Inheritance

LACUNA, PART THE SECOND

For a moment, Eragon was unable to move or breathe.

Then he whispered, “Eggs, Saphira.… Eggs.”

She shivered, as if with cold, and the scales along her spine prickled and lifted their tips slightly from her hide.

Who are you? he asked the mind. How do we know if we can trust you?

They speak the truth, Eragon, said Glaedr in the ancient language. I know, for Oromis was among those who devised the plan for this place.

Oromis …?

Before Glaedr could elaborate, the other mind said, My name is Umaroth. My Rider was the elf Vrael, leader of our order before our doom came upon us. I speak for the others but I do not command them, for while many of us were bonded with Riders, more were not, and our wild brethren acknowledge no authority but their own. This he said with a hint of exasperation. It would be too confusing for all of us to speak at once, so my voice will stand for the rest.

Are you …? And Eragon indicated the silvery, dragon-headed man in front of him and Saphira.

Nay, replied Umaroth. He is Cuaroc, Hunter of the Nidhwal and Bane of the Urgals. Silvari the Enchantress fashioned for him the body he now wears, so that we would have a champion to defend us should Galbatorix or any foes force their way into the Vault of Souls.

As Umaroth spoke, the dragon-headed man reached across his torso with his right hand, undid a hidden latch, and pulled open the front of his chest, as if he were pulling open the door to a cupboard. Within Cuaroc’s chest nestled a purple heart of hearts, which was surrounded by thousands of silver wires, each no thicker than a hair. Then Cuaroc swung shut his breastplate, and Umaroth said, No, I am over here, and he directed Eragon’s vision toward an alcove that contained a large white Eldunari.

Eragon slowly sheathed Brisingr.

Eggs and Eldunari. Eragon could not seem to grasp the enormity of the revelation all at once. His thoughts felt slow and sluggish, as if he had taken a blow to the head-which, in a way, he supposed he had.

He started toward the tiers to the right of the black, glyph-covered arch, then paused before Cuaroc and said, both out loud and with his mind, “May I?”

The dragon-headed man clacked his teeth together and retreated with crashing steps to stand by the glowing pit in the center of the room. He kept his sword out, however, something of which Eragon remained constantly aware.

A sense of wonder and reverence gripped Eragon as he approached the eggs. He leaned against the lower tier and released a shuddering breath while he stared at a gold and red egg that was almost five feet tall. Struck by a sudden urge, he peeled off a glove and placed the palm of his bare hand against the egg. It was warm to the touch, and when he extended his mind along with his hand, he could feel the slumbering consciousness of the unhatched dragon within.

Saphira’s hot breath passed across his neck as she joined him.

Your egg was smaller than this, he said.

That is because my mother was not so old and not so large as the dragon who laid this one.

Ahh. I hadn’t thought of that.

He looked out over the rest of the eggs and felt his throat tighten. “There are so many,” he whispered. He pressed his shoulder against Saphira’s massive jaw and felt the quivers coursing through her. She wanted, he could tell, nothing more than to rejoice and embrace the minds of her kin, but like him, she could hardly bring herself to believe that what she beheld was real.

She snorted and swung her head around until she was looking at the rest of the room, and then she uttered a roar that shook dust from the ceiling. How?! she growled with her mind. How could you have escaped Galbatorix? We dragons do not hide when we fight. We are not cowards to run from danger. Explain yourselves!

Not so loudly, Bjartskular, or you will upset the younglings in their eggs, chided Umaroth.

Saphira’s muzzle creased as she snarled. Then speak, old one, and tell us how this can be.

For a moment, Umaroth seemed amused, but when the dragon answered her, his words were somber. You are correct: we are not cowards, and we do not hide when we fight, but even dragons may lie in wait so as to catch their prey by surprise. Would you not agree, Saphira?

She snorted again and lashed her tail from side to side.

And we are not like the Fanghur or the lesser vipers who abandon their young to live or die according to the whims of fate. Had we joined the battle for Doru Araeba, we would only have been destroyed. Galbatorix’s victory would have been absolute-as indeed he believes it was-and our kind would have passed forever from the face of the earth.

