For Alagaesia: 68. The coward’s attack and a kingly gift

The wind whipped his hair and the open lands beyond the elven forest of Du Weldenvarden held signs. The winter was wearing off. Though the land was still covered with snow, the cold air of the winter had long since ceased to blow. The air was still cool, but there was a subtle change in the weather pattern. Having grown up in the northern parts of Alagaesia and having made his livelihood out of farming, Eragon could clearly discern the signs that the land was showing: winter was coming to an end. In a fortnight from now, the first signs of spring would be visible to all. Yet, Eragon felt no pleasure at the sight as he would have felt but four winters ago. He would soon have seen twenty winters – a fully grown up man who could do whatever he wished with his life. These were just passing thoughts – like clouds on a windy day – in his mind though that came and went unbidden when Saphira left the firs of Du Weldenvarden and reached the open grounds. His major focus remained facing off, yet again, with his brother and foe, Murtagh.

He refrained from dwelling on the topic though, preferring instead the idle banter with Saphira who was also not so keen on speaking about their impending struggle with the not-so-little-anymore-Thorn. They knew all they wanted to know about the fighting style of the red dragon and his rider. If the pair had acquired some new abominable-power, it was out of their grasp anyway and so they simply did not want to discuss the coming trouble. ‘Live in the present’, was one of the biggest lessons they had learned from their experiences. It helped them forget the pains of the past and the anxieties of the future.

Glaedr kept his peace too, only enquiring about the progress they had made in their journey now and then.

‘You should scry the queen and inform her of our arrival.’, the elder dragon counselled when Gil’ead was but twenty leagues or an hour’s flight away.

‘I thought about that master. But will the queen not have wards against scrying during times like these?’, Eragon asked.

‘We should try anyway and Saphira has to rest for a while before she goes into the final stage of this journey and to battle. It is important to be in your full strength.’, Glaedr replied.

‘Very well, Ebrithil.’, said Eragon. ‘Saphira, if you will…’

‘Wait little one. We are flying above a tiny village and it would be improper to land near any dwelling and alert our arrival to the enemy.’, Saphira said. She flew for another league toward the town that Eragon had come to associate with misery, perhaps next only to Uru’baen itself before finding a suitable spot to rest.

When they were on the ground, Eragon fitted himself in his armour. He then tied the belt of beloth the wise around his waist and strapped Brisingr to it.

‘You look positively like an elf lord, little one. Though your armour and helm are much too sturdy for an elf and your beard betrays you for who you really are.’, Saphira commented light-heartedly.

Of course, he was wearing elven outfits gifted to him by Arya herself and his dwarven-made armour. As for the beard, it was a tale of humour.

Eragon had once forgotten to shave for three continuous days and the stubble had reared its head. When Indra saw him that way, he said, ‘Eragon-fricai, you look lordly with that on. So why do you want to remove it?’

‘With what on, Indra?’, Eragon had asked confused.

‘That. The hair on your face.’

Eragon touched his face and realised that Indra was speaking of his beard.

‘It is called a beard, Indra.’, Eragon had replied laughing.

‘Well, whatever. It looks good on you.’, Indra stated.

‘Your wish is my command, O great one.’, Eragon had said mockingly. Indra had sneered at him. From that day on he had maintained a beard and moustache. He fancied that Arya liked him with a beard on and had asked Indra to speak on her behalf although he knew such thoughts to be fantasies of his own creation.

Eragon laughed off Saphira's comment and cast a spell to heat up the snow. The snow melted and a clear pool of water came into being.

“Draumr Kopa”, Eragon said hoping against hope that maybe he could contact the queen. But all he could see was blackness. Sighing he dropped the spell.

‘Try contacting some other elf’, Glaedr advised.

He tried looking for a few elf lords and people of Ellesmera whom he knew. But nothing could be seen except blackness. An idea came to Eragon and he scried Murtagh himself but to no avail. Eragon thought long about the elves he knew and finally decided to scry Lifaen, the elf of Ceris.

To his surprise the water shimmered white and showed a calamitous battlefield: The city walls were breached. He could see Lifaen fighting off ten men at once. He cut off the spell and frowned. Distress and doubt claimed his senses. Once again he cast the spell, now modifying it so that he could speak to Lifaen. He waited for Lifaen to come out of the tricky situation, the elf was caught it. Each minute the elf went to the verge of death and through pure skill, emerged out of the jaws of death. The soldiers of the empire were obviously painless ones. But there also seemed to be another drive in them. They were far too ferocious and yet calculated in their attack formation. It was always ten men surrounding an elf. Eragon had never seen the painless ones so organised before.

Finally, when the elf was free of the men, he spoke. “Lifaen-vodhr. It is I, Eragon Shur’tugal.”, he said in the ancient language.

Lifaen looked taken aback. But he composed himself a moment later and replied, “Shur’tugal! It is good to hear from you. Where are you?”

“I am on my way to Gil’ead. Could you inform the queen?”

“Of course, Shur’tugal. When…”, the elf asked but Eragon pre-empted him by saying, “In an hour or two.”

“Good. We need you here.”

With that, the elf began running, sidestepping or cutting down any man that dared to stop him. Eragon cut off the spell. He knew not if or when the elf would be able to reach the queen and he did not want to tarry any more than necessary.

Saphira was already on her feet and Glaedr too counselled that it was better to go with or without informing the queen now that the city walls had been breached. In seconds, they were back in the air flying as fast as they had ever flown.

‘There is something queer in all this, Eragon.’, Saphira said even as the city came into view as a tiny speck far away. ‘How could an army of humans breach the walls held by elves? There is a greater force driving them.’

‘Bjarstskular speaks sense. I can see Galbatorix’s hand directly in this.’, Glaedr said.

‘Then it is all the more important that we go as fast as possible to the elves aid.’, said Eragon sombrely trying hard to push down the fear that rose in his mind at the mention of Galbatorix.

‘Yes, it is. But be on your guard. Your escape and the loss of Vanendra’s egg must have angered the usurper beyond imagination. If he finds you, he may not try to capture you this time.’, Gleadr said.

