It was late into the evening when Saphira finally decided to stop their journey, settling her bulk down outside the forest of Du Weldenvarden. The green trees gave way to low grass, and Eragon could see in the distance how the green eventually turned to the tan of the approaching desert. The Hadarac was vast, stretching most of the territory of Alagaësia between the dwarven mountains and the elven forest.
Eragon knew Saphira intended to lead them near Du Fells Nángoröth, the ancient home of the dragons. They would see it in the distance to the east eventually, and use it as a landmark in the unending sands that would surround them. Both Eragon and Arya wanted to avoid Urû'baen as much as possible, skirting the edge of the Empire until they finally reached Surda.
Fírnen landed heavily besides Saphira, the exhaustion evident on the young dragon. This was the furthest the green dragon had flown so far, even with the additional size granted to him by the Blood-Oath ceremony. Fírnen crouched low for Orik, lying down once the dwarf finally departed. He could feel Saphira replenish the younger dragon, her energy easing the strain the flight had caused.
They set up camp without a word, the two dragon's bodies circled around them. Eragon set up his blankets near the center of the camp. Glenwing settled beside him, smirking at him when Arya placed her own bedding next to Eragon. He glared at the male elf briefly, making sure to straighten his features when Arya's gaze flickered towards him. Orik grumbled lightly, no doubt tired from the flight, settling down beside Arya. The dwarf seemed to have calmed some, losing some of the discomfort he had displayed when they first started their journey.
Before settling in for the night, Eragon cast various wards around them. From what he could tell, there was no one near them for leagues, but Eragon would never let his guard relax so close to the Empire. He had grown used to the routine of hiding his presence all those years ago, only able to relax when he was safe behind the wards of Ellesméra.
When he was done Eragon finally settle down, the last to finally bed down for the night. A snore gave away Orik, and when Eragon turned his eyes to glance at the dwarf he instead found emerald eyes peering back at him. Blinking, Eragon smiled softly, watching as the furrow of Arya's brow relaxed under his visage. She returned his smile, and Eragon closed his eyes as he listened to the steady breathing of the two dragons' surrounding them.
The light of morning woke him immediately when it graced his eyelids. He groaned lightly, twisting his body to stretch the sleep out of his muscles. Blinking, Eragon cast his gaze around their camp. He was the first to awaken, the others still held in the tight grips of sleep. Eragon tried to be silent as he folded his blankets, pausing only when Arya stirred lightly. His eyes roamed her features, taking in how the soft golden light caressed the angles of her face. Eragon's heart tripped in his chest, his mind captivated by her beauty.
He only snapped out of it when Arya blinked lightly. Scrambling, Eragon quickly bundled up his blanket, stopping only when a soft chuckle graced his ears. He felt his cheeks heat at the sound, and he forced himself to look at the elf.
Arya held a small smile, as though aware that he was previously staring at her. She said nothing as she rose, packing her own blanket away silently. Eragon caught a few glimpses of Arya gazing at him, but neither of them made any attempt to speak. Orik, Eragon saw, had awoken as well, the dwarf diligently preparing himself for the journey ahead. Stowing his blanket in Saphira's saddle, Eragon lightly kicked Glenwing on the ground.
"Hey!" the elf grumbled. Glenwing swatted at his foot, pulling the blankets around him tighter.
"Up," Eragon commanded, smiling when the elf groaned. "The longer we waste here on the ground, the longer we will fly tonight."
"Fine, fine." Glenwing said. The elf finally rose from the ground, seemingly instantly awake. "Why don't you wake your elf that way?"
"And lose my head?" Eragon returned, listening as Glenwing chuckled in agreement. He saw Arya glance at them, clearly able to hear their conversation, though she did not comment. She was packing away her own supplies, as well as retrieving food for her and Orik. Eragon did the same, passing a few pieces of fruit to Glenwing.
The elf nodded his head in thanks, a smirk appearing. The two chatted lightly as they ate, the words passing easily between them. They spoke of the journey ahead, and Glenwing would often stop to listen as the birds began chirping lightly in the morning sun.
Saphira had awakened at their conversation, standing as she stretched her long limbs. Eragon smiled at her, taking in her beauty. She licked his cheek in greeting, humming lightly under her breath. By some unspoken agreement all four of them mounted the dragons, strapping themselves in for the long day ahead.