Once the true extent of Galbatorix’s power and ambition became evident, said Glaedr, and once we realized that he and the traitors with him intended to attack Vroengard, then Vrael, Umaroth, Oromis, and I, and a few others, decided that it would be best to hide the eggs of our race, as well as a number of the Eldunari. It was easy to convince the wild dragons; Galbatorix had been hunting them, and they had no defense against his magic. They came here, and they gave charge of their unhatched offspring to Vrael, and those who could laid eggs when otherwise they would have waited, for we knew that the survival of our race was threatened. Our precautions, it seems, were well thought of.

Eragon rubbed his temples. “Why didn’t you know of this before? Why didn’t Oromis? And how is it possible to hide their minds? You told me it couldn’t be done.”

It can’t, replied Glaedr, or at least not with magic alone. In this instance, however, where magic fails, distance may yet succeed. That is why we are far underground, a mile below Mount Erolas. Even ifGalbatorix or the Forsworn had thought to search with their minds in such an unlikely location, the intervening rock would have made it difficult for them to feel much more than a confused flux of energy, which they would have attributed to eddies within the blood of the earth, which lies close beneath us. Moreover, before the Battle of Doru Araeba, more than a hundred years ago, all of the Eldunari were placed in a trance so deep as to be akin to death, which made them that much more difficult to find. Our plan was to rouse them after the fighting was over, but those who built this place also cast a spell that would wake them from their trance once several moons had passed.

As it did, said Umaroth. The Vault of Souls was placed here for another reason as well. The pit you see before you opens onto a lake of molten stone that has lain beneath these mountains since the world was born. It provides the warmth needed to keep the eggs comfortable, and it also provides the light needed for us Eldunari to maintain our strength.

Addressing Glaedr, Eragon said, You still haven’t answered my question: why didn’t you or Oromis remember this place?

Umaroth was the one who answered: Because all who knew of the Vault of Souls agreed to have the knowledge removed from their minds and replaced with a false memory, including Glaedr. It was not an easy decision, especially for the mothers of the eggs, but we could not allow anyone outside this room to remain in possession of the truth, lest Galbatorix should learn of us from them. So we said farewell to our friends and comrades, knowing full well that we might never see them again and that, if the worst came to pass, they would die believing we had entered into the void.… As I said, it was not an easy decision. We also erased from all memory the names of the rock that marks the entrance to this sanctuary, even as we had earlier erased the names of the thirteen dragons who chose to betray us.

I’ve spent the last hundred years believing that our kind was doomed to oblivion, said Glaedr. Now, to know that all my anguish was for naught … I am glad, though, that I was able to help safeguard our race through my ignorance.

Then Saphira said to Umaroth, Why didn’t Galbatorix notice that you and the eggs were missing?

He thought we were killed in the battle. We were but a small portion of the Eldunari on Vroengard, not enough for him to become suspicious of our absence. As for the eggs, no doubt he was enraged by their loss, but he would have had no reason to believe trickery was involved.

Ah yes, said Glaedr sadly. That was why Thuviel agreed to sacrifice himself: to conceal our deception from Galbatorix.

“But didn’t Thuviel kill many of his own?” said Eragon.

He did, and it was a great tragedy, said Umaroth. However, we had agreed that he was not to act unless it was obvious that defeat was unavoidable. By immolating himself, he destroyed the buildings where we normally kept the eggs, and he also rendered the island poisonous to ensure that Galbatorix would not choose to settle here.

“Did he know why he was killing himself?”

At the time, no, only that it was necessary. One of the Forsworn had slain Thuviel’s dragon a month before. Though he had refrained from passing into the void, as we needed every warrior we had to fight Galbatorix, Thuviel no longer wished to continue living. He was glad for the task then; it granted him the release he yearned for while also allowing him to serve our cause. By the gift of his life, he secured a future for both our race and the Riders. He was a great and courageous hero, and his name shall someday be sung in every corner of Alagaesia.

And after the battle, you waited, said Saphira.

