Saphira's powerful wings propelled them forward, the Varden's tents below blurring together as they made their way north of the camp. Eragon gripped the saddle before him, his knuckles white from the tension. Eragon cast his mind out below and found Arya's, her own feelings mixing with his as their minds melded together.
Is it Thorn? Arya asked.
Aye, Eragon replied.
We are on our way, Arya responded, her mind vanishing behind her mental shields.
Eragon searched quickly for Blödhgarm, the elf granting him entrance after a moment of pause. Thorn is here, Eragon warned the elf, send those you can to the north, but do not leave Murtagh unattended.
We hear and obey, Shadeslayer.
The elves taken care off, Eragon turned his attention to his father, the old Rider's mind easy to find being so familiar to him. From Brom's location he could tell he was with Nasuada and King Orrin, the group of them making their way to the northern entrance.
Thorn?
Aye, Eragon answered. Arya and I will handle this. Tell the others not to interfere.
Be careful, Brom warned.
A roar drew Eragon's attention away, and he quickly turned in the saddle to his right. Fírnen was winging his way towards them, the smaller dragon struggling to keep up with Saphira's swiftness. She slowed down some, the beat of her wings taking longer each time as she waited for the pair. Arya's mind touched his when they drew level with them, the two of them locking eyes as the dragon's made their way north. They had already passed the northern entrance to the Varden, where the men were quickly forming ranks and preparing their defenses.
Should we not have stopped and grabbed our armor? Arya asked.
Eragon shook his head, against a dragon? No, our wards will have to suffice. I would have liked Saphira and Fírnen to have theirs, but we do not have enough time.
How do we do this?
Eragon turned his gaze forward, the red form of Thorn growing larger as the seconds passed. Let the dragon's handle it. Saphira is a more proficient flyer then Thorn, though Thorn has always been stronger than her. Saphira and Fírnen will use her speed to their advantage; for you, aid Fírnen when you can, but keep your focus on defending more than attacking. If Murtagh was the last to place any wards on Thorn before they were separated, they should wear off quickly. Magic will have to be our best offensive against him.
Can he cast magic if he is a Shade?
The question drew Eragon short. I… I am not sure.
Just in case, Eragon began to spell out wards, each one of them wrapping around him and Saphira and pulling at his strength as he did. He could feel Saphira's mind stretch out towards the Eldunarí, Glaedr's own joining with Fírnen and hers. The three of them were conversing quickly, though the conversation was over before Eragon could make any sense of the images and sensations that passed between them.
Ahead, Thorn let out another terrible roar, the sounds of it scrapping against his ears. It did not sound anything like a dragon, the racket that was released from his maw so sickening that he could feel the hair on the back of his neck sticking up. He saw Arya wince next to him, no doubt experiencing them same feeling that he had. As one, the two dragons returned a roar of their own, an answer to the challenge the red dragon had let out.
Thorn was close now, and Eragon could see that the dragon wore no saddle, nor was there anyone on his back. Whispering a spell, Eragon enhanced his voice so that the dragon would have no problem hearing him. "Thorn!" Eragon called out. "If you hear me, know that Murtagh is unharmed! Land at once and we can discuss this!"
The dragon made no move to answer him, his red wings driving him closer. He was nearly upon them, large enough in the sky that Eragon could see that something was not quite right with the dragon's appearance.
That is not Thorn, Saphira growled. She sniffed the air in front of her, shaking her head as though something foul had entered her nostrils.
No, Glaedr said. It is not. Be prepared for anything.
With hard beats of his wings, Thorn tried to climb higher than Saphira and Fírnen, though he was no match for how swift Saphira could be in the air. She matched his climb, and as they drew closer Eragon finally saw what was wrong with the dragon; purple markings were seared into the dragon's scales, the lines branching down and around his limbs and stemming from his back. To Eragon they seemed to have no distinct pattern, swirls and spirals ending nonsensically along the dragon's flank. They glowed brightly with purple magic, looking almost as though they had erupted from inside of Thorn himself.
Thorn opened his mouth as they closed in, letting lose a large red flame, its edges tinged with purple. Saphira twisted away from the fire, as did Fírnen, and Eragon felt the heat emanating from it even as it passed by them harmlessly. Saphira and Fírnen let lose their own fire, forcing Thorn to dive in order to avoid the green and blue flames. The red dragon let out a fierce roar, the nearness of it causing Eragon to flinch.
Saphira chased after him, Fírnen circling around as Saphira crashed into the red dragon. Her claws raked against Thorn's scales, and Eragon held on tightly as Thorn twisted and tried to snap at her with his teeth. She pushed off Thorn, narrowly missing his attack, only for Thorn to cry out as Fírnen slammed into him from the other side.
Thorn growled, and a bubble of purple magic blasted out from the center of the dragon. It smacked straight into Fírnen and Saphira, and Eragon felt his wards flair as they pulled at his energy. The two dragons were forced away by the impact, each of them sent tumbling in the sky. Eragon held on tightly as the world violently spun by. Saphira flared her wings and stopped her spin, banking in the air as Eragon twisted in the saddle to find Thorn.
The moment he spotted the dragon a strong presence slammed into his mind, and Eragon quickly tightened the shields in his mind as he tried to fight it off. Glaedr came to his aid then, and he saw Arya flinch on Fírnen as the dragon's mind assaulted her as well. The mind continued its attack even as Thorn gave chase after Saphira, seemingly ignoring Fírnen even though the smaller dragon was closer.
It felt to him as though the presence contained a cacophony of minds, each of them straining over the other as they tried to pry open his shields. Eragon winced from the experience, and the presence strained hard to gain any purchase they could find in his mind. He could feel his limbs start to freeze as the presence's grip tightened, Saphira's wings slowing as she fought hard alongside him.
Give him to us…
…So that we can be One!
The attack on his mind had nearly paralyzed him, though after a moment he felt Glaedr's mind push hard against the assault, driving the presence away. Eragon nearly sighed with relief as the attack abated, held back by the strength of the older dragon.
