It was a warm and sunny late spring morning, nearly two years after the return of wild dragons. Most of them had grown to be majestic and powerful dragons. They weren’t all powerful though: some were meek and yet they were wise. Some were just plain relaxed even when slurs were thrown at them. Not everyone of them had the temper of Saphira or the eagerness of Indra. This served to remind Eragon of how dragons were an entire species that was decimated in the war - every dragon - the meeker ones, the scholarly ones and the brave ones had been culled by the cruel King. But they were now back and would soon populate every nook and corner of Alagaesia as equals of the other four species.
This morning was particularly crisp and when Saphira returned from her hunting trip with the younglings, Eragon decided that he would take to the skies with her. Even though she wasn’t wild by any means, Saphira was a legend to the wild dragons. They worshipped her as their mother who protected the race when it was all but decimated. ‘Extinction-Thwarter’ is what they called her. She too was fond of them. Indra and she would take turns teaching the dragons all they knew of dragonlore. Luckily for them, Ellesmera’s libraries were filled with books written by dragons - both wild and rider-bound - that narrated the history and culture of the species. Having been fast tracked into riderdom even Eragon had not read them earlier and it was such a pleasure learning from long gone dragons and being teachers to the future of dragon-kind.
‘Can you come upstairs, Eragon?’ Arya called through their now almost always open mental link. Jerked out of his random train of thoughts by the call from his beloved, Eragon sighed contentedly and started the climb into their tree-home. Arya had felt a little uncomfortable while waking up and had requested to be left alone. With Indra and Saphira off on their hunting trip, Eragon had ended up reminiscing the events of the past two eventful years.
As he took the stairs, sunlight streamed in through windows providing warmth and comfort. The cool breeze that blew in simultaneously brought thoughts of cuddling in the bed with Arya in such glorious weather. ‘Nay, the bed can wait. I will take her and Indra along for our flight,’ he decided, changing his thoughts in an instant. This weather was best enjoyed basking in it rather than being spectators to it by being in their tree.
When he reached the top, he found that Arya was admiring the weather too, through the open canopy roofing of their home. He followed her gaze and found leaves forming shadows now and being blown away by the wind to reveal the bright sunlight then to create a sort of natural magic show. Beaming at the pleasant setting, he asked, “How are you feeling, Arya?”
To his surprise, Arya’s face flushed on hearing him and she developed a sudden liking to the floor. It all looked like a new bride in the presence of the groom on the night of their wedding. Never had he seen Arya so… red. But beyond all that, there was a radiance in her face that was unmistakable. To him, she seemed like the human’s ‘Goddess of romance’ herself at that moment.
“What is it?” he asked again, not able to take the suspense anymore. If Arya were affected so, it must be all too important. A mild emotion that could only be described as a mixture of gratitude and exhilaration seeped through their mental link into Eragon’s mind.
Arya drew her breath in and beckoned Eragon closer. When he reached her bed, she took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently. Eragon moved a bit closer and hugged her so that her face rested on his chest. “Arya,” he started to ask again.
“Eragon”, she replied, keeping her face buried in his chest and remained quiet for a few seconds. Then she lifted her face ever so slightly so that her chin now rested on his chest. “We are going to be parents,” she whispered, making eye contact. Her eyes conveyed how excited she was inside.
Eragon took a second to process her words: they were going to be parents. Arya, his Arya, was pregnant. He bent down and kissed her forehead, even as tears of joy escaped his eyes. They remained embedded in each other’s embrace with no other word being said for another few minutes. By then, the news had travelled to Saphira and Indra through their mental links. Their roaring celebration was proof.
Within minutes, their dragons were back. Saphira and Indra craned their long necks into the room. Arya jumped and ran to Saphira while Eragon did the same to Indra.
‘I will be the one to carry the little one first!’ Saphira declared with almost childish seriousness.
‘Let the little one decide that,’ Indra stung back.
