Familiar Faces
***
“Stenr risa!” Dobrek shouts, his rough voice sounding like stones grating against each other. The large rock in front of him floats several feet off of the ground.
“Good, Dobrek.” I nod my approval. The urgal snorts and stamps his feet proudly. “That’s enough for now.”
“Letta.” As the kull utters the word the rock drops onto the floor.
“You did well today. You should be proud of yourself, Dobrek.”
“Thank you, Ebrithil,” Dobrek dips his massive horns in respect. “Are we done for the day?”
“Yes, we are.” After a few quick remarks, Dobrek departs. He climbs onto the back of his orange dragon, Kogrez. The pair of dragon and rider are soon flying high above me.
Kogrez was the first of the eggs in my possession to hatch. His rider, Dobrek, has been under the tutelage of me and the Eldunari for nearly a year now. He has come far and since Kogrez’s hatching, three more eggs have followed suit. Of those eggs, all three were those who had not been set to pair with riders. I can see the cave set high on one of the peaks where Saphira spends most of her time nurturing the younglings.
My days have been spent working with Dobrek to teach him the ways of the riders. Despite all of my hard work and the labor that keeps me busy, there is still the constant ache of loneliness. I enter the eyrie where Saphira and I reside and sink into the chair at my simple wooden desk. Straight across the room is the mirror that Arya and I use to scry one another. Or maybe used is the better term for it. I haven’t been able to speak with Arya for nearly a fortnight. Her duties as queen and mine as the head of the riders have kept us so busy that we have nearly no extra time for one another.
I let out a long sigh. I knew when I left Alagaesia that I may never see her again, but I miss Arya’s companionship. From the time that I rescued her from Durza to the day we slew Galbatorix, my friendship with Arya was one of the only never-changing things in my life.
I stand and make my way to the nest that Saphira and I share. She hasn’t slept with me in several nights, insisting that she stay with the hatchlings until the snow is gone. A puff of smoke drifts out of her cave.
Arya has not forgotten you, Little One.
Saphira’s head appears in the opening. She stretches and looses a burst of bright blue fire. A second later, the rest of Saphira’s body becomes visible as she leaps from her nest. She lands next to me with an earth-shaking lurch.
Saphira lowers her head so that one brilliant blue eye is level with me. It’s been so long since we’ve flown together.
“That it has.” I agree.
Well, then what are you waiting for? Fetch my saddle! She lets out an amused noise.
I hurry to saddle her up. Once Saphira is comfortably fitted, I climb onto her back and hastily strap my legs in.
“Let us fly, Saphira!” With a roar, she leaps out of the eyrie and soars over Mount Arngor.
Soon the people below us seem as if they are no bigger than ants. The wind tousles my hair and I let out a whoop. It’s been so long since Saphira and I have flown together. Flying with Saphira is exhilarating and humbling at the same time. To see the world from a dragon’s point of view is something that few people have the honor of experiencing.
Eragon, do you see that? Saphira turns so that we are facing the Edda river and I use her eyes to see what she is looking at.
“Is that...?”
It’s a ship! I squint my eyes, trying to make out any details to tell me who might be traveling to the dragon hold.
Not just any ship, Eragon. It’s the Talita! Saphira exclaims as she begins to descend.
The Talita is the elven ship that we sailed from Alagaesia on. Several days after deciding on Mount Arngor, we saw the ship sailing back to Du Welden Varden without anyone to man it. This means that our visitors must be elven.
All of a sudden a million emotions envelop me. Longing and excitement are the strongest- so strong, in fact, that it takes me several moments to realize that they’re not my emotions.
“Saphira, what-” She lets out an earth-rattling roar and speeds towards the Talita.
FIRNEN! Her mind shouts. I see a flash of green flames and the green dragon becomes visible. He roars in return and flaps his wings, but keeps his feet pressed firmly on the ground. Saphira hastily lands on the shore and I tear my legs out of the straps.
Remove my saddle, Eragon! She moves so much that I can barely undo the straps.
“Well then hold still, Saphira!” I smile as a shiver runs through her body.
I can’t! I’m too filled with joy. Finally, the straps come undone and Saphira rushes to meet Firnen.
The two sparkling giants crash into one another, the sound of their joy filling the air. Ahead of me, the Talita’s gangplank is lowered onto the shore. A familiar figure makes her way down.