I am not so easily beat, Glaedr growled, even from so far away.
Saphira growled aloud and twisted in the air, her wings straining against the wind as she turned to face the approaching Thorn. The shade-dragon's claws were extended out, Thorn diving in order to rake them against Saphira's side. Eragon held on tight as Thorn's blow connected, his wards barely able to divert the sharp-tipped talons that scrapped heavily on Saphira's flank. Thorn attempted to grab Saphira, his talons slipping on her scales as Eragon's spells held out for a moment. A sudden lance of pain on his side alerted him to the instant his wards fell, and Saphira cried out as a green flame washed over Thorn.
The dragon growled his frustration and ceased his attack on Saphira, diving out of the way of Fírnen's fire. A mind brushed up against Eragon's, his shields slamming up initially before he recognized the source.
We are here, Shur'tugal. Blödhgarm whispered in his mind.
Eragon glanced downward as Saphira banked hard to circle Thorn, who was busy snapping furiously at Fírnen as the younger dragon narrowly avoided the blows. From what he could see, even with the great distance between them, it appeared around half of the elven spellcasters were gaining on them, the elves faster than even the most spirited horse.
Join your mind with ours, Eragon commanded, but do not draw his attention. There is little we can do if he decides you're an easier target.
As you will, Blödhgarm answered, and Eragon opened his mind to the elves. He could feel his energy surge as the elves joined in, and in the back of his mind he could hear a few of them chanting spells of protection on them. He felt a sense of relief wash over him as the elves healed Saphira's wounds, though a lingering ache still remained.
A sudden pull of energy alerted Eragon to Arya as she cast a spell, a flash of emerald light appearing in her hand before striking Thorn's wing. The dragon howled, both in rage and pain, and Saphira quickly seized her opportunity.
Eragon drew Brisingr as Saphira bowled into Thorn's side, her maw closing in around the lower part of the dragon's wing. The impact shook Eragon, and as Saphira clung onto the screaming dragon he was able to right himself and swing his sword. His blow connected with the soft membrane of Thorn's wing, dark red blood coloring Brisingr as it easily tore through the tissue.
Thorn growled, twisting his head in order to close his own teeth around Saphira, only for Eragon to be jarred back into his saddle as Fírnen slammed into Thorn's other side, sending the three of them spinning through the air. Their combined weight sent them plummeting towards the ground, none of the dragon's wings strong enough to hold them aloft.
Eragon could only make out flashes of green-colored scales above Thorn's bulk, and as such he was unable to tell where the other dragon had connected. He hacked a few more times at Thorn's soft wing, the dragon shrieking in fury and pain before another surge of magic slammed into them.
This time the wards the elves had been weaving around them softened the blow, though it still sent Saphira and Fírnen careening away from the red dragon. The sky and earth tumbled passed him for a few moments before Saphira righted herself again, and she shook her head and growled in frustration.
How is he doing that? Saphira hissed, her wings pumping furiously to regain the altitude that she lost.
I do not know, Eragon answered. Ahead he could see the shade-dragon diving for them again, a blast of fire bubbling inside his mouth as he closed the distance quickly. Eragon frowned, realizing that the dragon had completely ignored Fírnen again. A blast of fire arched out from the dragon, the size of it reaching them and parting as Eragon's wards diverted the stream.
Somethings wrong, Eragon said to the others. He is only chasing after Saphira and I.
Glaedr was channeling energy into them at a steady stream, and he could feel the older dragon pause for a moment in puzzlement. Yes, he is. I suspect he senses his Eldunarí. Use it to your advantage, Glaedr stated. He could feel the curious thoughts of Blödhgarm and his elves, no doubt able to have heard Glaedr's words and felt his mind, though they were wise enough to not question why during the battle.
What could he do? The shade-dragon seemed intent on Saphira, likely after the Eldunarí that was in her saddle. Having Thorn focus on only one opponent would allow the other an easier chance of wounding the dragon, but Eragon did not know the extent yet of the Shade's powers.
I could try Ílyae's spell, Eragon thought to himself, closing his mind off to the others so he could think unimpeded. But we do not know if it will help at all. And even if it did, how close do I have to be for it to work?
The only way to know for sure if the elf woman's spell worked was to get close to Thorn without the shade-dragon biting his head off, and that was going to be difficult enough with three dragons attempting to kill each other in the air. He did not know how long the spell took to work, nor how much energy it would require, and as such needed as much time close to Thorn as he could get.
In that case, Eragon thought as an idea formed in his mind, I will need to create an opportunity myself.
To Saphira, Eragon said, climb as fast as you can. I have an idea, and we need to put some distance between Thorn and ourselves.
She did as he asked, her wings angling as she spiraled upward and away from Thorn, though she let out a snort in his mind. Am I going to like this?
Eragon thought about it for a moment, before shaking his head. Probably not. To Arya and Fírnen, who had been listening in, he said, stay below us.
Fírnen was the one to answer, though Eragon could feel his trepidation. We will do as you say.
Eragon turned his head and peered backwards, able to spy both Thorn and Fírnen. The red dragon had given chase, as Eragon had expected, and below him he could see Fírnen level off, the form on his back tracking their movements.
Thorn was below and behind them, the red dragon unable to match Saphira as she ascended quickly in the sky. He could hear Thorn let out a roar in anger, though the dragon had not yet given up pursuit. To Saphira, Eragon said, we will do the same thing we did in the east with the pack of Fanghur.
Saphira had been seeing through his eyes as he tracked Thorn's movements, though her vision disconnected when he began to undo the straps that bound his legs to the saddle.
The last time we tried this you nearly died, she warned, the worry in her tone evident.
I'll be all right, he said. It's not like there's more than one of him.
That's not… She growled at him briefly, before her tone softened. Be careful.
Eragon nodded, knowing that she could feel it through their melded thoughts, his fingers working quickly. When he was done, he swung his leg over the side of the saddle so that he was sitting astride Saphira, one hand holding tightly to Brisingr as the other reached backwards for the saddle bags. As he reached into the bag containing Thorn's Eldunarí, Eragon glanced below them at the ground; they were high in the sky now, and he could barely make out the small shapes of the elves as they tried to stay with the fight. Arya was no longer visible on Fírnen's back, though he could see the green dragon keeping pace with them hundreds of feet below.