‘Well, my dear partners-of-heart-and-soul, for your kind information - Arya is already carrying the little one. So both of you can’t win,’ Eragon chimed in.
Arya smiled her newfound innocent smile, shaking her head at having to manage a fourth child within ten months.
‘Let’s take a ride out in the sun to celebrate!,’ Eragon exclaimed. Just as he said it and the dragons withdrew their heads to prepare for flight, a sudden fog descended, blocking the sun out entirely. If not for their knowledge that it was midday, they could very well have mistaken it to be the middle of the night. It came out of nowhere and it had no place to be there in summer.
Eragon frowned. So did Arya. Saphira and Vanendra shook their heads as if they could shake the fog off out of existence. They would not have been so alarmed if the darkness weren’t so sudden and so oppressive. It felt as if Galbatorix himself had returned to haunt them in gaseous form. Coming so quickly after their realisation that a special member of their family was soon to arrive, it only made their agitation pronounced.
Gaining a little sense back, Eragon started to dash downstairs. “Stay, here!,” he called out as he left. Arya was too bewildered to comprehend what was said. She massaged her belly softly as if to comfort her fetus and fell back onto the bed.
Eragon ran into Ellesmera towards the Tialdari hall, his eyes adjusting to the dark like a feline creature’s. Saphira and Indra stayed back at their residence to be of assistance to Arya. The elven princess had lost her senses a moment longer than Eragon had. The shock of danger to a child was always harder on the mother than it was on the father. She had to gather all her will power to even stand upright again. Indra cooed in her mind, trying to soothe her frayed nerves. It didn’t help that thoughts of what had come to pass the last time she was pregnant with Eragon’s child came back to haunt her. It was five thousand years ago, but the scene still played out in her head like it was yesterday: Kuthian asking them to sacrifice their lives for an unknown future and them obliging without even giving a chance for their child to see the world they had built.
‘Not this time,’ resolved the slayer of shades, twisted riders and the mad king. She won’t let her child be hurt again. She would bring it to a bold new world - not one riled in misery. She sucked her breath in and climbed down a level to the tiny armoury of their home. There, in its golden sheath, lay Shantiyastra that had only been used sparingly in the last few years. Its blade was permanently imbued with blunting spells as it was only used during their sparring sessions. Arya unsheathed the sword and muttered the spell to remove the blunting of the blade. She, somehow, felt that the sword that defeated Galbatorix would be needed again to safeguard her child. Then she climbed back up the stairs into her bedroom, sword in hand - the invisible enemy permeating every corner of her home.
Through the winding and narrow streets of the elven capital, Eragon ran until he came upon the broadest road in town that housed the Tialdari hall. Elves had gathered around the tree palace that was the ancestral home of the Elven royal family. Queen Islanzadi was outside too, looking as baffled as any other elf around. She was deep in conversation with elderly elves, no doubt trying to make sense of the gloomy setting into which they had been plunged. When she saw him approach, she straightened a bit as if beckoning him forward.
The traditional three part elven greeting was exchanged quickly between them with Eragon going first as was customary. “Eragon-Vor, welcome to Tialdari,” the queen said disregarding his unkempt appearance.
“My Queen, ” bowed Eragon and without wasting time in niceties went straight to the point like his human instincts told him to, “Any explanation to this maddening fog?” Over the years, the queen had gotten used to his often blunt manners. It did help that she considered him family.
“Not anything that is helpful yet,” Islanzadi responded in typical elven fashion. If she was worried, it wasn’t apparent in her voice or expression.
Eragon nodded. He had suspected as much. Not in the years of poring over manuscripts in the great libraries of dwarves, elves and even in the vast collection of dragon rider scrolls recovered from the now-renamed Uru’baen had he come across any mention of such a happening. This, indeed, was an entirely new menace.
