieved that his hunch was right. Elves were a curious bunch, always pondering the various mysteries of the world. That one would devote their life to the study of spirits was unsurprising, and fortunate enough for him. "If you would introduce us, your majesty, you would do the Riders a great service."
The Queen stood from her desk, walking over to a small table set under the painting of Tronjheim. She opened one of the drawers, retrieving a blank scroll. "Then I shall write to her at once, and have this missive delivered directly to her."
Bowing, Eragon murmured his thanks to her. The Queen waved him off, saying, "I will inform you if she replies, Eragon."
Taking the dismissal, Eragon bid his farewell to the queen.
He was resting in his tree home, the light of the setting sun barely enough to illuminate his room. Eragon whispered a spell, watching as the few elven lanterns light themselves. The soft light spread out around his room as he lounged on the bed. His hands were folded underneath his head as he gazed up at the wooden ceiling. Eragon let his thoughts meander about, flittering from one subject to the next.
Saphira had returned a while ago, telling him of the lesson with Arya and Fírnen. He smiled throughout her explanation, letting her words rumble in his mind as she spoke. She was resting now as well, her eyes closed, and her body curled up on the dais that was her bed. Saphira was flirting with sleep, her mind dragging lightly at his own as she went.
A knock sounded light at the door, and he felt Saphira suddenly startle into awareness. She growled softly, making Eragon chuckle lightly. "Enter!" he called out.
Arya opened the door lightly, peering around their tree home. Eragon sat up at her entrance, subconsciously straightening his clothing as he moved. "Arya." Eragon greeted.
She inclined her head at him, her eyes aligning on Saphira. The dragoness snorted, shifting her weight as she settled down. "I did not intend to wake you, Saphira." Arya said.
You did not, Saphira said. But that matters little now.
When a small frown appeared on Arya's face, Eragon said, "Ignore her. She's just being grumpy. Saphira's actually happy to see you."
A tail suddenly lashed out, smacking into the bed Eragon was sitting on. It jerked at her strike, making Eragon stumble as he stood. He heard her rumbling laugher ring out, watching as a small smile emerged from Arya.
"The two of you are perhaps the oddest beings I have ever met," Arya stated. Eragon eyes tracked her, watching as she approached him.
It's his fault, Saphira accused, His perchance for brooding has finally caught hold over me.
"I do not brood." Eragon denied. Saphira snorted, her eyes closing once more.
If you say so.
Arya laughed, the sound drawing Eragon in. Her musical laughter always made his heart clench in his chest, and he longed to hear it more. Eragon could feel Saphira examine the emotion rising inside him, but she did not comment on it.
Swallowing, Eragon motioned to the table and said, "Please, sit."
The elf did as he asked, taking the seat nearest him. The table only had four chairs surrounding it, and Eragon angled his so that he could better see Arya. "What brings you here so late, Arya?"
Arya turned her chair to face him as well, her knees brushing against his lightly as she moved. The faint touch sent fire up his leg, and Eragon clamped his jaw to mute the sensation. Behind him, Saphira's own leg twitched, with caused the dragon to snort.
Arya glanced over at the dragon, her face flashing with confusion briefly. When she blinked, Arya fixed her gaze back on Eragon, her usual stoic expression softening. "I wished to see if you would tell me of what happened that night."
Eragon knew the night she was referring to, of course. So much had revolved around one night, and he marveled briefly at how his life had never truly been the same since. Eragon let out a sigh, running his hands through his hair. "Yes," he muttered, "I suppose I can speak of it now."
Arya's face fell, and he saw her hand twitch from where it rested on her lap. "If you don't wish to talk of it, I will not force you."
"No," Eragon waved his hand, "I want to tell you. It's just a difficult memory for me is all."
The elf nodded her head, her eyes roaming his face. He glanced at her, and tried to ignore the tingle that ran up his spine when their eyes met briefly. "Would you rather I ask questions, or for you to tell me of what transpired?"
Eragon pondered her proposition for a minute, in which Arya's gaze never left his face. Sighing, Eragon said, "I think its best I just tell it from the beginning. Seems to be the best way to do such things, I suppose."
