For Alagaesia: 85. A rock in the Spine

Having reached near the Varden’s main encampment, the two dragons and their riders had resolved to check out what it was that they were given by Nasuada and Murtagh. Eragon was been put-off hearing Nasuada’s explanation (which Arya repeated) that it was just an empty bit of parchment but seemed to have a history of its own as it had belonged to Vrael from whose remains on Ristvak'baen, Galbatorix had retrieved it but recently.

Arya unfurled the parchment, the other three peering at it from beside her. To be sure it was empty. But it was ancient. By the looks of it, it must be older, much older than the hundred years since Galbatorix came to power. It could merely be because it lay in Utgard without any preservative measure for a hundred years.

Arya further explained that both Murtagh and Nasuada had tried to speak their true names to it - remembering Eragon’s tale of the vault of souls - but to no avail.

‘Maybe we should try our true names.’ Saphira suggested.

“When Galbatorix controls the entire ancient language?” Arya asked skeptically.

‘What?’ Eragon cried, a cold wave running through his spine.

“Nasuada tipped me off just before Galbatorix noticed us. That is how he stripped our ability to cast spells.” Arya explained.

“What will become of this rebellion?” Eragon asked with rising alarmed.

“If this parchment turns out to be nothing, it will crushed like every single rebellion after he came to power were crushed.” Arya gave a cold answer in an even colder voice.

‘We must speak our true names to it.’ Saphira insisted. ‘Although I and Vanendra are not aware of ours.’

“This is hopeless!” Eragon bemoaned, “If Murtagh’s name did nothing to it what will my name do?”

Arya stared at him with the same cold expression that had come over her when she explained what would happen to their hopeless rebellion. Then she rose from her kneeling position, folded the parchment and walked around the place like she was scouting for something. Eragon could not ask what she was doing. And neither did Saphira or Indra. The three of them remained mute spectators to whatever Arya was doing.

A few minutes later, Arya came back to them and unfolded the parchment again. Eragon eyed her like she was mad. She simply ignored him. Then staring right into the parchment, she whispered a series of ancient language words.

It took Eragon a few seconds to understand what was happening. Arya was reciting her true name to the parchment. Alarmed that she would be so careless as to let him hear her true name, he slapped his hands over his ears trying to drown out Arya’s whispering voice.

Nevertheless, he heard a large part of what was said and he knew he could hazard a few guesses and arrive at Arya’s name in a matter of days. In her name, he deduced her dedication to her people, her trust in friends - few as they were and most dearly her feelings for him which were warm and caring. Was it not carelessness on her part? Was it something else? Was it trust in him and Saphira that led her to recite her true name in their presence?

But he did not have time to think of such things for Arya’s eyes widened - as if she had discovered the secrets of the parchment - when she finished. Eragon expected her to explain what she saw but she simply handed the parchment over to him. To his eyes, it was still an empty piece of parchment.

“Recite your name to it.” Arya encouraged him. When he was about to begin, Arya tried to move away from him. Eragon touched her ankle and asked her to stay with his eyes. Why should he not let Arya hear his name when she had let him hear hers? After all, he trusted her like he trusted Saphira.

Arya did not protest. She remained near him as he requested without speaking even a word. Eragon proceeded to whisper his name to the parchment much like Arya had done. He was aware that Arya would hear of his flaws much like he had heard hers (and accepted) and about the part of him that was built entirely on her memories. He was anxious to know if she would accept all that but once he finished, he did not have the time to look into Arya’s face for a clear drawing of some sort stared him back from the parchment.

Eragon frowned because he could not identify what it was that he was seeing. But soon it clicked him that it was a drawing of Alagaesia only as it was known in the early days of civilisation.

He had seen such drawings in the libraries of Tialdari hall and in Tarnag’s temples. “It is a map!” exclaimed he.

‘A map?’ Saphira asked suspiciously, reminding Eragon that she could not see what was on the parchment. Indra did not say anything but by his intense staring at the map, Eragon understood that he too had his doubts.

Eragon conveyed with his mind to Saphira about the drawing on the parchment. She was unbelieving for a long while suspecting foul play by Galbatorix. But Eragon assured her that since Galbatorix knew not about either his or Arya’s true names, this must not be his doing.

‘But he controls the ancient language in which your names are!’ Saphira protested.

‘Yes, but that does not mean he is the master of the language. Nasuada could defy him even when he knew her true and the name of the ancient language. He thinks he is powerful than nature but he is not! He has overlooked a lot. He plays with names but names are powerful. They have come to bite him back.’ Eragon argued heatedly.

‘Alright!’ Saphira admitted, ‘But what will this map do?’

‘I see a bright blue dot on it in the Spine near Kuasta.’ Eragon said taking a second and serious look at the map.

“And I see a bright green dot around the same spot,” Arya informed and placed her hand where she saw the dot. It was exactly where Eragon found the blue dot.

‘It is clear then? We will go there?’ Indra asked cautiously.

‘We have no other go.’ Eragon said dejectedly. Whatever waited for them in the Spine, they would face it because whatever it was, it couldn’t be worse than surrendering to Galbatorix.