With an immediate solution not in sight, Eragon withdrew from the congregation of elves into Arya’s quarters in the royal residence and scried his cousin to check how he was faring. The fog had set in on Bullridge as well. Roran gave an account of the terrified and confused populace. Vijayanagaram, the remade Uru’baen that was the seat of the advisory council was not spared either. Nasuada had already called for a meeting of the council and the rulers of the various kingdoms to discuss the ramifications. Weldhana, as the hand of the council, had started preparations for the meeting. In fact, the fog had set in all across Alagaesia, not sparing even the remote Palancar Valley or the Dwarven realm.
In Tialdari Hall’s discussion chamber, hours went by without much progress. No one knew when nightfall arrived. The fog, if it was possible, became even more foreboding as time passed. It felt to Eragon that he had discussed with every scholarly elf in Ellesmera about the various causes for this occurrence. No one could come up with an explanation that gelled. All the while, in a corner of his mind, Eragon was still thinking about his child. It now terrified him to think that his child would be born into this world of darkness. He wanted Brisingr by his side, now more than ever he had wanted in the past two decades.
With the night growing old and seeing as there was not much use staying in Tialdari hall, Eragon bid Islanzadi farewell and went back to his home. He had returned without informing the personal good news to the Queen as Arya didn’t want Islanzadi to be informed of her pregnancy under these circumstances.
‘This is a matter to celebrate, Eragon. Not worry over. We will get over this and then we can let her know,’ she said. There was a measure of finality to her words and so Eragon left it to her judgement.
Once he was back, Eragon and Arya sat on their bed, leaning on each other. The ever calm and collected princess of the elves was anxious; Eragon could feel it through their ever present mental link and from her occasional heaves of sigh. Eragon squeezed her shoulders to show he was there for her. He would have reassured her further if only his mind were any clearer.
Their links with Saphira and Indra further addled their minds. Dragons, being free spirits, were the most affected beings due to the oppressive fog. ‘This is killing me!,’ Indra exclaimed every once in a while. Saphira thrashed her tail around as if she were caged. But they weren’t the worst off dragons by a long shot. The wild dragons that lived around the city screamed out in agony and set trees on fire unable to make sense of the gloom that had suddenly engulfed their home. Young as they were, it was not an easy task calming them down. Indra and Saphira, even in their clouded state of mind, had to gather all their will-power to try and soothe the dragons.
Only a day of this madness had passed when Murtagh came calling on the scrying mirror. “Eragon, there’s something sinister happening with the Eldunari!,” Eragon’s half-brother exclaimed. “They strum with a peculiar energy. And glow ever so brighter.”
“Isn’t that good, Murtagh?,” Arya asked before Eragon could respond. It did sound like a positive news. They had, afterall, been trying to wake the Eldunari up for decades now.
“No, Arya. I know this kind of energy. Believe me when I say this: it isn’t the sort you would want to bow to,” Murtagh said, a shadow of terror running over his features. He was probably reminded of his tutelage under Galbatorix and Morzan, two of the most twisted minds in history. “Besides, Thorn says that his instincts want to revolt against this new energy. That can never be a good thing: a dragon being affected negatively by instinct.”
Even as they were engrossed in deciding what course of action to follow about the Eldunari, someone barked from the door, “Spooked!”
Angela, the herbalist had returned to Ellesmera from one of her long journeys into the depths of the Spine. “You should do something about this boy!”
Eragon didn’t care to ask her how she bypassed the security at the entrance to their home. He wasn’t ready to hear how non-existent toads could open even the doors to heaven and hell. In hindsight, he had set the security to simply be “friends-only” and Angela, for all her quirkiness, was a friend indeed. “Only non-nosy friends” should be the security pass from here on, Eragon made a mental note.
‘Little one, this is getting hopeless!,’ Saphira was in his head. She and Indra were off on another trip to persuade the young wild dragons to ride the storm out. That snapped Eragon back to the real concern facing them.
“What can I do? I know not what is wrong with either the Eldunari or where this twice blasted fog came from,” lamented Eragon.
