A/N New upload! Took me a looong time to post this, but life hit me like a truck in august. Geez. Hopefully things will calm down some going forward now. Anyways, read and review! Give me opinions!
The Second Fall of The Riders
Echoes of The Past
The Talita reached shore by late afternoon. Blodghärm and the other elves quickly moored the ship, and made sure to haul the boat up the beach. Far away from even the largest tidal waves. They all eyed the silver haired elf next to Eragon with shifty eyes.
The small ramshackle force from earlier had dispatched quickly without so much as an apology after the misunderstanding had been cleared up. Only the elf and his dragon had stayed behind, and Eragon was smart enough to realize that was probably just to regain some lost diplomatic ground.
He had given Blodghärm some of the details earlier, and while his second in command hadn't said anything outright, Eragon knew he had been displeased with the entire encounter. Eragon decided not to tell him he had left Brisingr behind too, that would only aggravate him further.
"What are you exactly?" The elf beside him asked out of the blue, and Eragon was brought out of his musings. He turned and lifted an eyebrow at the question, and the still unnamed rider tried to elaborate.
"I thought you were an elf at first, but you have some human qualities about you as well. The fact that your companions look nothing like you makes me doubt it is a local trait."
He is not exactly very polite, for an elf anyway.
We are not in Du Weldenvarden, Saphira. The elves of Aesdynia could be as raunchy and up front as dwarves, we don't know anything about them.
"I was born human." He replied back in the one tongue they both had in common, the ancient language.
"I see . . ." Was Feramus's uncertain reply.
"Tell me more about this land, Shur'tugal . . ?" Eragon made it obvious he was fishing for a name.
"I am Feramus, and my second half here is Kelmor." He replied and gestured to the large azure blue dragon lounging in the sand a little distance away.
"Shur'tugal Feramus un Kelmor du skulblaka." Eragon spoke their names softly and leaned against one of the many barrels the elves had carried out onto the beach.
"You mentioned a war." Eragon stated.
Feramus looked away with clouded eyes, and he became lost in his own thoughts for a moment. His dragon, Kelmor stretched out his consciousness and brushed up against Eragon's mind.
The entire continent has been in turmoil this last year.
Eragon looked between both rider and dragon. Then, with an air of casual indifference, he propped open the barrel beside him and snuck out a couple of pears.
"What are you going to do about it?"
Feramus looked at him with both brows slightly raised. "We don't know."
Eragon handed him one of the fruits. "Well then, pear?"
Feramus took it with a reverence usually not reserved for fruit. "What is it?" He wondered aloud.
"You eat it, it's a very common fruit in Alagesia." Eragon told him and took a bite, before he added between mouthfuls: "Strange to hear it doesn't grow here."
"I wish they did." Feramus told him after a small bite. "It has a nice texture."
Around them, Eragon's companions were in the process of gathering dry driftwood for a campfire, while others were setting up simple tents a bit further up the beach. Food and cooking pans were being brought out, but Eragon was watching Blodghärm, who was beelining down the beach towards him.
"Shadeslayer!" He called out. "I've discovered a settlement further inland."
Eragon gave him a nod. "I know, a town of sorts, the one on other side of the mountain chain, right?"
Blodghärm stopped in front of them and rose a very bushy eyebrow at him. "It's still difficult to believe the range of your senses, despite your young age."
Eragon gave him a small shrug. "It's hardly more than a day's march eastwards."
"A Shadeslayer!" Feramus clamored, mouth slightly ajar. Eragon gave him a puzzled look.
"No wonder we couldn't touch you." He said with a newfound realization.
Oh. That's right. I'm a Shadeslayer. Eragon had heard that title so many times by now it had sort of lost its meaning to him. I mean, even objectively speaking, it's an impressive title. I had sort of forgotten that.
How in the world could you forget such an important part of yourself? Saphira asked.
I guess, to me, it's not that important. Eragon replied in earnest.
"Really now? How did he do?" One of his female companions came up beside them with a smile. Eragon gave her a stiff look, which only made Alanah smile more. She had picked up a mischievous trait somewhere along the journey, and unfortunately, teasing him had become a habit.
"Well, we outnumbered them quite heavily." Feramus replied. "We were eight, against the two of them."
"Two of you were already incapacitated when the rest of you arrived, and I do believe another one of yours prioritized checking up on their health instead of engaging us directly." Eragon tried to reason.
"You're being modest now! You were spectacular!" He exclaimed, apparently very determined to usher praise on them.