I run to Arya, wondering her reason for her visit. While not unwelcome, it is surprising. Panting, I stop in front of the elven queen. We both touch our fingers to our lips.
“Astra esterni ono thelduin.” I greet her.
“Mor’ranr lifa unin hjartr onr.” A smile breaks across her face and Arya pulls me into an embrace.
Surprised, it takes me a moment to return the favor. Arya has never been one to share touches. After a moment she breaks away and studies me for a long moment.
“You look well, Eragon.” Arya finally says.
“And you as well, Arya dröttning.” Arya does not look changed. Her long black hair is now held back by a crown instead of the strip of leather that she used to wear. And though she still dons a tunic and leggings, her clothes are much finer, clearly meant for royalty.
“Since you are here, I believe we have much to talk about.” I nod toward the Talita. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, Eragon. In fact, I come bearing news that you will be very glad to hear.” She turns towards the ship. “Kausta, Shur’tugal.”
“Shur’tugal?” I gasp. “You’ve brought a rider?”
“I’ve brought three.” As the words leave her mouth, two elves make their way down the gangplank.
Their features are very similar, with both of the elves having pale skin, green eyes, and silver hair. They walk in sync and come to stop on either side of Arya. Both of the elves have a slight...shimmer to them. I realize with a jolt that I’ve seen them before.
The elves and I repeat the greeting that Arya and I had moments before. I turn to the taller of the two. He’s clearly male with slightly stronger features and broader shoulders.
“Kvetha. Your name is Dusan, is it not?”
The young elf nods-for he is young. Dusan and his sister Alanna were only twelve the last time that I saw them in Du Welden Varden, which was nearly four years ago now. This means they would be around sixteen. Their skin still has a sheen as elven children do, but it is diminished compared to before.
“And yours, Alanna?” I turn to the girl.
“Yes, Ebrithil.” As she speaks three young dragons approach us. They are each no taller than a horse, with small nubs along their spine where they will one day have spikes.
At first glance, two of them seem identical, like Alanna and Dusan. I take a longer look at the dragons. Two are a pale grey. The one on the left, which nuzzles against Dusan’s leg is larger and its scales are tinted slightly blue. Alanna’s smaller dragon has flecks of lavender scales amidst the grey. Both dragons have grey eyes to match their scales.
"Who does the third belong to?" I ask, my eyes scanning for the third rider that Arya mentioned.
She looks towards the ship. "Ailia! Come out, please!"
With a sigh, Arya turns back to me. "Ailia has had a terrible seasickness the entire way here and has spent the last two weeks with her head hanging over the ship."
A young girl hurries down the gangplank. She stops, her cheeks red while she catches her breath.
"I'm sorry Ebrithil, I saw the most interesting thing-"
"It is Ebrithilar, Ailia. This is Eragon."
The girl seems to notice me for the first time. "I'm sorry, Eragon-elda."
Ailia looks to be around the age that I was when I found Saphira's egg, but much smaller. She is at least a head shorter than the twins and has thick golden hair that hangs past her waist. It is clear at once that she is human, unlike her traveling companions.
While the elves are composed, formal, and altogether more graceful...Ailia is not. Her features are quite human as well. Most elves have thin, angular faces and all have dark hair. Aila is freckled with soft features.
The last dragon -which is obviously hers- is gold, but much brighter than Glaedr. The dragon's scales reflect brightly in the sun and match its rider's locks perfectly.
“You have fine dragons.” I nod my approval. “How old are they, Arya?”
“Zelre and Ilru are almost three months, while Solus is four.” She looks slightly abashed. “I meant to tell you sooner, but we kept getting distracted. Which is why I decided to accompany the riders here.”
“I’m glad you did, Arya. It’s been so long since I last saw you.”
She smiles. “I’m glad as well. I’ve missed you Eragon. As much as Firnen missed Saphira.”
We all turn to watch the dragons who have settled onto the ground, tails intertwined. Firnen and Saphira love one another deeply and I’ve felt the ache that my dragon feels when she thinks of Firnen. For Arya to miss me as I have missed her means a great deal. I clear my throat.
“Come now, Shur'tugal. Let me show you the new home of the riders.”
***