Eragon knew what Glaedr meant: Galbatorix would try to kill him. He felt better for it. Anything, even dying was better than spending another day as the usurper’s prisoner.

‘Shhh… Eragon. Don’t go back to those thoughts.’, Saphira said soothingly. She didn’t have to say that again, for the city was now very much visible and Eragon turned his attention to the work at hand.

Fire billowed from the outer levels of the city indicating the complete disarray in which the city had fallen. But the inner city was still calm. 'The calm before the storm.', Saphira corrected him.

‘Look for Thorn, Saphira. We have to stop him before he and his rider cause any severe damage.’

‘How unfortunate! I was thinking of tearing apart a few of those painless abominations before we meet our match.’, Saphira replied calmly. The days spent in Ellesmera with Vanendra had cleared her mind of the anger that festered in her mind after Eragon's capture and subsequent rescue. She was now a clear thinking dragon and clear thinking dragons were dangerous beyond measure.

Saphira flew as high as possible so that their arrival would have the surprise element that was very important in a fight against a foe as powerful as Murtagh. Eragon shivered in the cold but his focus was on the city that was far below. Saphira circled the town a few times before they spotted Thorn. The red dragon was flying in rounds too. Eragon strained his eyes to see who it was that Thorn was circling to strike. But he could see nothing.

Even Saphira, with her dragon-eyes, couldn’t distinguish who it was that Thorn was attacking. So she flew down a little and tried looking again although it might mean that they would be spotted. The mental despair that flowed from Saphira, without any warning, was so immense that Eragon let out a distressed howl.

‘Islanzadi!!’, Saphira said in a distressed voice. She didn’t have to. Eragon had known it already from her mind. Without further thought she flew straight down like an arrow released from a bow. The direction of her flight was so vertical that Eragon had to cling to her neck spines for his dear life.

In half a minute they were on Thorn and Murtagh. The pair didn’t have time to react when they knew that they were on attack. Saphira landed right on top of Thorn tearing at his right flank with her teeth while at the same time sinking her claws through the metal armour that protected Thorn’s soft underbelly. The force of her fall was so great that her claws went right through the metal and left a large gash on Thorn’s belly. Giving no time for Thorn to recuperate, Saphira went into a complex series of attacks.

An angry growl escaped Murtagh’s throat. Only then did Eragon notice his brother. There was nothing in those eyes that he had seen when in prison or during his escape. The only expression it held was anger mixed with hate.

The elves around the place who had been in stunned silence till then began to roar. It was not a simple roar of elation at having found unlooked for help, but a feral roar that made Eragon’s hairs stand on its ends. He had never ever heard elves make such a noise – the noise of destruction it was.

Words he had heard months ago flashed in his mind, “We are a slow people to rouse, but once roused we are like the dragons: we go mad with anger. It has been over a hundred years since I, or most any elf, shed blood in battle. The world has forgotten what we are capable of. Our strength may have declined since the Riders’ fall, but we shall still give a full reckoning of ourselves; to our enemies, it will seem as if even the elements have turned against them.”

‘Indeed.’, Eragon thought. Each and every man who had been fighting alongside Thorn fled the place, dismayed at hearing the roar. They might be painless – but the instincts of the mind were still with them. Eragon shook his head to relieve himself of the effect of the sound and looked at Murtagh. Surely, he must be afraid too? But he was not. The hate and anger in Murtagh’s eyes shone even brighter now.

And Eragon realised that the rider was looking straight into his face now. Something in Murtagh’s look made Eragon swell with anger. He turned his face away afraid that he would do something rash in the unreasonable anger. His eyes fell on Islanzadi. The elven queen seemed as if she had bathed in gore, both her own and her enemies. Her shield was broken and there was a large gash on her shield-hand. The edge of her sword had splintered. Eragon understood what had happened. Thorn and Murtagh had gone for the kill – against the elven queen.

A deep anger rose in him, one that could be rivalled only by the despair he felt when Hrothgar was killed in cold blood by Murtagh. He never realised that he cared for the elven queen’s wellbeing this deeply till that very moment. He turned back again towards Murtagh, this time determined to stop his estranged brother from committing yet another unforgivable mistake.

“You will not harm the queen.”, he stated plainly.

“Yes, Eragon! Not when you are alive.”, replied a voice Eragon had learned to fear and dislike. It was Galbatorix.

Eragon struggled to collect himself for a while. But Saphira had become someone else at that moment. She roared a challenge to Galbatorix, a terrible roar that made even the anger of the elves seem like child’s play. Saphira’s anger gave him strength and he readied himself for the clash.

Galbatorix raised his sword – or Murtagh’s – above his head and bellowed, “How dare you steal from me? You coward! Come fight me and die!!”. It was clear that Galbatorix was quite angry at seeing Eragon hale and hearty.

Thorn, despite the serious injuries Saphira had caused him, rose up into the sky. Saphira followed suit, with much greater speed. Glaedr had covered both their minds with a protective layer that gave them a measure of peace. If Galbatorix was to try something with his mind, he had to breach Glaedr’s not-so-easily-breakable-defence first.

“The egg never belonged to you, Galbatorix. We took from you that which you had stolen from its rightful owners – the free dragons.”, Eragon spoke in a calm and collected voice. “And we both know who the coward is, don't we?” The thought that death was near made things clear for Eragon. He no longer feared Galbatorix for he was ready to sacrifice his life for the sake of the elven queen – for the promise he had made to his dear Arya.

The dragons veered nearer to each other. Saphira, in her anger, tried to strike at Galbatorix – who had taken up Murtagh’s body. But that only earned her a gash from Thorn’s teeth on her belly that was unprotected without her armour. Glaedr spoke soothing words in her mind asking her to calm down and wait for a chance. Eragon loosened the leg band that kept him in place on Saphira’s saddle. It would be important to be agile while fighting with the sword.