Powerful wings carried them swiftly away from the green fields that lay outside Du Weldenvarden, and before long the soft tan finally gave way to the scorching sands that made up the Hadarac Desert. Sand peppered them lightly, and Eragon casted a few spells to keep them from pummeling the two riders. Fírnen flew steadily beside Saphira, who had slowed her speed to match the green dragon.
It would take them near four days to reach Aberon, the capital of Surda. The last time he had scryed Nasuada, Eragon knew her to be in court with King Orrin, and he resolved to scry her again when they landed for the night.
Glenwing kept up a steady game of riddles with Saphira, who had always enjoyed challenges of the mind. She was far better than him, and he was unsurprised when Arya, Orik, and Fírnen joined in. Eragon listened to the riddles passing between them, knowing that he would never be up to the task of unraveling their meaning alone.
Will you not try one, Eragon-vor? Fírnen asked.
They all spoke with their minds, seeing as words were hard enough to hear over the wind as it rushed past them. Shaking his head, Eragon answered, Nay, I've never been particularly good at riddles. Saphira holds all the intelligence in our bond, I'm afraid.
Glenwing and Orik chuckled lightly, the elf's audible in his ears and the dwarves own echoing in his mind. Arya frowned at him, and he could detect a hint of displeasure in her mind. Saphira merely snorted, used to his self-deprecating sense of humor. She knew he wasn't serious, and she had spent years trying to keep him from feeling the way he often joked about. Eragon was no longer so critical of his self-worth, but he didn't mind making fun of himself when it suited him.
The games continued between them, Eragon listening in to keep the boredom at bay. A twinge in Arya's mind caught his attention, her mind lightly flowing against his own. Frowning, Eragon separated his mind from the others, feeling her do the same. The music of her mind became more prominent, no longer tempered as it was when they were all joined together.
He turned his head to her from Saphira's back, catching her gaze as Fírnen leveled his flight. Saphira did the same, her wings angled to allow the two of them to gaze at each other.
What is it, Arya?
Why do you put yourself down like that? Arya's tone was fierce, and he could feel the heat behind them.
Smiling at her, Eragon replied, It is only in jest, Arya.
She did not seem to accept his words, the intense expression that took hold earlier remaining. To try to assuage her, Eragon opened more of his mind to the elf. Arya hesitated at first, but he could feel a growing sense of curiosity in her. She pressed into his mind, and he allowed his feelings and thoughts to flow steadily between them.
Arya examined his mind for some time, though he noticed how she shied away from his memories. The elf lingered on his feelings for her, though he was unable to determine how she felt about them, her mind still somewhat shielded from him. Arya eventually moved on, and Eragon coaxed her towards the part of himself that held his self-worth. Her mind studied his for nearly a whole minute before she withdrew, her mind still lingering at the edges of his so that they could still communicate.
I see. I just ask for you not to take yourself so lightly, Eragon.
Nen ono weohnata, Arya Dröttningu, Eragon swore.
Arya broke off her eye contact when Fírnen dipped, the green dragon moving to fly slightly behind Saphira. When their minds rejoined the others Eragon was glad no one commented on their private conversation. Glenwing did eye him for a moment, though Eragon steadily ignored the prying elf.
The remaining days of travel passed surprising quickly. They had developed a routine, in which they woke early in order to make the most of the coolness of the desert. The dragons would land once the sun was close to setting, only stopping briefly when necessary for their passengers. Most times all of them would converse together, but often enough they would end up splitting into pairs to converse alone. Orik was the only one unable to reach his own mind out, so the others would connect their mind to his with the dwarf's agreement.
In the distance they finally spotted Du Fells Nángoröth, and both Arya and Fírnen gazed hungrily at the mountains. Saphira ended up sharing some of her memories with the others, allowing even Orik to witness the ancient home of her kind. Fírnen lingered the most on one particular memory, in which near a hundred dragons had taken flight during one of their unknown traditions. Saphira would not share the meaning behind it, but the spattering of colors dizzying even through Saphira's blue tinted sight.
Glenwing, taking the memory as inspiration, had sung a beautiful song that ended up lingering in Eragon's head for the next few hours. The elf smiled at Eragon when he told him, seemingly pleased that his melody had inscribed itself so deeply into Eragon's mind.
Eragon had scryed the Varden the second night of their journey, glad to find that Nasuada and the others were not engaged currently in battle. He shared his findings with the others, who seemed relieved that they would not miss the upcoming battle.