“Don’t you remember our little talk all those years ago?” Solembum, Angela’s on-and-off companion had snuck in as well.
“But…,” Eragon stammered, “I have had the help from Menoa and Kuthian already.” Even as he said it, he remembered how Kuthian had talked of not revealing every secret he held. A cold hand grabbed his heart at the thought that their current predicament and the unrevealed secret were related.
“Pray tell, what riddles you are making here!” said a baffled Arya who had remained on the sidelines, trying to make sense of the cryptic exchange.
“You, my dear, you are the riddle and you are the solution,” Solembum said rather gloomily even if his words were goofy.
“Sorry, but what has all this got to do with me?” Arya was tired of holding the weight of Alagaesia’s future on her head all the while.
“Oh, everything!” Solembum purred.
“Stop this!” Eragon exclaimed, “Stop this now. Can’t you see… she’s… she’s… troubled?”
“Oh, we’ll be going our way in a moment, Shadeslayer. But you have a final choice to make.” Angela quipped and walked away without responding to Eragon and Arya’s quixotic look.
Solembum, meanwhile, walked up to Arya and purred “It’s your choice as much as it is his.” before walking away.
Arya shuddered on hearing those words. There was something deeply tragic in the way Solembum put them that affected her so. Eragon and Arya made eye contact for a second and an unsaid word passed between them. In the next second, all confusion was drained from their faces only to be replaced by resolve.
“What was that about?” Murtagh who had become a mute spectator to all this asked.
“Keep an eye on the Eldunari, Murtagh, will you?” Arya asked. Murtagh knew enough not to ask further questions. He nodded. There was this understanding between the three of them - one that was left over from their previous lives as the elf Eragon, human Arya and dragon Bid’daum. They could make out what the other’s intentions were by instinct. Here, Arya was asking Murtagh to safeguard the Eldunari: stop them from causing hurt and stop them from being hurt. Murtagh understood that without a word being spoken to that effect.
‘So, we are going to him again?’ It was Indra who gave words to the unspoken thought in their minds. After the war, the elder dragon, Kuthian had commanded them not to meet with him till there comes a time that they will be forced to. ‘You are not to reveal my presence to anyone. Neither should you ever visit me again unless you feel in your hearts that darkness is returning to the land,’ he had ordered. That instruction had kept them away from their old home all this time.
Even in this time of hardship, it thrilled to think that they were going back to the stone house they had built millenia ago. Their hearts beat faster than it had in ages. They informed Islanzadi of their intentions to find a solution to this problem and left for the Spine disregarding the queen’s counsel to take her spellcasters along. Kuthian wouldn’t take it kindly to bringing others along. He had wanted his existence to be a secret afterall.
It took them two days to make preparations for the journey. It was on the insistence of queen Islanzadi that they waited patiently when her spellcasters put up wards around the four of them. The queen wouldn’t hear any of their explanations about how powerful they were. Eragon thought it was then good that the queen didn’t know of their child. If she knew, she wouldn’t even let them go.
The true magnitude of the malice that the fog had brought upon Alagaesia was only evident when they left the confines of the elven forest. Du Weldenvarden was shielded from the wrath of Galbatorix’s mishandling of resources.
The lands populated by humans, however, were only just beginning to mend - two decades after the death of the tyrant. Alagaesia seemed to have relapsed. The slavers who had been put behind bars had somehow broken free and were plotting a return of their trade, the robbers had returned to their art and the government that they had established and cultivated over two decades was struggling to cope. People were terrified and rioting had occurred in restive packets of the country. They flew past all this madness trusting in Roran’s capability to control the situation before it got out of hand. In fact, they flew non-stop towards the corner of Alagaesia that they called home millenia ago.
‘My children,’ Kuthian’s ancient presence filled their beings as they neared his resting place. ‘I am sorry it came to this so early.’ He was agony personified and without their knowing, all four of them shed tears.