When he had the sack containing Thorn's Eldunarí in his grasp, Eragon pulled it out of the bag and carefully maneuvered so that he was squatting precariously on the balls of his feet atop the saddle. A quick spell bound his boots to the leather of the saddle so that he would not fall, and Eragon said to Saphira, I'm ready.
She growled at him in both acknowledgement and frustration, though he could feel her readying herself at his words, her wings tilting to level their flight off. In the back of his mind he felt Glaedr watching them, the golden dragon not offering any comments about the plan he had formalized in his mind.
Hold on, Saphira warned.
It happened so suddenly that if it weren't for his spell, Eragon would have been flung off her back. Saphira pulled in one wing as she banked hard, sending her into a spin as she circled around. The dizzying movement continued as she turned, and Eragon felt his stomach begin to knot as the world spun violently. He had tucked his arms in as close as he could, Brisingr and the Eldunarí trapped against his body, forcing himself down to counteract her spin. Just as quick as it began it was over, and as Eragon blinked away the spots in his eyes he could see the ground above him. Saphira had extended her wing back out to stop their spin, her body wobbling a bit as she tried to keep them level in their inverted flight.
The only thing keeping him on the saddle was the spell he had placed, and Eragon felt his blood begin to pool in his head. Eragon glanced up and saw Thorn close below them, and Eragon tensed his legs as he readied himself. A quick spell ensured that both the Eldunarí and his sword remained firm in his grip, and Eragon released the spell holding him and used his legs to push with all his might.
In an instant he was falling headfirst towards the ground, careening past Thorn as the dragon tried to snap at him. Thorn's teeth, which were nearly the length of his arm, passed by inches from his boots, and Eragon tucked them in close to his body.
Eragon! Arya yelled in his mind, and he could feel her begin to weave a spell that Eragon suspected would slow his fall.
No, wait! Eragon said to her. His words made her pause, and the collective worry of the elves and the dragons was loud in his mind.
Above him, just as Glaedr suspected, the shade-dragon turned sharply in the air, completely ignoring Saphira above him. Thorn began to dive straight for him, and Eragon felt the same fierce presence from before slam into his mind. Luckily, even with the distance between them, Glaedr was able to help fend off the attack on his mind. Despite Glaedr's assistance in shielding his mind, Eragon could still hear the shade-dragon screaming at them:
Give HIM to us…. We need to be completed!
For we will be Var'gaz!
Even with the dragon diving after him, Eragon knew that so long as he kept his body streamlined, his fall would outpace the dragons. Angling his body to slightly slow his fall, Eragon bent his neck to peer at Thorn, watching as the dragon neared him. He knew not how close he was to the ground, though he could feel himself approaching Fírnen and Arya through their connected minds. The wind screamed past his ears, deafening the frustrated screeching roar that Thorn let loose.
Right behind Thorn, Eragon could see Saphira's form, her wings tucked in tight to her body as she dived after them. She kept her distance from them, though Eragon could see how she angled her body so that she would be below them if he slowed his fall.
Come on, a little closer, Eragon thought.
Thorn was nearly a hundred feet away from him, his teeth gleaming fiercely, though the shade-dragon strangely made no attempt to burn him with his flames. They fell together, with Eragon angling his body against the wind slightly to keep the distance between the two of them steady. Reaching out with Brisingr, Eragon pointed the tip at the dragon and concentrated. Words flowed out of his mouth, the gramarye of the ancient language taking shape as he spoke.
Though he could not hear his own voice over the scream of the wind, Eragon knew he had remembered correctly when the spell had been completed; on the tip of Brisingr formed a pure white light, easily visible despite the brightness of the sun. It grew in size as the seconds passed, nearly blinding him in its radiance. He felt his breath catch as the energy suddenly left him, the magic devouring his reserves faster than the elves and dragons could replenish it, the distance between them working against him.
For a moment Eragon thought the spell wouldn't work as intended, his vision fading in and out as he fell. During one of his lucid moments Eragon could feel heat wash over him, and a red form closing in through the white light. As his vision began to fail, Eragon could feel the spell take hold, the sudden release of energy a relief to him as the draw ceased. The last thing he could remember was a terrible sound, one so reminiscent of his past that he thought for a moment he was back in Belatona two centuries ago.
A sharp sting on his check brought Eragon back into the waking world, and he tried to move only for a strong arm to hold him in place. Words washed over his ears, the sounds muffled and distorted to his muddled mind. Another lance of pain on his check forced his eyes open, and the only thing he could see at first was a pair of worried emeralds staring back at him.
Wait…
His vision finally focused on the face above him as his hearing returned, the words spoken earlier coalescing into Arya's voice. "Wake up, Eragon!"
Another attempt to sit up was halted by Arya, and Eragon blinked heavily as he took stock of his surroundings. The steady rhythm of drums playing in his ears was familiar to him, and after a moment he realized that it was beating wings of a dragon.
Arya was staring at him, her gaze worried as he glanced around; he was lying in her arms atop Fírnen as the dragon flew steadily along, his body cradled close to her with his feet hanging off the side of the saddle.
Reaching up a hand, Eragon tried to rub away the fierce pain that lanced at his head, only to pause when he realized that something was in his grip. His body shifted as Arya withdrew one of her arms from beneath him, her hand laying gently on his forehead. She whispered a spell and Eragon sighed with relief as the headache disappeared.
"What happened?" Eragon asked, only to wince as Arya's gaze sharpened.
"You fainted during your fall," Arya said, her tone hinting at her displeasure at him. "What did you do?"
Eragon sat up carefully, and together the two of them maneuvered him so that he was sitting properly in the saddle. Arya's arms twined around his waist, her grip strong, and Eragon made to hold one of her arms only to remember the items still clasped in his hands.