Arya said nothing, nearly as still as statue as she watched him.
"Two hundred and twenty years ago," Eragon began, "I was sent to Belatona because of rumors of magicians practicing foul magic inside the city walls." He felt relieved that the oath was no longer binding him, but the memories made a lump appear in his throat.
Swallowing, Eragon said, "Saphira was flying above the city, while I roamed the streets. For nearly two days we looked, and I finally found the group inside one of the many grain-houses the city used for winter." His voice dropped, sadness and grief flowing through him. "They were gathered in a circle and chanting, and in the middle of the circle I could see a dragon."
Arya's eyes widened, and her hand reached out to grab his arm. Her gaze drove him forward with his story, and he could feel tears begin to form in his eyes. Nearly whispering, Eragon continued, "The dragon was purple, a dark hue that was unlike any I had ever seen before. The hatchling was perhaps a week or so younger than Fírnen is." At the mention of her dragon, Arya's grip tightened on his arm. He ignored the pain as he went on, "The Rider, Naevir, was bound off to the side, screaming as I entered the building."
"I tried to stop them," Eragon continued softly, "but I was too slow."
He could feel a tear fall, and Arya asked, "Please, Eragon. Tell me they did not do what I think they did."
Eragon shook his head, wiping away the fallen tear. "They did. Those magicians, they turned a dragon into a Shade."
Horror filled Arya's eyes, and he could feel Saphira's grief as well. "To do such a thing, to a dragon?" Her voice fell, and he could hear the anger rising in her. "How could they do such a thing?"
"I don't know," Eragon stated. "All I know is that the dragon was… unstable. Something was wrong, and the magicians were unable to contain it. I knew that it would die, as most Shade's do, but it would have taken nearly half the city with it. I killed the magicians, and tried to calm Naevir, but I couldn't. The bond between them had made him insane. I don't know whether it was the spirits, or the loss of his partners mind, but he attacked me."
Arya's thumb started rubbing his arm. When he glanced at her hand, she pulled it back, cradling it with her other hand.
"I wasn't as I am now," Eragon explained. "Not as strong or fast. And Naevir was elf… The battle was difficult, and Saphira was lending me as much power as she could. Things happened too fast, and she was unable to reach us in time. When the dragon bit me, I- I had no choice. I knew I would die, so I cut its neck with Brisingr."
"And Naevir?" Arya asked calmly. Her voice matched his, low in the faint lantern light of his tree home.
"I was bleeding out, barely conscious." Eragon said, his hands starting to shake. He glanced down at them, feeling his grief rising further. It choked at him, and all he could see for a moment was Naevir's rage filled face. "I was able to defeat him, though only through luck. Whether or not he died from his wounds or his own grief, I do not know."
When he fell silent, Arya shifted lightly in her seat. "Afterwards, Saphira found you?"
"Yes," Eragon answered. Saphira hummed softly from her dais, the comfort of their bond soothing the memory of his pain. "The wound was cursed, and I could barely breath. She was pouring strength into me as she flew. She took me to Ilirea. I do not know how she did it. Even the other dragons were surprised that she was able to make the journey so quickly, expending so much of her strength to keep me alive."
I would have flown to the edge of the world, Saphira growled, I would not let you go. If you had died that night, I would have taken my own life. We will never be parted, little-one, not if I have strength left in my body.
"Saphira." Eragon murmured. He pushed his love for her into the bond, letting it rush over her as her tail twitched softly on the ground. When he was sure she had calmed slightly, Eragon continued. "The curse nearly killed me. When the Elder dragons learned what I did from Saphira, they all used their magic to heal me. That was how I gained the appearance of an elf."
Arya was working through what he said, her eyes still intent on his face. He felt a few more tears gather in his eyes, and he rubbed them with his end of his tunic. She suddenly stood, her hand pulling him with her. Surprised, he stumbled lightly as he went. Arya gazed at him for a moment, before pulling him into a tight embrace.
The hug shocked him, and his arms dangled at his side. When she made no move to retreat, he slowly let them fall around her, placing them around her back. Arya whispered, "You should not feel guilty, Eragon. You did what you had to."