Alanah let out a brief musical laugh at his expense. "He doesn't know how to handle compliments."
Eragon held up the what was left of his pear, which was just the stem, and flicked it at Alanah. "Something good is smelling, let's introduce Feramus to some exotic Alagesian food."
Blodghärm snorted, their ship had been stuffed with durable, long lasting food. Very little of it was particularly delicious, so it had become a running joke amongst them to proclaim they were really looking forward to dinner.
Everyone gathered around the campfire and ate with a resigned atmosphere; a few laughs were shared when Feramus became very obviously disappointed with the "exotic" food. Apparently roasted nuts and grilled fruits with a side of stale bread was nothing to celebrate.
He still finished his plate, but Eragon assumed it was out of curtesy.
"I was meaning to ask earlier, but are all Alagesian dragon riders as well trained as you and Saphira?" Feramus asked, putting his empty plate aside.
Eragon and Saphira's training had mostly consisted of staying alive, and their tutelage under Oromis and Glaedr had been very brief. He wouldn't reveal that however, that line of inquiry would lead to a whole night of dodging questions.
"Due to necessity, my training was rather unique, so no, not really." Eragon replied, but was quick to counter with a question of his own. "Your turn. Will you tell me more about Aesdynia?"
There was a short silence. Then.
"The war, right? Yeah, that's the only thing that matters nowadays. Honestly, it was nice just to sit here with you and not think about it. It's been the only topic on everyone's mind for months on end now. . . So, talking to you was refreshing" He gave them a hollow smile. "It must be hard for you to understand, but-"
"Not at all." Eragon cut in. "We understand perfectly."
Feramus stopped to look at him, and Eragon took a small swig of his waterskin. "I know where you're going with this."
Feramus remained quiet, and Eragon continued. "I'm not going to beat around the bush, you deserve better than that. Fact of the matter is, we've had our fill of war. And even if we wanted to help you, we have an important mission to accomplish, one that can't be compromised."
The silver haired foreigner gave him a nod. "I can't say I expected your help to begin with, but I appreciate your candor." He then smiled bitterly. "It's not like your help – however skilled you may be – would change anything."
Had Saphira heard that, she would have put in a few choice words of her own, but she was busy conversing with Kelmor, some distance away from their bonfire.
"You are faring badly?" Eragon prodded him.
"Terribly." He proclaimed darkly. "We're losing territory, and our ranks are thinning, both on land and in the air."
"Sounds like you have a strong enemy." Eragon pointed out.
"They are, even their inexperienced greenhorns' are powerful. It's hard to describe."
Eragon tried not to stir too much at that interesting piece of information, Feramus continued speaking with troubled eyes. "At any rate, the white gates of Ashta will be overtaken any day now. And once the traitors seize the capital . . ." He trailed off dejectedly.
Eragon handed him his waterskin. "Have a drink, you'll feel better."
Feramus took a hesitant sip, and immediately blinked at the spicy flavor. "What is this?"
"Faelnirv." Eragon answered him, "one of the better liquids available in Alagesia."
He took a bigger mouthful, and almost coughed it back up. "Ugh, pretty strong stuff."
"That it is." Eragon agreed, but he had caught something on that last sentence of his monologue earlier. Traitors? Saphira, did you get that?
Mhm. She replied distractedly. Eragon looked up, and spotted her down by the water, playfully bumping into Kelmor seemingly just to antagonize him.
I'm just happy we've found more dragons. Eragon tried to reach her with his thoughts, but she proved too distracted.
Saphira snapped after Kelmor's tail, and the large azure blue dragon bared his fangs at her threateningly. He promptly stalked off towards his rider.
Why are you annoying him? Eragon asked.
For fun.
Kelmor drew admiring gazes from the elves, some of them praised his beautiful scales. He felt a flash of envy from Saphira, who was used to that kind of flattery for her only. Feramus eyed his soul mate with a forlorn gaze.
"I must return to Lakten, Eragon. I will tell everyone you are of no threat to us, but I recommend you leave the continent soon. Aesdynia is not a safe place, and especially not to our kind anymore." He gave him a meaningful look, before he walked off with graceful steps.
"Lakten is the town across the hills?" Eragon asked, eyes going east.
Feramus mounted up on Kelmor and gave him a nod. "Yes, once you get past them the town is impossible to miss. I will make sure you are welcome there in case you decide to visit."
"We might just do that." Eragon told him.
