2: The New Vroengard Chronicles - pt. 1

    (Hi! Stardust Specter here. You may find this story slightly confusing if you're not an Inheritance Cycle fan, because this is, well, an Inheritance Cycle fanfiction. It's set after the events of the Inheritance Cycle, when a new era of Dragon Riders is rising in a vague area to the east of Alagaesia, which is to the Inheritance Cycle as Middle Earth is to Lord Of The Rings. My story will follow the life of an elf named Anwyn, who is going to become a Dragon Rider. In the first few paragraphs, you'll notice that one of the Council members addresses Anwyn as 'Anwyn-finiarel'. Finiarel is an elven honorific used when addressing a young man of great promise. Also, the honorific elda is for use when speaking to someone who is old and wise. An elder. Hopefully that one was obvious. Anyway, sorry you have to read all of this thick geeky stuff. I'm just trying to stick to the canon here.)

        He stood before the Rider Council, hating the way their eyes probed him.

"Are you ready for this, Anwyn-finiarel?" asked one of the council members, a dark-haired figure with a steady, guarded face. He was garbed in a blue tunic and a heavy fur cape, and a sheathed sword was laid across his lap, the silver hilt growing orange in the firelight.  Even though he was reclining easily in his thronelike chair it was obvious that he was tall and long-limbed. His seat was the largest one in the circle of seven elders. Behind it, the massive dragon Saphira stirred, firelight on her scales throwing blue chips of light across the area. Anywyn looked at all the other Elders. Their eyes were on him, study and calculating.

  "I am ready, Eragon-elda," replied Anywyn. His voice was calm and low. "I have been ready for this moment my entire life." But in his mind, he was terribly unsure of himself. Doubts nagged at the edges of his thoughts, squirming into his being like so many burrow grubs. 

Eragon gave a firm nod, and the Elders repeated his gesture. "You may proceed," they said in unison.

Anwyn turned around, feeling their eyes on his back and knowing that they were watching him, always watching. The light warm breeze ruffled his dark hair, and the heat from the fire a few steps away seemed to sear his skin. He repressed the urge to cross his arms and instead kept his fingers uncurled at his sides, palms open. He surveyed what lay before him.

The floor was made up of interlocking grey bricks, put together in a puzzling pattern. Twelve onyx pedestals were spaced in a symmetrical half-circle around him. The firelight threw long shadows across the floor and reflected on the sides of each pedestal, as if each one had its own small fire burning within. And atop each pedestal, among folds of soft, iridescent white cloth, was an egg. They varied in size and color, but each was webbed with intricate white vanes, like thin, spindly fingers stretching across the polished surface. Most were at least a foot wide, although the largest one had to be at least three times that. Although there were many different colors, the firelight seemed to drain them of their brightness. Ones that were in darker hues seemed to be entirely black, while the lighter ones took on a more orange tone.

Heart pounding, Anwyn took a deep breath and looked beyond the pedestals, past where the interlaid brick floor ended the earth dropped sharply away. In the distance, he could see rolling emerald hills, colored a blue-green in light from the twilight sky. Beyond that was the sudden line of trees where the thick forest began, shady and dark underneath the long branches and many leaves. He could not see the great city beyond. Suddenly a thought crossed his mind - of him running away, rising over the hills and dashing into the arms of the forest's foliage, where he could hide. He dismissed, almost feeling ashamed of himself. He allowed his eyes to re-focus on the pedestal in front of him. He could not run away, no matter what he felt. This was the moment that would decide his future, his fate - the moment that was to define the very essence of what he would one day become.

He looked around once more at the eggs, allowing his eyes to fall and linger on each one. To his dismay, he did not feel any certain twinge within him, did not feel any change in his thoughts when he looked at them. Wasn't that how it was supposed to work? His brow drew together, and he pushed away all morbid thoughts that fought their way into his head. He took another deep breath and flexed his hands, rubbing his middle fingers against the smooth leather of the fingerless gloves that clothed his palms. He thought of his home and the trees in Du Weldenvarden, of flitting among the forest leaves and singing with birds. And of the wonder and awed reverence he felt when he beheld the riders flying overhead, their dragons' wings beating the air thunderously as they passed through the sky, their majestic forms like streamlined torpedoes of colored flame.

He closed his eyes and reached out a tendril of thought, beholding the lives of the beings around him. He ignored those of the Elders and focused on the eggs. Inside each one, he sensed a tiny flicker of life and warmth and dim light belonging to each of the baby dragons inside. And they dreamed. They dreamed of flight and beauty and unimaginable things, an overwhelming sense of feelings so beautiful and small that suddenly Anywyn felt tears coming to his eyes. They were so tiny, unknowing of what their lives were to become or when their lives would even begin, but their existence and their miniscule thoughts seemed so very precious and divine. Experiencing them was unlike anything Anywyn had ever felt. 

Opening his eyes, he walked over to the first egg, a deep purple one, and placed his hands on the smooth, cool surface. He closed his eyes and reached out to it. The embryonic dragon inside stirred slightly as his mind brushed against its own. Its tiny heart pulsed in a steady, repetitive rhythm. It was dreaming repeatedly of a droplet of water, detailed and focused and sparkling like a diamond, falling and splitting apart on a sheen of dust, almost in slow motion. It was so simple and oddly beautiful that Anwyn let out a small gasp, and a tear rolled down his cheek, hot in the firelight.

