Redemption - Fourth Wing

50. Atra Aiedail

Aifos' pov
The island Tairn deemed large enough to host our riot was closer to Unnbriel than Zenhilla, and by the time we touched ground, dusk had coloured the sky twice.
I jumped off Chex and freed him of the saddle, but he remained still and silent, his golden eyes fixed on me. His scales were as bright as the stars above, and I hoped they'd remain such in spite of the war, back in Navarre.
-You okay?- I asked him, and Ronny said he'd go off hunting a couple of deer he'd spotted during our perimeter sweep.
I adjusted my grip on the saddle, -Why don't you go with him?-
He briefly glanced at Ronny, then brought his gaze back at me. I gently prodded at his mind, but he answered with a half absent hum.
I remembered Eragon telling me that no matter the centuries I'd be going to spend with Ronny, neither of us could fully know every crevice of each of our souls.
"They're dragons," he said, seeking out Saphira's sapphire gleam, high up in the sky of early morning, "And we're humans. Such a difference may bleed to the borders throughout the years, but our natures would always remain so."
I was thirteen years old, and popped a grape to my mouth, "Didn't you say that our souls are intertwined, and we are but the other?"
"I said entwined," he smiled, "Not one and the same. You'll understand, one day. Everyone does, eventually."
And now, six years later, in front of the silence of my youngest dragon, I finally understood my Ebrithil's words, and I recalled the way the light fell on the back of his slightly wrinkled tunic as he'd walked away from me.
"Brother!"
I blinked, and turned to Xaden, who gestured at me to join him and Garrick who'd go and retrieve enough wood to start a fire. I half raised my hand to pat Chex, but his stillness had me hesitating, and offered him an awkward wave instead.
His eyes didn't pry themselves off my back, and Garrick slapped my shoulders with such a strength he almost sent me straight against the closest tree, "Welcome in the family, half Riorson! Xaden here said you've known since fucking December."
"Indeed. My Ebrithil gave me a letter... Rather clear."
"How much clear?"
"Clear enough."
"May I read it?"
A sliver of threat twisted the corners of his mouth downwards, and I flexed my hands.
Xaden raised his hand, and a low branch creaked at the pommels of his twin swords, "Enough. We have to tell the others."
Garrick's laugh was sharp, "Good luck to both of you, then! Imogen isn't half as open minded as I am."
"I am in no way at fault for my bloodline," I snapped, "Bring your resentment elsewhere."
"Resentment? Why would you say such a thing?"
"You know better than asking me. Ask yourself."
"Aifos, enough."
We turned our heads to Xaden, whose arms were folded against his chest, "As my brother, you fall directly into my chain of command, as I got appointed as Duke of Tyrrendor. My word is your order."
Was this the ultimate shift of our comradeship? No longer respected Riders, but a subject and their commander?
Black eyes with no coloured flecks flashed in front of my eyes, and I quickly shook away Ronny's memory. Xaden wasn't by far as amoral as Galbatorix; at least, not as far as his eyes would remain amber-flecked, and no crimson would span itself from the corner of his eyes to his temples.
But, if the stars were merciful, I'd be long gone by then.
"I am a Shur'tugal," I squared my shoulders, "I owe no allegiance but to my Order, and to those my heart deems worthy."
"You are my half brother. My closest relative. Should I fall, the throne would be yours."
My shoulders fell, and my Name of Names pressed up against my back. Or perhaps were the stars. Perhaps they were one but the same.
"I didn't sacrifice myself for a brother, Xaden," I said, and with a quick worded spell gathered enough wood and strode back in the camp.
I refused to try and read the amber in his eyes.
Ridoc and Violet walked back with a couple of rabbits dangling on their shoulders, and the ice-wielder narrowed his eyes on me. I opened my mind and brushed his, and picked up from his defenceless thoughts that Violet had told him the truth about Xaden, back in the isle of the Irids.
She had done an admirable job at keeping her lover's secret as such for all of these months, especially given the tight-knit loyalty of her squad.
Her eyes slid on me, and she tapped her temple once. With a sigh, I reached up to her telepathically, and she said -I had to.-
-I know.-
-He won't say a word.-
-Not even to the squad?-
She said nothing, and with a whispered, "Brisingr," I watched the wood flaming up, and Ridoc almost fell on his ass. The grass froze up, and it stung my hand.
Violet slung the rabbits off her shoulders and picked up her daggers, and I got up and took a couple of steps back until I could slide my back against the rough bark of the closest tree.
With my knees drawn up to my chest, I closed my eyes, and let my mind drift away to wherever it pleased. The chattering fell away, and the wood cracked and the thin ice melted off, and Xaden forgot that my eyes were also my own and not just my father's, and Garrick saw a ghost of Codagh's black scales in the ripples of the shadow behind me.
I had never seen that dragon, and his memories of it were blurred.
