Luminescent (Inheritance Cycle and Beyond)

Chapter Twenty-Three: Iridescent

"Wyrda!" Blagden darted forward, plucked a bright glass stopper from an inkwell, and sped away with his trophy clutched in his beak.

"That bird is starting to irk me," I muttered before Eragon threw his hands into the air.

"That's it. I'll find Blagden later and wring the truth out of him. But right now... I would have to be a half-wit to ignore these portents. Mal, come with me." Eragon took off down the stairs while I sighed and followed in pursuit.

Eragon brought me to his room and retrieved a mirror before pulling me down next to him, sitting between Saphira's two front paws so that she could look over our heads and see what we saw. Alethea was curled up in my lap, swishing her tail back and forth.

"Arya won't appreciate it if we intrude on her privacy," Saphira warned.

"I have to know if she's safe."

"How will you find her? You said that after her imprisonment, she erected wards that—like your necklace—prevent anyone from scrying her."

"If I can scry the people she's with. I might be able to figure out how Arya is." Eragon said before concentrating on the mirror. "Dream stare."

The mirror shimmered and turned white, except for nine people clustered around an invisible table. Of them, Eragon was familiar with Nasuada and the Council of Elders. But he could not identify a strange girl hooded in black who lurked behind Nasuada.

"... and confusion will destroy us. Our warriors can afford but one commander during this conflict. Decide who it is to be, Orrin, and quickly too." Eragon and I heard a disembodied sigh.

"As you wish; the position is yours."

"But, sir, she is untied!"

"Enough, Irwin," ordered the king. "She has more experience in war than anyone in Surda. And the Varden is the only force to have defeated one of Galbatorix's armies. If Nasuada were a Surdan general—which would be peculiar indeed, I admit—you would not hesitate to nominate her for the post. I shall be happy to deal with questions of authority if they arise afterward, for they will mean I'm still on my feet and not lying in a grave. As it is, we are so outnumbered I fear we are doomed unless Hrothgar can reach us before the end of the week. Now, where is that blasted scroll on the supply train?.."

We continued to listen to their conversation before a realization hit me like a brick.

"Eragon, we haven't thought about Roran in a long time..." Eragon nodded at me with a guilty expression before scrying Roran.

The mirror revealed two figures standing against a pure white background. It took Eragon and me a long moment to recognize the man on the right as Roran. To the left was Jeod. The men surged up and down, accompanied by the thunderous crash of waves, which masked anything they said. After a while, Roran turned and walked along what Eragon assumed was the deck of a ship, bringing dozens of other villagers into view.

"Why are the villagers of Carvahall on a boat?" Eragon scryed every place we have visited; everything was destroyed. The mirror dropped from Eragon's hand and shattered across the floor. I leaned back against Saphira with Eragon as the reality set in.

"It's our fault," I whispered. "It is all our fault."

"Take comfort, little ones. At least your friends are still alive."

"We have remained sequestered from the world for far too long. It's high time we leave Ellesméra and confront our fate, whatever it may be. For now, Roran must fend for himself, but the Varden...the Varden we can help." I said as I got to my feet.