Return

The return of the riders

A small cliff stood strong in the winds with a petite shack nestled against the clifface out of sight from mere strangers. A deep chasm echoed into the ground where occasional plumes of smoke drifted outward to merge with the clouds. The shack that stood strong in the wind and sun seemed to have been sung from the carved rock and trees with it seeming individual and yet intertwined. True craftsmanship. The home seemed to be ancient in fact, almost milenia in age but cared for in youth. On the ground between some fences lay beds of vegetables, fruits, herbs and mushrooms. The small desolated corner of the world seemed teeming with life both from within the crust and around the cliff. Within the sung hollow the walls bore scrolls and ink pots with quills and fairthar painted the walls with a small stone table erect in the corner with a singular lonely chair aside it. In another corner was a small basin with a stove all chiselled from stone with running water. Surprising for this desolate area, almost uncanny if not magical. A slender youthful looking man dwelled the entrance to the cave with scrolls and ink scribing stories and poems of his past. In the shack there seemed to be no bed or place of rest yet within the cave that hosted plumes of smoke had comfort along its edges and not so deep had a small circle of pillows made of lost feathers and hand woven covers. There was a beauty to this abode as it seemed ancient in sight yet at closer inspection adorned towards the newer upkeep of the home of old. 

Tingling shot the spine of the slender man an instinctive feeling gnawed the pit of his mind. The plumes of smoke came to an abrupt end as a shimmering blue snout poked itself out of the cave entrance.

It all be well, possible previous injuries that's all. This wasn't speak of word but mind, the mental voice seemed weathered and spoke in ancient tongue.

Old injuries, little one that cannot be for that was healed some time ago. This time the mental words were of ancient female tongue asked to the man as if she were older. Now that was no tingle, I think only our first master and for had felt that before. 

Aye! This time not spine but insignia. 

Holding out his palm to reveal a symbol of old, the man itched it as it burnished a brightened sapphire. 

How can it be for it has been milenia since last I saw another rider, we died with me after the final egg was destroyed by the Dwarves. 

He spoke as if he were older than his home and in lost tongue that would be unknown to any normal human. He spoke as if he were of a final race. 

Emerging from the cave, a almost glowing sapphire beast padded out. Streaching as she walked her wings extending, almost piercing the clouds, a small jet of blue fire ejected from her jaws. 

Ah I see you have decided to join me outside today then. A sniger emerged from the corner of the man's thin lips as his ancient eyes rolled. 

Hmph, I joined you last month, when I was hungry. A snap of the jaw revealed rows of razor fangs around a pink snake tongue. Scars were to be seen across her vast body that seemed like a graze against her scales. Any who we have been given a task to do.

Knowing you mind like mine, this is the reason you decided to stretch out of bed, just because you are wanting adventure like when you were a mere hatchling and cause that childish hunt is coursing through your veins and ricocheting into mine.

Apologies little one but your gedwëy ignasia has never beaten like that before, except for the blessing in that child. 

Aye, best be wary and figure this out it be different times now and we have some but little knowledge of this land now as we are that of fables the elders tell to their clans. 

In addition I've seen mastless boats across this ocean and metal birds that are noisy. Along with travelling metal boxes. Not as it was and I hear the villagers or wandered call you the "ancient oaf on the hill".

Aye, yet I needent interfere with them as we have our world among the rocks that my clan helped carve before they dispersed around Alagaësia.

The hours of the day were turning towards night as the ancient oaf on the hill and the sapphire dragon spoke away the day in the time they had watched form from their elongated lives.

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The next morning the dragon and the man perched upon the cliff face as two dicky birds on a wire. They enjoyed watching the world flow by as in their lives the days were early minutes and the years merely hours. The activity of yesterday still rattled their minds as they passed remarks to one another on what was the cause of it and who or where the origins of the sensation were. The thoughts were merely a pondering of their lives and world but they had lived too long for it to blast any significance, especially within this time and age with metal birds and rolling boxes. 

After a long cup of blackberry tea the man meandered into his hut and plucked a scroll from his library of tales. The man stretched out the scroll carefully and read what was atop: 

Eragon Shadeslayer, Saphira. 

I decided to write and recall any further training you may need for if my demise arrives before you return then our legacy is to be left to you to train the next generation and complete the training you began. Dare I say that in my age I am eternally learning of new circumstances and my training shall forever be incomplete but wisdom grows ever wise. I entrust this to you with the greatest hope of our future and may the stars be ever in your favour.

Master Oromis, Master Glydr 

The scroll continued to show images of certain training and messages within the ancient language that I dare say are difficult to transcribe with text. 

Eragon, being his name, recoiled the beaten scroll a returned it to his shelf pondering which to pluck next as he was in dire need of reorganising the library shelves to categorise the fables from the novels, the facts from fiction, the diaries from the letters and that of the needed information that aided his training all those millennia ago. 

Moments passed as he pondered the next scroll then Saphira suggested, 

What abouts the history of dragons and riders. I remember you reading about that tale of the dwarf and the dragon.

Yes but you forget the dwarves dispised the dragons and no dwarf would ever protect a dragon nor her egg without purpose with the Varden or Elves. 

Indeed pondered Saphira ah what about the tale of the last dragon. That was transcribed before I or Thorn or even the start of the fall of the riders. 

Without reply Eragon searched forward and found such a scroll between his maps and dwarven history. 

The scroll described uncanny events that were near impossible, even by the elves' magic. It told of a time of peace yet eradication but also of a last dragon. Among the words it told of a green and crimson egg found by a young girl with auburn locks, human structure and a wild sense of style. To Eragon the words describing the land in the tale were almost reality to his current world. Safira occasionally shivered through Eragon with anticipation. Was she the last of her kind or is there actually another once again! 

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