The one thing that Eragon took notice from his companions was how tense Arya was becoming the closer they got to Surda. Whether it was because she was preparing herself to take on her role as the elven ambassador once more, or if she worried how the news of her becoming a Rider would be received, Eragon could not tell.
A great wind rose behind the dragons, pushing them further south and out of the desert. Fírnen seemed heartened at the speed they were flying, his wings no longer pumping so fiercely to keep up with Saphira. In the distance he eventually could make out a city, and after a while he realized that it was Furnost, the city was where Brom had met with the thief Hefring. So much had passed since then, yet it seemed in a strange way that no time had at all.
They crossed into the Silverwood forest that bordered Lake Tüdosten, making camp near the southern edge of the forest. It was a stark contrast compared to Du Weldenvarden, with bright sunlight filtering between the young trees that grew here. He was glad to see some tension leave Arya when they entered the forest, but when they left in the morning he could see that it had returned.
They aimed for Aberon directly, Saphira half remembering the direction of the city. Arya supplemented the rest, adjusting their course as they traveled. Surda only became its own state before the Fall, once a province that belonged to the Broddring Kingdom. He had visited the region previously before he left Alagaësia, and Aberon had once been a bustling city long before it became the capital of Surda. From what he had learned in Ellesméra, Surda had seceded by the order of Lady Marelda, left to its own devices while Galbatorix conquered the known Empire.
Even in the distance they could see the city growing in size as they neared. The low walled city was centered around a bluff, the only structure around for leagues. Aberon looked nothing like it had previously, and now Eragon could see three rings of walls surrounding Borromeo Castle, lined with defensive towers. Their placement, as well as the hundreds of ballistae, revealed to Eragon how much they feared an attack by dragon.
Saphira led the way, descending down into the inner most ward of the castle, and Eragon could feel the general sense of panic rising as she swept over the denizens of Aberon. Saphira chose a large courtyard to land in, her powerful wings easing her weight gently down to the soft dirt. Fírnen followed, his movements much more refined as he grew used to flying longer distances. Horses neighed nearby, and Eragon used his mind as well as a few words in the ancient language to calm the animals.
Shouts rang out around them, and Eragon made sure to keep his mind searching around them as soldiers began lining the parapets surrounding them. Ballistae and other weapons were pointed at Eragon, the soldiers quick and practiced in their movements. None made to fire on them, though Eragon still eyed the weapons wearily. He could easily deflect or stop the munitions, though judging by the number it would severely drain his current wards.
Orik was the first to dismount, Arya following him quickly down as Fírnen crouched low. The dwarf had grown used to dragon-back, his movements efficient as he made his way down the dragon's spine. Glenwing leapt from Saphira, and Eragon did as well, but not before casting his mind around once more.
They joined Arya and Orik, with Eragon standing in the front next to Arya. Glenwing and Orik were quiet behind them, eyeing the twelve soldiers who streamed out of the castle towards them. A tall dark-skinned man led the squad of soldiers, and the man bowed to them lowly. The soldiers did the same, and the man said, "Welcome, Riders. I am Dahwar, son of Kedar. I am Orrin's seneschal."
Eragon nodded his head, offering his own greeting. "Eragon Shadeslayer, son of Brom."
Arya, Eragon saw, had regained the expressionless mask he had long since grown used to during their time in the Varden. "Arya, elven ambassador to the Varden."
Orik pounded a fist to his chest. "Orik, Thrifk's son."
The dragons used their Riders to speak for them, and Saphira said, And I, Saphira, daughter of Vervada.
When Fírnen moved to introduce himself, Eragon could see the curiosity rising inside the soldiers of Surda. They must have not heard that the egg had hatched, and Eragon was glad that the dwarves who had traveled with them from the Varden had kept their word. Fírnen, son of Hírador.
Fírnen's sire surprised Eragon, but he surmised that Glaedr or Oromis had told the dragon. Hírador was a bonded dragon, who's Rider was Fiona, a female human who had become a Rider a few years after Eragon. Eragon had met them during the last Blood-Oath celebration, and he could recall the brilliant shade of yellow that Hírador was known for. It certainly explained the bulk that Fírnen was amassing.
Dahwar bowed again, his eyes roaming over the assembled group. First his eyes alighted on Glenwing, though the elf stood on the other side of Eragon, far from Fírnen. Revelation showed in the man's eyes when he turned to Arya, who was standing in front of Fírnen. His eyes flicked to the elf's hands, but from the way Arya was standing Eragon knew he was unable to see her Gedwëy Ignasia.