The two of them took off and quickly grew smaller on the skyline. Eragon turned introspective, and began to mull his thoughts over with Saphira.
Instead of sharing words, the two melded together and rifled through the other's memories of the day.
"Eragon? Shadeslayer?"
A familiar voice brought him out of his reverie, but he held onto his connection with Saphira.
"Hmm, what?" He asked, and turned around to gaze at his companions around the fire.
"Share your thoughts with us, Shadeslayer. What's next?"
Eragon considered the question and looked at all members of the group, all nine. From Taräthiel to Aerdyn, the two dark haired elves were the only males besides Blodghärm. The blue furred leader of their little spellcaster group was observing him expectantly from across the fire. Sitting on either side of him was Invidia and Yaela, both beautiful, both silver haired.
Eragon looked further down, and spotted Salihn, dark and quiet, but with a voice that could bleed out a heart. Alanah sat next to her, equally dark, but witty and mischievous. The last two were Cithrel and Keysatra, and like the majority of the group, they too had midnight black hair. He took in their expressions and came to a descision.
"We go east tomorrow."
"To this town?" Yaela guessed.
"The town." Eragon confirmed. "We finally reached land, I don't think anyone wants to leave just yet."
A few murmured their agreement.
"We need a few days on solid land to get our bearings back, and it wouldn't hurt to resupply." Eragon added.
"Agreed." Blodghärm seconded.
"Yes, and besides, think about how much we can learn from this place!" Cithrel's obvious excitement was infectious, and Eragon couldn't keep down a smile.
"You're right." Aerdyn agreed. "And besides that, without any nautical maps of the coastline, it'll be much harder to navigate the Talita around the continent."
"Good point." Eragon acknowledged and rose to his feet. "We head out in the morning then, but for now, let's enjoy the evening. We finally reached land after all." He held up his faelnirv as a toast, before drinking deeply.
Hours later, Eragon retreated to his cabin, and after an unsuccessful attempt at contacting Nasuada in Alagesia. He went to sleep and dreamt something strange. There was a large battle in the sky, but both him and Saphira stood on the ground below, unable to do anything but watch the spectacular carnage above.
xXx
Lakten was a simple town, built mostly out of the nearby timber in the valley around it. A dark wood Eragon wanted to say was oak, but he couldn't be sure. The town stretched into the hillside, and in total, there were give or take a hundred small houses. Lakten was far off from being a city, but it was much larger than the village he had grown up in, Carvahall at that point in time had been little more than a hamlet.
The lush green forests surrounding the city on all fronts were divided by a shallow river that ran down the mountainside and went straight through the center of Lakten. Two large mills stood by the gentle stream, gently spinning. A handful of small rafts bobbed along to the calm current, tightly bound to poles nearby.
Once their little group walked past the first few houses, Eragon opened up his mind. Every spell caster in his proximity immediately retreated behind the walls of their minds. Now he would know if anyone with dark intentions approached them, the elves said nothing, didn't even glance his way.
They had fallen back into the old pattern Eragon had been so used to during the war in Alagesia. They surrounded him on all sides with Saphira forming the rear troop. They didn't speak or show emotions, right now they were once again his bodyguards. Together they must have made an impressive sight of unity and discipline, and those few who were outside shied away from them, making conversation with the people of Lakten fairly difficult.
Not that he could talk to anyone anyway; the local language was an oddity to him. It resembled that of the elves in the way their words flowed from their mouths, and yet, sometimes it took on the similarity of the human language of Alagesia; with brusque words and sentences ending on a high pitch. That might turn into a problem later; he resolved himself to get a translator at some point.
It turned out they didn't have to look around long for any sort of authority. The only building in town that was made out of stone was perched far up the hillside, looking down on the valley below it imperiously. It couldn't be more obvious, so naturally they approached it.
When they arrived by the stone fortress, they were halted by a pair of guards clad in colorful armaments and armed with spears and shields. The one to the right made a few brisk sounds in that alien language, he seemed to be talking to Eragon. Who naturally understood nothing; he tried talking to them in the ancient language, and the common human language of Alagesia.
The guards only looked at him in confusion, and then they started bickering amongst themselves. He could tell in the way they raised their voices and how their stances changed from casual to tense.
Eragon felt someone approaching, and looked over his shoulder. The woman from yesterday came up the hill. She wore a white tunic with a golden hem, her dark hair was set up in a messy bun that highlighted her slightly pointy ears. Her voice was calm and authoritative as she spoke to the guards.
