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#except an elf in the eragon world is different??
where-dreamers-go · 6 months
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Reading and rambling: The Fork, the Witch, and the Worm
(Tales from Alagaësia VOLUME 1: ERAGON)
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PART TWO: THE WITCH
IV. Rhymes and Riddles
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The Witch, eh?
Rhymes and Riddles?? My brain is in the wrong fandom right now...
Eragon stared across his desk at Angela the herbalist, studying her.
It's my giiiiirrrrrrllllll!!!! Hey!!!!
Eragon, scoot over.
Actually, no. It's snowing??? It's winter! Was your harvest good? Do you have enough food?
(I, a Floridian in the USA, have never seen snow in real life. Anyway...)
Solembum! Hey, I always have trouble spelling your name. I second guess myself.
. . . but for the most part, the wards Eragon had set kept out the snow and cold.
Wait. You don't have curtains or shutters or SOMETHING? I know they're probably huge, but... brrrr
Elva is there too???
*visibly uncomfortable*
I wonder how her growth and lifespan will be.
Okay okay. We got Eragon who still feels responsible for Elva and cringy about not having finished the hold to live in.
I like how Angela is calling Eragon a different title or name every time. Like same. "Argetlam." "Kingslayer."
The last thing he wanted to do was offend this quicksilver-like woman.
Yes. Don't do that. Ever. I'm one who thinks she's one of the grey ones or whatever they're called. Something I barely remember, but I remember my thoughts of, she must be waaaay older and not human.
". . . how Nasuada's pet spellcasters in Du Vrangr Gata are making life difficult for harmless, innocent hedge witches such as myself."
See? See? I told you! (Okay, maybe not you personally, but I've said it out loud in rants at home.) It's a difficult situation... Tricky. I'd move.
Also, Elva is still so young and has had much thrusted upon her mind. She does have much to learn and some guidance needed. Hopefully nothing unnerving has happened... or was implied.
"An autobiography of sorts, if you will."
Uhh. Angela, what has Elva hinted to you? Or did you sense something? I need details. Are you okay???
Same. Except I have a lot of white hair from years and years of stress and anxiety. And genetics.
The curly-haired woman didn't look any older than her early twenties.
She made an expression of mock outrage. "Here now! You dare question my conviction, Shur'tugal?!"
Reading on, I love whatever kind of friendship this is.
Do you know what fun conversations you could have with them together? Or separately??
She called him, "Bromsson" now. I love her.
OHMYGOODNESS, I WAS JUST TALKING ABOUT THE PUZZLE RING A COUPLE OF WEEKS AGO! Of course, I just remembered the puzzle part and how Eragon couldn't figure it out until he was elf-upgraded without his permission.
"And what perspective is yours?" he asked softly.
"That of the ring maker," she answered in an equally soft tone.
Okay. Okay.... Come on, brain, I know it's getting late, but you got this. Goodness, that's a good response, Angela. I mean, she's making the book, writing it, and all. But what else?
Then we have Solembum:
Beware of shadows that walk, human. There are strange forces at work in the world.
Why do I love those two so much? Would my opinion change if I reread the earlier books? (I read Eragon and Eldest in middle school, Brisingr is high school, and Inheritance in college.)
I would probably annoy Eragon with going back and forth talking with Angela if he had questions. Sorry, darling, I have worldly theories to discuss and ones to expand upon. Have a cookie.
Anyway, it looks like I get to read Angela's manuscript too? Yay!!!
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jaskier-cult · 4 years
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Witcher / Eragon
A Jaskier-centric Eragon AU with Jaskier as the first dragon rider in centuries. Witcher still exist, and Geralt is just trying to get this stupid bard he met (and who someone hatched a dragon egg on fucking accident) to Kaer Morhen before King Stregobor finds out that there’s another Rider to challenge his reign. 
I got this idea from this fanart, by the lovely @polarisss
In this au, dragons are not equal in mental prowess to a human; they’re sentient and respond well to their riders, and can communicate their emotions through mental links, but they cannot speak or act like humans. They’re kind of like really intelligent dogs or horses. And they’re magical. 
So, I was violently hit with the idea of this crossover / au, and I had to write the bare bones of it or I swear I would die. Enjoy or don’t, lol 
Dragons were sentient and far more intelligent than most, but not of equal intellect with elves, and so when the elves arrived on the Continent, they viewed them as mere animals. One elf made the mistake of hunting and killing a dragon for sport and presented it to their monarch as a trophy. This angered the dragons, when they found one of their pack dead and their hide being toted around by the two-legged foreigners in their land. The elf was hunted down by the pack of the dragon killed, but more elves continued to hunt down smaller dragons, to prove their strength and power. Surviving a dragon’s revenge became noteworthy and a great tale to tell around the dinner table.
Over time, though, the dragons started to encroach on the territory the elves had claimed, the further they went for revenge. Then one day, a whole band of elves killed the alpha of a dragon pack, unaware of just who they killed, and the whole pack of dragons attacked without mercy. 
Unable to communicate with the dragons or draw a peace treaty, because the dragons could not utilize language or complex thinking the same way as them, the elves were forced to defend themselves.