As the dragons lined themselves up nearer to each other, the men on the dragons clashed. Eragon could see the difference in the style of swordplay blatantly. The hand, against which he had raised sword many times earlier both in friendly spars and in ugly confrontations, was using a very different style of sword-wielding technique than what he was used to. It was not Murtagh’s trained arms that were fighting, but that of Galbatorix. Even the way, he held Zar’roc in his hand was different.

The first strike the false-king made was a swipe at his head. Eragon had to bend down hastily to escape the blade of Zar’roc. He regained his momentum soon enough and met the next strike with Brisingr.

The way Murtagh’s hand trembled meant only two things: either Murtagh was vying to control his own body or Galbatorix was madly angry. Eragon felt that the second was more likely than the first. ‘Or it is the both combined.’, he thought.

Yet again Zar’roc came down with great force and yet again Eragon met it with the flat side of Brisingr. He was thankful for being fresh. Else another blow with that power and his hand would have lost all will to fight back. And this continued for a minute or two, Galbatorix using all his power to try and break Eragon’s defence and failing each time. The trembling of Murtagh’s hand only grew with time.

It made things a bit easier for Eragon. He could easily block the strikes and soon he was not just on defence. He was counterattacking Galbatorix’s strokes with his own. As time went on though, the real Galbatorix came to the forefront – cunning and calculating; the anger subsided by the skills of swordsmanship that were on display.

“I wonder.”, Murtagh-Galbatorix said.

Eragon could see a visible shift in Galbatorix’s fighting style. He was no longer trying to sever Eragon’s head off his body. The attacks became more and more complex. Eragon had to stretch to his limits to keep himself from being defeated. He realised how dangerous an opponent the king would make in a real one-on-one sparring contest.

Galbatorix barked, all of a sudden, a spell to yank Eragon’s sword from his hand. But Eragon was prepared – his most recent training sessions with Arya coming handy. He was aware of the change in Galbatorix’s face and had guessed some foul play was at hand. So, the second he heard the spell being uttered, Eragon let his sword go on his own volition so that the spell had nothing to work on, and leapt out of the saddle. The jump was not much but it startled Galbatorix enough to make him lose his concentration for a while. Eragon caught Brisingr in mid-air and swiped at the dazed Galbatorix-Murtagh, the rider-blade cutting through the wards quite easily. He had made a deep cut on Galbatorix’s shoulder.

The cry that followed was not that of Galbatorix’s but that of Murtagh’s. Eragon panicked for a second. Even after all that had happened he could not bear to watch Murtagh in pain.

And Galbatorix did not waste his opportunity. “Malthinae”, he barked: A spell to tie him up. Eragon realised only then that Galbatorix still wanted him captured.

His wards protected him though. He was not tied up, but Eragon could feel his strength ebbing as Galbatorix did not drop the spell. Eragon continued to attack Galbatorix knowing well that only by shattering the false-king’s concentration could he escape this trap. He knew he could not rival Galbatorix’s energy store. So it was unnecessary to try and cast a counter spell which would drain his energy even faster.

But Galbatorix did not seem to falter. All his concentration was vested on Eragon. He said, “I want you here again, Eragon. I want to see if you can read it. Then I can kill you.”

Eragon was baffled. ‘Read what?’, he thought, as he began to draw energy from Glaedr unconsciously. Not wanting to be drawn into a shell by thinking about 'reading something' in Galbatorix's prison – as odd as it sounded – Eragon redoubled his efforts at breaking the King's concentration.

He launched a series of aggressive complex attacks on the King, trying his best to improvise and surprise the usurper. But the concentration levels of Galbatorix seemed almost equal to that of Oromis's. He countered Eragon stroke for stroke and yet kept the spell going.

When Eragon finally felt that he was done and was planning on luring Galbatorix into killing him rather than getting captured, a huge blast was heard and Galbatorix-Murtagh and Thorn vanished. Just like that. They were not to be found anywhere.

Saphira who had been trying hard to get Eragon to the elves, even if it meant her death or capture let out a surprised grunt and looked around afraid of some foul play by Galbatorix. But Eragon felt a protective warmth cover his body. It made him feel safe. He too suspected that the sudden disappearance of Galbatorix was a ploy to lull them into a sense of false-security. Yet the warmth that had enveloped them felt right. They looked down and saw that Islanzadi had gathered a group of elves around her and had cast the protective spell.

‘Go to Islanzadi. Quick.’, Glaedr advised.

Saphira, for once, followed her master’s advice without question. She dived down as fast as she could even though her energy was all but spent. When she landed on the ground, the elves cheered in a muted fashion. Islanzadi asked Saphira to follow her to the inner city. When Eragon tried to ask her questions, she silenced him with a signal of her hand. It was all very untoward. The elves never behaved as they did now. It was as if the elves had changed into a more powerful version of the humans.

Eragon saw that the elves had taken control of the situation in the middle town. The chaos that he witnessed while arriving at the battle field was nowhere to be seen. They had methodically taken down the painless ones. The bodies of Galbatorix’s men lay in heaps – each and every dead soldier had his head severed or heart punctured. It was a disgusting sight. Eragon turned his face away.

When they reached the castle, the gates were opened for them. The queen entered followed by Saphira. About twenty elves had followed them and Eragon knew a few of them already. They were all lords and ladies of great stature in the elven court.

Islanzadi sat on a step that led to the upper levels of the castle which in itself seemed odd. The elven queen always carried herself in a royal fashion and never had Eragon seen the queen do something like that before.

He slid down from Saphira’s saddle and walked towards the queen. He knelt down before her and said, “I thank you, your majesty, for protecting us.”

“Protecting you, Shur’tugal? It was you who protected me. I should have been long dead had it not been for your intervention.”, the queen said with no hint of anxiety or fear  in her voice.

“I did what I had to, my lady.”, Eragon replied.

The queen raised her eyebrows slightly at having got such a reply from him. But she did not pursue the topic anymore.

Eragon was left to feel awkward. It was as if the queen had accepted his reply yet her reaction clearly showed that she did not entirely approve his actions. But another thought burned in his mind. “Do you know what happened to Galbatorix?”, he asked hesitantly.