He felt the grief roll over him, and he tightened his arms around the elf. He felt a few more tears leak out, so he simply held her to him. Eragon was unsure how long they remained locked in their embrace, but Arya did not retreat from him. He could feel the emotions drain from him, her presence bringing him a sense of comfort he had never before felt. Sniffing, Eragon pulled back.
He felt a wash of shame for having her see him in such a state. Arya's arms trailed over his own as he stepped back, and she smiled lightly at him. They were still standing close, her face inches from his own. Eragon gazed into her eyes, feeling a tension rising in the air.
She seemed as captivated as him, her eyes flicking back and forth between his own. He blinked when he saw a soft flush run up her neck, and the suddenness of his action seemed to break some of the tension. Arya stepped back, the space between them increasing. Her eyes turned away from him, and he could not place the emotion that appeared briefly on her face. Eragon turned away, walking towards one of the far walls. He picked up a pitcher of water, filling two cups.
He handed one to Arya, draining his in one sip. He let the coolness wash over him, helping to settle the odd mix of feelings inside him. Eragon could feel grief from the memories, low now, but he also could feel the comfort Arya had given him sooth the hurt inside. His heart pounded hard in his chest, and he tried to fight the memory of her embrace. Her body's touch against his own lingered, and he tried to fight the flush that ran up his face.
Hoping that she would think the redness from his earlier release of emotion, Eragon sat back in the chair. After a moment he could see her follow, and he saw the flush drain from her skin. Arya crossed her arms across her chest. He nearly frowned at the movement, not sensing a chill in the air.
"Does the curse still bother you?" Arya asked softly. Her eyes met his own once again.
Clearing his throat, he said, "Not anymore. They managed to remove it, but its effects did… linger. For months afterward I had intense nightmares, and I would have flashes of agony that nearly knocked me unconscious. The dragons said it was just the remnants of the curse. They had never seen one so terrible, but I have not felt its effects in over two hundred years."
Arya nodded her acceptance of his explanation. "I am glad." She hesitated for a moment, before asking, "Does this have to do with your research?"
Eragon drummed his fingers lightly on the table. "Yes," he answered. "Brom has uncovered rumors of magicians looking into the events of Belatona, and we both agree that it is worrisome. Saphira and I are looking for anyway to remove a spirit from a host, or to at the very least prevent such a thing from happening again."
"That is deeply concerning," Arya murmured. He nodded his head in agreement, letting the conversation fade between them.
He smiled lightly at her, fighting off a yawn. Eragon felt suddenly tired, his energy drained from their talk. She caught his exhaustion, standing. "Thank you for telling me, Eragon. That you would trust me enough to talk of such a painful memory means much to me."
He followed her to the door, a small smile on his face. "I must also thank you, Arya." Eragon murmured. "There aren't many who know what happened, and talking about it has helped."
She smiled at him; her white teeth displayed for a moment as they stood in front of his door. Arya seemed to debate something, her eyes roaming his face. When she moved her face towards him, Eragon froze. Her mouth aligned on his cheek, and he his mind nearly blanked out from the surprise coursing through him.
Arya lingered for a moment there before pulling back. He knew he look liked a deer before a dragon, eyes wide in surprise. Saphira chuckled in his mind at his metaphor, but did not outwardly make a sound. Even she seemed unwilling to break the tension that was rising once more in the room. His cheek buzzed and he could feel his ears warm.
"Goodnight, Eragon." Arya whispered softly. He opened his mouth to respond but was unable to, for she slipped out of the door quickly. He stood there for a minute with his mouth open, frozen in the same spot. Fire was still coursing through his veins, and he fought down the lust he felt over Arya. What remained behind was something he had never truly felt. It bloomed inside of him, the feeling overpowering him.
He knew he had thought her beautiful, and he could even understand his attraction to her. But this? He knew then with certainty that he was in love with elf, and he cursed himself silently. Saphira rumbled, the entire tree shaking with her laughter.
What?
She snorted, her amusement flowing through him. The elf certainly knows how to play you like a fiddle. One little kiss is all it takes to have you become a bumbling fool.