This started a bloody war, called The Dragon War, between the elves and the dragons. The elves were smart and fast and could utilize magic, but the dragons were big and strong and merciless, and unknown to the elves, could also wield powerful ancient magic, drawn straight from the land. Dragons lived in packs, but they could communicate among each other, and most dragons became aggressive.
It wasn’t until one day, when an elf called Buttercup came across a lone dragon egg. It had been abandoned in a ruined nest, most likely a victim of a battle between dragons and the elves that had attacked the nest (for elves had taken to trying to wipe out the dragon species at this point).
The elf, in awe with the bright white egg, couldn’t bring himself to kill the dragon inside.
He brought it back to his village in secret, and he nursed the egg for months on end, hoping that the cracked little egg could still hatch despite the trauma it had received in the battle.
To his delight, the egg broke on a full moon, and out popped a baby dragon.
Buttercup named it Vaeta, the word for “hope” in the Ancient Language.
The dragon was small – barely the size of a house cat – and was weak and vulnerable. It bore no scales, couldn’t breathe the elements like the adults of its kind, and had tiny razor baby teeth. Buttercup had no idea how fast dragons grew, and he quickly found out just that – they grew like weeds. Within a week the baby dragon was the size of a sheep dog and was beginning to form beautiful scales. Its appetite was ravenous, and it learned to hunt easily. Buttercup learned that Vaeta was a girl.
Despite its instincts obviously forming, the baby dragon stuck close to Buttercup, and would whine like a dog when left for copious amounts of time.
Vaeta also protected Buttercup from things she deemed as “threats” and would curl up in bed with her elf at night. Buttercup kept her well hidden, until his small village was attacked by other dragons, and Vaeta, far smaller than the other dragons attacking, reared up in the air for the first time and scared off the foreign dragons that were hurting her elf.
The rest of the village was wary of trusting Vaeta, and Buttercup bore the brunt of the blame; should she do anything to harm elves, it was his head on a pike, draped with her hide.
Nonetheless, Buttercup soon found a new purpose in life – to stop the Dragon War.
He figured if they could raise elves and dragons together, they could stop the aggression. The more the wild dragons saw the elves making nice with their dragon kind, the less they would attack. After all, dragon packs didn’t attack other dragon packs.
So, slowly, using Vaeta as a go-between, Buttercup was able to tame smaller dragons.
Vaeta soon fell pregnant and laid a clutch of nine eggs within ten months. The elves had no way of knowing if this was a normal pregnancy for dragons, or if the clutch was healthy or large.
The eggs all hatched, in varying shades of silver and black. Out of nine four were female, called Jasny, Niebo, Pływ, and Magia; five were male, called Srebro, Drzazga, Noc, Palić, and Stal. The elves were quick to try and tame them, only to find out the hard way that they weren’t like dogs and cats. They were even more intelligent than their horses, too. Buttercup ended up helping his dragon, Vaeta, raise her hatchlings with other nursing elves, and then Buttercup set off across the Continent with his dragon to try to stop wild dragons from attacking.
For years, Buttercup studied dragons and took notes and realized the hierarchy they held, their social groups, their intelligence – he was astounded. But then he made the discovery of a lifetime; the dragons, though they lived in individual packs, much like wolves, had a reigning monarch above all. They had a queen. And if he could appease the queen dragon, making the other dragons friendly would be child’s play from there.
Eventually, it came to Vaeta challenging the dragon queen for Buttercup.
Unfortunately, she died a bloody death.
The queen of dragons, impressed with the ferocity of the foreign dragon who clung to an elf like he was her mate, spared Buttercup’s life. She admired the loyalty of the dragon, though unguided it was to a two-legged hunter who hurt their kind. The queen also mourned, for she never wanted to kill one of her own kind for an elf. In grief, also watching a grieving and crying elf, she drew upon the land’s magic and nosed Buttercup with her giant scaled snout. The resulting magic was huge.
It was bonding magic. A treaty to be recognized by all parties; no more blood was to be shed between the scaled and the soft, or shall they suffer tenfold the torture they inflicted. This magic treaty also entailed the queen dragon stepping down, so no dragons’ packs would dare.
The elves took this magic and added structure to it, binding all the new dragon eggs to a counterpart.
This was how the Dragon Riders (Shur’tugal in the Ancient Language, or Argetlam meaning “silver hand”) were created.
The Dragon Riders were a coalition of elves and dragons formed at the end of the Dragon War to forge peace and order between the two races. The Riders were created because treaties between the two races would prove useless to stop fighting; a signed piece of paper meant nothing to a dragon. So, an irrevocable bond was wrought by the elves and the dragons: the elves provided the structure of the spell and the dragons provided the strength, thus creating the Dragon Riders.
When a fleet of humans sailed across the sea thousands of year later, they too were added to the elite order of the Dragon Riders. The role of the Riders became more than uniting the elves and dragons; they became keepers of the peace and fighters of monsters throughout the Continent (previously called Alagaësia by the dwarves who lived there first) and were respected and honoured by the people they served.
Unfortunately, Stregobor happened.
