Ebrithilar

By Dracones

This is my book 5. Also on Inheritance Forums, where I am likewise Dracones. Incidentally, it is already complete.

Chapter 1: Life on Du Skulblakafell.

An elf; wet, sodden clothes clinging to his body, long black hair likewise drenched in the liquid that poured in ever-increasing amounts from the darkening night sky above him. He traversed the soaking forest terrain with grace and purpose, despite the apparent lack of any landmarks or indicators of direction in the vicinity. His guides were the moon and the stars, the faint glimmer of sunlight as it sank into the west, his recollections of previous journeys embarked upon in similar fashion, and the whispers of the animals and plants around him, which told of sights and scents of dangerous beings of power up ahead. He disregarded the petty fears of the creatures, and utilised their memories to help him seek out his destination, which was not far in front of him. His sense of direction had served him well.

A thinning of the trees heralded the sight that was to come before him, the pines becoming less dense, slightly less vibrant; though only slightly. However, it was still enough for the elf to notice, and a small smile temporarily flashed over his face. Speeding up, he soon reached the edge of the great forest that was his home, though none had previously known how far north it truly extended. Truth be told, it extended even further than the staggering distance he had already traversed. He had simply reached a rather large break in the trees, the cause of which was a grey mountain of rock and stone.

A road, a path, carved out of the living stone of the mountain itself, wound its way higher and higher up the peak, starting from near where the elf stood, gazing up at the sight. Though he had seen it before, it was always a sight to remember; not necessarily the mountain, nor the path, but the glimmering hall of white marble that rose from the summit.

It seemed to glimmer even more in the rain, which still poured down, giving every surface exposed to it a reflective sheen. The building had two distinctive sections. At the front, where the road of rock reached the top, the hall was large and square, a great door leading in from the road, carvings and patterns all over the surface. There were no stone blocks making up the walls; the entire structure was one exquisite marble creation, sung out of the very ground, all linked together by the fact that it was all the same marble that had been summoned up from the earth in the beginning, there being no distinction at all between the elegant patterns woven by magic and the simple flat stone they lay on, for they were different parts of the same whole.

Behind that, still attached to the front of the building, rose a tower. It was massive, circular, rising up high into the darkened sky. The tower itself was very thick; there was a large hole in the top, one which ran the entire way down, but the design was purposeful. The walls extended quite far from the shaft, which went all the way down to the bottom of the tower, and in the wall, there were caves, large caves which went deep into the walls. The tower was a place for dragons, the place for dragons, for this was where they stayed when training for the privilege of being dragon and Rider, and where they would live-though temporarily, as they would need to travel to Alagaesia and such-thereafter.

All this, the elf remembered from his former visits, starting five years ago, when he was the first person to see it that had not had a hand in its construction or planning. Even though he had paid it several visits since then, he was still awestruck by the sight, if not for very long. He started to walk forwards, up the mountain road, a smile on his face.

The end was in sight.

"Now," Eragon said, "Remember, focus on the image you want and say the words of the spell. Pick an image you would like to be preserved, one that you would like to keep, for whatever you create shall be your own property. I have found sometimes that putting feelings into the Fairth works well for creating an image you want to keep, but it can have adverse effects if you do not take caution with that feeling. So, cast your spells." His students nodded, and one by one they cast the spell. Eragon himself cast a spell on his own piece of slate, as an example. He focused on an image of Oromis and Glaedr in Ellesmera, on the Crags of Tel`nair, and it appeared on the slate tablet in front of him, perfect but for one slight alteration from the original picture. The same alteration had snuck into several of his fairths over the past few years.

Oromis and Glaedr, and the forest behind them, were in crystal-clear focus, just as he remembered them. The golden dragon sparkled brilliantly in the light that shone from above them, his missing foreleg evident, but embodying the pride of the great dragon that Glaedr had been. Oromis, on his back, smiled down at the viewpoint, wisdom and sadness in his gaze and his hand on Naegling. It was a memory of the pair just before they had left Ellesmera, flying to their deaths over Gil`ead. The pine trees of the forest behind were clearly detailed, and when Eragon looked closer, he could almost make out individual needles on the branches. All of that was just as he had intended, yet the alteration was still there, leaning against a tree.

Not of his own choice or memory, for she had not even been there at the time, Arya stood next to the trunk of one of the nearest trees, one hand resting against it. Her sword was at her side, a gentle, reverent smile on her beautiful face as she looked up at the Rider and dragon. She still entranced him, even after five years apart, and his feelings, his longing, and his love had inserted her into the picture, because, as usual, his adoration and loneliness were an ever-present part of his mind, always in his emotions, and many times they would invoke such a response in his fairths. The constant background to his thoughts, Arya, was brought into the background of his fairths as well, which made it awkward to show them to the students, as they felt more personal than a simple demonstration. The additions to the pictures appeared mostly when the Fairth was one of his time in Alagaesia, when his memories of her would surface once more.

When his pupils had finished, they held up the fairths for him to inspect. He had chosen to forgo the meditation session, due to the weather, and they were inside one of the training halls in Du Skulblaka Breoal, or the dragon house. Perched atop Du Skulblakafell, the dragon mountain, it was something for Eragon to be proud of; the interior design was much like that of Doru Abrea on Vroengard, large, airy, everything made bigger for the comfort of the dragons. Now, he was in a relatively small hall with his four students, Dusan, a male elf, Kundavar, an Urgal, Nar Garzhvog`s son, Aruk, a dwarf of Durgrimst Ragni Hefthyn, and Taiven, a human and the niece of King Orrin. The hall, despite being one of the smaller ones, was thrice the size of his rooms in Ellesmera.