“Oh yes, I do.”, came the reply from the queen in a flash. “I and my friends threw him away.”

It was his turn to raise eyebrows. Elves.

‘Elves.’, Saphira accepted. ‘She speaks as if she threw a stone at a sparrow.’

“You were very brave, Shur’tugal. You proved your worth as the leader of the riders.”, the queen said.

Eragon just nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“After what you had faced in Uru’baen, I did not think you will face him without fear.”

Saphira watched Eragon intently. She was proud of him for the thoughts that formed in his mind. She nuzzled him softly. “I do not fear him, your majesty. I should not. Not when I know that he is the biggest coward in Alagaesia.”, Eragon replied.

“Yes. You do have a peculiar definition for cowardice.”, the queen said, a little smile gracing her lips.

‘Peculiar but a correct one.’, Saphira said confidently, broadcasting her thoughts to all those who were in earshot (or thought-shot).

Eragon felt he had to explain his mind. “He never fights his own battles. And anyone who forces others to do their work and hides behind others back is a coward.”, he said.

Islanzadi’s face became sombre. She knew what Eragon was speaking about: the Eldunari. She nodded her head as if accepting what he said.

‘What of the battle, Queen of the elves? Would our assistance be needed?’, Saphira asked suddenly remembering that the battle was not yet over.

“It is over Bjratskular. Your arrival was a great help. The sight of your beautiful scales roused our people like nothing else could. I believe you heard the beginning of the end of this battle.”

Eragon realised that the queen was speaking about the chilling roar made by the elves when Saphira had saved the queen’s life from Galbatorix. He remembered how the painless soldiers had scattered away like meek rabbits at hearing the noise. Indeed, it had looked like the beginning of an end.

“Let me help in refortifying the city then.”, Eragon said.

“You need to rest, Eragon-vodhr. The traces of your battle against Galbatorix are still on you.”, the queen replied kindly. “Leave the fortifications to us. Be our guest.”

He could not resist the queen for he knew her statement to be absolutely true. He was tired; immensely so.

‘Rest little one. You are tired.’, Saphira said when he turned to her.

‘What about you?’, Eragon asked.

‘I would have liked to occupy your bed, but seeing as the door is too small for me, I think I will rest in the courtyard, especially because the elves would not like to mend broken doors with all that is already on their hands.’, she said.

Eragon smiled. His Saphira was back – the one who cared not for anything in the world except his safety and happiness. She was happy when he had those things. The days spent in Ellesmera with Indra had taken her back to her beginnings. She was as clear in mind as she was during their Carvahall days.

‘I am proud to have taught you, Lord rider. You handled the oath breaker as he should be handled.’, Glaedr said.

‘Thank you Ebrithil.’, Saphira replied, puffed at being appreciated by Glaedr.

An elf was assigned to show him to his quarters. Eragon saw that the elf was none other than Lifaen.

“Lifaen-vodhr”, Eragon said pleased that the elf had survived the battle.

“Rajah Shur’tugal”, the elf said with a slight dip of his head. Eragon thought that the elf looked unusually sombre. He followed the elf as he climbed the steps with uncharacteristic heavy steps.

Wanting to break the silence and know what ailed the elf, Eragon asked, “Did you get to inform the queen about our arrival?”

“Yes, Shur'tugal. I did. That was why the queen was out in the lower city.”

“The queen was out for me?” Eragon was alarmed that the queen’s life had nearly been taken because of his arrival. ‘Blasted luck and I had promised Arya to ensure her mother’s safety.’, he thought ruefully.

“No. Not entirely because of you, Lord Eragon. The queen thought she could delay the departure of the captors and then use your services for the rescue when you were here.”, the elf said sadly.

Eragon wondered who the captors were and who or what they had captured. But before he could voice his thoughts, the elf continued as if dazed in an even more melancholic voice, “But then, the thrice cursed Galbatorix took up the body of the young rider throwing everything into disarray and threatening the queen’s life.” The elf seemed to be on the verge of crying.

It was rare for elves to lose control of their emotions and Eragon knew that only under very stressful periods do they do so. He knew something was terribly wrong with Lifaen. But he feared asking about it directly to the elf. Even though, their acquaintance was only a very short lived one, three years ago, he had come to think of this elf as one of his friends. He wanted to know what ailed the elf and see if he could help him. So he asked in a hesitant voice, “Lifaen-vodhr, could you please tell me who… was… captured?”

“My friend, Nari.”, the elf said in a hoarse voice.

“The empire took him?”, Eragon asked shocked.

“Yes. And two more were taken yesterday.”

Eragon could not explain what or how he felt about the news. But it was as if a huge weight had descended over his head and was trying to force him into the ground.

‘What is it, Eragon?!’, Saphira asked feeling his emotions through their link.

Eragon did not answer her for he had not the strength to do so. He opened his mind and let her see his conversation with Lifaen.

Saphira remained calm for the entire period and then whispered soothingly in his mind, ‘Don’t think over it much little one. Rest.’

By then they had reached the upper levels of the castle. “You will stay in this room, Rajah Shur’tugal, if you like it.”, Lifaen said.

“It is more than enough for me, Lifaen-vodhr. Don’t stress yourself for me. Go. Rest. You need it.”, Eragon replied. And I do too.

Eragon didn’t care to check what his room looked like and he couldn’t process whatever his eyes picked up. He felt so tired; so weak. He lay down on what he thought was bed and closed his eyes willing himself to forget the horrors of the day.

The eternal light was marred by a dark spot. And then it grew. It was a spot no more. Soon the light had to struggle to stay alive. The darkness spread taking over whatever belonged to the light, until the light was reduced to a little dot; his only hope. He desperately reached for it, fighting a losing battle against the darkness that engulfed him. With one last effort, he reached for the light, but the darkness overtook him and he was pulled back into the cold and dark nothingness.

‘Eragon!!!’

‘Eragon! Wake up!!’

