For Alagaesia: 87. For Alagaesia - Another life

Eragon could not wrap his mind around what he had heard.

When all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls.

The words of Solembum were still fresh in his mind, even after more than three years since he had heard them first uttered. Three years! For three years he had searched; in the greatest libraries of Alagaesia and with the most informed people in the land - but to no end. And here he was being casually introduced to Kuthian’s rock; to a great rainbow-coloured eldunari.

“You are a dragon?” He asked awed. How big would the dragon have been if his Eldunari itself was nearly as big as Indra?

‘Of course, child. Who else has an Eldunari?,’ came the careless reply.

Hesitantly he asked the one question that he badly wanted to ask. “Do you… do you know of the Vault of souls?”

‘I do,’ was the short and affirmative answer.

“Can you lead me there?”

Kuthian sighed. There was a tone of exasperation to his voice now. ‘Not as things stand now. No.’

Eragon frowned. Here was one legitimate way to defeat Galbatorix and he wasn’t going to let it go so easily just because Kuthian awed him. “Why not?” He asked cautiously.

‘You are full of questions, Eragon. Perhaps you haven’t yet learned to observe your surroundings.’ Eragon heard Oromis in the advice.

But he wasn’t in any mood for new lessons. He needed to go to the vault of souls to find a way to defeat Galbatorix. The conditions were just what Solembum had said they would be: his powers were absolutely insufficient and everything he loved was on the verge of being lost.

“You must, O, great one, you must show me to the Vault.” He pleaded.

Kuthian seemed to consider his request. ‘I need her name first. I need to be sure that she is the same Arya that I knew.’

Eragon ignored the part about Arya knowing Kuthian because as far as he knew Arya had no knowledge of a dragon named Kuthian. All she had was a fuzzy memory of something relating to the rock of Kuthian.

Arya was actually leaning on him for support, having been attacked non-stop by Kuthian for the past few minutes.

“Arya, you need to let go.” Eragon told her tenderly.

“I won’t give this alien creature my name!” Arya exclaimed and pulled away from his chest. “You can’t expect me to do that, Eragon.”

Eragon knew Arya well enough. She wasn’t someone who would part with her secrets so easily.

‘Something tells me that you know her name,’ Kuthian pried him.

Eragon felt betrayed. He closed his mind off to the dragon entirely and spoke aloud with only his voice. “I can’t give anything that belongs to her without her permission.”

‘Fair enough, little one. I was only trying to indulge your haste. You don’t have to be so defensive. At least convince your dragon to lower her shield.’ Kuthian replied calmly.

Eragon contacted Saphira. ‘Saphira, it is Kuthian. He needs to verify our intentions. Will you lower your mental barriers to him?’

‘You are certain of it?’ She asked.

‘He knows my name and hasn’t made use of it.’

‘Alright. I will let him in. But if something bad happens, Eragon, I will hold you responsible.’ Saphira said quite seriously.

Eragon did not think something worse than being defeated by Galbatorix could happen. He nodded physically but gave no reply to Saphira, concerned as he was about Arya’s adamant refusal to open her mind up.

“Won’t you trust me Arya?” Eragon asked.

Arya frowned at him. “I do, Eragon. I trust you with my life,” said she soberly, “But you can’t possibly expect me to bare my entire being to a being I have hardly made an acquaintance with.”

Eragon grew frustrated. This elf and her blasted privacy! “Arya, this is not about you and me!” he screamed, “This is about your mother and my cousin. About my brother who is probably dead for helping us with this quest.”

Arya moved away from him as if stung. She glared at him for trying to push her into a corner but gave no reply; she who put other’s welfare before hers in all situations would not part with her true name even if it meant their friends would suffer. Indra, sensing her distress, flew down to join her side. She put a hand over his side and moved away from Eragon.

“What about you?” Eragon asked Arya’s dragon brusquely.

‘I will do it. For you,’ Indra replied pointedly putting the responsibility on his shoulder much like Saphira, ‘Ask Kuthian to go through whatever he likes in my mind.’