Having resolved to see the mystery about the parchment through, the dragon riders entered the Varden camp. The camp was nothing like they had left it. People were scrambling hither and thither seemingly without any real cause.

They found Islanzadi, Roran, Orik and the other leaders in deep conference. Arya took it upon herself to acquaint the leaders of the state of affairs as it stood. The knowledge that magic was now usable as long as Galbatorix lived drew shock and disbelief from the assembled leaders, none more so than Islanzadi.

The leaders forgot to ask how the two of them came across such disturbing news, engrossed as they were in digesting the news. Arya called upon their attention and narrated to them, the tale of the parchment and the map they saw in it.

Islanzadi took in the information skeptically and asked Arya to hand over the parchment to her. Arya hesitated a moment but then let go of the parchment with a sad smile. Islanzadi took the parchment away from the others, no doubt wanting to test it out herself. When she was gone Orrin had his own questions to ask of them.

They answered them as truthfully as they could but never made him aware of their destination for they deemed it too sensitive an information to be shared even with the most important and most trustworthy of people. It was only a hour since they had escaped from Galbatorix and they were sure that Murtagh would sooner or later be defeated by the evil king and when he did, he would come looking for them. In an event such as that anonymity was absolutely necessary.

Islanzadi came back with a less than pleased expression and without question handed the parchment back to Arya. Everyone expected her to say something but she remained entirely silent. Orrin tried asking her what she saw in the parchment and in response she did nothing but shake her head sideways.

“Only I and Eragon were able to see it, my Queen. Murtagh and certain others did try before and were not able to see anything,” Arya explained. Although she addressed the queen by her title, there was a marked warmth in her voice that said she was genuinely sorry for her mother.

The queen looked at Arya and smiled indicating that she believed her daughter. Then she said, “What if it is a trap?”

“Then we will suffer for it.” Arya said simply.

Eragon felt bad for the queen. He knew Islanzadi wanted her daughter to be safe and nothing else was her concern and so explained their line of thinking to the queen: that they had no other option than to follow the mysterious map and that nowhere else was safe for them anyway now that Galbatorix controlled everything that was to do with magic.

The queen nodded curtly at his explanation.

“The army has to be disbanded and send back as soon as possible.” Arya said once it was settled that the dragon riders would leave for wherever the map took them.

“But we need to put up some resistance,” Roran protested strongly.

“There is nothing we can do now, Stronghammer.” Islanzadi said kindly.

“Thank you, mother.” Arya breathed relieved.

“But…,” Roran continued undeterred, “But, when… Galbatorix comes looking for you, somebody needs to stop him!”

“Aye! I second Roran in this.” Orik stood up resolutely.

“With the ancient language and the eldunari under his control,” Eragon reasoned with his brothers, “even strongest of men like you can’t… you will be mere mosquitos to squash.”

After nearly a quarter of an hour’s argument - a precious quarter hour bought for them by Murtagh - it was concluded that the best course of action would be run away for now. Fighting a mad king with powers equalling the supposed Gods, in his capital city now sounded like the most ill thought out plan.

Islanzadi and Roran, as the blood relations, gave their respective blessings to the dragon riders and the dragon riders in turn begged their blood relations to be safe; to be at least alive. Then hastily taking leave of Orik and other friends, Saphira and Indra shot up into the sky praying that their friends be spared.

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Names have power. Eragon had heard that being said many times over by many beings. He knew that already having ordered Sloan to reach Ellesmera without use of even his eyesight and more importantly, having ordered himself not to ever fall into the grip of Galbatorix. But the veracity of the claim had never ever been fully realised by him till yesterday’s events.

Controlling the use of magic by the name of ancient language! What an insane idea! How had Galbatorix even succeeded in this quest escaped him. But it explained Galbatorix’s ability to subjugate dragons. He had a knack with names. To think that it was Angela who had seeded the idea of the name of ancient language into his brain!

‘Stop your stupid thoughts, Eragon!’ Saphira screamed in his mind.

She was in the process of deducing her true name and his thoughts had affected her. Both dragons had taken up the quest of finding their true names to keep their minds off of things that might be happening in Uru’baen. They also felt that at some point of time, they would need their true name to accomplish something in this blind mission.

But even a whole day’s thought had not given any idea of what their true names might be. They were now in the Spine having crossed the Leona lake only about an hour ago. To their great comfort and puzzle, the parchment was now showing an entirely different map: that of the Spine alone.

Each and every mountain was clearly marked that they did not have to be afraid of getting lost in the wilderness. Besides Eragon felt right at home in these parts. Although Carvahall was a few hundred miles to the north, the Spine felt like home. It was in these mountains that Eragon learned to be tough. The Spine was everything that Du Weldenvarden wasn’t. There were dense forests in both places but the Spine was markedly wilder. The animals here weren’t tame but they weren’t the unusually huge ones that inhabited the Beors. This; this was wildlife as Eragon knew it in his childhood.