Swiftly rising to his feet, Eragon pulled out his hunting knife from his belt out of instinct and lashed out at the air thinking he could kill off the darkness; the living darkness.

‘Eragon!!’, Saphira called him desperately.

‘Saphira?’, Eragon yowled weakly trying to block out the darkness that threatened to swallow his mind.

‘You had a nightmare, little one.’, she said soothingly.

His mind screamed out in pain from the exertions his nightmare put it through. With the force of his will, he restrained his body from announcing the pain to the entire world. ‘Help me, Saphira.’, he mumbled even as he sweated all over.

‘Come to me, I will keep you safe.’, Saphira assured him softly, her voice filled with concern.

Eragon did not reply her. He just began walking out of his room and headed towards the direction, he knew she was. It was months since he had had such a nightmare. He had thought that he was cured of it by Saphira, Arya, Indra and the Du Weldenvarden itself. But now after hearing of the capture of the elves by Galbatorix’s men, the fears he had kept locked in his mind had sprang up again.

It had already grown dark and he knew not what hour of the night it was. The elves he met on the way either ignored him or dipped their heads slightly out of respect for his position. He returned their gestures without complaining. He had got used to living among the elves and he knew their priorities too well to ignore acts like respectful glances and nods.

By the time, he reached Saphira’s side, he was completely exhausted from the mental trauma of having to act like he was perfectly alright when in fact, he was anything but that. She was lying in a courtyard in the second level of the castle, her scales glittering in the moonlight. It was full moon. Arya’s favourite night.

With the thought of the elven princess spreading in his mind, the unbearable pain racking his mind subsided. It was replaced by a dull ache that brought forth a thousand questions to his mind.

When he tried to give words to the questions, Saphira stopped him by pulling him tenderly towards her. 'Lie down, Eragon.', she said and he felt like he was back at Carvahall all those years ago when Marian had comforted him after Roran had scared him with tales about ghosts. A real smile lit up his face as he fondly remembered those days and as he realised that nothing had changed at all – except that Saphira had taken the place of Marian. He was still the same scared young child.

‘Sleep little one.’, Saphira said as he rested his back against her flank and covered him with her wings providing the much needed warmth in the winter night and more importantly, the calm his mind was searching for. Eragon drifted into the waking dream that was his sleep.

The sun’s rays hit his face making him aware that the night had passed and that he had slept through the dawn. It was not usual for him. Even as a farmer, Eragon had to rise early and tend to the crops in the field. After his travels through the length and breadth of Alagaesia over the last three years, it had become customary for him to rise before the sun rose.

‘You were tired, little one.’, Saphira explained.

‘And you were too. Still, you woke up before the sunrise.’, Eragon said blaming his late rising on his weakness.

‘Of course you are the weaker one, little one. Who can be stronger than me?’, Saphira asked playfully. She waited to see the usual heartfelt laughter from Eragon whenever she spoke that way. But it never came. She then said, ‘Although your late awakening cannot be attributed to your weakness. I made you sleep long.’

‘You? Why?’

‘Because of the thoughts that are running through your mind right now. I didn’t want them to haunt you before the sun showed up.’, Saphira said.

The thoughts… Oh yes… What will happen to the captured elves? What will the vile monster of a king do to them? When will they go to rescue the poor souls? And who will go on the rescue mission?

‘You have to meet the queen, Eragon. She asked me to send you to her as soon as you were awake.’, Saphira said.

‘Why didn’t you wake me when she was here?’

‘Because we both agreed that you needed your rest. Now… no more questions. Go.’, Saphira almost ordered him to leave.

Eragon grumbled something about haughty dragons and proud elves but went away towards the inner and higher levels of the castle. Thankfully, Lifaen had shown him the queen’s quarters the day before. When he reached the queen's door, he used spells to make himself presentable earning a chortle from an elf lady who stood guard.

He nodded at the woman gravely. The elf woman’s face grew hard at this and she nodded back curtly and went in to announce his arrival. Eragon was furious with himself for having behaved so rudely with the woman.

By then she came back and said, “Queen Islanzadi awaits you, Lord Eragon.” She didn’t even see him in the eye.

Eragon felt so bad that he decided to apologise for his behaviour. “I am sorry, my lady, for being rude with you. I was so occupied with the unfortunate events that have happened here in the last two days.”, he said sincerely.

The elf smiled slightly at him and said, “Thinking about past events will only bring pain, my lord. Don’t worry. I took no offense.”

Eragon smiled weakly at the elf and nodding once at her, entered the room. The queen was pacing back and forth at great speed across the room.

He silently initiated the elven greeting, touching his lips with his fingers. “Atra esterní ono thelduin, Islanzadi Drottning”

The queen turned to him as if awakening from a deep slumber and replied, “Atra du evarínya ono varda, Rajah Shur’tugal”

“You wanted to meet me, your majesty?”

“Please do be seated, Shur’tugal”, the queen said pointing at a chair that stood at the centre of the room.

Eragon walked over to the chair and waited for the queen to join him. When she sat on a chair, Eragon took the chair opposite hers.

“I did not get a chance to thank you formally for your invaluable help in defeating the empire’s worst army.”, the queen said.

Eragon remained silent for a while. He did not want to accept the queen’s gratitude for in his mind he had failed utterly and miserably. Making up his mind about what he was to speak, he asked, “Drottning, is it true that three elves have been captured by the empire?”

The queen looked at him strangely and replied, “Yes Shur’tugal, your sources have not lied to you.”

Eragon did not speak for sometime. He expected the queen to elaborate on the rescue plans she had made for the elves. But when he saw that the queen waited for him to speak, he asked, “Are the plans to rescue them ready? I would like to help in any way possible.”

The queen sighed tiredly. “Eragon-vodhr, it has been decided not to risk such a dangerous mission.”

“What? Do you mean to leave them to suffer?”, Eragon burst out harshly.

The queen did not show any sign of anger at his impoliteness. Rather, she spoke softly, “Understand, Eragon. Your rescue itself was a stroke of good fortune and Galbatorix would never allow anything of the sort to happen again for the next decade or more. We can only hope that our brethren find peace in the void soon.”