Eragon smiled at Indra for the trust he placed in him. Then turning to Arya, angry that she wouldn’t trust him even when her dragon did, he begged, “Arya please!”

She shot him a deadly glance and turned away. The elven princess then recited her true name out loud rapidly. Every feature of hers suggested that her mind and brain were revolting what she was doing and Eragon pitied her for it.

‘So much like the Eragon I knew,’ Kuthian said amused.

“You have your names and memories. Now take us to the Vault.” Eragon asked in a gruff manner.

Yet again, the dragon laughed his heart out. ‘I respect your care for others, Eragon. I always did and I will always do.’ He said.

When Eragon shifted on his feet uncomfortably, Kuthian continued, ‘Perhaps, it is better for you to know who I am and what I have done all these millennia before I take you all to the vault.’

Arya answered for this. “Go ahead.”

‘I was born long ago during a time when elves and humans had not yet set foot on Alagaesia. Back then, the land was divided between the dragons and dwarves. There were confrontations between us, but largely we were peaceful towards each other.’ Kuthian said to the great amazement of his listeners. He truly was a dragon from another epoch!

Kuthian did not care much about the surprise flitting through the minds of his audience. He continued: ‘Then the elves sailed into this land from across the sea and asked for shelter. We warned the dwarves against doing so, but they went ahead and sheltered the fair race. Perhaps they thought the elves more similar to them than us. From the day the elves settled in Alagaesia, there were minor tiffs between our races. They saw us merely as violent animals that could not be controlled by their magic. And I assume you know the rest of the tale?’

“Yes, we do,” Eragon, who had grown impatient, replied doing nothing to hide the said emotion.

‘Up until Galbatorix’s ascent to the throne?’ Kuthian asked.

“Up until today. Except the vault of souls.” Eragon replied yet again showing his impatience.

Kuthian made a noise much like chuckling in their minds. ‘I understand your haste, little one. You want to save your friends,’ he said exuding compassion, ‘When you waited for more than three hours to find a way to interest me, can’t you wait a few more minutes?’

Eragon was flabbergasted. The dragon knew their presence and yet had kept silent. “You knew? You knew and yet didn’t show yourself?” He snarled at the dragon. Seeing his agitated state, Arya came to his side, apparently having forgotten her anger at him for forcing her to reveal her true name to Kuthian.

‘Be patient, young one. You need to be ready for what I am to show you. I have to prepare you for it. Because it isn’t going to be easy.’ Kuthian said kindly.

Eragon maintained composure and remained silent with no little amount of help from Saphira and Arya who soothed his mind and squeezed his hand respectively.

Kuthian continued, never moving away from his kind countenance. ‘After certain events that happened long ago, I had shed my body and continued living only as an eldunari, waiting for the misfortune to strike. I thought, I had the ability to stop it; to end the crisis in its infancy. But I never thought evil would strike with as much vengeance as Galbatorix struck. Brutally awakened from my state of ignorance I did everything I could to save the dragon race from extinction. It was harder because my existence was hardly known to any creature living at the time of the fall of dragon riders.’

Eragon now listened with much care for it seemed that there was some great secret upon which Kuthian was about to shine light. The elderly dragon’s disposition turned sorrowful from the fond countenance he had exuded ever since they discovered his existence.

‘You remember the odd moments of mental clarity after being pushed to the brink of insanity by Durza’s tortures?’ Kuthian enquired Arya in a soft voice.

The princess frowned and bit her lower lip hard so as to prevent her mouth from uttering even a word against her brain’s command - shaken as she seemed hearing about those brutal days.

‘You do. I can see it in your mind,’ Kuthian said, but pried no longer seeing Arya’s distressed state. He only said this: ‘I helped you there. At least as much as I could.’

Eragon held Arya closer to him feeling her shudder at the news. He knew how much she was thankful for those episodes of hope. He had heard her speak of those things to him - as a comfort while he was recuperating from his own tortures at the hands of Galbatorix.