Soft steps neared me, and the grass rustled when Aaric slid next to me; his mind flashed with a brown wing askew at which my chest tightened, and a faint scream rang somewhere to the dragon's right.
Or was it his left?
I hoped Chex would be in another sky, when Ronny'd tumble down from the sky and I'd scream.
I opened my eyes, and thought that Aaric's own green was lighter than Queen Arya's, and more similar to Fernir's underscales.
His dragon had a scar on his muzzle similar to Ronny's.
"It's said that you are royalty, as well," he said.
"Half royalty."
"Blood isn't nobility. Trust me, I fucking know."
I fell quiet, and we looked at the hasty camp, with both Mira and Teine on guard.
"Have you ever had someone rambling on about the future? I sure did, but I always fell asleep. Thankfully, I was a prince, and didn't get scolded by any mentors."
I placed the back of my head on the tree, and sought out the brightest constellation of the sky, but I couldn't recognise any.
"My Ebrithils said not to worry about it because it doesn't have an existence yet. But neither realised that the future is but fate itself."
"And what is fate?"
"I don't know, but people have always fallen to the habit of gifting the same being with different names. Future, fate, signets... Don't they all shape the world?"
"The world may shape them. Didn't you think about it?"
A quick, bitter smile, "If so, do show me. As of now, I see no path but the one I was sung about."
"Yes. I saw pieces of it. Fragments. I always get headaches afterwards."
"You shouldn't bother. I may be a halfblood, but you're royalty. It has never spared a glance to bastards."
"Perhaps not. But we're in a revolution, and the world is changing."
Galbatorix had deemed his slaughter a revolution; so did the Vardens when they flanked cities bowed down to the empire.
"And yet, revolution hasn't changed its name, "I said, and Aaric shrugged, "We are humans everywhere."
"Indeed."
Violet was rolling the cooking rabbits, and Xaden was watching her from behind. His twin sword were glinting sharply from his back.
"Go to the beach," Aaric said, "Shouldn't you go, your mind will feel it and... React."
He turned his head, and met my eyes, and his were as dark and piercing as Arya's now, ( "Your mind's a liability," she'd said to me all those years ago, as ethereal as any Elf, while I was dirty of dust and my own blood and sweat).
My forearms itched at the memory, and I nodded briefly at Aaric and after a quick Elvish greeting I got up and walked where I was told to. Chex's scales were silver and smooth, and the waves rippled softly around his claws.
He kept his eyes fixed ahead, but a flick of his tail told me he was aware of my presence.
I sat by his side, and saw dust of sand in between the scales of his foreclaws, and followed with the tip of my fingers the ripple of the ocean around us.
The moon was half full.
-I don't want you to die.-
I looked up, and saw Chex's eyes on me. The golden of his eyes was stark against the silver of his scales.
-You can break the bond,- I said.
He snarled and swung his head back and forth, as if shaking off him that offer of mine.
-No. You are my mate.-
-I am sorry, then.-
-Why don't you fight it?-
A shrug, -What is there to fight?-
He slammed his tail, and cold water splashed against my back and soaked my hair. I gasped in surprise and Chex growled, -You are only nineteen!-
I got up and glared at him, "And you are three! You don't deserve any of it."
How could he, when his scales were as smooth as the dragons' hatched after Galbatorix's fall?
-So what, you don't either!- he said, -And yet, you... you act like a dragon who has lived for so long he_-
"I have lived for too long! Ever since I was born, I have lived for too long, and you know it! We all do!"
I swung my hands around, but Chex was relentless, -What about Ronny? Has he been around for too long as well, or not enough?-
At that question, I felt tired, and my arms were heavy on my shoulders, -He has defied death twice already. He, too, should've met his death right at his birth.-
-But you're mine!-
My chest, now, was squeezing my ribs, which were caging my heart, whose beats were harsh against my temples.
-I know. But he's mine, too.-
His teeth flashed, and snapped an inch away from my throat. I stumbled back, and tripped and fell.
He spread his wings, and the moon cut the edges of his narrow shoulders and slender neck, and I remembered he was of Belgabad's own blood.
-The stars showed me the path to you. I will learn how to show it to you, so that you will stay.-
-It's Fate, Chex! We're only dust.-
-We're our Name of Names. And I'm yours, and I will change ours.-
Tears swelled up in my eyes.
He was so beautiful, but so young. I felt worn out, as if I'd been walking for too long, and the horizon was still as far away as ever.
Perhaps the horizon was death itself; I hoped Chex would still his flight long before it.
-Don't make me hope,- I whispered.
He looked at me once, as if he wanted to memorize me, or as if he wanted to hold me there, in an island far away from any conflict, where my immortality could stretch for eons to come.
Then, he turned, couched down and sprang up, and took flight with mighty wingbeats.
A breeze picked up, and I allowed myself to close my eyes and make believe that it was Chex's wings, instead.
I followed his flight until he was as far off and glittering as any star.
"Atra Aiedail flauga alfr," I whispered.
May the Morning Star fly him.