Watching the sun rise and kill the darkness of night was always fascinating. But doing that holding Arya’s hands and leaning on her shoulder was an entirely different experience. He could only describe it as heavenly. Having gained Islanzadi’s blessings, he did not think there was anything that could ever separate them again. They had eternity ahead of them to relive this moment. An involuntary smile lit up his face when that thought came to him. Eternity: to feel the pleasures of love.
He felt Saphira stir just in time to invite her favourite friend of the nature: the sun. Within moments she was at his side. ‘Good morning!,’ said she, brightly. The sun’s golden glow made her look like some jewel of impossible craftsmanship.
Arya greeted Saphira with a smile and turned around to see if Indra was awake. He was making funny faces in his sleep; having early morning fantasies.
“Wake up, lazy,” Arya said and threw a little rock aimed at his nostril: so un-Arya-like, yet adorable. Her aim was perfect and the stone went right into Indra’s nose.
“Uh, oh!” Eragon said as Indra woke with a loud sneeze which sent the rock flying at a great speed. Arya flinched while Saphira chuckled in her throat. But the next second they were all thrown into a fit of crazy laughter by Roran.
Eragon’s cousin who had been sleeping peacefully, woke up with a start, jumped and picked up his hammer all the while crying, “Has the war started? Has it started?!”
“The war is over, Roran.” Eragon called amidst bouts of laughter.
Roran looked around, understood what had happened and turned red in embarrassment. “Well, not technically. The capital still needs to be taken.” Roran said seemingly to make up for his embarrassment.
But his words had truth. Why shed blood now that Galbatorix was dead? Last night Eragon had been tired from the final battle against Galbatorix and the associated emotional drain. But now he was fresh and ready. Why wait for Orik to bring the men? He still had use of the power of ultimate sacrifice. Why not use it?
‘I am ready.’ Saphira said resolutely.
‘Me too.’ Indra volunteered although he was still suffering from the effects of having a stone in his nose.
He looked to Arya. She smiled.
“Inform the queen, Roran.” Eragon said as Indra and Saphira prepared for their journey to Uru’baen.
Roran grumbled. He was not happy with their decision but had failed to convince them from going alone into battle. Eragon figured that Roran would have no way other than to inform the queen.
They could have informed her themselves, but they did not believe Islanzadi would allow them to march alone. Unlike Roran, she would not take breaking her counsel kindly. So they left Roran to face the brunt of the elven queen’s anger.
*****************************************
Ridiculously easy. That was the only way to explain their capture of Uru’baen. Having fought only Galbatorix with their increased power they had not realised just how powerful they had actually become.
Arya took up the task of overwhelming Galbatorix’s trusted magicians and noblemens’ minds while Eragon took care of opening the gates - every single one of them. He had enough strength to break open the gates but he was loath to injure anyone and so learned the mechanism of opening them from the minds of those guarding the gates and used magic to open the gates.
Meanwhile, Arya had incapacitated most of the commanders and so they had no real opponent as they flew into the city. Of course, the opening of the gates was just symbolic and served no purpose other than to scatter the warriors away from the citadel and break their determination.
When they alighted in front of the citadel, a nobleman by name Lord Barst who obviously had use of a few eldunari blocked their way with a group of nearly three thousand warriors.
Eragon tried reasoning with the fool but he would not listen. The worst thing was that he considered himself equal to Galbatorix in strength.
“You might have tricked my lord into losing, but you will find me more capable of taking on your trickery and treachery.” Barst screamed at them.
‘Obviously brainwashed to the level that killing him would be a bigger favour to his family than sparing him.’ Saphira said.
‘I don’t think a man like him has family. But yes, if he does, killing him would be doing them a favour.’ Eragon agreed.
Even as they were having this conversation, Eragon noticed that Barst’s face scrunched up as if in pain. He saw Arya watching Barst with that cold expression of hers and instantly understood what was going on.
He joined Arya in attacking the fool’s mind. His mind was no less poisoned than his words. If ever there was one commander in Galbatorix’s army that deserved to die, it was Barst. It took them just a few minutes to overwhelm him. Barst fell to his knees and screamed one last command to his men: “Kill them or die trying.”
The soldiers obliged to their leader’s last command. Eragon sighed. He had not planned on killing anybody. ‘And I am not going to.’ He decided.
Finding it hard to form a spell to stop the advancing soldiers, he just willed a huge invisible solid box around them. The soldiers came fast forward, hit the wall and fell back. The impact knocked the sense out of a few soldiers but it wasn’t anything life threatening. He smiled admiring his handiwork but the spell had been too costly. His knees buckled under him and his eyes clouded.
Arya caught him before he hit the ground. A steady stream of energy flowed from her to his body. “Too rash, Eragon. Too rash,” said she.