‘What do you mean, great one?’ Saphira asked the rainbow coloured dragon, almost choking in the process. Kuthian’s presence was all-encompassing that his miserable state of mind took over whatever semblance of hope they had remaining.
‘How would I… how can I in… in my conscience tell you that?’ A dragon of Kuthian’s age who had seen the elves and humans arrive and colonise the land, lived through Du Fyrn Skulblaka and through the Fall and what followed, losing composure like that terrorised the four of them, connected as they were as one mind. They waited now, not having the courage to ask Kuthian again.
The elder dragon took his time. Countless minutes of bitter, grievous and pitiful emotions flowed from his conscience and filled the place. It felt as if they were fighting a bloody battle standing on piles of corpses that had only just been felled an hour ago - sans the adrenaline induced energy that came in such situations.
Ages passed this way, before Kuthian gathered enough sense to talk. And when he spoke he was blunt: ‘Nature - the mother of magic, that gave you the unparalleled powers in return for your sacrifice wants it back. Only then can the land be returned to its former glory’
Without batting their eyes even once, Eragon and Arya answered in unison, “Let her have it.”
Kuthian gasped as if in pain. ‘This, my children! This is why it is so painful. You are just too pure of heart to ignore as just another pair of lives. Any other person who had access to such power, however virtuous and incorruptible they were, would have hesitated for a moment before they let it go. But not you my children. Not you!’ He said, an undercurrent of rage rising with every syllable he uttered. ‘Alas, she wants not the powers that were given. But the sacrifice that was given,’ he finished with a whimper.
Arya instinctively held her belly. Eragon glared at the dragon. “How dare you? How could you?”
Kuthian ignored Eragon’s outburst and the flames from Saphira and Indra’s maws that singed the ground beneath his Eldunari. He continued, almost mechanically, ‘You can’t bring your child into this land if it is to be restored. The Eldunari that you are protecting in Mount Marna would drive themselves and every living creature on Alagaesia insane. This land will never see the sun again and it will become a barren wasteland. If only you sacrifice your child and promise never to be together again, to sacrifice your happiness, this can all be reversed.’
“And this was the secret you kept from us?” Arya asked, deathly cold. There was no emotion in her voice. “You led us to this moment… like puppets who believed they controlled their own lives only for you to pull the strings the other way in the last second?” She sounded… dead.
Eragon could not find words. He slumped back and fell against Saphira’s caring beak. She wrapped him, like a mother would their child, in her wings. Tears streamed from his face. What choice did he have? Was it his happiness that mattered or that of every creature in Alagaesia? He sobbed almost like a child. He had Brisingr by his side but how could he fight this faceless malice with a sword?
‘You… you did this!,’ Saphira raged against Kuthian, feeling Eragon’s despair. ‘You tricked us into this corner. How can you live with that, you old git?’
Indra, who was shell shocked to even utter a single syllable till then had a spark light up in his mind hearing Saphira. ‘Trick! We will trick this all-powerful, self-righteous being that thinks it has destroyed us.’
Through their connected, confused and raging minds, the other three of them gleaned the plan forming in Indra’s brain. The condition to revive Alagaesia was “to not bring the child into this land”. What if they don’t bring the child into Alagaesia but elsewhere? What if they make a final sacrifice for the land of Alagaesia? What if they sacrificed their life in Alagaesia? Left Alagaesia, for good?
It was a compromise worth investing in considering the alternative. But then what would they be if not for friends and family earned in Alagaesia? Would they be able to live on knowing full well that for their friends they were as good as dead? That they would never again lay eyes upon their dearest friends? That they wouldn’t be people of Alagaesia anymore? But whatever they might face, they weren’t ready to sacrifice their child yet again. They had dared to do it once but weren’t ready to repeat that folly. They would gladly die if that meant their child survived. If leaving were an option, they would take it, whatever hurt it causes them.