“No. I am not going to understand anything you say, your majesty. If you will not send someone then I shall go to their rescue.”, Eragon said hotly.

‘Eragon! Behave yourself. Remember that you are in the presence of the Queen.’, Saphira chastised him. But Eragon was not to be controlled.

He ignored Saphira’s warning and asked the queen, “Tell me finally, will you or will you not send someone to rescue those poor people?”

The queen looked at him sadly. “Eragon, do you think that I am a heartless and cruel monarch who does not care for the well-being of her people? No… I want to go to their rescue as badly as you want to, but reason tells me not to go and it is always better to listen to reason than to the heart.”

‘Let me apologise for what my rider has said, your majesty.’, Saphira said urgently hearing the queen speak such heavy words.

“There is nothing to apologise, Bjartskular. Eragon has all rights as Rajah Shur’tugal to question me on my rule. If you can, please try to calm him down.”, the queen replied. She sounded feeble.

Glaedr, who had been listening to all that was happening silently, spoke now, ‘Eragon, my dear and valiant hatchling, listen to me. The queen speaks the truth. Can’t you see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice that she has thought over this issue exhaustively? She is earnest, hatchling. Talk to her calmly. Anger will not take you anywhere. You don’t need any more lessons on this Eragon. You know quite well that anger is not the answer.’

Eragon dipped his head tiredly. He knew Glaedr was right. There was nothing he could achieve through anger. But he did not want to apologise for his behaviour. And he still wanted the three elves rescued. He wanted no one to ever suffer Galbatorix’s cruelty again. A tear-drop gathered in his eyes blurring his vision.

“Little one.”, Saphira cooed in his mind.

“Eragon”, the queen called – no it was his mother. The way the queen called his name was so similar to how he had imagined Selena to call him. “I know how you feel. I am mother to one who has faced such hardships.”, the queen said.

The queen’s voice was so tender and caring that he could not believe that he was in the presence of the terrible elven queen he had met nearly thirty months ago under the shades of Du Weldenvarden. She sounded more like Selena, the mother he never had and Marian, the mother who wasn’t his mother.

The tears began to stream down his cheeks now – uncontrollable and yet calming. He felt his anger flow away from him, with every drop of tear he shed.

“I cannot even imagine what horrors Galbatorix put you through, Eragon. It is a testimony of your strength that you still are sane and righteous.”, the queen said.

“I was angry when my daughter went to Uru’baen disregarding my advice to rescue you. I feared for her safety. But I did not understand her pain. Now I do. I see her in you, Eragon.", the queen said and stroked his hung down head.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to call the queen, mother, but he restrained himself. He knew that he was seeing the queen as she could be seen only by Arya. He thanked whatever good-will of his forefathers that had favoured him with a glimpse of his mother again. He raised his face and looked at the queen. She smiled at him caringly and he mouthed, “Mother”. She smiled again.

Eragon sighed heavily and said, “Forgive me, my wrath was unreasonable.”

“There is nothing to forgive.”, the queen replied calmly.

“Is there anything else you want to discuss with me, Shur’tugal?”, the queen asked. The formal tone was back in her voice. The moment of compassion and care had passed.

‘It is time to tell her, little one.’, Saphira said.

‘Yes, it is.’, Eragon agreed.

“Your majesty, I have something to tell about Arya Drottningu.”, he said proceeding cautiously. He knew this was a very sensitive issue.

“Is she alright?”, the queen asked a bit too nervously. Then she controlled herself and explained, “I never thought my daughter would forgo a battle and decide to remain in Du Weldenvarden.”

Saphira and even Glaedr chuckled openly at the queen's admission and Eragon had to use all his will-power to prevent himself from doing so. He was unwilling to showcase his closeness with the princes to the queen. It stemmed from his mixed feeling for Arya. Yes, he was a close friend of hers but he wanted to be more. He feared that the queen may catch wind of his intentions if he let his friendship with her daughter known.

‘We had to force her to stay.’, Saphira replied.

“And she listened?”, the queen asked flummoxed.

Saphira chuckled again. ‘No, queen of elves, Arya is not one to listen to others. But this time she had no choice.’

“What do you mean by ‘no choice’? My daughter defied me for seventy years just to be in the battle against Galbatorix. What has come over her now that stops her from riding to battle?”, the queen asked sounding every bit like a concerned mother.

‘She is now one among us, queen of the elves.’, Saphira said.

The queen remained silent for a time. She was considering Saphira’s statement – it seemed. But Eragon could not tell. Her face was devoid of any emotion. If someone walked into the room then, they would have thought that a man was scrutinising a statue of incredible workmanship.

Finally when Eragon was beginning to think that the queen would never reply at all, she stirred and asked uncertainly, “The egg hatched for her?”

Eragon thought Saphira would answer. But she didn't. He hesitated for a moment and then said confidently, “Yes, Drottning, it did.”

The queen nodded, a curt, bird-like motion of her head that reminded Eragon of the aloof acknowledgements Arya used to give right after her release from the clutches of Durza.

Eragon expected the queen to ask questions about Arya's dragon but she kept silent.

'Be patient, Eragon. I trust her sense to prevail. She respects the dragons and she will not oppose wyrda.', Saphira said. When the queen did not respond for what seemed like an interminable time, she added, 'I hope.'

Without any change in her demeanour and without even moving an inch, the queen asked, “When?” She was looking far away into the sky through an open window.

This was the hardest part. Eragon had to justify their decision to withhold the information from her. When he struggled to reply, Glaedr spoke, 'Drottning, you know more than anyone else, how difficult it is to trust anyone when it comes to Galbatorix. The lost crystals of Luthivíra and the burnt lilies of Éwayëna bear testimony for misplaced hopes and trust. We did not wish on your daughter or her companion the fate that befell Oromis's family.'

The queen listened without interrupting. But her visage remained unchanged. When Glaedr finished, she reiterated her question, “When?”