Born in the ancient province Inzilbêth, and one of several siblings (Aleksander, Szymon, Edyth, Casimir, Ozella, Sylwia, [Stregobor], Valerie), Stregobor was accepted into the ranks of the Dragon Riders at the young age of ten, after being traditionally tested for great potential. He quickly excelled in all areas of combat and spellcasting, which filled him with pride, arrogance, and vanity.
Although some of his fellow Riders were wary of his swift rise to power, the majority of the order neglected caution, ultimately leading to their downfall.
Stregobor was chosen by a dragon and became a Rider in his early years.
His dragon Smokwia (derived from Polish “smok” for dragon and “kwiat” for flower), was killed by urgals some years later in a careless accident, when she was not yet full grown.
Stregobor was mad with grief and hatred, and he asked the Dragon Rider council to grant him another dragon. But that wasn’t how it worked – the dragon chose the Rider, only hatched for the person destined for them – and forcing that had consequences. The council refused, sensing his mental instability, cut him from the Dragon Rider ranks, and sent him away.
With his request denied, Stregobor took it upon himself to steal another dragon egg.
He convinced another Dragon Rider named Morzan to leave the gates open to the place where the eggs were stored. Stregobor stole a dragon egg. Then, he forced this dragon, whom he named Zwieraln (derived from Polish “zwierzę” for animal and “idealny” for perfect), to hatched and serve him by dark magic.
He formed the Forsworn, a group of thirteen dragon riders and their dragons loyal to only him, and he killed all the other dragons and riders in existence through ambush, propaganda against Riders, and years of spies and long-fought battles. He made sure to smash all the eggs he could find, so that no one else could ever rise above him in power – or so he thought (for there were those who risked neck and tail to save and hide the last few dragon eggs).
Stregobor proceeded to create a kingdom of his own that most of all the Continent’s people called The Empire of Nilfgaard, through which he ruled most of the Continent (with few exceptions of other strong kingdoms, like Cintra).
With the Dragon Riders wiped out, there was suddenly an influx in monsters that no mortal man could battle, and so people set out for a new form of protection against magic and monsters (because obviously Stregobor wasn’t doing that). That’s how witchers came into creation, when those with too much power and those too desperate came together to create the Order of Witchers and Trial of Grasses, to form perfect monster-fighting machines, and whom would not wield as much power as a Rider so that the humans wouldn’t have to fear being oppressed (for many still believed Stregobor’s propaganda against Riders; they thought the Forsworn were the only “untainted” Riders).
Geralt, at a young age, was abandoned in Carvahall to be raised as a nobody and farmhand by his mother Visena, who was a druid and magician in affiliation with Stregobor in the Nilfgaard Empire. He was eventually adopted by Vesemir when the old witcher realized who he was, and the ties he had; also, Vesemir realized he was Geralt’s real father, an old Rider from the time before Stregobor’s reign turned into a witcher.
Vesemir had no idea that Visenna was pregnant, let alone that she gave birth to a son, and promptly took Geralt in under the pretense of him being a Child Surprise.
The older witcher never wanted his son to become a witcher like himself, but he couldn’t stop the school from taking his boy and training him, preparing him for the Trial of Grasses. At least the young boy was able to befriend Eskel, another boy already at the keep.
They went in to take the Trial of Grasses together.
Both came out a little worse for wear, but alive.
Cat-like eyes, Geralt with white hair.
Lambert was later found almost dead at the edge of Carvahall, a real Child Surprise this time, and was also taken in to be trained into a witcher. He also survived the Trial of Grasses.
Then the witcher schools were burned and raided because people were worried about the “mutants,” because another king with too much power decided they weren’t needed anymore, and they were almost all wiped out like Dragon Riders.
Vesemir mourned the loss of another of his families but was beyond glad for the ones who survived because they were still out on The Path; he was the only witcher to survive the sackings.
Vesemir also still mourned his dragon he had lost so long ago in the raids, one that was grey and silver, a male called Jaciel (derived from Polish “przyjaciel” which means “friend”).
Queue the scene in Posada, with Jaskier approaching Geralt out of interest and eventually recognizes him as “The Butcher of Blaviken.” (The same events transpired in Blaviken, except Stregobor had sent others to kill Renfri because she was a threat to his crown, and also boasted about carrying dragon eggs, which she claimed would hatch only for those against the king of Nilfgaard [which wasn’t true, she didn’t have any eggs]; he used the excuse of her being born under the Black Sun, sent assassins, was going to capture her and torture and experiment on her for her magic and questionable birth, and Geralt coming by and murdering her whole gang and her included was just a happy little accident that meant he didn’t have to fight off any accusations on his part). Anyway, Geralt is known to oppose Stregobor, but isn’t actively trying to usurp him, so he is free to go around and do his witcher duties, but he is heavily hated for opposing the, “oh so gracious and powerful king, and murdering innocents in droves.”
So, Jaskier recognizes him, and being a young half-elf noble (being the son of the queen of elves, and the son of a high-ranking human noble), is yearning for adventure, and follows this guy to the end of the Continent because, “oops, I fell in love with him.”