"Forgive me, but I did not know that the egg had hatched," Dahwar admitted. A gleam appeared in his eyes, though Eragon did not know whether it was from the knowledge that he was the first to discover Arya as the new Rider or that Orrin could possibly be told before Nasuada.
"It has," Arya stated.
When Dahwar's mouth opened, Eragon quickly stepped in. "We are fortunate that Fírnen hatched for one such as Arya. I can think of no one better who can exemplify the purpose of the Riders."
"Of course," Dahwar bowed. Wisely, the man decided to move their conversation back to the reason for their visit. "I apologize that no one of higher ranking than myself is here to greet you, Riders. Both King Orrin and Lady Nasuada have only just left Aberon a few days past. That you just missed their departure is unfortunate."
Eragon nodded his head, waiting for the man to continue. "Nasuada did leave guidance in the case that either of you would come here seeking them."
"Do you know where they are now?" Eragon asked.
"One moment, sir, as we will need to fetch a map. Would you care to join us in the keep, away from the heat of the sun?"
Arya was the one to respond, shaking her head at the seneschal. "I am afraid that we do not have the time, Dahwar. Besides, I believe that the dragons would not be able to fit inside the castle halls."
The man blinked, and Eragon could see that Arya had caught him off guard. "You are correct, Lady Arya. In either case, our hospitality is yours. If there is anything you need, you need but to ask."
Arya gave Dahwar a list of supplies and provision, enough to supply them for at least a few days. Orik added his request for meat, and once it was done Dahwar sent away two servants to retrieve the supplies and map.
While they were waiting for the men to return, Dahwar turned to Eragon. "Forgive me my ignorance, sir, but are you not the Eragon of past? The one who slew the Shade of Belatona?"
A dark shadow crossed Eragon's face, and he fought to straighten his features. The Rider's had tried to suppress the knowledge of that fateful night, but Brom was correct in stating that rumors had begun to circulate inside the Empire, and now he knew it had finally made its way to Surda. It seemed that it was not common knowledge that the Shade was a dragon, and for that Eragon was grateful. "I am."
"Are you not human, then?" Dahwar questioned. "I met your father, and it was clear that he was as human as I am."
"A change made long ago," Eragon said. "By those more powerful than I."
He could see the longing in Dahwar to press, but Arya gave the man a sharp look. The seneschal was tactful enough to not question further, though he would have been handsomely rewarded for another such knowledge in King Orrin's court. Two pages brought out the supplies, directed by both Arya and Eragon to deposit them evenly before the dragons. They did as the Rider's bid; their frightened expressions clear to Eragon as he watched them. Glenwing quickly repacked the saddle bags on Saphira, and Eragon could see Orik begin the same with Fírnen. He did spot Glenwing murmuring softly over both piles, the words of the ancient language too low for human ears. The elf was casting spells to see if their food had in anyway been poisoned, and he was glad for his friend's foresight.
The pages withdrew behind Dahwar as the man kneeled down with a map, spreading the large parchment for both him and Arya to see. The dragons were the ones to step forward, and the Rider's moved aside so that Saphira and Fírnen could easily see the map. Dahwar hid his shock well this time, though Eragon saw him studying the dragons intently. The map depicted Surda in greater detail than any map Eragon had seen before, but did not stretch far into the Empire. Urû'baen was only just barely visible on the borders of the map.
Dahwar drew a finger northwest from Aberon, his finger stopping on Cithrí. "King Orrin and Lady Nasuada marched towards Cithrí a few days ago, and I am surprised that you were not able to spot them during your trek. Which direction did you journey from?"
Eragon said, "We flew south from the east of Furnost. We would not have been able to spot them even as high as we were."
Dahwar nodded, "Again, unfortunate. They do not intend to stay long in Cithrí, but with luck you may be able to catch them near the city. The latest word we have of the Empire is that they have begun to assemble near Belatona along the Jiet River. King Orrin and Lady Nasuada wished to be in place before confronting the Empire, away from the border of Surda."
Saphira and Fírnen studied the map, and Eragon asked, "Which direction will they travel next? If we are unable to reach them in time, it would do well to know their intended location."
"This is only my guess," Dahwar said, "But I think they intend to stage their fight in the Burning Plains."
