Christopher Paolini - Inheritance

Eragon could feel Firnen showing and telling Saphira about the first time he caught a deer in the elves’ forest. He knew that Arya was aware of the exchange as well, for he saw her lip twitch in response to an image of Firnen hopping in pursuit of a startled doe after he tripped over a branch.

“And how long have you been queen?”

“Since a month after my return. Vanir doesn’t know, however. I ordered the information kept from him and our ambassador to the dwarves so that I could concentrate on raising Firnen without having to worry about the affairs of state that otherwise would have fallen to me.… You might like to know: I raised him on the Crags of Tel’naeir, where Oromis lived with Glaedr. It seemed only right.”

Silence fell between them. Then Eragon gestured at Arya’s diadem and at Firnen and said, “How did all of this happen?”

She smiled. “On our return to Ellesmera, I noticed that Firnen was beginning to stir within his shell, but I thought nothing of it, as Saphira had often done the same. However, once we reached Du Weldenvarden and passed through its wards, he hatched. It was nearly evening, and I was carrying his egg in my lap, as I used to carry Saphira’s, and I was speaking to him, telling him of the world and reassuring him that he was safe, and then I felt the egg shake and …” She shivered and tossed her hair, a bright film of tears in her eyes. “The bond is everything I imagined it to be. When we touched … I always wanted to be a Dragon Rider, Eragon, so that I could protect my people and avenge my father’s death at the hands of Galbatorix and the Forsworn, but until I saw the first crack appear in Firnen’s egg, I never allowed myself to believe that it might actually come to pass.”

“When you touched, did-”

“Yes.” She lifted her left hand and showed him the silvery mark on the palm, the same as his own gedwey ignasia. “It felt like …” She paused, searching for the words.

“Like ice-cold water that tingled and snapped,” he suggested.

“Exactly like that.” Without seeming to notice, she crossed her arms, as if chilled.

“So you returned to Ellesmera,” said Eragon. Now Saphira was telling Firnen about when she and Eragon swam in Leona Lake while traveling to Dras-Leona with Brom.

“So we returned to Ellesmera.”

“And you went to live on the Crags of Tel’naeir. But why become queen when you were already a Rider?”

“It was not my idea. Dathedr and the other elders of our race came to the house on the crags, and they asked me to take up my mother’s mantle. I refused, but they returned the next day, and the day after that, and every day for a week, and each time with new arguments for why I should accept the crown. In the end, they convinced me that it would be best for our people.”

“Why you, though? Was it because you are Islanzadi’s daughter, or was it because you had become a Rider?”

“It was not just because Islanzadi was my mother, although that was part of it. Nor was it just because I was a Rider. Our politics are far more complicated than those of the humans or the dwarves, and choosing a new monarch is never easy. It involves obtaining consent from dozens of houses and families, as well as several of the older members of our race, and every choice they make is part of a subtle game that we have been playing amongst ourselves for thousands of years.… There were many reasons why they wanted me to become queen, not all of them obvious.”

Eragon shifted, glancing between Saphira and Arya, unable to reconcile himself to Arya’s decision. “How can you be a Rider as well as a queen?” he asked. “The Riders aren’t supposed to support any one race above the others. It would be impossible for the other peoples of Alagaesia to trust us if we did. And how can you help rebuild our order and raise the next generation of dragons if you’re busy with your responsibilities in Ellesmera?”

“The world is not as it used to be,” she said. “Nor can the Riders remain apart as they once did. There are too few of us to stand alone, and it will be a long while before there are again enough of us to resume our former place. In any event, you have already sworn yourself to Nasuada and to Orik and Durgrimst Ingeitum, but not to us, not to the alfakyn. It is only right that we should have a Rider and dragon as well.”

“You know that Saphira and I would fight for the elves as much as for the dwarves or the humans,” he protested.

“I know, but others do not. Appearances matter, Eragon. You cannot change the fact that you have given your word to Nasuada and that you owe your loyalty to Orik’s clan.… My people have suffered greatly over the past hundred years, and though it may not be apparent to you, we are not what we once were. As the fortunes of the dragons have declined, so too have our own. Fewer children have been born to us, and our strength has waned. Also, some have said that our minds are no longer as sharp as they used to be, although it is difficult to prove one way or another.”

“The same is true of humans, or so Glaedr told us,” said Eragon.

She nodded. “He is right. Both of our races will take time to recover, and much will depend upon the return of the dragons. Moreover, even as Nasuada is needed to help guide the recovery of your race, so too do my own people need a leader. With Islanzadi dead, I felt obliged to take the task upon myself.” She touched her left shoulder, where her tattoo of the yawe glyph lay hidden. “I pledged myself to the service of my people when I was not much older than you. I cannot abandon them now, when their need is so great.”

“They will always have need of you.”

“And I will always answer their call,” she replied. “Do not worry; Firnen and I shall not ignore our duties as a dragon and Rider. We will help you to patrol the land and settle what disputes we can, and wherever it seems best to raise the dragons, we shall visit and lend our assistance as often as we can, even if it be at the far southern end of the Spine.”

Her words troubled Eragon, but he did his best to hide it. What she promised would not be possible if he and Saphira did as they had decided during the flight there. Although everything Arya had said helped confirm that the path they had chosen was the right one, he worried that it was a path that Arya and Firnen would be unable to follow.

He bowed his head then, accepting Arya’s decision to become queen and her right to make it. “I know you won’t neglect your responsibilities,” he said. “You never do.” He did not mean the statement unkindly; it was merely a statement of fact, and one for which he respected her. “And I understand why you did not contact us for so long. I probably would have done the same in your place.”

She smiled again. “Thank you.”

He motioned toward her sword. “I take it Rhunon reworked Tamerlein to better fit you?”

“She did, and she grumbled about it the whole while. She said the blade was perfect the way it was, but I am well pleased with the changes she made; the sword balances as it should in my hand now, and it feels no heavier than a switch.”

As they stood watching the dragons, Eragon tried to think of a way to tell Arya of their plans. Before he could, she said, “You and Saphira have been well?”

“We have.”

“What else of interest has occurred since you wrote?”

Eragon thought for a minute, then told her in brief about the attempts on Nasuada’s life, the uprisings in the north and the south, the birth of Roran and Katrina’s daughter, Roran’s ennoblement, and the list of treasures they had recovered from within the citadel. Lastly, he told of their return to Carvahall and their visit to Brom’s final resting place.

While he spoke, Saphira and Firnen began to circle each other, the tips of their tails whipping back and forth faster than ever. They both had their jaws slightly open, baring their long white teeth, and they were breathing thickly through their mouths and uttering low, whining grunts, the likes of which Eragon had never heard before. It looked almost as if they were going to attack each other, which worried him, but the feeling from Saphira was not one of anger or fear. It was-