But the two of them are captured on a contract by a group of rogue elves outside of Ellesméra (the “forest of elves,” and while there is one united queen, there are several noble families and different elven territories), reduced to few in numbers because of racist humans, and they don’t recognize who Jaskier is (as Julian Alfred Pankratz [human name], Julek Dìoiasaeil of Ellesméra [elven name], child and heir to Queen of the elves, Meira Banrighflùr of Ellesméra).
[Quick side note, Jaskier knows he’s half elf, and personally knows his mother, but does not know she’s elven royalty? Like, he knows her as “Meira” and “mother,” and only knows enough elven heritage to know about his roots and biology, but that’s it. He grew up as a human with his viscount father].
And the rogue elves reveal that the reason they left Ellesméra and set out on their own was because when Stregobor was toppling the Dragon Riders and smashing the eggs, they [as a highly ranked noble elven family, Filavandrel being the head of the family] were entrusted to protect and hide one of the last clutches of dragon eggs from the Forsworn; unfortunately, they were not successful, and in their escape they were only able to recover one cracked egg, and even then they weren’t sure it would hatch because of the trauma, or if the dragon inside was still alive.
Jaskier was struck with grief from their story (because he grew up under the Nilfgaard Empire, left to study at Oxenfurt in another kingdom, and didn’t know of Stregobor’s evil).
So, the elves gift Jaskier a magical lute and ask for him to sing of their demise so the king may never come looking for them, and in return for Geralt’s help and coin, give Geralt the last known dragon egg in existence, hoping it would find a safe home at Kaer Morhen, away from Stregobor.
Only, Jaskier cradles the egg one night at camp, and in the middle of the night the witcher and bard wake to it fucking hatching for him.
Of course, right?
Suddenly they have a new objective; get to Kaer Morhen as fast as fucking possible, or so god help me Jaskier, someone will see your bright fucking dragon and then we’re all dead.
This au is also staring Yennefer, taking the place of the mysterious Angela with a werecat, who I’m choosing to make half-elf like Jaskier, and who also likes to spread chaos everywhere she goes (and she’ll have less magic, but is just as badass, and is a genius with potions and knows the Ancient Language).
Jaskier’s dragon is blue and beautiful and is a male he names Dandelion, or some shit like that.
Also, this would be a geraskier (Geralt x Jaskier) fic, because obviously.
Anyone who feels like writing a fic, I’m WAYY too lazy, and I also might post more headcanons if anyone wants more??
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writing-ro · 4 years
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Fictober 19-3: “Now? Now you listen to me?”
@fictober-event​ // Set in a Multi-fandom Fantasy AU where most if not all kinds of fantasy creatures exist alongside humans, though the two cultures stay fairly separate, with many humans being afraid or prejudice against creatures.
Rating: T Fandom: Star Wars, Dragon Age Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Arista Amara (OFC), Oren Revik (OMC), Merrill (Dragon Age), Kato Shinin (OMC), Merida Mahariel (OFC), Tamlen (Dragon Age), Minaeve (Dragon Age),  Additional Tags: elf!Ahsoka, dragon!Oren, Temple exploration, Don’t Touch The Magic Mirror!, the monsters are basically the ra’zac from eragon acting like the darkspawn of Dragon Age, Three guesses who the statues are of and the first two don’t count.
She'd known something bad was going to happen. It had been gnawing at her gut since she was asked to lead the expedition. Merrill and Ashalle had been studying an old elven text and found reference to a temple. Merrill managed to use the context clues and some other old records and figured out the location and asked to go find it. The elders discussed and finally agreed to allow it, and asked Ahsoka, as one of the clan's best hunters, to lead the party. 
She told Arista of the trip, just so she wouldn't worry about her absence. Instead, she insisted on accompanying them. She had a fairly good grasp of Old Elven from her studies, and did have some talent as a mage, so she could be a help. Ahsoka had argued, that the elders would never accept her help, and that it'd be dangerous, but when Arista wanted something, she knew just how to run right over Ahsoka about it. 
So they set out, a party of seven: herself, Arista, Merrill, Merida, Tamlen, Kato, and Minaeve. Three mage scholars and four warriors. Considering the ruins were rather close to the Primian Kingdom border, that should have been more than enough to handle anything. 
The journey there took a week, and they found the ruins nestled up against a mountain, distinctly elven and covered in growth. They spent another looking through the first few chambers of the place, the ones accessible from the front door without need of another ritual like they had used to open it. Notes were taken, a few items collected, and catalogued, and each one made the scholars more and more excited to see what lay beyond. So, the eighth day in the ruins, the mages gathered together and unlocked the door. The hall behind was most impressive, gold and marble being visible even under centuries of dust. Strangely though, there was nothing inside, except a large mirror, twice as tall as any of them, standing on a dias with two statues on either side, one a elven man with a wolf sitting at his feet, the other a dragon with a elven woman kneeling at its feet. It, unlike everything else, was also completely clear of dust. 
“This place is beautiful,” Merrill said. “None of the clans have had the means to build something like this in centuries.”
“What is this mirror?” Tamlen asked.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Merida said, moving towards it with him. 
“Careful you two,” Ahsoka ordered and they flinched back just before they could take the first step up the dias. “We don’t know what it was for. Had to be important, if they locked it up so tight.”