Her words made the two guards straighten and shut their mouths. A few follow up words had them nodding and stepping aside.
Eragon gave her a small bow. "Thank you for the aid. It is most appreciated." She smiled friendly and nodded at him, but her eyes were guarded. She replied back in the ancient language.
"Your dragon cannot accompany you into the keep, but Lakten has a small dragon hold. She can stay there, if you like."
Where is this dragon hold? Saphira asked her directly. Are you sure that's what you want? Eragon asked her, she puffed some smoke, and he wisely stayed silent.
"Fly in that direction until you reach the cliffs." She pointed further up the hill. "The ledges by the dragon hold are hard to miss."
Saphira dipped her large head and looked after a place to spread her wings.
The woman seemed to understand, and nodded to a muddy and torn up circle of dirt to the side of the keep. "Over there."
Saphira waggled over and dug down with her claws. Don't poke your nose into things you can't get it out of. She told him.
"Shall we then, Shadeslayer?" Her mention of his title surprised him, but he followed her when she walked past the guards, who were motionless. He was a bit surprised they were allowed to carry their weapons with them, but he made no comment. His hand fingered the hilt of Brisngr; glad to have the blade with him today.
"You have been talking to Feramus then." He said. His voice reverberated against the stone walls. Every sound was amplified, yet he barely heard the nimble and gracious steps of the elves behind him. Loud noises and shouts were heard ahead of them, his brow furrowed in curiosity.
"I have." She confirmed easily.
"Well if you know my name, then I think it's only fair that I get to know yours." He retorted.
"Valeria."
"Good name." Eragon noted. "There's a certain strength to it."
She looked over her shoulder at him briefly, but remained silent.
Further ahead the turbulent sounds only got louder, and when they passed a corner, Eragon spotted a small keep courtyard. The ground was covered in a sickly yellow-brownish grass after being stomped to death by too many feet.
Elves and humans alike trained side by side, either pounding dummies, dueling, or performing magic. A few archery targets were placed in the top corner of the yard, and several caches of weaponry in the opposite corner.
It would have been a luxurious training platform for soldiers, but none of them were soldiers. They were training with magic, and he could spot the markings on their palms. They were apprentices, young dragon riders in the making.
The sight troubled him deeply, for a moment he could hardly believe that they had their future generation being trained like common soldiers, without even a single dragon in sight.
Then it struck him that they might not have much of a choice, if the war Feramus had been talking about was as serious as he had been implying, then maybe this was the result.
"The war must be bad . . . you have my sympathies."
"We need more than your sympathies, Shadeslayer." Was her curt reply.
They continued past the courtyard without stopping. Many of the people stopped their training to watch them walk by. Some of them were able to sense his open mind, and stared at him with large frowns.
Valeria continued unbothered and took them up a wide stone stair, only illuminated with wall mounted torches. There were noticeable prints int the steps, the wear and tear of centuries of feet moving up and down the stone steps. No question about it. This place is old.
So is this dragon hold. Saphira said through their connection. He got an image of a dimly lit cave, gigantic pillows were strewn around, and some of them were occupied by dragons in dazzling colors. Saphira was overjoyed, pulling other dragons' tails and otherwise creating mischief.
Eragon smiled. They reached the second story, which was bright with natural light coming in through slits in the walls. Looking through them gave a nice view of the courtyard below.
Valeria stopped and gesticulated to their right. "Lord Darion's court is down there, it's too late to arrange a meeting now. However, we have accommodation for town guests down this hallway. This last month has turned the section into the unofficial sleeping quarters for us riders. I can show you a room, but I don't know if there is sufficient space for your guards."
"Please do." Was all Eragon said. They were directed past a great number of old wooden doors, the torches here cast dim reflections across the dark stone walls. They met another much narrower stair and ascended it, and walked down an identical hallway. Valeria stopped at the far end and whispered a few words, the door nearest her creaked and opened.
It didn't look like there had been a maid in the room in a long time, an old dusty carpet covered the cold stone floor, a moldy desk stood in the right corner and a rickety wardrobe stood to the left. A ceiling lamp infested with spider webs hung over a bed that looked positively crawling with lice. Eragon wrinkled his nose, the smell was particularly foul. Valeria blinked, she made to speak, but Eragon waved his hand at her. With a few brisk words he had memorized from Oromis's many scrolls, he created a few simple spells.
