Luminescent (Inheritance Cycle and Beyond)

Chapter Twenty-One: Iridescent

"Won't you teach me yourself?"

"I have naught to teach. You are as good a swordsman as ever I have met, you as well Khensamel. I know no more of fighting than you, and that which I possess and you do not, I cannot give you. All that remains for you is to preserve your current level of skill and work with your new weapon." Eragon glanced my way before turning back to Oromis.

"Why can't I do that with you... Master?"

"Because I do not appreciate beginning the day with alarum and conflict." He looked at Eragon, then relented and added, "And because it will be good for you to become acquainted with others who live here. I am not representative of my race. But enough of that. Look, they approach."

The three dragons glided across the flat disk of the sun. First came Glaedr with a roar of wind, blotting out the sky with his massive bulk before he settled on the grass and folded his golden wings, then Saphira, as quick and agile as a sparrow beside an eagle. Alethea immediately went to her usual place on my shoulder.

As they had that morning, Oromis and Glaedr asked a number of questions to ensure that we had paid attention to each other's lessons.

"Better," Glaedr rumbled. "Much better." Glaedr turned his head towards Eragon and me.

"We will have to train together soon."

"Of course, Skulblaka," Eragon responded while I gave the old dragon a bow. The ancient dragon snorted and crawled alongside Oromis, half hopping with his front leg to compensate for his missing limb. Darting forward, Saphira nipped at the end of Glaedr's tail, tossing it into the air with a flip of her head, like she would to break the neck of a deer. My hands immediately went to my ears just in time to muffle Glaedr's roar.

"Contain yourself, Saphira!" Oromis said as Saphira pranced backward and settled on her haunches, though nothing in her demeanor expressed contrition. Eragon muttered an excuse, and Oromis waved a hand.

"Begone, both of you." Eragon scrambled on Saphira as I did the same with Alethea.

"As is our custom, and as was agreed upon at the end of The Dragon War by Queen Tarmunora, the first Eragon, and the white dragon who represented his race—he whose name cannot be uttered in this or any language—when they bound the fates of elves and dragons together, we have met to honor our blood-oath with song and dance and the fruits of our labor. Last this celebration occurred, many long years ago, our situation was desperate indeed. It has improved somewhat since, the result of our efforts, the dwarves', and the Varden's, though Alagaësia still lies under the black shadow of the Wyrdfell and we must still live with our shame of how we have failed the dragons."

Eragon quickly glanced at me as Islanzadí made her speech, I gave him a reassuring smile. We had come a long way since starting training with Oromis and Glaedr.

"Of the Riders of eld, only Oromis and Glaedr remain. Brom and many others entered the void this past century. However, new hope has been granted to us in the form of Eragon and Saphira, Khensamel and Alethea, and it is only right and proper that they should be here now, as we reaffirm the oath between our races three."

At the Islanzadí's signal, the elves cleared a vast expanse at the base of the Menoa tree. Around the perimeter, they staked a ring of lanterns mounted upon carved poles, while musicians with flutes, harps, and drums assembled along the ridge of one long root. Guided by Arya to the edge of the circle, Eragon and I found ourselves seated between her and Oromis, while Saphira, Alethea, and Glaedr crouched on either side of them like gem-studded bluffs.

"Watch you carefully, for this is of great importance to your heritage as Riders," Oromis said to Eragon and I. When all the elves were settled, two elf-maids walked to the center of the space in the host and stood with their backs to each other. "The Caretakers, Iduna and Nëya,"

.

From Islanzadí's shoulder, Blagden shrieked, "Wyrda!"

Moving in unison, the two elves raised their hands to the brooches at their throats, unclasped them, and allowed their white robes to fall away. Though they wore no garments, the women were clad in an iridescent tattoo of a dragon. The tattoo began with the dragon's tail wrapped around the left ankle of Iduna, continued up her leg and thigh, over her torso, and then across Nëya's back, ending with the dragon's head on Nëya's chest. Every scale on the dragon was inked a different color; the vibrant hues gave the tattoo the appearance of a rainbow.

The elf-maids twined their hands and arms together so that the dragon appeared to be a continuous whole, rippling from one body to the next without interruption. Then they each lifted a barefoot and brought it down on the packed ground with a soft thump. They continued to thump their feet as the musicians struck their drums in rhythm. A thump later, the harpists plucked the strings of their gilt instruments, and a moment after that, those elves with flutes joined the throbbing melody.

Slowly at first, but with gathering speed, Iduna and Nëya began to dance, marking time with the stamp of their feet on the dirt and undulating so that it was not they who seemed to move but the dragon upon them. Round and round they went, and the dragon flew endless circles across their skin. Then the twins added their voices to the music, building upon the pounding beat with their fierce cries. I heard the dragon's behind us hum in concordance, a deep pulse so strong that it vibrated my body.

A burst of flame erupted from the dragon's maw, and he lunged forward and pulled himself free of the elves' skin, climbing into the air, where he hovered, flapping his wings. The tip of his tail remained connected to the twins below. The giant beast strained toward the black moon and loosed an untamed roar of ages past, then turned and surveyed the assembled elves.

The dragon flew down in front of us. It came to a stop before Eragon. He raised his hand while I blinked at the dragon.

"Our gift so you may do what you must." The dragon bent his neck and, with his snout, touched the heart of Eragon's gedwëy ignasia. Eragon hit the ground next to me, unconscious. I turned my head back to the dragon as it turned to me. "Our gift, so you may right his wrong."

The dragon got closer and touched my right shoulder; exactly where the scar was. Shocks went up my right arm like the time I first touched Alethea. I hit the ground, trying not to blackout from the pain. An icy coolness started to spread around my body, emanating from my scar. The last thing I saw was the dragon receding to the twins.