“The room also suggests that hypothesis,” Arista said. “A vault wouldn’t have all this gold just put on the walls. Could this be a ritual chamber?”
“I don’t recall any rituals involving mirrors from the histories,” Merrill said. “Maybe there’s an inscription somewhere that can tell us what it is.”
They spread out around the chamber to look, brushes, brooms and rags knocking down dust which was then swept out the chamber with sweeps of magic. None of them realized that as more of the magic was used, the more was drawn to the mirror, and now the previously clear surface had become cloudy and mottled. 
“Did anyone find anything?” Minaeve asked, wiping her hands on a rag after polishing a plate on the east wall. 
“Nothing,” Marrill sighed as she looked in the last crevice on that wall. “Not a thing. This must have been one of those ‘everyone knows of it, so why should we write it down’ type things.”
“I think I might have found a passage,” Arista said, she and Ahsoka standing by the southwest corner of the hall. “Or at least where one used to be. The stone’s settled different than the rest.”
“Hey, the mirror’s changed!” Tamlen called, and the other turned to see him and Merida standing on the mirror’s dias, Tamlen reaching out to touch it. “I-I think I see something inside. A- It’s a city! But it’s dark, and cold and - WHAT IS THAT!”
“Tamlen!” Merida called, lunging for him.
“No!” half their group screamed as a flash of light from the mirror engulfed the two, forcing them to cover their eyes or be blinded. When they managed the blink the spots away, the two hunters were gone. 
“What just happened!?” Kato asked. 
“I don’t know,” Merrill said, moving a bit closer to the mirror. “Maybe our magic activated it somehow, but what it does, i don’t-” she cut herself off with a gasp as some things sprang out of the mirror, and Ahsoka and Kato drew their weapons while the mages grabbed their staves.
The things were humanoid, but wore black leather armor and black cloth over their faces. Wicked blades of black oily metal hung from their waists, and they made weird clicking and hissing sounds as they moved, looking over the party before drawing their blades and splitting into two groups to attack. 
“RUN!” Ahsoka ordered, but found herself and Arista cut off before they could follow those orders. Kato, Merrill and Minaeve managed to get to the door, and there they tried to hold position, Minaeve holding a barrier while the other two attacked the monsters. Arista tried doing the same for herself and Ahsoka, though it was hard to maintain it and attack.
Yet it seemed for every monster they cut down, two more would take its place. Eventually there grew to be so many, the clicking and hizzing was all that could be heard, and a sea of black separated the party. 
“Kato, go!” Ahsoka screamed over the horde. “Seal the doors and warn the clans, tell them to not send anyone else here!”
“Ahsoka-!” Kato called back, but Ahsoka screamed louder.
“GO!”
Merrill put a hand on Kato’s arm, and finally he relented he and Merrill backing up, Kato shooting the monsters while Merrill used her magic to grip the doors and pull them closed, the room growing darker as the light disappeared until all that remained was the strange, purplish glow of the mirror. 
“Think you can get that passage open?” Ahsoka asked. 
“I can try.” Arista let out another burst of magic that pushed the monsters back a few feet. “Hold them off?”
Ahsoka nodded and took a deep breath, then lunged into the fight. Her swords whirled around her in a dance of steel and gore, cutting down monsters and dodging their own return blows. As she fell more into the groove of the fight, she got faster and faster, where she could cut down several monsters before even one got a swipe at her. Those swipes she dodged, sometimes by a hair, but a miss was a miss, and the monster never got a second swing. A short wall of bodies was starting to form, but she never lost her footing. She was getting lost in the dance, and some distant part of her mind was saying it would be a story for the ages, if anyone were ever to learn of it. A elven knight sacrificing all to defend her lover and the world, taking out as many of these twisted foes as she could before her blades finally-
A grind of stone sounded behind her. “Got it! Come on!” A barrier pushed the monsters back a few paces and Arista’s hand touched the back of her shoulder. Ahsoka gave one last sweep of the monsters before turning and running after her lover down the passage way. 
However, the barrier was weaker than usual, and Ahsoka had not noticed the archers who had joined the first wave of monsters. Not until an arrow pierced her armor and into the back of her shoulder.
“AHH!” She gripped her shoulder, shoving Arista ahead when she paused. “We’ll worry about it later, for now run!”
The two ran for they didn’t know how long. The corridor was line with sconces of stone, glowing a pale blue, perhaps charged in the same manner as the mirror, or some other magic. Either way, it meant their flight was lit, and they managed to keep ahead of the horde. Every once in a while, there would be an ancient trap of some kind, always activated by the horde after their own passing, and right after a split in the corridor. A cross ways to the left and right, two sets of stairs going up or down. By unspoken decision, they always went right and up, hoping to find some doorway out. The traps slowed the horde down enough to give them some breathing room, but they would soon overwhelm it by sheer force, and Ahsoka could feel herself starting to fatigue, the exhaustion of fighting and the blood dripping from her shoulder causing her to slow. 
Finally, as they reached another junction, a giant pit trap behind them slowly filling with the bodies of the horde, she collapsed against the wall, barely keeping her feet under her. “‘Rista, go.”