The entire cover of dust simply disappeared, the bed mattress was lifted up in the air and banged repeatedly by invisible hands, the cobwebs disintegrated, and the furniture suddenly looked clean and newly polished. With a finishing touch, he lit the lamp and illuminated the room. Satisfied with his work, he turned to Valeria and asked her politely:
"To whom should I speak with to acquire rooms for my friends as well?"
She glanced at his now shining room, shrugged, and said: "Ask the steward in the morning, I'm sure he will help them."
"Shadeslayer, it is of no concern, we will find an inn somewhere where we can relieve ourselves for now." Blodghärm spoke, his blue fur had an odd glow in the flickering light of the torches.
"Very well, then you'd better get going, before they close for the night." He told them, Blodghärm nodded and left with the others. Aerendyl stayed by his side, he would be standing outside his door throughout most of the night too.
Eragon knew it was pointless to try and talk them out of that habit. Especially in a foreign city.
He then noticed that Valeria was still in his doorway, leaning her shoulder on the doorframe and eyeing him. She opened her mouth, and then closed it. When she did speak her tone was bitter.
"Are you to leave as soon as your business is concluded?"
Eragon felt a chill move down his spine, and a poisonous guilt manifested in his stomach. "I. . .I wish I could help you in your struggle, but we are on a quest of utmost importance." He told her quietly, the look he gave her was pained. He could see her jaw tense, before she nodded and left him.
Eragon remained still for a while. When Saphira nudged him through their connection, he embraced her and took comfort in her mind.
He was grateful for the blissful and dreamless sleep he had that night.
xXx
He woke early the next morning, and he couldn't find his rest again. He touched Saphira's mind, and saw that she was snoring peacefully, so he forced himself to climb out of bed and make himself presentable. After strapping Brisingr to his hip he left the room, the weight of the sword made him feel more at ease in this strange land.
He walked down the hallway, now with dark haired Salihn walking two steps behind him. He was hungry, so the first thing he did was to look for a kitchen.
He never found it, but he did find the dining hall in the lower levels of the keep, it was a large stone hall beneath the courtyard. The cavernous room was lit up by large chandeliers filled with gleaming candles, the place smelled oddly of old cheese. At the moment there were a few people sitting at the benches and tables that were placed around, eating and drinking.
Eragon helped himself to a portion from the wooden table in the middle of the hall, feeling oddly self-conscious as he did. He and Salihn sat down at a table for themselves and tried some of the foreign food. It was . . . interesting, he told himself and swallowed.
Salihn seemed to agree with him, going by her expression of distaste.
"Greetings, Shadeslayer!" A voice thrummed above all the small and foreign talk. Feramus moved to him and sat down at the opposite side of the table. Eragon ignored the whispering that traveled through the hall.
Eragon smiled and said. "Astra eterni ono thelduín."
Feramus raised a white brow at him and said. "I take it that is an Alagesian greeting? Very beautiful, very poetic." Eragon smiled wider. "It is an old traditional line."
"Ahh, traditions. They define us all, I'm glad that you took the trip to Lakten, Eragon. Some people here need to be reminded of their traditions." Feramus said and his eyes glanced over the hall in a distasteful manner, before he began eating the gruel in his bowl.
"This place used to have better food than this-" Feramus held up his spoon and watched as the sticky stuff clung to it, before it dropped and splattered down into his bowl again.
"But people are more concerned with whom they trade with nowadays. It's no secret that Lakten supports Amrod and the old order, so some of the neutral towns have taken to avoiding trade with us alltogether. They're scared, you see." As he spoke, his expression turned dark and ominous, and he seemed to forget about the food altogether.
"You seem distracted." Eragon noted. "Something happen?"
Feramus stiffened and studied him with inscrutable eyes. "Yes." He finally said. Frowning, Eragon bent closer over the table, Feramus inched closer himself and spoke with a hushed voice.
"The council gave us news this night, I and a few other riders were summoned by Krassos this morning. It . . . we . . . Ashta is lost; the capital was overrun by Arminas and his forces yesterday. Only a few of the elders escaped with their life."
Eragon's throat clenched tightly, and he felt a strong unease settle over him. He had just ended the war back home, now he was back to hearing war-news.
"You need to keep this to yourself; panic does no one any good." Feramus's intense voice brought Eragon out of his brooding silence; he gave his word he would keep it secret. Feramus nodded and leaned back, visibly relaxed.
"So, what are your plans for the day Shadeslayer?" And the light and friendly tone was back once more.