And then we waited, Umaroth agreed. The thought of spending over a hundred years within a single room buried deep underground made Eragon quail. But we have not been idle. When we woke from our trance, we began to cast our minds out, slowly at first, and then with ever-greater confidence once we realized Galbatorix and the Forsworn had left the island. Together our strength is great, and we have been able to observe much of what has transpired throughout the land in the years since. We cannot scry, not normally, but we can see the skeins of tangled energy strewn across Alagaesia, and we can often listen to the thoughtsof those who make no effort to defend their minds. In that way, we have gathered our information.

As the decades crawled past, we began to despair that anyone would be able to kill Galbatorix. We were prepared to wait for centuries if needed, but we could sense the Egg-breaker’s power growing, and we feared that our wait might be one of thousands of years instead of hundreds. That, we agreed, would be unacceptable, both for the sake of our sanity and for the sake of the younglings in the eggs. They are bound with magic that slows their bodies, and they can remain as they are for years more, but it is not good for them to stay within their shells for too long. If they do, their minds can grow twisted and strange.

Thus spurred by our concern, we began to intervene in the events we saw. At first only in small ways: a nudge here, a whispered suggestion there, a sense of alarm to one about to be ambushed. We did not always succeed, but we were able to help those who still fought Galbatorix, and as time progressed, we grew more adept and more confident with our tampering. On a few rare occasions, our presence was noticed, but no one was ever able to determine who or what we were. Thrice we were able to arrange the death of one of the Forsworn; when not ruled by his passions, Brom was a useful weapon for us.

“You helped Brom!” Eragon exclaimed.

We did, and many others as well. When the human known as Hefring stole Saphira’s egg from Galbatorix’s treasure room-nigh on twenty years ago-we aided his escape, but we went too far, for he noticed us and became frightened. He fled and did not meet with the Varden as he was supposed to. Later, after Brom had rescued your egg, and the Varden and the elves started to bring younglings before it in an attempt to find the one for whom you would hatch, we decided that we should make certain preparations for that eventuality. So we reached out to the werecats, who have long been friends of the dragons, and we spoke with them. They agreed to help us, and to them we gave the knowledge of the Rock of Kuthian and the brightsteel beneath the roots of the Menoa tree, and then we removed all memory of our conversation from their minds.

“You did all that, from here?” said Eragon, wondering.

And more. Have you never wondered why Saphira’s egg happened to appear in front of you while you were in the midst of the Spine?

That was your doing? said Saphira, her shock as strong as Eragon’s.

“I thought it was because Brom is my father, and Arya mistook me for him.”

Nay, said Umaroth. The spells of elves do not so easily go astray. We altered the flow of magic so that you and Saphira would meet. We thought there was a chance-a small one, but a chance nevertheless-that you might prove a fit match for her. We were right.

“Why didn’t you bring us here sooner, though?” asked Eragon.

Because you needed time for your training, and otherwise we risked alerting Galbatorix to our presence before you or the Varden were ready to confront him. If we had contacted you after the Battle of the Burning Plains, for example, what good would it have done, with the Varden still so far from Uru’baen?

There was silence for a minute.

Eragon slowly said, “What else have you done for us?”

A few nudges, warnings mostly. Visions of Arya in Gil’ead, when she needed your aid. The healing of your back during the Agaeti Blodhren.

A feeling of disapproval emanated from Glaedr. You sent them to Gil’ead, untrained and without wards, knowing that they would have to face a Shade?

We thought Brom would be with them, but even once he died, we could not stop them, for they still had to go to Gil’ead to find the Varden.

“Wait,” said Eragon. “You were responsible for my … transformation?”

In part. We touched the reflection of our race that the elves summon during the celebration. We provided the inspiration, and she-he-it provided the strength for the spell.

Eragon looked down and clenched his hand for a moment, not angry, but so filled with other emotions that he could not remain still. Saphira, Arya, his sword, the very shape of his body-he owed them all to the dragons within the room. “Elrun ono,” he said. Thank you.

You are most welcome, Shadeslayer.

“Have you helped Roran as well?”

Your cousin has required no assistance from us. Umaroth paused. We have watched both of you, Eragon and Saphira, for many years now. We have watched you grow from hatchlings to mighty warriors, and we are proud of all you have accomplished. You, Eragon, have been all we hoped for in a new Rider. And you, Saphira, have proven yourself worthy of being counted among the greatest members of our race.