Both the bag containing Thorn's Eldunarí and Brisingr were still bound to him, his hands starting to ache from the fierce grip he had woven into spell form. Releasing the magic, Eragon sighed with relief when he finally was able to sheath his blade.
Fírnen tilted his wings and began spiraling downward, and Eragon suddenly remembered the battle they were just in. "Where's Thorn?" Eragon asked, twisting in the saddle to glance at Arya.
She pointed over his shoulder and slightly to the left, though Eragon could not exactly see what she was gesturing at. "After you fell and cast your spell, a white light eclipsed both you and Thorn. We heard Thorn cry out and saw you fall when the light faded. Thorn fled moments after."
Glancing down at the covered Eldunarí in his grip, Eragon said lowly, "So it didn't work, then."
Her free arm returned to his waist, squeezing him tightly. "What didn't work?"
"The spell Ílyae gave us," Eragon whispered. "I thought that it might have at the very least done something to help him, but it seems we were too late."
"Was that why you jumped off Saphira's back?" Arya asked. Her gripped tightened, and he could hear her voice grow cold. "Seeing you fall-." Arya's words cut off, and Eragon watched as she turned her gaze away from him. He could not see her face anymore, twisted as he was in the saddle, so Eragon reached his free hand and gripped her clasped hands around his waist.
"I'm alright," Eragon said. Gently, he asked, "So I'm guessing you're the reason I'm not one with the earth."
Arya did not respond, but the gentle brush of a mind against his own answered for him. After you fainted, Fírnen explained, Arya slowed your fall long enough for me to reach you.
"I see."
A sudden thought occurred to him, and Eragon glanced around as he reached out his mind. "Where's Saphira?"
She flew after Thorn.
He could feel her to the north through his bond now, and he gently pressed his mind against hers. At his presence he felt her relief, as well as a sudden rush of frustration and anger. Eragon winced as their minds melded briefly, the only information flowing between them the impression that she was on her way back towards them before her mind closed itself off to him.
They were close to the ground now, nearing the Varden's northern entrance, and Eragon could see a host of soldiers awaiting their return. Fírnen flared his wings and landed lightly on the ground, his talons digging into the earth as he came to a stop.
Eragon swung his leg over the saddle and leapt down, realizing when he didn't have to bend his knees too much how small Fírnen still was compared to Saphira. As he ensured that Thorn's Eldunarí was unharmed after their battle Arya followed quickly after, her landing silent compared to his own, though she turned her back to him and began inspecting Fírnen's saddle.
Peering at the Varden around Fírnen's form, Eragon could see that they were awaiting their return, the soldiers still manning their defensive positions even as cries of cheers rang out at their arrival. Since they were hidden by Fírnen from any prying eyes, Eragon reached out and laid a hand on Arya's shoulder.
She stiffened at the contact, though she did not shrug him off. "I'm alright," Eragon whispered. "And I'm sorry if I worried you."
Arya sighed and turned to face him, his hand falling from her shoulder as she moved. She reached up and rubbed at her temple, her expression still bearing some of the worry she must have felt over him. "Must you always be so reckless?"
"I did tell you that you knew the measure of me," Eragon answered, watching as Arya let out a huff at him. When her expression changed and a small smile graced her lips, Eragon couldn't help but grab her arms and bring her in close to him.
She did not resist him, her torso pressing against his own, her hands falling to her side. The fight must have drained her, for he could see small beads of sweat running down her face, even as she examined his own. "And I remember telling you that I did not, but it seems in this instance you were right."
"As I usually am," Eragon bantered.
Her eyes narrowed at him, and Eragon tried to emulate the innocent smile Glenwing often used. He must have failed, for Arya suddenly chuckled, the sound tickling his ears even as she pushed him away from her.
The sounds of wings approached had both of them turning towards the north, though they relaxed when they saw that it was only Saphira, her blue scales shining beautifully in the sun. Quickly he handed Arya the Eldunarí in his grasp, the elf fumbling in his haste to transfer her the bag.
Eragon felt a true smile grace his lips as he ran towards Saphira, watching as she landed heavily in front of him and shaking the ground. The smile fell from his lips when Saphira's head lowered, and Eragon slowed his approach.
Her mind was still closed off to him, and Eragon made to kneel down in front of her when suddenly she lashed out, her snout slamming into his chest and knocking the breath out of him.
"Saphira!" Came from behind him, Arya's voice ringing out as Eragon fell to the ground. A large claw pinned him to the ground, her sharp talons digging into the dirt around him as she picked up him.
Her mind finally opened up to him, and Eragon would have gasped at the worry and frustration that she felt if not for the fact that he was unable to catch his breath.
I should shake you like a hatchling, Saphira growled. He felt himself moving towards upwards until he was held in front of her head, a sapphire eye peering at him as she held him suspended before her. What have I told you about being so reckless?
He tried to speak but was unable to, so instead he spoke through their bound. I know, Saphira. I'm sorry.
She snorted, and Eragon could hear footsteps rapidly approaching. You say that now, but you never listen. What would have happened if Arya weren't there to catch you? Would you have left me alone in this world, unable to properly mourn you because you decided to be an idiot?
Saphira…
She growled at him, and Eragon watched with horror as her maw opened wide. No! Saphira! Please!
She lowered him down headfirst towards her waiting mouth, and Eragon closed his eyes as he accepted his fate. The sudden halt of movement jarred Eragon, and he gingerly opened his eyes to see her massive tongue inches from his face.
He shivered at the sight, knowing that her barbed tongue was capable of flaying flesh straight off the bone. A warm blast of air hit him in the face, drips of saliva coating him and making him squirm in her grasp. An instant later Saphira dropped him, and Eragon breathed deeply as air returned to his lungs even as he collapsed onto the dirt.
A snout nudged him as he laid splayed out on the ground, and Eragon peered up at Saphira. "I-." he tried to say, having to cough a few times as his breath returned. "I am sorry."
She snorted at him, but said, I know. Just needed to remind you what would happen.