At Eragon's curious look, Arya whispered, "Du Völlar Eldrvarya."
"Ah." Eragon said. Many Riders and Dragon had clashed in the Burning Plains, as the common language called it, and their battle had set the very land itself aflame. Even now, a hundred years later, the land still occasionally belched out flames at any unsuspecting traveler. From what Eragon had read, the peat had been ignited by the dragon's fire and burrowed deep underground, making the land smoke and nearly unbearable from the heat. That the land had been so transformed by the war saddened Eragon. The plains had not been particularly noteworthy when before they left Alagaësia, though he and Saphira had camped on the land before.
Eragon inclined his head at Dahwar, "Thank you. Your insight is most appreciated."
Dahwar bowed low, packing up the map and handing it to one of the pages behind him once the dragons were satisfied. Eragon and Arya helped pack what little remained of their new supplies before climbing back into the saddles. Once everyone was settled, Eragon held up a hand at Dahwar and the soldiers. "Send some men to your stables, Dahwar. Two of the men their have gotten into an argument, and the one called Tathal intends to commit murder. You might be able to stop it if you hurry."
Dahwar's eyes were wide, and even his soldiers displayed their shock openly. "How- How do you know this, Shadeslayer?"
"Because I am a Rider." Eragon replied. Saphira roared, spreading her wings wide as she leapt from the courtyard. The wind from her wings buffeted the men below, who covered their faces from the fierce gale that was rising with each stroke. Fírnen followed behind, his own departure as impressive as he was. Saphira flew higher, spiraling outwards as she gained altitude.
Once her and Fírnen were satisfied, they turned north-west. "That was kind of you," Glenwing said behind him.
"Was it?" Eragon remarked. "I am merely doing my duty."
"Your sense of duty is great, Eragon." Glenwing murmured. When Eragon twisted his head in question, Glenwing continued, "I only worry that you would protect the whole of the world if you but had the power."
"Would that be so bad? If I have the power to do something, then I must also have the responsibility to ensure that it is done." He could see the elf shaking his head, though he suspected it wasn't in disagreement.
"Do not let your sense of duty overwrite your sense of self, my friend," Glenwing counseled softly. "You already have enough weight on your shoulders."
Eragon did not reply, turning back as he contemplated Glenwing's words. The flight towards Cithrí would not take long, as Saphira and Fírnen flew with a renewed vigor as they neared their goal. Aberon shrunk steadily behind them, even as the midday sun continued its journey towards the western shore. A few hours passed in near silence, and the dragons were the only ones to communicate wordlessly. They did not land when they ate their meals, though the dragons did attempt to smooth out their flight so that the passengers were not jostled around.
It was nearly night when they came upon Cithrí, the city much smaller than Aberon. The sun peaked above the horizon, providing enough light for Eragon to see the Varden. There was only one wall surrounding the settlement, and to the north Eragon could make out tents that were spread across the land. The walls, much like Aberon, were dotted with towers for defense against dragons. The tents of the Varden were near enough to the city walls to be practical, though wisely they did not block passage into the city itself.
Saphira descended slowly, losing height as they crossed over the city at night. Words of panic rose beneath them as they flew, easily visible even as the sky continued to darken. Saphira and Fírnen kept far enough away that arrows wouldn't be able to reach them, banking around so that they would be approaching from the north.
Eragon stretched his mind out further, feeling the rising dread that consumed the Varden's sentinels. Many of them had never seen a dragon before, least enough two. Saphira circled above the Varden camp, far enough from the walls that even the added height of the towers would not allow their volleys to reach. Ignoring the soldiers panic, Eragon sought out his father among the ocean of minds. Strong walls met his probing, and Eragon waited for his father to lower the shield over his mind. Below, the sounds of soldiers assembling rose, their feet stomping loudly against the ground.
Brom cautiously lowered the shields surrounding him, his father's mind light against his own. Eragon?
Aye. Eragon responded. He kept his awareness split, his eyes sweeping across both the Varden and the wall of the city.
He felt joy rise inside Brom's mind before it was blocked from his awareness. You have come. Good. Who is the Rider with you? I take it the green egg has hatched.
It has. They are with us, trained by the Mourning Sage.
This time Brom could not hide the elation, and it swept across their connection. I see. One moment.