“No, not without you.” Arista said, taking her hand, but Ahsoka pulled it back. 
“I’m not going to make it, I’ve lost too much blood. You at least have a chance to get out.” She raised her hand to caress Arista’s cheek, and Arista caught it.
“I’m not leaving you. Besides-” she smiled at her “-didn’t you once say you wished we would die together?”
Ahsoka couldn’t help the breathless laughter that left her at that. “Really? Now? Now you listen to me about that?” Still, Ahsoka pulled Arista close to her, burying her face in her hair as they sank to the floor. She wanted her last memory to be of her lover’s scent and the sound of her heartbeat, not the click-hiss-whoosh of the monsters and the smell of- burning bodies?
Arista screamed as a torrent of flame erupted out of the corridor they had just come down, almost drowning out the dying shrieks of the monsters as they were incinerated. The fire, heat, and smoke blocked the hall, and Ahsoka found herself growing more and more lightheaded. Black spots began dancing in her vision, and she started slumping in Arista’s hold, her lover’s calls for her to wake up becoming more and more distant. Right before the blackness overtook her, the fire finally dissipated, and she thought she saw the dragon she and Arista had met all those months ago, standing over the charred bodies and looking intensely worried about something.
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New Riders: Chapter 4
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okay this one might be a bit long. and they never mention what the honorific phrase for a female of great promise, just male which is finiarel, so I just made one up. its marked with a *star. and i know i didnt get all of the accented and dotted letters and such. sorry. Enjoy!
It seemed as if the world had come to an abrupt halt. The trees stopped, the river dropped out of sight and the sun was blinding them.  When Serance’s eyes had adjusted, what she saw took her breath away. The world did indeed end. 
And started anew. 
The wide river they had been following had dropped into a huge waterfall that spanned a large portion of the gigantic cliff. The pale trees had ended at the cliff line. And below, a sea of emerald trees, deciduous and coniferous. The waterfall poured into a vast, turquoise lake at the bottom of the cliff. The flatness turned into rolling, forest covered hills, and then into stark stone mountains that speared the sky, leagues and leagues away. And, sprawled around the lake and into the forest, were large stone buildings. Wide paths snaked through the structures, wide enough for large dragons to walk side by side. Most of the buildings were big enough for multiple dragons as well. In the centre, a big statue demanded attention, with a couple of smaller statues surrounding it. It was a large dragon with a man astride, and the other statues were of an elven woman, a human woman, and two human men. And as they circled closer, she realized that there were two even smaller statues as well. A young girl and a small woman with a strange weapon. Serance wondered who they represented. 
It's… it's so beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking, Serance thought. Nasingr rumbled her agreement.  
It took some time to land, due to the sheer size of the cliff. Once on the ground, though, Serance turned to fully appreciate it's immenseness. It stretched for leagues in either direction, and she couldn't see the end. And height wise… it was at least three kilometers high. It was a sheer, straight rock face, the cracks and chunks of rock giving it an intricate appearance. Serance wanted to draw it. Nasingr hummed in awe, inhaling deeply to smell the delicious scents on the air. They were standing on the lakeshore, near the statues. A cool breeze ruffled Serance’s golden hair, and she closed her green eyes to better concentrate on the different aromas. Lately she had been able to better distinguish different scents. She peeked open her eyes and glanced at her companions. Adalan was staring in open-mouthed wonder at everything around him. Likean’s face was unreadable in the way that most elves’ were, and Queen Arya’s face was the same, though Serance thought she could see an unrecognisable emotion in her deep, fathomless green eyes. Firnen was just as still beside her. Kalkin was swinging her head from side to side, trying to take it all in at once just like her Rider. 
 She sensed them before she saw them.
  A great, alien consciousness touched her mind, and she instinctively shied away, throwing up mental shields. It brushed them aside like leaves and she froze. Nasingr quickly melded their minds and a growl reverberated through their minds as she used her own strength to shield her Rider’s mind. A hint of amusement flitted through from it, and it withdrew. 
   Serance suddenly snapped back to the outside world and whirled around, Nasingr swinging her head around to look behind them as well. There stood a man. Arya smiled, Adalan look confused, and, still, Likean’s face was unreadable. She studied him as she did most people she met. His brown hair curled around his temples and his bangs were ragged and hung almost to his brow. But it was singed, as if it had been lit on fire. His eyes were brown and slightly slanted, more than a human’s but less than an elf’s. His features were angled like an elf’s, but slightly more rugged. His exposed ears were tapered to a small point. He wore a deep blue tunic that reached mid-thigh, dark brown leggings, and leather boots. A flash of blue drew her eyes to his hands, on which there was a sapphire ring, and strange patterning. On a thick belt hung a beautiful blue scabbard with a sword sheathed inside. He was very handsome, and looked young. 
   Movement flicked above her, and she glanced up to see a blue dragon. She blinked. But before anybody could do anything, the man said, “I suggest you all plug your ears.”
  Arya immediately did so, and Serance quickly followed, along with Likean. Adalan frown in befuddlement, which he immediately regretted for the great blue dragon landed with an earth-shaking thud, and he was thrown to the ground. The man and the elves flexed their knees to keep their balance, but Serance had to steady herself on Nasingr. And they were all glad for their covered ears (except for Adalan, who had not listened) when the dragon - Saphira - flared her massive wings, stretched forward, opened her huge mouth and roared. 