The approaching footsteps halted at his head, and Eragon peered up at Arya as she gazed down at him. A single eyebrow rose as she took his appearance in, her eyes moving from his wet face to his dirtied clothes. "Satisfied?" Arya said, and it took Eragon a moment to realize that she was speaking to Saphira.
For now.
"Good." Arya reached down and helped him up, though she shied away from him when he made to wipe his face from Saphira's spit.
"Where are the elves?" Eragon asked as he cleaned himself up. Fírnen was still waiting near the entrance to the Varden, having watched the entire spectacle.
"Blödhgarm is waiting for us, but the rest returned to guard Murtagh," Arya said. "Though they were curious as to why they could feel Glaedr's presence so far away."
Eragon started back for the Varden, and Arya matched his pace with Saphira following behind. Eyeing Arya questioningly, he asked "What did you tell them?"
Arya shook her head, "Only that they would not speak of it to anyone but us. Blödhgarm was not pleased, but in the end promised to do as I asked."
Letting out a sigh, Eragon nodded his head. "If it comes to it, I will speak with the spellcasters. They may have need to know." To Saphira, Eragon asked, "How is Glaedr?"
He wishes to speak to us later after he has rested.
Nodding, Eragon said, "Aye. We have much to discuss."
When Eragon looked to Arya he saw that her brow was furrowed, and Eragon glanced down at the Eldunarí still in her hand. He needed to hide the Eldunarí again before they reached the Varden before anyone could question what they held.
Eragon took it from her as they walked, and paused a moment as Saphira caught up to them. In a well-practiced move, Eragon clambered up her side even as she walked, quickly storing the Eldunarí away. When he approached Glaedr's Eldunarí he could feel the older dragon's mind brush against his, as though ensuring that Eragon was well.
Satisfied that the Eldunarí was safe, Eragon leapt off Saphira and rejoined Arya. Fírnen was waiting for them a few paces ahead, and as they passed, he fell in beside Saphira. He saw no injuries on either dragon, so he figured that the elves must have already healed them of any wounds.
"What of Thorn?" Arya asked. "We know now that what we suspected is true. That we could even drive off such a creature as we did is surprising, and I do not think we will be so successful next time he decides to attack. The other leaders need to know."
Eragon nodded. "Aye," he said quietly. Letting out a sigh, Eragon ran his hand through his muddied hair. "The spell didn't work, but it did seem to at least drive him away. I will tell Nasuada and Orrin about what has happened to him. Make sure the Queen knows as well. We very well may need the elves help."
Arya shook her head, her expression slowly becoming more stoic the closer they approached the Varden. "Not even we elves know of a way of dealing with such a creature." Arya glanced at him, her face inscrutable, "I have only ever heard of one such person who has killed a dragon turned Shade."
"As have I."
That it was him was of no comfort to Eragon; that Shade had been newly created, and bound to a hatchling that was no bigger than a horse by the time the spell was complete. He never understood how the dragon had grown in size during the transformation, figuring that it must have been part of the spell that created a Shade, but Thorn's size did not seem to have been affected at all.
The Varden cheered as they entered the camp, passing the defenses and soldiers who manned them. Ahead he could see a host of Nighthawks and Orrin's personal guard awaiting their return, with Nasuada and Orrin standing before them. Glenwing was off to the side standing with Blödhgarm, and his friend offered him a smile, seemingly relieved that they returned unharmed. Sweeping his gaze around those gathered around, Eragon could not find a trace of his father.
Nasuada smiled at them, relief evident on her features. "Are the four of you alright?"
"We are," Arya answered. "We already healed any injuries that we sustained during the battle."
"Good," Nasuada nodded. "And what of Thorn? We saw him flee to the north, but the battle was too far away for us to discern what was taking place."
"Driven off for now," Eragon answered, "But there is something we need to discuss."
Nasuada glanced at Orrin, who nodded in return. "Very well."
She gestured to Jörmundur, who approached her quickly. Quietly, Nasuada whispered orders into his ear. After a moment, the old soldier nodded before turning away, bellowing out at the gawking soldiers around them.
Orrin offered his arm to Nasuada, and the two of them turned and made for her tent. The Nighthawks and Orrin's guard fell into formation around them, with Eragon and Arya following close behind the two leaders. The Varden cheered at them as they walked past, many of them screaming out his name and pounding their shields.
Eventually, with the Nighthawks and Orrin's guard clearing the way, they managed to reach Nasuada's tent. Arya entered before he did, with the two dragons settling down outside the pavilion. With a gesture Eragon caught Glenwing's attention, motioning for him and Blödhgarm to join them.
When he entered the tent with elves, Eragon could see that Nasuada and the others were already standing before her table, a sectional map of Alagaësia spread out before her. He briefly examined the pieces on the board as he approached, before glancing around at those gathered. He stood next to Arya, with Glenwing and Blödhgarm falling into position on either side of the Riders.
His father was still nowhere to be found. When he made to ask his father's whereabouts he was interrupted when the flap to the tent opened. Brom strode in, his face pale and drawn, nodding at them as he made his way to stand next to Nasuada.
Nasuada glanced at Brom before turning her attention to Eragon. She swept her hands before her and said, "You wished to discuss something with us, Eragon."
Clearing his throat, Eragon glanced around at those gathered; Nasuada and Orrin were standing next to each other, both of their faces firm even if a hint of worry shined through. Orrin's arms were crossed over his chest, while Nasuada gingerly rubbed at the fabric of her bandages, but he could see that they were giving him their undivided attention.
Next to him Glenwing appeared curious at the summons, though his friend mostly displayed his usual untroubled face. Blödhgarm's fur covered face was marred with a frown, his yellow eyes peering at Eragon troubled. Arya was stiff next to him, though her expression was mostly impassive.
"I did," Eragon said quietly, before raising and steadying his voice. "There is something you all need to know. For some time since we've captured Murtagh I held my suspicions, as did my father, but we did not want to give credence to an unfounded conjecture. Now, after Thorn's attack, we know what we feared has happened; either by Galbatorix's hand or another, Thorn has suffered a fate that I had hoped to never be repeated."