The sun was in the far western sky when they finally reached a hill locked valley to which Eragon’s blue dot (or the green one of Arya) took them. The place was a picture of peace. The setting sun gave it a golden glow and the trees there weren’t as wild as in the rest of the Spine. Songbirds made sweet sounds and the ground was covered in soft grass.

There were oaks, birches, pines and many other varieties of trees as if they were planted there by someone in some past era. Even the little animals that populated the landscape were more friendly than any in the Spine. A small creek ran across the valley and drained into a large pond that formed the western border of the valley.

The constant gurgling of water combined with the sounds of the birds made the place look like a heaven. The greatest advantage of the region was that it was entirely hidden from the outside world by the densest forests of the Spine. If he had his way, Eragon would settle down in that valley for the rest of his life.

Now that they were at the intended spot and he had studied it thoroughly, Eragon wondered what it was that Murtagh and Nasuada had wanted of them from this place. Were they cheated to run away from Galbatorix? Was it to shield them from the wrath of the mad king?

But then Islanzadi’s experience with the parchment was proof enough that Murtagh and Nasuada had not lied to them. There really must be something in this seemingly homely environment.

The four of them walked across the length and breadth of the valley - which was not small by any means. For more than three hours they walked and observed and studied but to no avail. Eragon was frustrated beyond compare. Had they abandoned the ones most dear to them just to pay a visit to this valley?

Eragon did not want to give up hope but there really was none to be found in this valley. Arya looked as much distressed as he. The dragons had given up walking and were flying circles over the valley trying to find something unusual.

Exasperated and angry that he was made to waste away precious time in this fantasy world when his friends and family were on the verge of being annihilated in the real world, Eragon came to one conclusion. And that was to recite his true name to the valley.

The parchment that had seemed an unsolvable puzzle had opened up its secrets when his true name was said and perhaps this valley too would. It was just a gut feeling of his but he could get no better idea.

And so he opened his mind up to any being that was in the valley - which incidentally were only the trees and animals - and spoke his true name to them. Arya, who was a good thousand yards away for him, turned around and came running to him as soon as he began his recital. She reached him right after he had finished. He expected her to have discovered something but was completely unprepared for what she did: smack him hard with her knuckles.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she scolded when he doubled over in pain.

He lifted his head up to ask why she hit him and what she meant, but could not voice his thoughts for something  else caught his attention. At the centre of the valley on the banks of the creek, something was coming to life.

Following his line of sight, Arya too noticed the thing. It was a huge colourful sphere almost as big as Indra’s bulk. A second later a conscience so vast and ancient that the mere touch of it humbled him pressed against his mind seeking entry.

From Arya’s troubled expression, he found that she too was being scrutinised and he confirmed with Saphira if she too was being pressed. All four of them were being asked to bare themselves to the alien being.

‘The name you recited; is it yours?’ The being asked him in the ancient language.

Eragon considered for a moment before he admitted in the affirmative. Lying or trying to trick the being would put them in a precarious position, Eragon felt.

‘Who are you?’ The being asked sounding amused.

There was a fondness in the being’s voice that Eragon did not miss. ‘I am Eragon, son of Brom and rider to Saphira, Vervada’s daughter.’ He introduced himself.

‘Saphira? The she-dragon who is putting up such a valiant effort to hold me off? Can you talk her into allowing me to know her?’ The being asked.

Eragon hesitated. ‘But… but how can we trust you with our minds?’ He asked.

The being laughed: a booming and heartfelt laughter. ‘You were not so cautious with your name.’ It observed.

‘I… I… would protect them.’ Eragon admitted.

Yet again the being laughed with as much pleasure as it did the first time around. ‘You have not changed one bit, child. Not one bit.’ It said. Then in a bright voice it asked, ‘Anyway, who is that lady giving her all to protect her mind?’

Eragon took his eyes off the hypnotising multi coloured sphere and turned his attention to Arya. She was holding her head and looking for all world tired beyond compare.

“Let her be!” Eragon screamed in anger. He then closed the distance between him and Arya and put an arm around her shoulder in a bid to comfort her.

‘By any chance, would it be Arya?’ The being asked yet again sounding caring and affectionate.

“How do you know?” Eragon asked growing suspicious of the whole affair. Was it some highly thought out trickery designed to entrap them into Galbatorix’s service?

‘Because she is so much like you were when I saw you both the last time.’ The being said softly. Without giving Eragon time to think of what the being meant by seeing them the ‘last time’, the being asked, ‘And what of Vanendra? Is it him? Did he wait all these years for her return?’

Eragon got goosebumps hearing the latest piece of information. Indra had indeed waited for thousands of years before hatching for Arya. But what did the being mean by ‘her return’?

‘Pray tell, who are you?’ He demanded the being finally.

‘Child, I am Kuthian and that is my rock as I fashionably call my eldunari.’

Author's Note:

I am really sorry to end this chapter here. But then I thought it was a sweet spot where certain things are known and certain others are complete mysteries. It is the sort of thing that gives perfectly sleepless nights and I love to spoil a few people's health. [[Evil Laugh]]. See you tomorrow (hopefully).