Brisingr [en]

you.

Right above you!

With a bugle of joy, Saphira dove out of the belly of a cloud several thousand feet overhead, spiraling toward the ground with her wings tucked close to her body. Opening her fearsome jaws, she released a billow of fire, which streamed back over her head and neck like a burning mane. Eragon laughed and held his arms outstretched to her. The horses of the patrol galloping toward him and Arya shied at the sight and sound of Saphira and bolted in the opposite direction while their riders frantically tried to rein them in.

“I had hoped we could enter the camp without attracting undue attention,” Arya said, “but I suppose I should have realized we could not be unobtrusive with Saphira around. A dragon is hard to ignore.”

I heard that, said Saphira, spreading her wings and landing with a thunderous crash. Her massive thighs and shoulders rippled as she absorbed the force of the impact. A blast of air struck Eragon’s face, and the earth shuddered underneath him. He flexed his knees to maintain his balance. Folding her wings so they lay flat upon her back, she said, I can be stealthy if I want. Then she cocked her head and blinked, the tip of her tail whipping from side to side. But I don’t want to be stealthy today! Today I am a dragon, not a frightened pigeon trying to avoid being seen by a hunting falcon.

When are you not a dragon? asked Eragon as he ran toward her. Light as a feather, he leaped from her left foreleg to her shoulder and thence to the hollow at the base of her neck that was his usual seat. Settling into place, he put his hands on either side of her warm neck, feeling the rise and fall of her banded muscles as she breathed. He smiled again, with a profound sense of contentment. This is where I belong, here with you. His legs vibrated as Saphira hummed with satisfaction, her deep rumbling following a strange, subtle melody he did not recognize.

“Greetings, Saphira,” said Arya, and twisted her hand over her chest in the elves’ gesture of respect.

Crouching low and bending her long neck, Saphira touched Arya upon the brow with the tip of her snout, as she had when she blessed Elva in Farthen Dur, and said, Greetings, alfa-kona. Welcome, and may the wind rise under your wings. She spoke to Arya with the same tone of affection that, until then, she had reserved for Eragon, as if she now considered Arya part of their small family and worthy of the same regard and intimacy as they shared. Her gesture surprised Eragon, but after an initial flare of jealousy, he approved. Saphira continued speaking: I am grateful to you for helping Eragon to return without harm. If he had been captured, I do not know what I would have done!

“Your gratitude means much to me,” said Arya, and bowed. “As for what you would have done if Galbatorix had seized Eragon, why, you would have rescued him, and I would have accompanied you, even if it was to Uru’baen itself.”

Yes, I like to think I would have rescued you, Eragon, said Saphira, turning her neck to look at him, but I worry that I would have surrendered to the Empire in order to save you, no matter the consequences for Alagaesia. Then she shook her head and kneaded the soil with her claws. Ah, these are pointless meanderings. You are here and safe, and that is the true shape of the world. To while away the day contemplating evils that might have been is to poison the happiness we already have...

At that moment, a patrol galloped toward them and, halting thirty yards away because of their nervous horses, asked if they might escort the three to Nasuada. One of the men dismounted and gave his steed to Arya, and then as a group, they advanced toward the sea of tents to the southwest. Saphira set the pace: a leisurely crawl that allowed her and Eragon to enjoy the pleasure of each other’s company before they immersed themselves in the noise and chaos that were sure to assault them once they neared the camp.

Eragon inquired after Roran and Katrina, then said, Have you been eating enough fireweed? Your breath seems stronger than usual.

Of course I have. You only notice it because you have been gone for many days. I smell exactly as a dragon should smell, and I’ll thank you not to make disparaging comments about it unless you want me to drop you on your head. Besides, you humans have nothing to brag about, sweaty, greasy, pungent things that you are. The only creatures in the wild as smelly as humans are male goats and hibernating bears. Compared to you, the scent of a dragon is a perfume as delightful as a meadow of mountain flowers.

Come now, don’t exaggerate. Although, he said, wrinkling his nose, since the Agaeti Blodhren, I have noticed that humans tend to be rather smelly. But you cannot lump me in with the rest, for I am no longer entirely human.

Perhaps not, but you still need a bath!

As they crossed the plain, more and more men congregated around Eragon and Saphira, providing them with a wholly unnecessary but very impressive honor guard. After so long spent in the wilds of Alagaesia, the dense press of bodies, the cacophony of high, excited voices, the storm of unguarded thoughts and emotions, and the confused motion of flailing arms and prancing horses were overwhelming for Eragon.

He retreated deep within himself, where the discordant mental chorus was no louder than the distant thunder of crashing waves. Even through the layers of barriers, he sensed the approach of twelve elves, running in formation from the other side of the camp, swift and lean as yellow-eyed mountain cats. Wanting to make a favorable impression, Eragon combed his hair with his fingers and squared his shoulders, but he also tightened the armor around his consciousness so that no one but Saphira could hear his thoughts. The elves had come to protect him and Saphira, but ultimately their allegiance belonged to Queen Islanzadi. While he was grateful for their presence, and he doubted their inherent politeness would allow them to eavesdrop on him, he did not want to provide the queen of the elves with any opportunity to learn the secrets of the Varden, nor to gain a hold over him. If she could wrest him away from Nasuada, he knew she would. On the whole, the elves did not trust humans, not after Galbatorix’s betrayal, and for that and other reasons, he was sure Islanzadi would prefer to have him and Saphira under her direct command. And of the potentates he had met, he trusted Islanzadi the least. She was too imperious and too erratic.

The twelve elves halted before Saphira. They bowed and twisted their hands as Arya had done and, one by one, introduced themselves to Eragon with the initial phrase of the elves’ traditional greeting, to which he replied with the appropriate lines. Then the lead elf, a tall, handsome male with glossy blue-black fur covering his entire body, proclaimed the purpose of their mission to everyone within earshot and formally asked Eragon and Saphira if the twelve might assume their duties.

“You may,” said Eragon.

You may, said Saphira.

Then Eragon asked, “ Blodhgarm-vodhr, did I perchance see you at the Agaeti Blodhren?” For he remembered watching an elf with a similar pelt gamboling among the trees during the festivities.

Blodhgarm smiled, exposing the fangs of an animal. “I believe you met my cousin Liotha. We share a most striking family resemblance, although her fur is brown and flecked, whereas mine is dark blue.”

“I would have sworn it was you.”

“Unfortunately, I was otherwise engaged at the time and was unable to attend the celebration. Perhaps I shall have the opportunity when next the occasion occurs, a hundred years from now.”

Would you not agree, Saphira said to Eragon, that he has a pleasant aroma?

Eragon sniffed the air. I don’t smell anything. And I would if there was anything to smell.

That’s odd. She provided him then with the range of odors she had detected, and at once he realized what she meant. Blodhgarm’s musk surrounded him like a cloud, thick and heady, a warm, smoky scent that contained hints of crushed juniper berries and that set Saphira’s nostrils to tingling. All the women in the Varden seem to have fallen in love with him, she said. They stalk him wherever he goes, desperate to talk with him but too shy to utter so much as a squeak when he looks at them.

Maybe only females can smell him. He cast a concerned glance at Arya. She does not seem to be affected.

She has protection against magical influences.

I hope so... Do you think we should put a stop to Blodhgarm?