“Three months ago, Islanzadi Drottning”, Eragon replied.

“Three months.”, the queen repeated as if to herself. Then she inhaled sharply and asked, “Is she... content? Happy?”

'Yes. Very much so.', Saphira replied in a flash.

The queen nodded and sighed heavily. To Eragon's relief, the hardness was gone from her face. “Is the dragon male or female?”, she asked a little hesitantly.

“A male, Drottning. And he is called Vanendra.”, Eragon replied in a more excited and less polite voice. He couldn’t control the thrill he felt. Here he was, introducing the princess’s dragon to the queen; being a bridge between mother and daughter. It was a very personal experience and Eragon relished every moment of it. Besides, the mere thought of Indra brought huge excitement to his mind.

The queen smiled slightly. “I see that you are very fond of him.”

“Yes, Drottning. He is a marvellous creature.”

The queen huffed anxiously. “I am sure he is.”, she said. There was an unmistakable longing in her eyes.

“I can show him to you”

“I would appreciate that very much indeed.”, the queen said.

“May I?”, Eragon asked. The queen touched his mind with hers indicating her permission.

Eragon opened his mind to the queen and let an image of Indra standing alongside Arya under the menoa tree fill it. Islanzadi watched the image with her mind’s eye and for a brief moment, an emotion so akin to the warmth under a mother’s stare seeped through their connected minds to Eragon. But the next moment, the queen left his mind. The look on Islanzadi’s face said that she was impressed with Indra.

‘Who wouldn’t be?’, Saphira asked pride colouring her voice.

“I thank you, Eragon Shur’tugal, for bringing tidings of such joy as I have never had ever since Galbatorix came to power.”, Islanzadi said.

‘The pleasure is all ours, Drottning.’, Saphira replied for him.

“So tell me, how does their training go?”, Islanzadi asked.

“As well as it can under the circumstances, your majesty. We are not so experienced as to impart definitive knowledge to your daughter and her companion. We learn as much from them as we teach them. Of course, Glaedr ebrithil helps too.”, Eragon replied.

“Do not underestimate yourself, Eragon Shur’tugal. I have discussed with Oromis about your education many times and he always told me that you being the first rider of the new order was a very good thing. He said that you have learned in two years what a normal rider before the fall would have learned in a decade. Although I had my doubts back then, I am convinced now – having seen you return relatively unscathed from the clutches of Galbatorix – you are as competent as any teacher of the old order to train new dragon riders. You have my blessings to train my daughter in the ways of the dragon riders”, Islanzadi said.

“I am esteemed to know that you have such high hopes for me, Drottning. I will try to live up to them.”, Eragon replied bowing respectfully.

 “I take it that their bonding has gone well,?”

“Yes. They have become inseparable. Vanendra understands Arya like no one else can.”

The queen raised her eyebrows slightly at that. “My daughter has always been an enigma, even to me. If what you say is true and Vanendra has unravelled the mysteries that surround her in as little a time as three months then their bonding must be really strong.”, she said.

Eragon nodded feeling uneasy. Islanzadi had never been so open with him before and he doubted if she was ever this open with anyone but her daughter. A funny thought nagged his mind: the queen knew of his closeness with her daughter. He only wished that she thought of him as her daughter’s friend and nothing more. ‘Of course, you are nothing more.’, his brain reminded his heart.

They remained largely silent thereafter – Islanzadi asking specifics about Indra and Arya’s training and Eragon and Saphira answering them all dutifully. The elven queen seemed particularly interested in learning how Arya managed the politics of Ellesmera. Eragon replied that she kept away from it mostly letting Niduen administer the city.

“Wise choice, my daughter has made.”, Islanzadi remarked, and then almost as if to herself, added – in a mild under breath, “At least for her sake, I must remain alive.”

The queen did not take any measure to hide those words from Eragon but he felt that he was not meant to hear them. Still, he understood what the queen was referring to. It was a situation to which he had given much thought – what if Arya was forced to choose between the throne and her duties as a dragon rider. He hoped that things would not come to it in the near future.

“Please wait here for a minute, Shur’tugal.”, Islanzadi said and went away towards what seemed like a box containing the queen’s possessions.

‘That went well, did it not?’, Eragon asked Saphira.

‘Yes, little one. It did.’

‘What do you feel about the queen’s reaction, master?’, Eragon asked Glaedr who remained silent, as was his wont lately.

‘Islanzadi has taken the news well, Eragon. I can see that much. She has accepted her daughter’s wyrda. But it is to be seen if she is happy about it.’, the elder dragon said.

Eragon nodded his head.

‘She will be happy once she speaks with Indra. I am sure of it.’, Saphira said fondly.

Glaedr smiled at this and said, ‘I can see that he is an appealing young fellow. It is unfortunate that I have not spoken to him yet.’

‘Master, why don’t we introduce him to the eldunari?’

‘Patience, younglings. He has not flown with his rider yet. The knowledge about the eldunari is the last one we impart to dragons and their riders. In your case, Eragon and Spahira, we had to tell, lest you go into battle against Galbatorix without knowledge of the eldunari in his possession. At your speed, you would have needed at least another year’s training before we burdened you with that knowledge. We will not push Indra as much. In any case, Arya does know about eldunari.’, Glaedr said.

‘So, you will still remain dead to him.’

‘I have to.’, Glaedr said although a tinge of regret was laced with his voice.

By then, the queen came back holding a bundle of fine elven cloth. She undid the bundle to reveal a sword sheathed in a scabbard of extraordinary workmanship. The hilt of the sword was visible and Eragon knew from the look of it that he was seeing a unique sword.

A transparent brilliant-cut diamond decorated the pommel of the sword while the grip was made of a metal he had never encountered – it was grey-white in colour for one and was carved with intricate patterns; two vines growing around each other. The quillon was so delicate-looking that Eragon had difficulty believing that it was part of a weapon of destruction. A knuckle guard – designed to look like a swan’s head – made of the same metal used for the grip connected the quillon with the bottom of the pommel. The swan’s mouth held the pommel-diamond in place. The hilt as a whole looked like an exhibition of artistic skill of the highest order.