‘And you, Eragon… don’t you remember me? We spoke. When Galbatorix had almost gained access to your mind through that unfortunate little girl, Elva.’ Kuthian told him.

Eragon nodded gravely. Indeed he did. He did not care who it was but he knew he had help. He even remembered seeing a brilliant multi-coloured dragon. That was him, then! That was Kuthian!

He fell to his knees, shedding a drop of tear - in gratitude. If only he had not had that timely help on that day… He didn’t even want to hazard a guess. He would most probably be seen as a greater monster than even Murtagh was at the Varden. Arya might have hated and Saphira might have deserted him.

‘Don’t think so cheaply of me, Eragon!’ Saphira scolded.

“We thank you for all the help, great one. But if you are as powerful, why didn’t you intervene more directly. Why didn’t you stop Galbatorix?” Arya asked foregoing all pretense of being awed by the age, wisdom and power of Kuthian.

‘I can’t use this power! It is not mine. It won’t listen to me!’ Kuthian lamented.

‘Not yours?’ Indra asked, sounding skeptic.

‘Aye! It is not mine… I could do no more than obliterate half of Galbatorix’s army that came so near my resting place; no more than assist Brom here and there like I did for you,’ the great rainbow dragon told mournfully, ‘The powers won’t listen to me to give me strength enough to confront Galbatorix directly.’

“To whom do your powers answer then?” Arya asked.

Kuthian sighed heavily. ‘I am sorry for what is about to happen. I truly am.’ He said.

Eragon felt a chill pass down his spine. The elder dragon sounded so ominous that he braced himself for what was to come, prepared, at all costs, to protect Arya and the dragons from harm. But no amount of preparation could have helped him stop what happened next.

Kuthian, with all the authority of an overlord, recited his true name and ordered him to meld his mind with Kuthian’s. Eragon had never had to go through such a motion ever before except with Saphira. It was as if he was no more him. He was a different creature altogether. Saphira followed him into the ancient dragon’s mind - dismayed that her Eragon had been so forcefully removed from her.

Having been connected to Kuthian, he could feel the cunning dragon - for that was how he saw Kuthian now, a cunning dragon who had taken control of him and Saphira forcefully - recite Arya’s name. Despite the protests of the deepest parts of his mind, he could do nothing to stop Arya being enslaved too. How could he when he himself was part of the enslaver? Indra followed Saphira’s lead.

Although he wanted nothing but to curse the deceiver, he could do nothing for he himself was part of the deceiver. It was a rather confusing state of mind. Before he could think out any solution to their state, he was thrown back into some memory of the trickster.

Dragon blood rained down from the sky at the assault of the marauding elves. How dare they?! Having come seeking refuge to their land, they were today threatening to take over the land and annihilate the real owners of it. 

He, however, was not inclined to fight. He had seen so much to understand that fighting would only lead to death and nothing else. But with his bulk and lack of knowledge of the elven language, odd as it was without the use of images and smells, he would only be mistaken for an aggressive dragon trying to kill the elves through mental contact, if ever he tried to contact them. In that sense, the young elf who had lost his parents and little brother to a dragon raid of the elven town of Éwayëna and his companion, the brilliant white young fellow, Bid’daum were the leading lights. 

The legend of the young dragon and his companion had spread far and wide in both the elven and dragon realms. Having lost his family, the young elf, Eragon had vowed to kill every single dragon in Alagaesia. He joined the elven army, the youngest warrior in it and had razed down nests all across Alagaesia. 

During one such raids, he had come across a beautiful dragon egg that had lost its parents. When he was about to smash it with a Dauthdaert, the egg hatched. The elf had been reminded of his brother by the helpless and orphaned child and had not been able to kill him. He hid the dragon from his friends and took him wherever he went, feeding and caring for him. The dragon and elven clans had no information of this and so three months had passed. 