Stealthily wiping away his tears, he moved on the second egg, not sure if he would be able to take this much longer. He gently examined its mind, like he had with the first one, and found that it, too, was envisioning dreamy sequences, a conglomerate of breathtakingly beautiful images that defied description or sense.

Becoming more affected with each egg, he moved on to the next one, and then the next. But no matter how divine each creature was, no matter the emotions that were elicited when he touched them, Anwyn still did not feel what he knew he was supposed to feel. He hadn't found the fleeting sense of rightness - that tiny twinge of perfect recognition. 

He forced himself to focus his mind and relax in the surreality of the moment. He looked around once more at the firelit pavilion, still in awe of the beings inside the eggs. He continued on with what he had to do. A dark knot of doubt seemed to squirm inside him whenever he examined an egg and had no results. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, and his eyebrows drew together in his concentration, like a thin, dark cloud over his nose.

He stopped before he touched the next egg, hands shaking. He felt like he was on the edge of hysteria. And he was still very conscious of the fact that the Elders were watching him,  taking down his every move, probably prodding at his innermost thoughts. They knew how nervous and unsure he was. Before them, he felt intimidated and uncomfortable.

Frustrated, he picked up the next egg and launched a thought toward it. As soon as his consciousness touched with the baby dragon's, he felt. . . something.

It was like the peal of a bell, crystal clear and loud in his mind. It was like coming home to a loved one after being away forever. And in his mind and body, he felt an onrush of warmth, followed by a burst of coldness that sent shivers traveling down his spine. He could feel the mind of the baby dragon on the other end of the mental tether, and nothing had ever felt so natural.

Nothing had ever felt so remarkably right.

Anwyn opened his eyes and gazed at the dragon egg. It was a pure, pearly white, flecked with chips of iridescence and webbed with thin orange veins. He felt a tear of pure emotion and relief slip out of his eye and splash across the smooth surface, the drop gleaming in the firelight. And he knew without a doubt that this was the dragon he was meant for. The dragon that was meant for him.

Filled with awe and joy, he hugged the egg to his chest and bent his head over it, closing his eyes. It seemed to fill his arms with warmth. 

He felt the tiny creature in the egg acknowledging his presence, sending its dreamy thoughts toward his until they mixed and mingled together like dancing smoke in a fireplace, as one. It was perfection, like nothing else Anwyn had ever felt. And immediately he felt a love for the creature, a connection bigger than anything he had ever known.

He opened his eyes and slowly turned to the Elders, radiant joy shining out of his tearful eyes. He was delighted to see that they were smiling, each one. He had never seen them smile.

He approached them, feeling renewed. All of his doubts had been abated. He was going to become a Dragon Rider.

To Anwyn's surprise, Eragon removed himself from his seat and came toward Anwyn. He stood before Anwyn and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Congratulations, Anwyn-finiarel," he said, dark eyes gazing straight into Anwyn's. 

Anwyn forced a  smile and blinked. As far as he knew, Eragon never personally congratulated anyone. It was usually the Council as one who gave a future rider their congratulations. He was still thinking about his confusion when Eragon's words snapped him back."My dragon, Saphira, would also like to give you her congratulations."

Anwyn froze as the great Saphira stirred, and her head rose high above Eragon's seat. She opened one eye and peered at him, and he stared intently back, making an effort to keep his mouth from falling open. 

He felt a vast consciousness pressing against his mind. It seemed to be of such infinite wisdom and understanding that it blocked out his entire being. He could feel the baby dragon cowering away from it inside the egg. Saphira did not try to invade his thoughts, and instead seemed to surround their barriers. Congratulations on the realization of your future, Anwyn-finiarel, she said. Her voice had a surprisingly feminine peal, but her very tone held an infinite wisdom and oldness. I am happy to accept you into our family, and I look forward to the day when you may officially be a Rider. 

          Anwyn was awed and humbled. Thank you very much, Saphira-elda, he said. 

As Saphira's consciousness retracted from his own, she reached out briefly to the baby dragon in the egg. It shied away from her at first, but then began interacting with her. She spoke a few words to it, and it replied with a slight pulse of warmth.

Saphira returned to her place behind Eragon's seat, but Eragon himself remained before  Anwyn. They were nearly the same height. Anwyn was oddly tall, after all. 

Anwyn felt intimidated by the ancient Rider's gaze, so he instead let his eyes fall to the egg. He began to trace an orange vein with his finger when Eragon resumed speaking. "The egg will hatch when it is ready," he said gently. "But now you may rest easy knowing that you two will always be together. Your destinies will forever be intertwined." Anwyn looked back up at Eragon and realized that his gaze was not as intimidating as he thought - it seemed more familiar and understanding.

Anwyn smiled an nodded. "Thank you," he said simply, wracking his brain to think of something better to say. But Eragon had already returned to his seat, and Anwyn stood alone once again before the gaze of the Council.

But not so alone anymore. For he was soon to be a Rider.