Brom's face was grave, a great shadow covering his eyes. Nasuada and Orrin stared at him with concern, and Eragon took a breath as he finally voiced the thing he feared most.
"Thorn is a Shade."
Nasuada's brow shot up, and he watched as she lowered her head in thought. Orrin's face paled, the King for the first time Eragon had known him openly fearful. Blödhgarm had hissed, the sound incongruent with the wolf-like appearance he favored, while Glenwing had grabbed the table in order to steady himself.
"You're sure of this?" Nasuada asked, her hands coming up to rub her forehead.
"Yes," Arya answered. "Both Fírnen and I saw it for ourselves as well. He is no longer the dragon he once was." He saw her hands tightened, and Eragon knew that her anger would be only a fraction that the elves would display. "Whoever did this, they have committed an atrocity against the very nature of the world, and they should fear the wrath the Queen will bring upon them."
"The elves do not know?" Orrin finally said, the King straightening himself. Eragon could still see the paleness on his face, though his eyes were not as wide as before.
Eragon shook his head. "Not yet. Arya will inform them shortly."
Nasuada gazed at him briefly, then turned to his father with scorn in her eyes. "You knew of this? Why did you wait to tell me?"
"I had heard only reports," Brom stiffly answered. His father fiddled with his pipe, though he watched as Brom regained his bearing. "They only spoke of Murtagh and Thorn arriving in the Belatona, and of something happening during their stay. I only gained my suspicions after talking with Murtagh, but as Eragon said, we did not wish to lend ear to rumors that would easily be falsified."
"Is Thorn under Galbatorix's control?" Orrin asked.
Eragon shook his head. "I do not know."
"If he were under the Mad King's sway," Nasuada spoke quietly, "then he would have arrived in force with an army, not attack us out of the blue."
"That is a possibility," Arya said.
A soldier strode into the tent, and Eragon watched as the young man quickly rushed over towards Brom. The man spoke quietly in Brom's ear, and Eragon saw him hand his father something. After a moment Brom nodded and dismissed the soldier, opening the paper he had been handed.
"What can we do?" Nasuada asked. She turned to Eragon, and he could see how worried she was over the situation. "You are the only one to have killed such a creature. Can you do it again?"
Eragon hesitated, "I-. Thorn is unlike the Shade in Belatona. That Shade was but a hatchling, and even back then with my limited knowledge of Shades I knew it to be unstable. This Shade-. Thorn has somehow stabilized with the spirits inside him, and I fear that no one has ever faced such a creature before."
"What of the elves?" Orrin asked, turning towards Arya. His face had regained some of its color he had lost. "Can they defeat such a Shade? Of all of the inhabitants of Alagaësia, save the dragons themselves, it can be said that no one could stand before the full might of an elven army."
"Not without heavy losses," Arya said. Her gaze fell down towards the table, and Eragon wanted in that moment to embrace her. "A dragon as old as Thorn is already a powerful enemy, and today's battle was evidence enough that one who has undergone the transformation into a Shade is formidable against even two Riders."
Nasuada nodded her head, her gaze moving around the room at all of them. "Why would Galbatorix dine to do such a thing? Especially to his own Name slave."
"I don't know," Eragon answered. "Perhaps Galbatorix wishes for the Shade to attack the Varden on his own, and doesn't care for any casualties caused by leaving him loose. If that is the case, then Galbatorix would have to believe that he had some way of controlling the Shade."
All around him, Eragon could see that they understood the gravity of the situation. The elves had their heads bowed, even Arya, and he could sense their anger.
"What of Murtagh?" Nasuada asked. "In your tale of your own fight in Belatona, you said that the Rider was driven mad. Yet, so far from Blödhgarm's reports, Murtagh hasn't displayed any signs of madness, nor did he when he was with us before."
"I do not know," Eragon said, though part of it was a lie. He knew that Thorn had shielded himself inside his Eldunarí and separated himself from his body, though how exactly the dragon did it was unclear. If Murtagh was unaffected, unlike Naevir, then Eragon hoped that the process that had driven the purple hatchling and his Rider mad had yet to occur. Perhaps Thorn was strong enough to hold off the spirits, though Eragon worried over how long the dragon could hold out. "For now, we will keep a close eye on Murtagh."
Nasuada and Orrin shared a glance at each other, though neither of them said anything.
It was Brom who spoke next, striding forwards and placing the missive he received down on the table. "There is something else," his father said. "Belatona is on fire."
Nasuada swung her head towards Brom, disbelief in her eyes. "Fire? As in the whole city?"
"Aye," Brom answered. "I just received this," Brom pointed to the paper, "and it details the account of one of our spies having to leave the city as it burned."
"What caused it?" Eragon asked, frowning.
Brom shook his head, tapping his pipe against the table. "He did not say. Only that the city was burning. Based on the report, it could have only been a few days ago."
Eragon cursed the timing and placed his hands on the table in front of him. Whispering a spell, Eragon watched as the entire table shimmered, ripples forming and running down its length. Those gathered at the table jumped back as Eragon continued weaving his spell, and when he was done the entire table's surface had changed. Before, it had been but a normal wooden table, ladened with various stains and other imperfections. Now it was but a perfect mirror, the entire top reflecting the fabric of the tent's ceiling and the few items on the table.
He felt the spell drain him, and he silently thanked Saphira when she helped replenish some of his strength. The others were staring at him agape, but Eragon ignored them and cast the spell of scrying.
The mirror in front of them hazed over briefly before clearing, and all at once Eragon knew the report to be true.
Belatona was burning.
His spell had taken on a wide angle so that they could see the whole of the city, the mirror large enough to capture every building as it burned to a rubble. A few people could still be seen running about, though a long time since the fire had first started. Only a few portions of the city were blurred to him, and Eragon hazard to guess that those parts of the city had been built after his own visit to the city some centuries ago.
Orrin cursed and leapt back, as though the raging fire that still continued could leap up at him through the mirror.