Islanzadi's attention too was held completely by the sword in her hand. She looked at it as if she was laying eyes on it for the first time. She unsheathed the sword from its scabbard and Eragon nearly gasped in surprise. The blade shone like the moon, reflecting the sun's rays that fell on it. If the hilt of the sword personified grace, the blade personified power. For that was what it was: pure power.

A straight symmetric blade, it was made out of a silvery metal, again unknown to Eragon. It was stout at the bottom and had a spear point for its tip. A thick spine ran through the centre of blade which tapered to sharp edges on either side. The edges themselves though were the most surprising element of the blade – they were made not out of the metal of the blade but by a sharpened green diamond. Try as he may, he could not deduce how the diamond blended into the metal. It looked so naturally like an extension of the metal itself. The tip of the blade too was made completely out of the green diamond. It was so sharp that Eragon thought it would sink into bones at mere contact without any effort to thrust in.

A golden stalk was engraved right at the bottom of the blade where it met with the quillon. A golden flower, that resembled the sun, grew from the stalk. The nine legendary precious stones, the Navaratna adorned each of the nine petals of the flower: Vairam, Manikkam, Maragadam, Neelam, Komedagam, Pavazham, Muthu, Vaidooriam and Pushparagam. Together they looked like the rays of a glorious sunrise. Indeed, the eye of the flower looked very much like the bright sun. At the very centre of the sun-like eye of the flower was inscribed the word – Shantiyastra.

“The Shantiyastra!!”, Eragon exclaimed forgetting the queen’s presence. “But I thought it was lost eons ago!”

“I see that you recognise the royal sword of the elves, Shur’tugal. The origins of Shantiyastra are now long buried in the pits of time. It was brought from across the sea by the first elves who stepped foot on this land and for all our history in Alagaesia, it has been the weapon of the ruler of the elven realm.”, Islanzadi announced proudly.

Indeed, Eragon had learnt marvellous things about the sword. The scrolls concerning the dragon wars of old had praised the weapon as the ultimate destroyer. It was said that the sword could cut through dragon scale as if through butter. That weapon had the distinction of slaying the greatest dragon-warrior of all time, Kshatriya. The story went thus: Kshatriya was fighting the elven king, Arjun ferociously. The king struck the great purple dragon’s chest with Shantiyastra, cutting of a huge chunk of flesh from the dragon. Kshatriya, whose claws are said to be able to penetrate even the best of the wards struck back in agony fatally injuring the king. Seeing the king fall, his daughter Tarmunora picked up Shantiyastra from her father’s hand and with a mighty swing, beheaded the dragon.

‘Grim blade’, Saphira commented.

‘A reminder of our past history.’, Eragon corrected.

“It was not lost Eragon. How could it be? It is the proudest possession of the royal family and the symbol of the ruler’s authority.”, Islanzadi said. “The last person to wield this sword was King Evandar and he was only the second wielder in the long history of this sword to fall with Shantiyastra in hand.”

Eragon nodded. Morzan.

“My daughter may be a dragon rider now, but she will always remain a part of the elven royalty and as a token of my love, I present her Shantiyastra. When she wields it, she has equal authority to me – the ruler – of the elves. And in her hand, this sword shall find new purpose.” So saying Islanzadi sheathed the sword. And then she continued, “I want you to bring this gift to my daughter, Shur’tugal. Will you?”

Eragon stood still for a second. The enormity of the moment got to his head and he felt so puffed. Islanzadi was trusting him with what she had called ‘the proudest possession of the elven monarchy’. Then he bowed low and replied, “It would be an honour to deliver this kingly gift to Arya Dröttningu, your majesty.”

The queen remade the bundle and handed it to Eragon, who took it from her reverently. Once she had handed him the sword, the queen remained silent and it looked like she was in deep thought. Eragon waited patiently for a while but then began to think that Islanzadi had completely forgotten his presence in the room.

“I will take my leave, Islanzadi Drottning.”, Eragon said.

“Wait, Eragon-vodhr! I have a request to ask of you.”, Islanzadi said raising from her seat.

“Command me, your majesty.”

“I… I have a message for my daughter and I want you to carry it alongside Shantiyastra.”, Islanzadi said and added hastily, “Only if you will.”

“I am more than willing.”

And so Islanzadi gave her message to her daughter. When Eragon left the room and went back to Saphira, he was the gladdest messenger to have ever walked the earth.

‘And I will be the gladdest carrier of the messenger to have ever flown the earth.’, Saphira said. ‘I wonder how many messengers flew to deliver their messages. You are one of a kind Eragon and that is entirely because of me.’

‘Yes my dearest dragon, I am me because of you.’, Eragon said fondly.

Author’s Note:

Oh, finally. Ten days of distractions and I am finally done with the chapter.

If you felt Islanzadi was out of character in this chapter, please hear my reasons for writing her this way:

• Eragon was mentally broken and Islanzadi could see it. She had always wanted to comfort her daughter when Arya faced such dilemmas but had not been able to because of their seventy year divide. So she saw in Eragon her daughter and comforted him as a mother would.
• Second, after being said that her daughter was now a dragon rider, she was so shocked that she didn’t even try to hide her emotion.

Hope this explains Islanzadi in this chapter for you. If you are not convinced, I am sorry, I will try to improve.

Oh yes, many of you may be wodering what the Navaratna is all about. Here is something you may understand:

Vairam - Diamond

Manikkam - Ruby 

Maragadam - Emerald 

Neelam - Sapphire

Komedagam - Garnet

Pavazham - Coral

Muthu - Pearl 

Vaidooriam - Chrysoberyl / Cat's eye

Pushparagam - yellow sapphire

These are the nine precious stones of the Indian culture (Tamil Names) that are thought to bring good luck and harmony when they are pure and full.

And then Shantiyastra is Sanskrit for “Weapon of Peace”.

And of course, Rajah in Sanskrit means "leader"