That was when the dragon and his elf were discovered. The elves had tried to kill the dragon but the boy had thrown himself between the attacking elves and the young dragon. Then the two of them had run away from the elves and tried to take shelter in a dragon nest. The dragons there had tried to kill Eragon and Bid’daum had saved his blood brother’s life. 

From then on, Eragon and Bid’daum had spent all their time trying to understand each other’s language and culture. By the end of five years’ of isolated living, the two had become so proficient in each other’s ways that when they came back to the surface, both could talk for each other. 

They had then gone on a journey for peace to dragon and elven settlements and spread the message that together both races would be invincible. As he watched the two races bath in each other’s blood, he wished that Eragon and Bid’daum were here to stop the bloodshed.

For a moment Eragon was pushed back into his mind and he had time only to consider what he had seen, before he was pulled back into some other memory.

The land of Alagaesia was such a beautiful one. It had just been two years since she had landed on it, having come in her father’s ship. The greatest adventure, though, was not her travel across the sea but rather the cheating of her father. 

He, like most fathers, wanted his daughter to live the life of a wealthy merchant’s daughter. He had even fixed her marriage with the prince to fulfill his dream of seeing her grace the throne of their kingdom. 

But she was not at all interested in the proposal. She hated being tied to the responsibilities that came with the throne. She wanted to be free, wanted to see distant lands and live life as she wished to. So she had enlisted the help of a few of her father’s sailors and had smuggled herself aboard the ship. This was supposed to be the longest trip ever to have been made. Her father, wanting to conduct her marriage in a grand manner, had arranged for the journey so that he could collect great wealth. 

Their journey had taken them to Alagaesia where she had met an elf, Eragon and his constant companion, a dragon, Bid’daum. At first sight she had fallen for the graceful and grave looking elf. And after hearing his life’s story she had been so moved that she resolved that she would marry him or none. 

Her father had discovered her and wanted her to go back with him but she had told that she had found her home and would not leave it for anything. Her father had threatened to leave her alone and companionless - to disown her. Yet she had stood by her word. Her life was with Eragon or thinking of him in Alagaesia. 

She thought her father would finally accept her choice, but he was not as forgiving. He left her, cursing that for hurting him and her mother, she would be devastated soon. Often times, she thought of it and grieved. Why would her father disown her for following her heart? He was the one who had told her tales of freedom of thought as a youngster. Why would he not understand her when she asked for just that? 

And that Eragon. His cold heart would not accept her! She had begged with him letting go of her pride and yet he would not take her up in his family. Bid’daum had said that he was afraid to love anyone because he fears some day they may leave him like his parents and brother did. But she had resolved. She would impart love into that cold heart; live a fulfilled life and prove her father wrong.

Again they were thrown back into their consciences, their minds taking time to assimilate the tale of the beautiful and free human woman. Before they could fine tune the tale in their heads, they were pulled into yet another memory.

That emerald egg was being unreasonable. Ever since the dragon in it had come into contact with Arya, it behaved curiously. The dragon seemed happy whenever Arya was near and he became too wretched when she went away from him for long periods. There wasn’t any way for him to hatch for her though. The pact was only between elves and dragons and Arya was a human -  a race of which she was the only representative in Alagaesia. If the dragon kept up his obsession with Arya, he would never be able to see the open world. Yet, in one way, he was the reason for his and Arya’s intimacy. Just to keep that egg happy he had to bring Arya to his home. 

And the woman’s devotion to him! It sent chills down his spine. How could one be so attached to another even after several cold rejections? He loved Arya all the more dearly for her perseverance. What had he ever done to deserve a creature as exquisite as her? She had taught him so many lessons that even Bid’daum couldn’t: that pushing away people who love you was akin to being dead and that love wasn’t conditional to attach a long living contract to it. 

The sacrifices she had done for him! She had abandoned everything she knew for him. She had been disowned and marooned by her father for loving him. She would never ever get to see her mother and her homeland. And yet, she wasn’t in the least bit blaming him. All she wanted from him was love; unconditional love. 