He nodded. She was probably right. But it was worth the risk. He did not have it in him to take another life. The guilt that came after every skirmish and battle was too much and after watching a magnificent creature like Shruikan sacrifice himself to protect his life, Eragon wasn’t sure if he could ever take another life.
They then worked on correcting the faults in his abrupt wordless spell and keep the soldiers confined for long enough. Once a chamber that could be maintained with minimal energy was formed they advanced into the citadel of Uru’baen.
The ugly thing that was built on the ruins of the beautiful elven structure that had stood at the centre of Illeria as a mark of Galbatorix’s rise to power looked treacherous from outside. But Eragon knew that somewhere inside this structure stood the remains of the old palace. He had experienced the beauty of it earlier when he had been brought in as a captive into Uru’baen. Now he was returning as a victor.
It took them the better part of the day to search through the citadel for the prized possession of Galbatorix: the eldunari. They found them by sundown. Hidden deep in the castle with hundreds of protective charms preventing anyone from nearing them, the Eldunari sat, dull and lifeless unknowing that their tormentor of hundred years was gone for good.
For several hours they struggled against the curses placed on the entrance to the underground chamber that housed the Eldunari without much success. While they were at it, the Varden had arrived in the city and taken possession of the important defensive posts still held by the empire soldiers.
‘Little one, the queen is looking for both of you.’ Saphira informed.
‘Direct her here.’ Eragon replied. ‘We will need her expertise in solving this maze.’
A quarter of an hour later, Islanzadi came with a few of her spellcasters who already knew about Eldunari. Thankfully, she did not say anything regarding their daring takeover of Uru’baen. Together, the elves and Eragon laboured to break the various jinxes placed on and around the huge stockpile of Eldunari.
It still took them the whole night and twisted tales of what they were up to in the underground cellars of Uru’baen to finally get their hands on the orbs that held dragon memories and powers within them.
Among the treasure trove were marbles of various sizes and colours and yet not one of them had the passion of Glaedr’s eldunari in them. This, even though Glaedr had lost Oromis only a few months prior. The magic of Indra was such that the body-less elder dragon almost became a baby once again. But then he was no more and Eragon was left with orbs that were just dull and lifeless.
Even as he rued the loss of his great master, a brawl had broken out outside. The queen was swift to react. She drifted out of the chamber as fast as the whiff of wind during the rainy months. The noises stopped in an instant and instead there was one clear voice: that of Rhunon.
Eragon was quite taken aback. Why had Rhunon, the elf that never left Du Weldenvarden, come to Uru’baen at such an hour? A few minutes later, Islanzadi returned looking quite puzzled and annoyed followed closely by Rhunon.
Eragon had to stifle a laugh. Only Rhunon could bring about such expressions on the usually passive elven queen. But the thought of why the smith was here came back to his mind in an instant and his face clouded over.
“Lead Rider, I would like to take responsibility for the upkeep of all the released Eldunari,” the old lady said calmly.
It was now the turn of Eragon to turn all flustered. He looked to Arya and their dragons for support. His mate was likewise confused. The first clear response came from Indra, ‘Let her take them.’
‘What makes you so sure?’ asked Arya.
It was Saphira that replied. ‘She obviously knows about Eldunari. But that doesn’t qualify her in our minds.’
‘It is her raw passion to do what her ancient instincts tell her. That is the way of dragons and who better to take good care of the remnants of our glory than someone we could relate to?’ Indra completed for Saphira.
“So it’s settled then? She could have them?” Islanzadi asked, not sounding pleased.
‘Yes, it is,’ Saphira said, ‘We trust you would take good care of them?’ Even she sounded unsure. When it came to the cranky old elf, even the dragons lost their famed confidence.
“I will take as good care as I would my craftsmanship,” replied the elf.
“Rhunon-elda, Pray do let us form a council of protectors to you. You carry the hopes of an entire race,” Eragon pitched in with his thoughts.
“No, lead rider. I merely take custody of the memory of the dragon race. Its hope however is harboured in you and your companions.” Rhunon pointed her hands at him, Arya and their dragons in general. She sounded sad. A first for the gruff smith of the dragon-riders.
Eragon simply nodded in response. He understood the implications of what the elf just said. Dragons, though alive as Eldunari were not ‘living’ as those stones. Such existence was a shadow of their previous glory and the antithesis of their spirit – freedom. It was the lasting legacy of the evil-personified King Galbatorix.
Author’s Note:
It's been what? Seven years? What is it in the lifetime of an elf or a dragon, eh? Apologies that I was gone for close to a decade. I had written this and the next 2 chapters years ago. But didn't want to publish as I felt something was amiss. I have now completed the remaining chapters and will post within the next three days. I found that I had forgotten the manner in which my characters reacted to situations. So the final two chapters might have Eragon, Arya, Saphira and Indra act weird. Again, please consider forgiving me if any of my previous readers still get to read this.
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