Saphira’s joy and pride mingled with Eragon’s. He sank to one knee, even as she pawed at the floor and dipped her head. Eragon felt like jumping and shouting and otherwise celebrating, but he did none of those things. Instead, he said, “My sword is yours-”

– And my teeth and claws, said Saphira.

“To the end of our days,” they concluded in unison. “What would you have of us, Ebrithilar?”

Satisfaction came from Umaroth, and he replied, Now that you have found us, our days of hiding are over; we would go with you to Uru’baen and fight alongside you to kill Galbatorix. The time has come for us to leave our den and once and for all confront that traitorous egg-breaker. Without us, he would be able to pry open your minds as easily as did we, for he has many Eldunari at his command.

I cannot carry all of you, said Saphira.

You shall not have to, said Umaroth. Five of us will stay to watch over the eggs, along with Cuaroc. In the event we should fail to defeat Galbatorix, they will tamper no more with the skeins of energy, but will content themselves with waiting until it is again safe for dragons to venture forth in Alagaesia. But you need not worry; we shall not be a burden to you, for we will provide the strength to move our weight.

“How many of you are there?” asked Eragon, gazing around the room.

One hundred and thirty-six. But do not think we will be able to best the Eldunari Galbatorix has enslaved. We are too few, and those who were chosen to be placed within this vault were either too old and too valuable to risk in the fighting or too young and too inexperienced to participate in the battle. That is why I elected to join them; I provide a bridge betweenthe groups, a point of common understanding that otherwise would be lacking. Those who are older are wise and powerful indeed, but their minds wander down strange paths, and it is often hard to convince them to concentrate upon anything outside of their dreams. Those who are younger are more unfortunate: they parted from their bodies before they should have; thus their minds remain limited by the size of their Eldunari, which can never grow or expand once it leaves the flesh. Let that be a lesson to you, Saphira, not to disgorge your Eldunari unless you have reached a respectable size or face the direst of emergencies.

“So we are still outmatched,” said Eragon grimly.

Yes, Shadeslayer. But now Galbatorix cannot force you to your knees the moment he sees you. We may not be able to best them, but we will be able to hold off his Eldunari long enough for you and Saphira to do what you must. And have hope; we know many things, many secrets, about war and magic and the workings of the world. We will teach you what we can, and it may be that some piece of our knowledge will allow you to slay the king.

Thereafter, Saphira inquired of the eggs and learned that two hundred and forty-three had been saved. Twenty-six were set to be joined with Riders; the rest were unbonded. Then they fell to discussing the flight to Uru’baen. While Umaroth and Glaedr advised Saphira as to the quickest way to reach the city, the dragon-headed man sheathed his sword, laid down his shield, and, one by one, began to remove the Eldunari from their alcoves in the wall. He placed each of the gemlike orbs in the silk purse upon which it had been resting, then piled them gently on the floor next to the glowing pit. The girth of the largest Eldunari was so immense, the metal-bodied dragon was unable to wrap his arms all the way around it.

As Cuaroc worked, and as they talked, Eragon continued to feel a sense of dazed incredulousness. He had hardly dared to dream that there were any other dragons hiding in Alagaesia. Yet here they were, the remnants of a lost age. It was as if the stories of old had come to life, and he and Saphira were caught in the midst of them.

Saphira’s emotions were more complicated. Knowing that her race was no longer doomed to extinction had lifted a shadow from her mind-a shadow that had lain there for as long as Eragon could remember-and her thoughts soared with a joy so profound, it seemed to make her eyes and scales sparkle brighter than normal. Still, a curious defensiveness tempered her elation, as though she was self-conscious before the Eldunari.

Even through his daze, Eragon was aware of Glaedr’s change of mood; he did not seem to have entirely forgotten his sorrow, but he was the happiest Eragon had felt him since Oromis had died. And while Glaedr was not deferential to Umaroth, he treated the other dragon with a level of respect that Eragon had not witnessed from him before, not even when Glaedr had spoken with Queen Islanzadi.