"This is Belatona?" Nasuada asked, bending over the table, gingerly placing her hands on its surface. Her gaze was sweeping around the city limits, as though cataloging the horror that was displayed before them. All of them had gently removed the contents that were on the table, each time exposing more of the burning city for them to see.
"Aye," Eragon answered quietly, his eyes roaming around the city as well. "Though I do not know how the city changed in the two-hundred years that I have been gone, I can say for certain that much of it is already ash."
The site before him was terrible, with entire buildings still engulfed in flames. Even the structures made of stone were ablaze, the heat so intense that he could see the very foundations melting. How many people had been burned alive Eragon did not care to guess; once this fire was done, Belatona would be no more.
"We need to prepare for refugees," Nasuada said, glancing at Brom. "If anyone survived this, they are going to be coming here in droves."
Brom grimaced, unable to look away from the table before him. "It will strain our already meager supplies."
Nasuada shook her head, and Eragon could see tears streaming down the Varden Leaders face. "I do not care. Do it."
"As you say," Brom answered.
Nasuada glanced up at Eragon, wiping the tears from her eyes with the fabric of her sleeve. "Was this Thorn?"
Instead of answering, Eragon glanced at the side of the tent that Saphira was laying on. Though she could see the image through his own gaze, he knew that she would want to see for herself. The part of the tent that had been modified for Saphira rustled as she pushed through it, her massive head towering over them as she moved to gaze at the scrying table.
Saphira tilted her head to better see the scrying table, her sapphire eyes flickering around the city. To Eragon, she said, let me smell the fire.
Eragon frowned. That will take considerable energy from this far away.
Do it.
Eragon sighed, placing his hands back on the tables mirrored surface. "Cover your noses," Eragon warned the others. They glanced at him in surprise, but did as he said.
The spell was a simple one, able to transmit sensory information such as scent much in the same way that the scrying spell was able to transmit sight. But unlike the modification spells used to enable sound to be transmitted, scents were much more energy intensive, and as such rarely used.
Whispering the spell, Eragon felt his knees buckle as the energy drained from his already poor reserves. Both Arya and Glenwing next to him grabbed at him, preventing him from falling over. Both of them held firmly onto his arms, their grips tight. The two of them channeled some strength back into him, and Eragon smiled gratefully at them.
The smell of fire washed over them, and Nasuada and Orrin gagged at the stench. The smell of burnt wood and flesh wafted in the air, and Eragon could hear sounds of panic outside the tent as the stench drifted past the thin tent walls. The elves merely wrinkled their noses in displeasure, but it was Saphira who sniffed heavily at the air.
When she was satisfied, Eragon ended the spell, the relief of it making him sag against the two elves hold. Next to him, Glenwing waved his hand and cast a spell, the stench vanishing without a trace. The captain stationed outside burst through the tent opening, his sword held aloft, only to pause when he saw nothing was amiss. Nasuada dismissed him with a wave of her hand, the other still covering her nose despite Glenwing's spell.
"That was unpleasant," Orrin commented, rubbing at his nose fiercely. "Have you learned what you needed to, Saphira?"
Yes, Saphira said to all of those present, not using Eragon to relay her messages as usual. A dragon made this fire; Thorn, to be precise. The stench of his corrupted flames has clogged my nostrils ever since our fight.
The others seemed enraptured by the sight before them, unable to look away from the burning city, so Eragon ended the spell. Nasuada glanced up at him, then at her table, which had resumed its mirrored surface. Sighing, Eragon placed his hands back on the table, ignoring the protests of Arya and Glenwing next to him.
Luckily, undoing the spell was actually easier then performing it in the first place; unlike a mirror, the table did not need to be perfectly uniformed, and as such any imperfections he left in its surface would go unnoticed. Weaving the spell, Eragon whispered in the ancient language and watched as the mirror rippled. A few moments later the table was wooden again, and only a careful eye would ever notice the differences from before.
Still, the energy he had expended today had been great, and it had only been a few hours since the day began in earnest.
"I need to rest for a while," Eragon said to the others. "Today has been a draining one."
"Yes, I believe it has." Nasuada sighed, before moving her gaze towards the entrance to the tent. "Your cousin spoke with me earlier, and said that he still wished to perform his wedding today. Do you want me to tell him your unable to perform your duties as the officiator?"
"No," Eragon said, shaking his head. "If he wants to continue despite all that has happened today, then I will not begrudge him. I will rest in the meantime."
"Very well," Nasuada said. "Thank you, Eragon, for today. That we have Riders and dragons on our side is the only reason we have come this far. Get some rest, and I will ensure that everything is readied."
Eragon nodded, turning to leave the tent. Arya glanced at him as he left, though she lingered behind with the others. Only Glenwing followed, the elf silent as they exited the tent.
"You alright?" Eragon asked, nodding to the Nighthawk captain who manned the entrance to the tent. The soldier returned the gesture, his gaze sweeping across the Varden as he stood guard over his liege lord.
"No," Glenwing answered quietly. "You?"
Eragon sighed, "After today, I'm not sure that any of us will be."
Eragon returned to his tent, the dragons having followed behind Glenwing and himself as they ventured through the Varden. Glenwing had departed, the elf's face drawn in, and Eragon knew that his friend was shaken from the knowledge that Thorn was a Shade.
Sitting on his cot, Eragon rubbed his temples, frustration building inside him. He needed to speak with Murtagh soon, to at least tell his brother what happened. He did not know if the elven spellcasters had briefed Murtagh at all about the situation, but given the panic earlier Murtagh must have known something was going on.
His thoughts tumbled around his head, and Eragon was unable to quell them. The spell he used had failed, and even the memory from Saphira he had examined showed that all Ílyae's spell had done was wound Thorn, though he did not know how severely. The Shade-dragon had merely cried out in pain and immediately turned away from his falling form, flying off into the distance.
Undoing the spell seemed impossible now. Nothing Eragon had read in any of the books during his stay in Ellesméra had been of any help, and the most knowledgeable elf on the subject of spirits did not know enough. Who would be able to help him? Trianna? No, her study of spirits was meager at best. Angela? Possibly, Eragon thought, but even she claims that her knowledge is not as complete as Tenga's.