To think that he had denied it to her for three years! It wasn’t as if he didn’t like her. He did. Very much. But he did not want to be hurt again like he was when his parents and brother died. In so pushing her away, he had not realised how much he was hurting her.

To compensate all the pain he had caused her, he would live a full life with her. They would have children who will be praised in all Alagaesia as a testament to that love.

Again, the four of them regained conscience. Eragon wanted to beg Kuthian to stop. It was all too much information to digest. And the tale, for some reason, brought him a horrible headache. It wasn’t like hearing the tale, it was like living it. Yet again, before he could request Kuthian to stop, he was pulled into another memory.

It was a brilliant spring morning. The air was cool but it didn’t sting. Instead it seemed to play a soft lullaby. The climate suited their new home in the heart of the Spine. An entirely hill locked valley that was not too small and not too big; just the right size for two or three people and two dragons. A small lake formed its western border. Eragon had personally sung trees into the valley which was earlier filled with wasteful shrubs. A charming creek ran right across the centre of the valley. 

And there on its banks, Eragon had built their home. Made entirely out of stone, it was a simple but elegant piece of architecture. To be true, he had done no work than casting spells to create it. It was all Arya’s plan. He would not have been able to design such a great house ever. 

As an added bonus, none knew about the valley except he, Bid’daum, Arya and her emerald-dragon-in-egg (who refused to be satisfied while she was away). Yet they had a surprise visitor this morning. It was Kuthian himself, the oldest dragon in existence and the wisest. But the news he brought was anything but happy. 

He said that he had a premonition; one that was too disturbing to ignore. He said that the Du Fyrn Skulblaka had occurred because he had ignored one such premonition. So he was determined not to ignore this one for he said that the looming danger was as much disastrous as the Du Fyrn Skulblaka if not more. 

The premonition being: a human would betray the dragon rider order and cause the end of the dragon race itself. The idea was so far fetched because humans were not even part of the dragon rider pact and there weren’t humans in Alagaesia except for Arya. She was linked to the emerald dragon but there was no chance for him to hatch for her. They had argued with Kuthian citing these reasons in vain. 

He had said, ‘I had the last premonition before the elves came ashore. Thinking it improbable like you do now, I ignored it. Look what happened next.’ 

Convinced, they had asked what they could possibly do to help him stop the catastrophe from happening. And the answer he had given dismayed them. 

He said, ‘If the happiest people on Alagaesia at the moment the premonition is revealed sacrifice their life for the sake of the future generations, then there is a chance that the effects of the devastation will be minimised; a chance for the dragon race to live on will be created. And you, young ones, you are the happiest beings alive at this moment in Alagaesia.’ 

Eragon vehemently opposed the idea. To sacrifice a life with Arya and Bid’daum for a distant future that wasn’t even set in stone yet! He couldn’t even consider the possibility. 

But Arya came to him and looking gravely into his eyes, said, “Eragon, Alagaesia is your legacy. You brought peace to this land. So it is your, and thus my, responsibility to ensure that this peace is permanent. Our happiness is not as important as our duty to this land. We have to do this. For Alagaesia.” 

Eragon tried to protest. “But you and I have resolved to take our child to your parents to seek their forgiveness and blessings.” He said, pointing to her slightly bulging stomach. 

Arya dipped her head sadly. She closed her eyes and remained so for a long while. When she opened them back, there was glint in the deep emerald orbs that were her eyes. “My parents will understand me. Kuthian will take news of my decision to them,” she declared. 

‘I will do whatever you want me to, young ones.’ Kuthian answered graciously. 

Bid’daum bent down and touched Arya on her brow, blessing her in the way of dragons. ‘May your fame live on for eternity, dearest Arya.’

She smiled weakly at the dragon. “This is the price I pay for betraying my father’s trust and making my mother suffer.”

‘No, child!’ Kuthian took exception, ‘This is the gift you give to this land.’

Bid’daum then turned to Eragon and let out a mourning keen looking into the brown eyes of the elf. Eragon hugged the white dragon around his neck. 