"I'm not sure I'll get anything done until I get myself someone to translate for me." Was Eragon's honest reply. Feramus tilted his head at him.
"That can easily be arranged." And with that Feramus rose from the table and gave him a little smile before he briskly walked off. After a few moments' hesitation, Eragon followed him. He found him bent over the table next to theirs, talking to someone.
"Yes? Well then, good." Feramus straightened up, saw Eragon and flashed him a smile.
"I've told Kenna here of what you need, she will be your translator. Now, I suspect you will be on your way, as I too must. Until another time Shadeslayer." He said and just as quickly departed, are all elves here so urgent?
The girl who he had been talking to rose from the wooden bench and presented herself, or tried to present herself. In midsentence she seemingly lost the use of her voice. Her eyes swept over his torso, down to his boots, then up again to his face, then all the way down again, seemingly on their own accord. He seemed to have a similar effect on her friends around the table, a bright blush spread across the girl's face.
"I . . . uh, I'm Kenna . . . daughter of eh, Cynnith."
Even to clueless Eragon it was embarrassing, but he managed a decent composure and said. "Pleased to meet you, Kenna daughter of Cynnith. I am Eragon, son of Brom. And I'm very glad you are willing to help me."
The girl seemed to just want to crawl away and hide, but she managed a weak smile, Eragon found himself sympathizing with her. In a way she reminded him of what a fool he had used to be around Arya,
"I'm sorry, I . . I'm sure Feramus could get you someone else-" Before she could finish her sentence Eragon cut her off with a warm smile.
"No, don't apologize, you've done nothing wrong. We'll get going once you've finished your meal."
"Oh! That's quite all right, I'm done." She said, nervously rubbing her hands together. Eragon took the hint; she wanted to get away from her friends, away from the embarrassment. He dipped his head and she stepped in with him as he walked out of the hall, attracting quite a few looks and murmurs.
"So . . . you're the Shadeslayer, heard a few things about you." She said once they had gotten clear off the hall, her voice still carried a hint of the earlier nervousness. Eragon gave her a quick look. She was just a few inches shorter than him, deep brown hair fell to the lower back of an athletic body, and pale blue eyes under dark but thin brows looked anywhere save for him.
"And what have you heard?" He asked, honestly curious.
"That you're a dangerous . . . person." She said and her eyes squinted at him, she had carefully maneuvered around his racial oddities. Eragon nodded carefully to her statement, he couldn't really argue with that.
The two of them moved through the Keep's stone corridors in silence for a few minutes, Salihn close behind them.
When they reached the ground level of the fortress, there was an incredibly loud and thunderous trumpet sound that made them halt. It reverberated against the walls and flew past them, leaving Eragon's acute ears ringing. He was alarmed, that sounded more like a warning trumpet than a ceremonial one to him.
"What was that?" He asked warily, his quiet suspicion was however confirmed by Kenna's fear-stricken face. He began walking at a brisk pace. Kenna stood frozen for only a moment, and then she caught up with him in quick strides.
"They're coming! They're coming here!" Her voice was intense and laden with fear. He told her to calm herself; she only stared at him, as if he was the city's only hope.
"You have to help us! Please, sir Eragon, we need you!"
Eragon turned his head slightly and told Salihn to alarm Blodghärm and the others, and to meet up outside the keep, but he didn't answer Kenna. The halls weren't quiet anymore; servant boys and girls scurried past them in frantic sprints, armored knights moved ahead with purposeful steps, and a few riders ran past them while strapping weapons to their thighs.
They all shared one thing in common, their eyes held a complete and absolute terror of what was coming. That bothered him. He tried to contact Saphira, and received a lazy bash of her thoughts.
Then they were past the two large double doors and out in the dim morning sun, a chilly breeze ruffled his hair, but the sky was cloud free and beautiful. Some people were screaming out orders, others were screaming out of terror. Men scooted past them on all sides, and Blodghärm and the others were sprinting up the cobbled streets. Everywhere people closed their doors, they prayed to their gods, and held their families. A few riders were mounting their dragons, but Eragon hardly paid attention to any of these things.
He had his eyes firmly set on the sky, where seven colorful specks hung in the air, growing larger and larger by each flap of their mighty wings.
Saphira!? He shouted mentally, and forcefully poked her mind. She grumbled and asked somewhat disoriented. What? Eragon? What is it? The worry in her stood out clearly through their bond.
Saphira, we might be in some trouble again here.