Hurriedly, they ran Kuthian through their idea. He paused from his lamentations and considered their plan. He said he would consult with “nature” to see if choosing the “lesser-evil” would please her. So saying, he withdrew from their minds. Of all the things the elder dragon could do, communicating with nature was the wildest. Neither the riders nor their dragons could comprehend how he did it. He could somehow glean the messages coded in the rhythms of the land - nature’s wishes. He remained so for a long while. Days and nights passed without him making a noise. He seemed to have buried himself into the greater conscience of “nature”.
The four partners-of-mind-and-body waited with clenched jaws, bated breath and soft caresses over Arya’s tummy where they could feel the fetus develop a heartbeat.
When they had lost all hope that Kuthian was ever returning, he spoke, ‘You would rather sacrifice your friends and family in this land forever to be together with one another?’
Eragon swallowed hard. In the haste to save their child and all life on Alagaesia, they had agreed to leave Alagaesia. But the true weight of their decision was captured succinctly in one word by Kuthian: “forever”. Forever meant he would never set eyes upon Roran again. Forever meant he would be dead in the eyes of Murtagh. Forever… forever, meant the end of life as he knew it.
Arya remained silent too. She had already deserted her parents in her previous life to be with Eragon. At least, they were humans with a limited life span. Islanzadi would have to spend the remaining part of her possibly everlasting life away from her only child. Would she bring that upon her mother? Would she be so cruel?
‘We would.’ It was Saphira who spoke for them. ‘It will burn us from the inside. Leaving this land that gave birth to us; leaving the people who care for us - it will burn a hole in our conscience and would devastate them. But we would. For the sake of this gift of love,’ said she pointing to Arya’s yet to be born child, ‘and for the sake of everyone in Alagaesia. We would leave Alagaesia. For Alagaesia.’
Kuthian hummed. It was deep and reverberated in their minds for a lot longer than it should have. It was the sound of fate being sealed. ‘So be it,’ he said then. Melancholy oozed from the collective thoughts of the five sentient beings populating the ancient forest. The deal was cut. There was an end in sight. But they weren’t relieved. Each one of them wanted to revolt against the injustice meted out to them. But they knew not how. The four youngsters had made the choice, as Angela and Solembum put it, to go with the lesser of the two evils that were presented to them.
Their heavy hearts didn’t permit them to even bask in the environs of their old home. For two decades they had wanted to visit this place in order to find a measure of closure they didn’t have in their previous life and now that they had visited, they were left in search of closure in this life. Hand in hand, Eragon and Arya roamed the now nondescript ruin, lamenting all they had lost and were going to lose due to their sense of responsibility to the land of Alagaesia. Finding peace in such a derelict place seemed impossible in their current state of mind. The ruins looked like a physical projection of their mental state - once magnificent and now diminished.
Kuthian had recovered enough in an hour to force Saphira and Indra to take some lessons in dragon-lore. The rainbow-coloured dragon who was trapped in Eldunari state wouldn’t listen to the protests of the young dragons. ‘I understand that all you now want to do is comfort your partners-of-mind-and-soul. Trust me, you will have years upon years to heal their broken hearts. My heart-of-hearts however… I don’t have that luxury,’ he said. He imparted them with the important pieces of information in dragon history that they had missed due to the limited tutelage they had had.
It took Kuthian a whole day of non-stop teaching - in dragon language: that of smell, sounds and sight rather than words to finish what he wanted to teach Saphira and Vanendra. By then, Eragon and Arya had curled themselves up into balls like foetuses in a mother’s womb and lay on the swampy ruins of their old bedroom, facing each other. Their muddy appearance reflected their desolation. Neither Saphira nor Vanendra dared to speak a word to their riders for fear of breaking the dam that held the deluge of tears at bay.
Not a single syllable was uttered amongst them as the rider-dragon pairs bowed to the elder dragon to take leave. Kuthian blessed them with a long life. It felt more like a curse to them now than a blessing. As they turned to leave, Kuthian called out: ‘Before you go, smash my worthless heart-of-hearts, will you children?’