‘I will follow you to the void, brother,’ the magically unbonded white dragon said. 

‘No, Bid’daum. You have to stay. You have to teach the ways of the dragon riders to the younglings.’ Eragon prohibited his blood-brother from leaving his life. 

The dragon let out a roar of protestation. ‘That is not fair! Not at all!,’ he shrieked. 

“Bid’daum, among all my family, past and present, know that you are my favourite. I will rest in peace if I know you are leading a life somewhere out here in Alagaesia,” Eragon whispered in the dragon’s ears. 

‘So be it,’ agreed Bid’daum. Then he added, ‘I wish I were born as your elder brother, Eragon.’ 

Eragon smiled at the brother with whom he did not share any blood, wishing the same. He then turned to Arya and nodded, words failing him at the moment of understanding her magnanimity. Arya did to him likewise, appreciating his undying love for her. 

Then they closed their eyes and said together as if rehearsed, “We present us and our happiness to you, O, mother Alagaesia. Accept us and change fate!” 

Two balls of blue and green lights enveloped the two of them and they steadily grew in lustre. A moment later an immense energy came out of lights and flew into Kuthian’s body and the lights were extinguished leaving no trace of the two people who had sacrificed themselves for the greater good of Alagaesia. 

Bid’daum let out a pained roar that reverberated across the skies.

Eragon gained control of his mind again. Tears welled up in his eyes and poured down his cheeks. He had another life in another era with Arya and he had sacrificed it. For Alagaesia.

“I am sorry, Murtagh! I am sorry that I leave you alone to suffer in the land.” He screamed without his conscience controlling him. The words came from a conscience within him, a long suppressed one.

But Murtagh? Why had he said that? What did his elder brother have to do with all this? The answer came to his mind like it had been lying within it always to be found: Murtagh was Bid’daum.

“Did you meet my parents?” Arya’s sobbing voice asked beside him.

‘I did child. They were not happy but they were proud of what you did.’ Kuthian replied fondly.

‘And you never returned from that land?’ Indra asked, sounding much older than he actually was.

‘No, I couldn’t. After hearing out the lamentations of Arya’s parents, I did not have the will to live.’ Kuthian conceded.

‘That is why you are in eldunari form?’ Saphira asked sadly.

‘Yes. The guilt drove me to shed my body. But my duty kept my spirit alive.’

Eragon took Arya’s hand in his and she leaned on his shoulder so naturally. Theirs was a love that had outlived empires and they would not be parted again. It didn’t matter who was the elf and who was the human. They were still the same Eragon and Arya.

‘Your duty?’ Indra sounded cautious.

‘I am sorry, children,’ Kuthian said, ‘I can’t use the power because the vault isn’t mine. It is yours. It is you… the vault of souls is nothing but the sacrificed souls of Eragon and Arya. For the love of Alagaesia, you sacrificed your happiness and the sacrificed happiness has turned into power - the purest of powers.’

‘But you said their sacrifice would protect the dragon race… Kuthian, our race is still on the verge of extinction.’ Saphira observed mournfully.

‘I wasn’t being entirely true with you when I said,’ Kuthian declared, ‘your sacrifice will stop the annihilation of dragons. Your sacrifice will only give you power to stop the culprit; to end Galbatorix’s evil rule. But that is not to say your sacrifice is in vain… come to me if and when you defeat Galbatorix, I have yet more secrets for you.’

“So we have the powers of the vault of our souls now?” Eragon asked, having snapped out of his dreamy state of being reunited with his Arya.

‘You do.’

Author’s Note:

Hope you liked what I did with the Vault of souls. This has all along been my plan, although Murtagh being Bid’daum flashed in my head as I was writing this chapter. Shoot any queries you have and tell me if it is confusing. I will rephrase the chapter and add more details to make it clear. This, as you can guess, is the most important chapter of this story. So please, please, please, I beg you, give me a pretty detailed analysis of the chapter so that I can try and improve on it.