Destiny (Volume I: Shur'tugalar)

Chapter Two Part XVII (ED)

"Then she remains a traitor to our race," the elf decreed, her voice as cold as ice.

Nia's eyes flashed. "And do you agree with the queen that we too should not be recognized as your blood?"

Shock flitted across Arya's face. "She refused to acknowledge you three?"

The Rider smiled wryly. "Oh, no. The queen merely denounced us as her kin."

"Aha!" Orrin exclaimed, startling everyone as he turned a finger to the elf. "So you are a princess!"

Everyone stared at the king, and Arya looked torn between giving him a grimace or a frown. Orrin hurriedly put down his hand, tucking them into his lap as he muttered, "Pardon my rudeness. Perhaps I exhibited too much excitement for a simple discovery."

Nasuada patted his shoulder. "I understand your surprise, your majesty."

Arya's anger faded, and she smiled indulgently at Orrin. "Yes, you are correct. I am Islanzadí's daughter."

The tension was broken, and Eragon wondered if the king's outburst had been to serve a larger purpose. Deciding to feed his own curiosity since now was a time for questions, he asked the triplet's, "What did Leafë look like?"

"Well, they - " and here Nicholas gestured towards his four companions, " - always said that I had Mor's (A/N: "Mom's" in the ancient language) eyes."

"And that I had Far's," chirped Nate, before adding with a wicked grin, "And Nia...well, she was always the weird one."

His sister glared at him with flashing violet irises, and he merely laughed. Turning her back to him, Niaomi said, "Let us ignore his foolish words and continue on with the tale." The mirror was raised once again, and the surface fogged over until it cleared to show a large mountainside. As the view zoomed in, Eragon saw the two figures of Tristan and Niom struggling up the steep slope - or, more accurately, Niom solely struggling.

Panting, the young man hollered to Tristan, "Can't you wait up?"

The satyr looked back in mild concern. "Och, lad, what be taking ye so long? We havenae got all day, ye ken."

"So sorry that I'm not part goat," muttered Niom, pushing his dark hair out of his face in the same distinct gesture that his daughter used.

As the two finished their climb, Nia narrated, "When Father finally made it up the mountain, he beheld the biggest and by far the greatest piece of history that the elves left behind: their library."

Eragon had seen Ellesméra, the capital city hidden in the great forest of Du Weldenvarden, so he knew how the people wove beautiful homes out of nature. But none of this knowledge prepared him for the sight of Du Breoal Abr Kvaedheya...

Which he could not even see at first glance.

For a few moments, all Eragon noticed was how large rocky cliffside flattened out, the plateau stretching outwards for several yards before it continued upwards. Shelves of rocks that jutted outwards housed small scraggles of trees, evergreens mostly; at the ones above, moss and vines hung over the edge like drapery.

And then Eragon gasped, realizing that it was drapery. The top of the cliff - which leveled to become a plateau once more - was the roof of the library, while those various shelves were windows. They were covered now by a rocky mirage that by looking closely he could discern as fake. The wide arches and narrow balconies were well obscured from most eyes by the mossy drapes, and the doors were outlined faintly with marble veins.

"Magnificent," whispered Nasuada.

"The exact words that Far used when he first saw it as well," said Nathan with a slightly saddened smile.

"Magnificent," echoed Niom in the reminiscence.

Tristan looked back at him. "Isnae it? Ye have a keen eye to have spotted it so easily."

"And you live here?"

"What do ye take me fer, a dwarf?" Chuckling, the satyr answered, "Nay, I dinnae like being enclosed in rock verra well. I live o'er on top of the library."

"So, does anyone live here?"

"Aye, one being does, and ‘tis bout time ye meet her, eh?"

The image fast forwarded to show Niom and Tristan walking through the granite doors that were slowly creaking shut. However, though the sun was now gone, the light was not - Erisdar lanterns hung around the air, their glows burning bright enough to light up the huge vestibule. It had marble floors carpeted with moss, and the ceiling was high enough to fit a dragon. A set of stairs lead up to the walkway that ringed around from the second tier halfway up the smooth marble walls. Tall, rock columns rose to form the entrances into other chambers, while fairths of various landscapes decorated the walls, along with shelves that held a treasure of scrolls and artifacts.

"Welcome," rang the voice of an älfa-kona from the top of the great staircase, and a tall figure came into view. Her gown was long, trailing behind her as its gray color blended into the rocks. It was old fashioned but beautiful nonetheless. As the image zoomed in, it settled on her skirt before slowly moving upward, revealing hands that were a warm brown color, much lighter than the triplets’.

"Mor darkened her skin when she arrived on the island, since fair skin burns quite easily there," Niaomi quietly stated as the image moved higher, revealing a smooth, long neck and pointed chin. And when her face was finally revealed fully, Eragon couldn't help gasping at her exquisite beauty. Her mocha cheeks were high boned, and angular forest green eyes were framed by silver hair so bright it outshone the very stars. The mass of luminescent locks tumbled down her back, held at bay with one simply gray dyed leather strap.

It was in the planes of her regal face and the color of her irises that Eragon found Arya. Glancing towards her, he was startled to see the stark pain and longing that surmounted her generally impassiveness. Her lips parted briefly to whisper one word, so softly he was sure only he heard it:

"Sister."