Brom closed his mind from him, and Eragon brushed softly against Arya as they circled the Varden. Her mind opened to his quickly, the melody of her mind enticing him. Have you alerted them as to our identity? Arya asked.
I've talked with my father. I did not sense Nasuada near him, but hopefully he can quell the panic quickly, Eragon explained.
Eragon felt Arya's acknowledgement, but he did not withdraw his mind completely from hers. He lingered lightly on the edge's, listening to the eb of her mind. She did not reproach him, and instead it seemed to Eragon that she was doing the same. The sounds of soldiers moving about slowed, indiscernible shouts rising as commanders soothed their troops.
Brom's mind brushed against his own, and Eragon withdrew from Arya to answer his father's call. Land to the north. The soldiers will not attack.
Thank you, father.
Eragon did not receive a reply, Brom's mind closing off once again. Relaying the message to Saphira and Fírnen, Eragon held on as she started to descent towards the Varden. Saphira kept her descent slow, spiraling downward over the tents. Her timing was perfect, for she landed near fifty feet from the farthest tent softly. Soldiers streamed out from around the tents, their faces awestruck as they gazed at the two dragons.
Glenwing descended first, stepping back so that Eragon could take the lead. Fírnen crouched low after Arya dismounted, allowing Orik to step down the dragon's length. Arya stood next to him as the soldiers approached slowly, and Eragon could see a man pushing his way past all the others.
Gray hair gave away Brom, his father's countenance brightening as he came up to them. In a surprising move, Brom embraced Eragon tightly, his father's arms tight around him. Brom released him, a gentle smile rising. "It is good to see you, my son."
Eragon returned the smile, watching as Brom stepped over to Saphira. She bent her heard down, licking Brom's cheek with her enormous tongue. Brom chuckled, pressing his forehead against Saphira's brow. They spoke privately with their minds, their conversation quick.
The men of the Varden surrounded them, though they did not touch their weapons as they gazed at the dragons. Brom stepped back from Saphira, coming to rest before the group again. His father bowed to Arya, the traditional greeting of elves leaving his lips as he pressed two fingers to his lips.
Blinking, Arya returned the greeting, clearly surprised that his father spoke first. The tradition complete, Brom turned towards Glenwing.
The elf moved first, his voice holding a surprising reverence for Brom.
Orik pounded his chest, the rough tongue of his kin leaving his lips as he in turn greeting Brom.
Brom gazed at Fírnen finally, bowing low. "It is a great honor to meet you, dragon. I am Brom, previous Rider of the dragon Saphira, as well as Eragon's father."
Fírnen's amber eye swept over his father as the dragon sniffed him lightly. His voice radiated out, allowing all to hear his words, I am Fírnen, son of Hírador.
If Brom recognized the name of Fírnen's sire, he gave nothing away. "And who might I ask, is your Rider?"
Fírnen nudged Arya with his snout, pushing lightly against the elf. It was enough for her to stumble slightly, Eragon steadying her with a hand against her arm. Brom's eyes lingered on his hand for a moment, before his father turned his attention to Arya. His father studied Arya for a moment, before nodding as though satisfied. "Fírnen has made a wise choice in choosing you to be his Rider, Arya. Your people must be overjoyed that an elf was chosen."
"Yes," Arya said softly. "It is a great honor to join you and Eragon in the ranks of Riders past."
Brom shook his head, a sadness washing over his features. "I am no longer a Rider, I'm afraid. I can only offer others the knowledge and experience that I hold, and I hope that will be enough."
Eragon narrowed his eyes at Brom. His father's gaze lingered on the dragons, and Eragon saw the longing that he tried to hide in his eyes.
Making a note to speak with his father later, Eragon waved a hand towards the Varden. "Where is Nasuada?"
Brom nodded his head towards the city, "Inside with King Orrin. They are discussing their next move, as well as establishing the necessary supply routes that the Varden will need when we leave Surda."
Brom led them passed the soldiers, angling through the tents towards the city gates. The men of the Varden saluted Brom as he waded his way through them, their respect for his father clear in their expressions. Many bowed and whispered as Eragon and Arya swept passed, though he did not know if they overheard Fírnen's announcement of her being his Rider.
The gates of Cithrí were open as they approached, guards from both the city and the Varden patrolling its perimeter. They waved Brom through quickly, though their gazes lingered on the others as they passed.
