The Rise: Eldunari

Chapter 25- Eragon

Eragon viewed the masses of soldiers lined before him. A hundred by a hundred swordsman. More like farmers. These weren't soldiers. These were lambs being trained to be slaughtered. He instructed the more experienced soldiers to stand in front of the 100,000 men. From there, they were to copy exact sword movements. Basic techniques, stances, parries and thrusts. They weren't half bad. Eragon could envision a formidable force, given the proper training, nutrition and time. In a couple years these men could be battle hardened. But a couple of years, they did not have.

Word of the attack had spread throughout most of Alagaesia. Everyday, Nasuada, Eragon and Arya were in correspondence with Orik and Nar Garzhvog. Both Dwarves and Urgals had been mustered, yet many were still indecisive as to the legitimacy of the Masters. Their close-mindedness frustrated Eragon. The people had forgotten the strength that a united race of men, elves, dwarves, urgals and dragons could produce. Additionally, though the Masters had only attacked once, their strength could not be underestimated. Eragon's sleeps had been plagued with visions of destruction and carnage encapsulating Alagaesia. Hundreds... thousands would be dead before an outcome could be reached. Still, he had to hold out for hope. His strength had multiplied to lengths even the elves could not hope of reaching. Sensing a hundred-thousand eyes bearing on his man-elf body, he drew Brisingr- a show of confidence for those who needed it the most. A hundred-thousand loyalists answered his gesture with a war-cry of their own. Metal slammed onto metal. A cacophony of noises rose into the air, making the ground tremble, the grass quiver. Maybe there was some hope afterall.

Training had concluded at midday. Eragon covered his head with his grey cloak. He had enchanted the cloak to mask the noises of his existence from those in passing, so as to save time and stave off unwanted attention.

Little one.
Yes Saphira? Is everything alright?
Your chambers now. Bring Arya.
Eragon nodded, not realising Saphira could not see him. Then again, she had been accustomed to his movements, so she probably would have pictured his movements as and when they occurred. Eragon raced past a thousand soldiers to where Arya was. She was teaching the women the art of the bow and arrow. So far, there had been promising results. As hundreds of women poured out of the archery range, Eragon found himself stealthily approaching a cloaked figure. The silk cloak was a dark blue. The hood lay flaccid. Long dark hair flowed from the shoulders of the cloak to the wearers waist.
"Queen Arya," Eragon said, tongue-in-cheek.
"How many times have I told you not to call me that, Argetlam." Eragon smiled. In his first 17 years in Alagaesia, he and Arya never shared more than a professional relationship. She was partially tasked with ensuring he fulfilled his training in order to end the Mad King's reign. Therefore, being friends or anything more was something of a fantasy in Eragon's mind. His time away from her and Alagaesia had matured him. Like wine that gets better with age, Eragon had appreciated being away from the home he knew.
"Saphira has requested us to commune in my chambers. I imagine Firen will be there too."
"Interesting. Any idea what about?"
"Partially, but nothing concrete." It was a half life. Arya knew it. Eragon knew Arya knew it.
In truth, very little occurred without Saphira or Eragon knowing it, about each other. But Saphira had chosen to mask her thoughts for the time being.
"Interesting." Without another word, Arya covered her hood and took Eragon's hand and melded into the crowd of a thousand. To an uninteresting passer-byer, they would've just looked like an ordinary man and women strolling through the streets. Eragon had given brief thought to how the citizens perceived his relationship with Arya. In truth, he had attempted to define what it was they had to himself, but to no avail. All he knew is that where she went, he would eventually follow.

The day was cool, yet sunny. Winter was passing fairly quickly. The days bore longer, the weather was warmer and the rain seemed to dry up. Despite being in a time of impending war, the city was temporarily peaceful. Merchants sold their goods. Taverns bustled with the groan of nightlife and alcohol. To a bird, viewing Ilirea from above, all would seem serene. Eventually, Arya and Eragon had reached Nasuada's castle, where their rooms were. The large, steel gates parted as Nasuada's personal bodyguard formed two parallel lines to allow Arya and Eragon through. Under their steely gazes, a mortal man would've probably trembled. But Eragon had fought in the bloodiest war imaginable. He fought with these men. They died by his side. He knew their brothers, fathers, sons. An unspoken respect could be felt between them, irrespective of his position as a dragonRider. As Arya passed each man or dwarf or Urgal, they nodded their head.

Finally, when Eragon and Arya had reached his chambers, Saphira and Firen lay, individually forming two semicircles, but combining to form a whole.
It took you long enough. Firen said, in his deep voice.
If only I had wings Firen. Perhaps you can give me yours? Arya responded.
Well when the both of you are done, we have some business to discuss. Eragon hadn't noticed it before, but Saphira's voice had changed. His time on Vroengard had evidently fostered a deeper bond between them, but upon returning to Ilirea and encountering the living world, he noticed her voice had matured, becoming more knowledgeable and wise.

When I was patrolling the skies, I heard voices.
Immediately Eragon's ears perked. Arya's features lay impassive, but he knew she too was intrigued. Saphira took their silence as a sign to continue.
They spoke of... things far away yet so close. They spoke of the Spine, and these... wolves within the spin. They spoke of the carnage that will ensure and the spoke of the blood that will be shed.
Saphira recounted the rest of her encounter and when she was done, rested her head on the marble floor.

Eragon spoke first. "Elva, upon my departure to Ellesmera, spoke of wolves." Arya turned and looked at him, surprised.
"She mentioned that we are to look for them, but said nothing more. What's more is that my dreams have taken a turn. For many nights I have had dreams of padded paws crunching autumn leaves in a lush forest. But as to their meaning, I am none the wiser."
"It is no coincidence, and I am sure they are connected. But it begs the question, what is to be done," said Arya. She continued.
"We have a duty here to protect the people. Can a journey north be risked? And we could be attacked at anytime."
When the fighting starts, we will be needed in the fold, on the frontline. Firen said.
Eragon, the Riders are stationed in a makeshift dragonhold 3 leagues from here. We have kept their arrival a secret for a reason such as this. Perhaps they will not be able to deal with the attention. I propose we send a contingent of them to the Spine. We can afford it the depletion of our numbers slightly.
Eragon pondered this proposal. "Unless Arya, or you, Firen, have any objections, I believe that in our best interest, this is what we should do. Also, Arya, there is someone I've wanted you to meet for a long time."