Andlátkyn; Vandr Sanses unin Alagaësia

The Vault of Souls

"Who are you? How do we know if we can trust you?" Eragon quested tensely, struggling to process it all.
They speak the truth, Eragon. Glaedr confirmed in the tongue of the elves, his Rider continuing.
We know, for I helped devise the plan for this place.
You did? GB asked with wide sockets.

The unknown voice spoke before they could continue.
My name is Umaroth. My Rider was the elf Vrael, leader of our order before our doom came upon us. Here, a note of exasperation seeped in.
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. It would be too confusing for all of us to speak at once, so my voice will stand for the rest.

Are you…? Eragon quested mentally, regarding the silver dragon-headed man.
"No, that's Cuaroc." Abyss shook his skull, dropping it so that Umaroth could continue.
Indeed, that is Cuaroc, Hunter of the Nïdhwal and Bane of the Urgals. Silvarí 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.

While he explained, Cuaroc reached and opened up his chest, revealing a purple Eldunarí coated in thousands of silver wires, GB huffing in astonishment.
You're literally a robot.... Alphys would love to see what makes you tick.
"An entire portion of the Multiverse would be intrigued by him. I only suggest we don't let Sci near him. Or Gaster, for that matter." Blue pointed out drily.

The metal man closed the compartment, as expressionless as ever while Umaroth continued.
No, I am over here. He silently dragged their gazes to a sizable white gem.
Eragon finally slipped Brisingr back in it's sheath, a dazed look about him.

The human headed to the shelves on the right, pausing by Cuaroc. "May I?" He asked both aloud and with mind.
He only clacked his teeth and turned, moving to stand by the giant orange pit in the middle of the floor, sword still at the ready.

"Me as well, may I?" Blue quested eagerly, looking to the left. The crimson flames that resembled eyelights regarded him before the other grunted, chin tapping against chest. Blue nodded back, darting over to regard a rich, raspberry and mauve egg nearly as large as his ribcage.

…I almost want to compare them. GB murmured behind him, breath breezing over his shirt. Blue fought the impulsive urge to stiffen up, instead chuckling. Perhaps sometime later. Now doesn't feel appropriate.
He didn't want to lie, but neither did he want to explain.. everything involving the dragonchild.

So instead, they both looked out at all the eggs. Blue studied them all, amazed.
All of a sudden, the chamber rang with a frustrated roar that made detritus fall from above.
How?! Saphira snapped, growling.
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. Umaroth scolded.
She snarled. Then speak, old one, and tell us how this can be.

With a flash of amusement that turned to sorrow, he spoke.
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?
Her tail swung irritably as she snorted.

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. Umaroth explained.