     It was a magnificent roar. It was long and loud and fearsome. Kalkin had visibly shuddered, and Adalan had cried out and clapped his hands over his ears, a little too late. Even with her hands over her ears, the roar was beyond deafening. It was a challenge to all who could hear it, which, Serance thought and Nasingr agreed, would be everyone and everything for kilometers. But after the initial flinch, Serance and Nasingr held their ground. Finally, when the blue dragon was out of breath, she closed her jaws with a snap. Everything stood still for a moment. And then Firnen jumped into the air, soaring before landing, and bounded like this until he was flying. He flapped thunderously and roared back, though not quite as long as Saphira, and she responded by taking flight as well. Everyone watched as they gained altitude roaring and shooting fire back and forth, chasing each other. Playing. When Serance finally lowered her gaze, she found matching expressions of joy on both Arya and the man, whom she assumed was Eragon Shadeslayer. Even Likean looked happy.
    A whispered “wow” from Adalan brought everyone’s attention back to the ground.    Arya stepped forward, touching her fingers to her lips. “Atra esterni thelduin, Eragon Shadeslayer, Kingkiller.”
  Eragon smiled, returning the gesture. “You honour me, Arya Drotting. Mor’ranr lifa unin hjarta onr.”
   Arya completed the ritual with, “Un du evarinya ono varda.”
   Eragon conversed briefly with Likean in the ancient language before fixing his eyes on Adalan. He quietly observed the young man before doing the same to Serance. She blushed from the attention. 
   Then he said in the common tongue, “Come. There are benches over here.” They all followed him, Nasingr and Kalkin lumbering behind the party. As they passed the group of statues, Serance realized that one of them was of Queen Arya, and, looking up, the man on the dragon looked like Eragon. The dragon was obviously Saphira. And one of the human men looked familiar… Roran Stronghammer, she decided. This must be the people who played the most important roles in defeating Galbatorix,  she said to Nasingr. 
 Yes, I think so too, she responded. She rustled her wings excitedly. Wasn't Saphira grand? Her scales are the most splendid blues I have ever seen. And did you see how big she was? Bigger than even Firnen! Her wings were absolutely massive. Nasingr probably could have gone on like this for longer, and Serance would have listened because she agreed one hundred percent, but they had come to a little outdoor sitting area. Several stone benches carved with decorative designs were placed in a sort of triangle in front of the beach. The beach was white sand, looking stunning alongside the crystal-like lake. Eragon gestured for them to sit while the dragons curiously sniffed around before crouching down beside their Riders. 
   “I am Eragon, as I am sure you have already guessed,” Eragon said. His voice was odd, Serance thought. A mixture of the rough Palancar Valley accent and the lilting cadence of the elves. He continued, “And I know you are Adalan and Serance. Arya Drotting has told me much about you.”
    Serance’s face warmed. What did that mean? She nervously glanced at her friend. He looked completely fine, blue eyes eager and pushing his brown hair from his face. She turned back to Eragon. But his eyes had gone vacant and he stared into the distance. Serance frowned, when suddenly his eyes snapped to Likean.
  “Blodhgarm would like to see you.”
   Likean nodded, a sharp motion of his head, and left. 
   Who is Blodhgarm? Serance asked Nasingr. Should we know who he is?
I think… that he was one of the twelve elves who guarded the Shadeslayer during the war. 
 Oh. Serance forced her attention back to the conversation at hand. Eragon was speaking again. “We won't start lessons until tomorrow, for the Sanctuary has beautiful things I think you would like to see. At first I will be seeing what you know and how far your abilities stretch, for though Arya has kept me updated, I would like to see it with my own eyes. There are many empty houses you can choose from with your dragon to live in. As for your lessons -”
  He stopped abruptly, and a flush coloured his cheeks as his eyes went distant again. Even more oddly, Arya also stiffened and… was that a hint of colour on her cheeks? Both Serance and Nasingr were puzzled. Arya and Eragon quickly glanced at each other.
   “Ahem,” Eragon cleared his throat. “As I was saying, there are nine categories. Archery, literature, hand-to-hand combat and swordsmanship, history, cultural studies, gramarye, biology, maths, and aerial combat. For you dragons, there is flying and history, which will be taught by Saphira and… well for now it will be Saphira, and she does things… at her own pace, so I cannot tell you much about your curriculum as some of it is private to dragons alone. She will talk to you when she is… finished.” Now he fixed them all with his gaze, saying, “While you are being trained and instructed, I expect you to meld fully with your partner, so you learn everything your partner learns. Arya has already taught you how to do this. And, as you have previously done with your instructors, you will address me, Saphira and anyone else who is teaching you as ‘Master’ in this language and ‘Ebrithil’ in the ancient language. I will give you a tour of the Sanctuary, but before we begin, are there any questions?” 
    Serance tentatively raised her hand, and Eragon nodded at her, but before she could say anything, Adalan blurted out, “How did you kill him - Galbatorix, I mean? None of the stories are very clear about what happened. Just what happened before and after.”