“What?!” All four of them exclaimed in unison, their first words in hours.
‘I can’t live with this load of grief anymore. Nature works in mysterious ways - ways that we, the living beings, can’t make sense of. There is a time when we just stop trying. For me, it is now.’
The riders couldn’t believe what they were asked to do: murder a dragon and not just any dragon - possibly the oldest living creature in all of Alagaesia. The ancient dragon wouldn’t listen to any of their pleas to reconsider. As far as Kuthian was concerned, it was euthanasia. ‘Remember, I can only be released into nature with a strike from both Brisingr and Shantiyastra together.’ Those were his last words to them. They had to comply, burying their consciences deep. Free will and freedom were just words with no meaning. Nature forced everyone to be who it wanted to be. Kuthian - a broken soul and the other four sullen husks with nary a trace of happiness.
The ensuing weeks were an exercise in misery. Roran wouldn’t even look Eragon in the eye ever since he mentioned his deal with nature. Weldhana fell on her knees and begged him to stay. Orik rallied his armies to march on this cruel “nature”. Only Katrina and Nasuada understood their decision: their maternal instincts told them how precious a child was. If the choice was between sacrificing the child and them not seeing Eragon and his immediate family forever, they chose the latter. It was hardest to convince Queen Islanzadi. She wanted to at least be allowed to see her grandchild before the child was taken away. But the instructions from Kuthian before his demise were clear: the child can’t be born in Alagaesia. That risked extermination of all life.
Only Murtagh stood by their decision. He could understand the sacrifice that they were making - having been a part of the previous ultimate sacrifice. As Bid’daum, Eragon’s half-brother had already lived through one sacrifice and was ever understanding of another.
It was during these dark times that Nasuada informed them of her pregnancy. They were happy for Murtagh and the leader of the advisory council - they had suffered enough and were now going to enjoy domestic bliss.
Saphira and Indra took Thorn into confidence during their final days in Alagaesia and taught him all that Glaedr and Kuthian had imparted to them. The newly populated wild dragons needed perspective and it could only be given by the knowledge that the dragon race had collected over millennia of life in Alagaesia. Who better to teach them that than Thorn, the only dragon from the bygone era who would live on in Alagaesia?
Their journey out of the land that had cradled them happened on the midsummer’s day. The sun was still blocked by the fog and the Eldunari in Mount Marna had started affecting people in the vicinity already. The eve of midsummer’s day that was the human equivalent of the elven Agaeti Blodhren was converted to a dreaded nightmare due to the threats imposed by ‘mother-nature’, as Saphira and Indra had taken to calling the formless and all-powerful entity that was forcing them out of their homeland.
Eragon’s personal guard headed by Blodhgarm whom he had reassigned to support Murtagh and Rhunon in the protection of the Eldunari were relieved by Islanzadi from that duty to help them resettle in the unknown lands. The devoted elves voluntarily agreed to the arrangement.
Their final journey in Alagaesia was discreet. These were dark times and people had their own affairs to tend to. Farewelling their heroes of old was not on top of anyone’s agenda except for the friends and family of the said heroes. That and the fact that no one was made aware of their plans except for their closest friends together made the last day of their sojourn in Alagaesia a solemn affair. The people of Carvahall were there - Horst, Elain, Albriech, Baldor, Gertrude and the others. Orik had come with his son, Vaman. Roran and Katrina were accompanied by Weldhana. Murtagh and the pregnant Nasuada made the trip to send them off as well.
Rakshana, the ruler of Silthrim and her father Lord Dathedr, the commander of the elven army were the only elves apart from queen Islanzadi to be present. Even two decades after returning to Ellesmera, Arya had not opened up enough to collect new friends. Rakshana and Arya had been under the tutelage of Master Oromis together and they had been close friends for years. It was only when Arya took up the Yawe and Lord Dathedr, being a dutiful second-in-command of the elves, forbid Rakshana from being friends with Arya did their proximity fade away. The twenty year peace had rekindled their friendship to a great level.