Citizens of Surda watched them as they walked down the streets, more whispered words passing among them as they neared the tallest building in the city center. The keep, which housed the leadership of the city, was gaudier than the others; with its high peaks and sloped roofs a stark contrast to the lower flat buildings that surrounded it. Soldiers were standing guard outside the large doors that led into the keep, and with a quick word from Brom they were granted entrance.
Eragon was surprised that the entrance to the building led straight into a main hall, with a large circular table centered in the room. As they entered, Eragon saw Nasuada rise from the far side. Next to her sat a man with shoulder-length hair, held back by the small gold crown on his head. The man was handsome-enough, Eragon supposed, but he did not stand as Nasuada had. So instead, Eragon focused his attention on Nasuada.
Brom led them forward, bowing to Nasuada when she stepped around the table. "Lady Nasuada."
Nasuada nodded her head towards his father, her eyes roaming Eragon and the others. Her eyes jumped behind him, and Eragon could hear the steps of the dragons as they entered the large hall. Nasuada's dark eyes widened at Fírnen, though she managed to school her shock quickly. Eragon was pleased when Nasuada turned to him, though her eyes kept returning to the green dragon. "Eragon, it is good that you have returned when you did. Your father said you would return in time for our battle, and I am glad to see that he was correct."
"Lady Nasuada. You look every inch the leader your father was," Eragon commented.
The leader of the Varden smiled at him, "Thank you, Eragon. That means much coming from one such as yourself."
Arya stepped forward, greeting Nasuada with her fingers on her lips. "Nasuada, I am here to resume by position as ambassador to the elves. I am heartened to see that the Varden has come far in your leadership."
"Thank you as well, Arya. I look forward to working with you," Nasuada said. She greeted Glenwing and Orik, who each offered their own traditional greetings according to their customs. Nasuada thanked them, turning her attention to Saphira and Fírnen. "Your arrival is fortunate, Saphira, for we could use the wisdom and strength that only a dragoness could provide."
Saphira sniffed the woman lightly, a puff of smoke leaving her nostrils in greeting. Eragon chuckled when Nasuada coughed, saying, "Saphira is pleased to see you."
Nasuada smiled through watery eyes, her attention turning towards Fírnen, though she spoke to Eragon. "And who might this be?"
Arya was the one to answer, her left hand rising to display her palm. "This is Fírnen, Lady Nasuada, who hatched for me on our journey to Ellesméra."
Nasuada's eyes roamed Arya's features, her features masked as well as her fathers had been. "We are well met, Fírnen. Why was I not told of the egg hatching? Such information is crucial in our fight against Galbatorix."
"Both Arya and I, as well as her teachers in Ellesméra, thought it best that we control the information," Eragon explained. "We wished to tell you, but there is no reliable way to deliver the information with assurance that it would not be discovered. Fírnen was too young, and once we were behind the wards of Du Weldenvarden it was made impossible to communicate. The spells covering the forest are strong, even for ones such as us."
Nasuada frowned, contemplating his words. "I cannot fault your wisdom." After a moment her features brightened, her gaze turning back to Arya. "Will you and Fírnen fight beside the Varden then?"
"I have fought besides the Varden for decades," Arya stated, "And I will continue to do so. Fírnen will not sit idly by either if that is your worry." Arya paused, her eyes glazing over for a brief moment. "Fírnen says that it is an honor to meet you, and looks forward to the coming battle."
Nasuada smiled again, seemingly pleased at the eagerness of the young dragon. "With you and Saphira at our sides, Fírnen, we will stand a far better chance against our enemies than even Galbatorix could anticipate." Nasuada gestured finally at the table, where the crowned man was still sitting. "I am pleased to introduce King Orrin, son of Larkin and monarch of the realm of Surda."
Orrin stood then, joining the assembled group. Introductions were made around, though it seemed Arya had already known the King. Orrin asked many questions of Eragon and the others of their stay in Du Weldenvarden, though they all deflected the questions with ease. Even Orik seemed reluctant to tell the King anything, and Eragon suspected he held onto the knowledge for his own King. There was still much Orik had been sworn to secrecy over, but King Hrothgar could still glean valuable intelligence from the dwarf's stay.
Dignitaries joined them, earls parading past them. Eragon politely greeting them all, keeping a pleasant smile on his face as they all shook his hand eagerly. Arya's expression did not change all that much, carefully neutral as they ogled the elf. Glenwing held the brightest expression, his eagerness to greet the men seeming to put them off guard. The last to be introduced was the Mayor of Cithrí, a portly fellow who smelled of smoked herbs and fragrance. The man shook his hand eagerly, offering his hospitality to Eragon and the others.