    Arya stiffened and Serance cringed as her eyes flashed dangerously. But Eragon looked Adalan in the eyes steadily until he started to blush at his insensitive question.
   “That is a painful story for another time, if at all, Adalan-finiarel,” Eragon said quietly. 
   Adalan nodded mutely and went an even deeper shade of red. Eragon turned back to Serance, giving her permission to speak.
   “Um, what about - the other new Riders?” She asked quietly. 
  “They are all at different stages in their learning, so sometimes you may be taught together, but for the most part you will be taught alongside Adalan-finiarel. Occasionally you will be taught alone. Does that answer your question, Serance-finiaral*? 
  “Yes. Thank-you,” she said softly.
   He nodded and rose to his feet gracefully. The rest followed suit, the dragons rising as well. The Shadeslayer tilted his head. “I hope Saphira does not wreck Firnen’s saddle.”
   Arya sighed her agreement. It took a moment for Serance to realize what they meant, and when she did, she blushed. Now she knew why Arya and Eragon both had flushed earlier. Saphira and Firnen were mates that haven't seen each other in years. 
   Nasingr snuffled her golden hair from behind, distracting her. Serance smiled and placed a hand on the warm violet scales. Eragon led the way through the Sanctuary with long, purposeful strides on the wide stone paths. Nasingr and Kalkin’s talons clacked on the stone. As they passed the grouping of statues, Eragon sighed and ran his fingers through his brown hair, making it stand on end. He gestured helplessly to the statue of himself on Saphira. “Despite my protests,” he said, “The elves and Gim, the dwarf Dragon Rider, and even Kalvog, the Urgalgra Rider, insisted upon making this monument.” He pointed to each statue in turn. “That is Queen Nasuada, my cousin Roran, Murtagh, Angela, Elva, and Arya. They did not make a statue of Thorn, due to the fact that nobody really knows him. Though I don't think that he would care either way.”
   “Cool,” Adalan said. Serance nodded. She had learned about all of these people before. They continued. Their guide pointed out buildings, saying what they were. The Library, empty houses they could live in, things like that. He showed them the sparring field, which was right beside the archery range. There was a forge, a hatchery, and a large table surrounded on three sides by trees facing the lake where Eragon said was where they had gatherings. This is where they ended their tour. 
  Eragon turned to face them all. “This is your new home. You can go and explore, or find somewhere to put your stuff. You can see if you can find the other Dragon Riders if you like. There are certain places, however, that are off limits. If you happen upon one, you will encounter wards. Do not try to get past them. The consequences will be severe. The resident elves have their houses farther into the forest, and you will respect them by not intruding. You will not engage in unsupervised duels with others, and you will not invade others’ privacy. The breaking of these rules will lead to unpleasant punishments. Do you understand?”
   “Yes, Ebrithil,” Serance said. Adalan copied. 
  Eragon smiled kindly. “Good. You can go now.”
   Adalan grinned and mounted Kalkin. They set off on one of the paths. Serance turned to Nasingr.What should we do?
Well, Nasingr said. These saddlebags are starting to itch. We should probably go find somewhere to stay.
Okay.
Nasingr started down the path, but Serance stayed a moment longer to look at the lake. She noticed Eragon and Arya were standing down on the white sand beach, both facing the cliff. Arya handed something to Eragon, and his hand brushed hers. Serance blinked. This was obviously private.She quickly ran after her dragon. 
   The sun was approaching the horizon. They had spent all day giving the new Riders a tour. But now here she was, standing beside Eragon. In this beautiful place, surrounded by dragons, enjoying the peace she and her people had suffered so much for. She had taken off her boots and now dug her toes into the soft, white sand. It was warm from the day’s sun. Firnen was away with Saphira, doing what mated dragons do, and along with him all of Arya’s belongings. Except for the letter and package from Roran.
   “These are from your cousin,” she said, handing them over to Eragon. He nodded and took them from her. As he did so, his hand brushed hers, sending a small jolt through her body. She hastily withdrew her hand. Instead of opening the package, he tucked it away in a small pouch on his belt. 
  “So,” Eragon started, looking over the  lake and cliff.  “What do you think?”
   Arya gave him a small smile. “Think of what, Eragon?”
   Finally he met her gaze, his mouth quirking. “Still a stickler for precision, I see. What do you think of the Sanctuary?” 
   What did she think? She thought that she was so full of emotion she didn't know how to speak. So she said simply, “Vér nuanen.” It's beautiful.
   Quiet joy lit his face. “I know. All the pain, all the death - it was worth it. It was worth this.”
  “It was,” she murmured. “It is.” And she grasped his hand. It was warm, soft and rough at the same time due to calluses from wielding weapons. He stiffened for a moment before relaxing. Together they watched the sun as it slowly started disappearing behind the giant ridge. The colours seemed to light the river on fire, making it seem as if liquid fire poured down the rock face. Arya wanted to make a fairth, but was reluctant to break the magic of the moment, so she stored away the image in her mind for later. For now, she was content to enjoy this blessing with her dear friend, the cries of dragons in the distance. 
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