Ellesmera...

Arya...

Eragon mentally shook himself, and began to walk around, to see what his students had created. Kundavar had trouble with magic normally, though he was steadily improving, as shown by his simple, yet artistic image of the five dragons that lived on Du Skulblakafell, all flying together in the sky. It was hazy in places, but the overall image was good.

Aruk, likewise, was having several small problems with pronunciation and such, due to the differences between the language of the dwarves and that of the elves. His Fairth of the star sapphire in Tronjiem exceeded Eragon`s expectations, showing just how much all dwarves cared for the ancient gem, which Saphira had fixed after Arya had broken it to save him.

Arya...

Taiven, who was already surprisingly fluent in the ancient language, had created a picture of the five people in the room, just as they were. It was an obvious idea, but the beauty the Fairth held was due to the obvious spirit of enjoyment and happiness that flowed across the slate. Taiven`s emotions had gone into that Fairth, and it was a good image.

Dusan was, for obvious reasons, more adept at the ancient language than the rest, and his Fairth was the most detailed yet. It was one of a treehouse in Ellesmera, Dusan`s sister, Alanna, who Eragon recognised from previous visits to the city, and he therefore guessed that that was where Dusan had lived before becoming a Rider. Maybe the young elf was slightly homesick, or just wanted to see his family again. Eragon would have to talk to him about it later.

He nodded to each of his students in turn, and as he was about to give his opinions on their works, Saphira reached out her mind to him. He let her in gladly, and she said, Little one, Vanir approaches. You should greet him, and leave the drawings-on-slate for another day. She had been teaching the younger dragons a bit about flying in bad conditions, which was why she had spotted the elven ambassador so fast.

Of course. Are you finishing with the hatchlings now?

Little one, they are barely hatchlings now. But yes, I will be finishing shortly.

Good, I want to spend some time with you.

Little one... She allowed pleasure to flow across to him, then left his mind, though their link remained. He smiled, then turned back to his students.

"I would very much like to comment on your work now, but the elven ambassador, Vanir, has just arrived to collect the next set or eggs to be carried to Alagaesia, which means that both I have to cut this lesson short to see him, and that you shall likely be made full Riders quite soon. I dislike leaving in the middle of a lesson, but if you would please retire to your rooms now. Thank you." With a few disappointed frowns, the Riders bade him farewell, and Eragon strode into the entrance hall that adjoined their current location, while they headed in the opposite direction, towards their quarters.

Upon reaching the huge doors, Eragon gave a simple command of "Ladrin!" or 'open,' and both sides of the door moved inwards silently. A few pre-emptive wards to keep the rain out stood Eragon in good stead as winds whistled past the sides of the building, carrying with them the rain, which splattered against the hall, the mountain, the road, and the elf walking along the latter. With a cry of relief, the elf, now recognisable as a dripping wet Vanir, ran forwards, into the dry hall, muttering as he did so a spell which dried out his clothes and his hair. He smiled, and rested a hand on Eragon`s shoulder in a comradely manner.

"How was your journey, Vanir? Uneventful?" The ambassador nodded.

"On the whole, yes. Nothing worthy of mention occurred. And it`s pretty much the same for the rest of Alagaesia, actually, though there has been something small happening in Surda. The queen herself is getting restless. But, anyway, down to business!" Eragon would have liked to inquire more about Arya, but Vanir`s abrupt change of topic away from that stopped him.

"Aye, and down it is!" Eragon led Vanir to the side, spoke a word, and steps going downwards revealed themselves. The two descended into the darkness, until a whispered "Naina!" from Eragon lit up the area, and they reached the chamber at the bottom.

A large room, hundreds of alcoves in the walls, spread out over all four of them, met their eyes. Vanir in his position as Ambassador, had been informed of the Eldunari, having sworn oaths of secrecy, and in each alcove rested a single Eldunari, reflecting beautiful colours all over the room in the magical light. Below each alcove was the name of the dragon, elegantly carved in the marble, though some, not yet sane from Galbatorix`s tortures, were nameless, though the other Eldunari, sometimes with Eragon`s assistance, were attempting to heal the broken minds of the dragons. But despite the sight of the dragons` hearts, both Eragon and Vanir were focusing on things much more vital for the rebuilding of the dragons and Riders.

The twenty-two eggs from the Vault of Souls that were destined to be linked to Riders, each on a beautiful plinth.

Plus one.

In a separate position, to the side, sat one more egg, not one from the Vault. It was pure white, quite small in comparison to most of the others, and Saphira had laid it five months after the completion of Du Skulblaka Breoal.

Eragon gave Vanir six of the dragon eggs this time, though not Saphira`s; he was confident that with the assistance of the new Riders, he could train even more this time than before, hence the six. The eggs were put in sacks, and Vanir hefted the heavy burden without complaint. They ascended again, and in the entrance hall, bade each other farewell. Vanir declined the offer of a room to rest after his travels, insisting that he was fine, and he once again walked out into the cold, damp, world outside.

Eragon turned away, thinking of the future rebuilding of the Riders, and he allowed his feet to take him where they would, not concentrating on his own actions. To his surprise, when he next looked up, he found himself face to face with the Fairth he had just made, staring into the beautiful emerald eyes of the one he loved.

Arya...