Eventually Nasuada gestured them towards the table once more, though the other earls left the room after being dismissed by Orrin. Only the Mayor remained, and Eragon was certain he was allowed stay because it was technically his city. Eragon sat so that he could see both Orrin and Nasuada, and Arya had chosen to sit on his right. Glenwing claimed the seat to his right, while Orik ambled slightly closer to Nasuada. Brom sat next to Nasuada, and Eragon noticed the open seat to her left. He suspected it was for Jörmundur, who was absent from the meeting. The older soldier was probably with the main body of the Varden, though Eragon was surprised that he had not seen him when they had arrived.
Drumming his fingers lightly against the table, Eragon was the first to speak. "What have we missed? I've heard that Galbatorix's army marches from the Jiet River, and that you plan to meet them in the Burning Plains."
"What you heard is true," Nasuada said. "We plan to leave before daybreak, so that we will arrive with enough time for our soldiers to rest before the battle. Lord Mayor Gath has resupplied our armies heavily, but we do not want to linger in his city and drain their own resources."
The Mayor inclined his head towards Nasuada and Orrin. "It is our pleasure to aid my King and the Varden as best we can."
Talks continued as the night wore on, Nasuada and Orrin exchanging stories with Arya and Eragon of their travels. His father only commented during Nasuada's explanation of the attempted assassination, though he quickly deflected any praise thrown his way. Arya presented Nasuada and Orrin with scrolls from Queen Islanzadí, who promised her aid in the fight against Galbatorix.
For nearly three hours they discussed strategy, ranging from the movement of troops as well as the effectiveness of Orrin's cavalry. Nasuada told them of how the dwarves were to join them, though she was unsure if they would reach the Varden in time before the battle. Orik seemed heartened at the news of his Kings arrival, asking Nasuada to join the few dwarves that had traveled with her from Farthen Dûr.
It was only when a page spoke quietly in Nasuada's ear did they finally end their meeting. The Varden Leader stood, her palms flat against the table. "We've had tents made up for you outside the gate. All of us are staying outside the city, in order to ease the burden such an army would have on the citizens. Cithrí is too small for us to all stay comfortably, and Orrin and I have decided that having no such blatant favoritism among our troops is necessary for moral to stay high. I apologize for such accommodations in the meantime."
Orrin did not seem as happy as Nasuada said he was with the decision, a small scowl appearing at Nasuada's words. "It is no worry," Eragon waved off. "We cannot expect such else during our march."
Arya and Glenwing agreed with him, though Orik remained mute on the subject. The dwarf was most likely looking forward to meeting up with his kin, having spent so long alone with only elves for company.
They left the main hall, following Nasuada and her guards back towards the outskirts of the city. Arya kept pace beside him, with the dragons following behind closely. Glenwing was speaking with Orik, smiling at the dwarf's eagerness to meet up the other dwarves.
The main body of the Varden was already sequestered in their tents, only the often patrol of soldiers disturbing the stillness of the night. Nasuada bid them goodnight near her tent, which was the largest of the Varden's. Brom motioned for them to follow, leading Eragon's party out to the edge of the Varden.
Orik split off from them with a slap to Eragon's shoulder, making his way towards the shorter dwarven tents that lined the Varden's perimeter after retrieving his pack from Fírnen's back. Four tents were separated from the others, two of them with enough space around them for the dragons to settle. Brom entered the first, his father bidding them goodnight. Glenwing and Eragon unstrapped the saddle from Saphira, placing it next to one of the tents as the sapphire dragon settled down for the night.
Glenwing retrieved his bag and disappeared into the tent next to Brom's, but not before smirking at Eragon as he departed. Arya was placing the saddle down on the ground when Eragon paused, his eyes roaming over her features in the moonlight. The elf eventually noticed his attention, her gaze flicking over him as they stood near each other.
Smiling lightly at Arya, Eragon whispered, "Goodnight, Arya."
Teeth flashed at him for a moment, her eyes tracing the Varden's tents near them. Arya's gaze met his briefly as she responded quietly, "Goodnight, Eragon."
Arya disappeared into her tent and Eragon moved to his own. As he passed Saphira she hummed at him, her large sapphire eyes tracking him as he finally entered his own tent for the night.