An elven ship with grey sails waited for them on Az Ragini. Their plan was to get to the secluded valley where the wild dragon eggs had been found. Eragon, Arya, Saphira and Indra bid farewell to their friends for the last time.
“Why do you have to go where I can’t follow, brother?” Roran asked, his first words to him in a week. Eragon pulled the king of humans in a bear hug. He couldn’t find words to respond.
“Won’t this work where you go?” Katrina asked standing beside Roran pointing to the ring Eragon had presented her and Roran with.
“It should,” Eragon replied. “But what would it serve? I can’t reach you even if you call.” Desperation was laced in every word.
“You will, Eragon. In here.” Katrina said, touching her heart. Eragon smiled. Only Aunt Marian had been capable of evoking such a reaction from him before.
Murtagh kissed Eragon on his forehead and said, “This isn’t a farewell, brother. We will meet again. Millenia could pass, but we will be together again.” Eragon nodded, tears welling up. A knot formed in his throat. The brothers placed each other’s hands on the other’s shoulder, rueing their lost life together. How joyous would it have been had all three brothers - Eragon, Roran and Murtagh - grown up together?
Nasuada smiled at him. “My lady,” Eragon bowed as he faced her. “Oh, shut up Eragon!” the leader of the council of advisors shushed him and following her husband’s lead kissed Eragon on his forehead.
Katrina and Arya bid a warm farewell to each other. They had this mutual admiration for each other having been able to live with men who wanted to destroy themselves at every turn. Weldhana, who had grown closer to Arya as a student, finally let go of calling her “Master” and instead addressed her “Auntie Arya”. Arya hugged her ward warmly.
Saphira touched Roran’s forehead with her snout while the Stronghammer hugged her face. “Look after my silly brother for me, Saphira,” the king muttered.
Weldhana, who had grown up playing on the backs of Saphira and Indra, requested a final flight with them. It was a dangerous game the three of them played - Saphira and Indra flying in line one behind the other, Weldhana seated on top of the dragon flying in the front and jumping towards the ground without any sort of warning. The dragon flying behind, would dive at an angle suited to “catch” Weldhana mid-fall. The trust that Roran and Katrina kept in the dragons had led to this becoming a routine “game” amongst the three of them. As the three of them performed the acrobatics for all to see, there were expressions of awe from the small crowd below.
The sight that tugged at everyone’s heart was the embrace shared by Arya and Islanzadi. The usually stoic elven royals teared up and remained embedded in others embrace for a long while. Not a word was said amongst them but mother and daughter were reminiscing on the cruelty of fate. They had been separated for seven decades during the resistance and war against Galbatorix. They had finally buried the past behind them and had been together for two decades - a flicker in the lives of elves - only for fate to rip them apart again.
The company of the dozen elven spellcasters and the dragon-riders boarded the ship, even as their minds only wanted to run back to the souls that had come to bid them farewell. Their dragons, who were their only solace soared above the ship. As the ship set sail and the people on the shores were only slender sticks even to their elven vision, the riders saw one of the figures run forward and wail. They knew not who it was but all they wanted was to respond back with the same emotion. The dragons soaring above weren’t inhibited in displaying their emotion and they roared, their pain of separation echoing across the land. Thus passed the greatest heroes of Alagaesia into the dusk, never to set foot on the country that was to be their legacy.
Author’s Note:
That's the end of this tale. The dreaded journey out of Alagaesia has come to pass forcing the riders and their dragons to make yet another momentous sacrifice. But then are they sacrificing for naught? Nah, they are soon going to welcome a new-born who would be the testimony to the love that outlasted empires. Ciao, folks! There is a epilogue to show what happened to the insanity-causing eldunari and the killing fog and also the society of Alagaesia at large. Another little piece of information about the whereabouts of our favourite dragons and riders will be in there too.
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