When Cuaroc was nearly done with his task, Eragon walked to the edge of the pit and peered into it. He saw a circular shaft that sank through the stone for over a hundred feet, then opened onto a cave half filled with a sea of glowing stone. The thick yellow liquid bubbled and splattered like a pot of boiling glue, and tails of swirling fumes rose from its heaving surface. He thought he saw a light, like that of a spirit, flit across the face of the burning sea, but it vanished so quickly, he could not be sure.

Come, Eragon, said Umaroth as the dragon-headed man set the last of the Eldunari who were to travel with them upon the pile. You must cast a spell now. The words are as follows-

Eragon frowned as he listened. “What is the … twist in the second line? What am I supposed to twist, the air?”

Umaroth’s explanation left Eragon even more confused. Umaroth attempted again, but Eragon still could not understand the concept. Other, older Eldunari joined in the conversation, but their explanations made even less sense, for they came mainly as a torrent of overlapping images, sensations, and strange, esoteric comparisons that left Eragon hopelessly bewildered.

Somewhat to his relief, Saphira and Glaedr seemed similarly puzzled, although Glaedr said, I think I understand, but it is like trying to catch hold of a frightened fish; whenever I think I have it, it slips out between my teeth.

At last Umaroth said, This is a lesson for another time. You know what the spell is supposed to do, if not how. That will have to suffice. Take from us the strength needed and cast it, and then let us be off.

Nervous, Eragon fixed the words of the spell in his mind to avoid making mistakes, and then he began to speak. As he uttered the lines, he drew upon the reserves of the Eldunari, and his skin tingled as an enormous rush of energy poured through him, like a river of water both hot and cold.

The air around the uneven pile of Eldunari rippled and shimmered; then the pile seemed to fold in on itself and it winked out of sight. A gust of wind tousled Eragon’s hair, and a soft, dull thud echoed throughout the chamber.

Astonished, Eragon watched as Saphira pushed her head forward and swung it through the spot where the Eldunari had just been. They had disappeared, completely and utterly, as if they had never existed, and yet he and she could still feel the dragons’ minds close at hand.

Once you leave the vault, said Umaroth, the entrance to this pocket of space will remain at a fixed distance above and behind you at all times, save when you are in a confined area or when a person’s body should happen to pass through that space. The entrance is no larger than a pinprick, but it is more deadly than any sword; it would cut right through your flesh were you to touch it.

Saphira sniffed. Even your scent has gone.

“Who discovered how to do this?” Eragon asked, amazed.

A hermit who lived on the northern coast of Alagaesia twelve hundred years ago, Umaroth replied. It is a valuable trick if you want to hide something in plain sight, but dangerous and difficult to do correctly. The dragon was silent for a moment thereafter, and Eragon could feel him gathering his thoughts. Then Umaroth said, There is one more thing you and Saphira need to know. The moment you pass through thegreat arch behind you-the Gate of Vergathos-you will begin to forget about Cuaroc and the eggs hidden here, and by the time you reach the stone doors at the end of the tunnel, all memory of them will have vanished from your minds. Even we Eldunari will forget about the eggs. If we succeed in killing Galbatorix, the gate will restore our memories, but until then, we must remain ignorant of them. Umaroth seemed to rumble. It is … unpleasant, I know, but we cannot allow Galbatorix to learn of the eggs.

Eragon disliked the idea, but he could not think of a reasonable alternative.

Thank you for telling us, said Saphira, and Eragon added his thanks to hers.

Then the great metal warrior, Cuaroc, picked up his shield from the floor, drew his sword, and walked over to his ancient throne and sat thereon. After laying his naked blade across his knees and leaning his shield against the side of the throne, he placed his hands flat upon his thighs and grew as still as a statue, save for the dancing sprites of his crimson eyes, which gazed out over the eggs.

Eragon shivered as he turned his back on the throne. There was something haunting about the sight of the lone figure at the far side of the chamber. Knowing that Cuaroc and the other Eldunari who were staying behind might have to remain there by themselves for another hundred years-or longer-made it difficult for Eragon to leave.

Farewell, he said with his mind.

Farewell, Shadeslayer, five whispers answered. Farewell, Brightscales. Luck be with you.

Then Eragon squared his shoulders, and together he and Saphira strode through the Gate of Vergathos and thus departed the Vault of Souls.