Tenga.
Eragon leapt up from his bed, diving for the bag containing the scroll and book Tenga had given him. Opening it, Eragon extracted the journal, pulling the loose parchment that he had folded carefully into its pages.
What had Tenga said? That the parchment was to be used for questions? If anyone would know anything about this, it had to be Tenga. Otherwise, Eragon feared, they would have to kill Thorn.
Somehow.
Striding over to his desk, Eragon grabbed the quill and ink he rarely used. Dabbing the quill with ink, Eragon gently placed the parchment on the table and wrote:
Tenga?
At first nothing happened, and then with amazement Eragon watched as the ink slowly faded, leaving no trace behind. Astonished, Eragon lifted the page and turned it in the light, only able to make out the faint trace marks his quill had left behind.
For a long while nothing happened, and Eragon feared that he had guessed wrongly about the parchment Tenga had gifted him.
Yes.
Eragon blinked, peering closely at the script that had suddenly appeared. It was in Tenga's flowing script, Eragon having long since been used to it after having started reading his journal on time.
I have a question concerning Shades, Eragon wrote.
Again the ink faded, as did Tenga's earlier reply. This time, however, the response was quicker than before.
Then ask, came the reply.
Thorn, one of the only remaining dragons, has been turned into a Shade. Do you know of a way in which we would be able to undo the spell on him?
For a long while after the ink had faded, Eragon sat waiting for Tenga's reply, his heart pounding in his chest with anticipation.
Any spell can be undone, so long as the subject affected is still alive, though the energy required will vary. Unfortunately, when it concerns mind-melding spells such as the one used in transforming a Shade, the amount of energy required is unreasonable, even for one such as yourself. It would be akin to trying to undo the very spell that forms the bond between your dragon and yourself.
What if, Eragon wrote, his hands shaking, the mind was preserved, unaffected by the spirits?
Words appeared on the parchment, only to disappear as though erased by Tenga. After a moment more appeared, this time lingering long enough for Eragon to read.
If such a thing can be done, then yes, it would be significantly easier to separate the spirits from the host. In making a Shade, the hosts mind is consumed during the process, used as both bond and prison for the spirits contained inside. If what you say is true, and the Shade has not yet completed the bonding process, then it is remarkable that it still exists.
So Thorn is still unstable? Eragon asked.
I would believe so, yes.
Damn it. Eragon's hands trembled, his worry growing with each passing moment. If Thorn was so unstable, how had the Shade not destroyed himself yet?
Do you know how I could help him before the Shade becomes even more unstable?
My interests were never in spirits and Shades; they are unnatural creatures, defying the very rules that govern this world. I may, however, still have some scrolls that have information pertaining to Shades. Have you seen this Shade for yourself?
I have.
Explain it to me, then, in detail. If such a creature is allowed to be made whole, I fear that even the Mad King's quest for the Name will be the least of your worries.
And so, Eragon, in painstakingly deep detail, described his encounter with Thorn. He had to pause each time he filled the parchment with his words, only resuming once they had faded and he was sure Tenga had read them.
When he was done, Tenga immediately asked, this spell you used, tell me its origin.
Ílyae, Guardian of the Spirits. She is an elf who has dedicated her life to studying spirits.
I know of her, Tenga replied. Tell me this spell, word for word.
Eragon hesitated, before deciding that any knowledge gained from Tenga was worth the risk of angering Ílyae. He wrote the spell from memory, watching as the ink faded away as soon as he finished.
This spell is designed to repel spirits, and as such I believe would cause immense pain for a Shade, which forced the Shade to flee. It is not fashioned to separate the spirits from the host.
I see. Glaedr had been correct in his assumption that the spell would not have worked.
However, the spell itself contains information I had not known previously about spirits. I assume you do not understand nearly half of what it entails?
No, Eragon admitted. Not even some of the greatest teachers among the elves understand the spirits as Ílyae does.
It is not their fault, Tenga replied. The elves think too highly of themselves, believing that they know all there is to of this world. Their knowledge is nowhere near my level of understanding; you were right to ask this question of me.
Ignoring the jab at his old teachers, Eragon wrote: Will you do this for me? If Thorn is allowed to die, I fear for dragon races future.
As do I, Tenga wrote. The spell the elves used to create Riders has more repercussions in this world than they could have ever understood. Even I, so far away from Alagaësia during the fall, saw for myself the devastation as the so-called King committed genocide on an entire species.
What of Thorn's mind? Could it be reunited with his body if we are successful?
I know not in what manner his mind has been separated, and as such cannot comment on whether it is possible.
Eragon let out a sigh. He needed to speak with Glaedr and the other dragons and determine whether telling Tenga of the existence of Eldunarí was worth it. If it were, then perhaps they would be able to help reunite Thorn with his body. Assuming, as Eragon thought, that Thorn's connection was completely severed. He was still unclear as to whether that was true, seeing as the dragon was still in pain and deep inside his own Eldunarí.
Give me a few days, Tenga continued, to look into the matter concerning undoing the binding between spirits and their host. I will contact you with what I have.
Thank you, Eragon wrote, feeling relieved. Quickly, he continued: How will I know if you have written to me? I fear for this parchment if I have to cart it around with me everywhere I go.
A simple spell will alert you, Tenga wrote, these two parchments are intertwined, and as such I will change the spell on them to allow you to place your own.
Eragon waited for a few minutes, until Tenga wrote to him again.
It is done. Wait for my reply.
After the ink had faded, Eragon cast a spell that would alert him to any change in the parchment; he covered both physical aspects, as well as any change that magic would afflict on it. Satisfied that he had done all he could do, Eragon carefully replaced the parchment inside the journal, placing both of them securely in his bag.
Eragon laid down on his cot, closing his eyes against the bright midday sun. Even though Tenga had not yet said whether or not he could help, Eragon was glad that he had reached out to the hermit. Of all the sorcerers Eragon had met in his long life, none whereas knowledgeable as Tenga, half-mad as the bearded man was.