Luminescent (Inheritance Cycle and Beyond)

Chapter Fifty-Five: Brilliant

"As you wish." Blödhgarm turned to Arya.

"It should be an even number if we are to have the best chance of success." Arya hesitated, then drew her own thin-bladed sword and placed it among the others.

"Consider carefully what you are about to do, Eragon," Arya said. "These are storied weapons all. It would be a shame to destroy them and gain nothing by it."

"Magic, transport them into the traps," I said quietly. Eragon nodded at me in agreement.

Eragon cast the first of the twelve spells we intended to use. One of the elves' swords—Laufin' s—disappeared with a faint breath of wind, like a tunic being swung through the air. A half-second later, a solid thud emanated from the wall to their left.

Speaking faster than before, Eragon cast the rest of the spells, embedding six swords within each wall, each sword five feet from the next.

"Get ready to run," Eragon said to Arya and Elva, the two nodded as Saphira and the elves tensed.

"I do not like this."

"You've been quiet Lee, and we don't have a choice," I said as I glanced up at her.

Alethea grumbled in my mind before going quiet again. Arya had Elva climb onto her back while still maintaining her hold on the green lance.

"Ready," Arya said. Reaching forward, Eragon again slapped the floor. A jarring crash sounded from each wall, and threads of dust fell from the ceiling, blossoming into hazy plumes. The moment I saw that the swords had held, I dashed forward ahead of Eragon.

"Faster!" Elva screamed from behind us. I picked up my speed as did Eragon. Just as we reached the far side of the trap, I heard the snap of breaking steel and then the cringe-inducing shriek of metal scraping against metal.

I spun around and saw that everyone had crossed the space in time except for the silver-haired elf woman Yaela, who had been caught between the last six inches of the two pieces of metal. The space around her flared blue and yellow as if the air itself was burning, and her face contorted with pain.

"Flauga!" shouted Blödhgarm, and Yaela flew out from between the sheets of metal, which snapped together with a ringing clang. Then they retreated into the walls with the same terrible shrieking that had accompanied their appearance.

Yaela had landed on her hands and knees close to Eragon. She was unhurt, but her wards were completely gone.

"Are you hurt?" Eragon asked as he helped her to her feet. She shook her head.

"No, but ... my wards are gone." She lifted her hands and stared at them with an expression close to wonder. "I've not been without wards since ... since I was younger than you are now. Somehow the blades stripped them from me."

"You're lucky to be alive," Eragon said before frowning and looking at Elva.

"We would have all died, except for him," Elva said while pointing a finger at Blödhgarm. "If I hadn't told you to move faster."

Eragon grunted while I sighed. We continued on their way, expecting with every step to find another trap. But the rest of the hallway proved to be free of obstacles, and we reached the doors at the end without further incident.

"I'm not ready," Eragon whispered in my mind.

"When will we ever be ready, Eragon? Galbatorix and Shruikan must be killed, and we are the only ones who might be able to do it." I replied as Alethea rumbled in agreement. I tugged on my scarf, checking to make sure it was secure.

"What if we can't?"

"Then we can't, and what will be will be," Saphira replied.

"Now what?" Eragon asked, trying to hide his uneasiness I could clearly see. "Should we knock?"

"First, why don't we see if it is open?" I suggested. We arranged ourselves in a formation suitable for battle with me at the very back. Then Arya, with Elva next to her, grasped a handle set within the left-hand door and prepared to pull.

As she did, a column of shimmering air appeared around Blödhgarm and each of his ten spellcasters. Eragon shouted with alarm while I stepped back on instinct. The elves seemed unable to move within the columns: even their eyes remained motionless, fixed upon whatever they had been looking at when the spell took effect.

With a heavy clank, a door in the wall to the left slid open, and the elves began to move toward it, like a procession of statues gliding across ice. Arya lunged toward them, barbed spear extended before her, in an attempt to cut through the enchantments binding the elves, but she was too slow, and she could not catch them.

"Letta!" Eragon shouted. The magic that imprisoned the elves proved too strong for him to break, and they disappeared within the dark opening, the door slamming shut behind them. Eragon looked at me with a devastating look.

Arya pounded on the door with the butt of the Dauthdaert, and she even tried to find the seam between the door and the wall with the tip of the blade, as she had with the sally port, but the wall seemed solid, immovable.

"Why didn't you sense the trap?" Eragon asked Elva in an undertone.

"Because it didn't hurt them," Elva said. Arya strode back to the golden doors and again grasped the handle on the left. Joining her, Elva wrapped her small hand around the shaft of the Dauthdaert. Leaning away from the door, Arya pulled and pulled, and the massive structure slowly began to swing outward.

When the door reached the wall, Arya released it, and then she and Elva joined Eragon and me in front of Saphira and Alethea. On the other side of the cavernous archway was a vast, dark chamber. One I hadn't been in before.

A line of flameless lanterns mounted on iron poles ran straight out from either side of the entranceway, illuminating the patterned floor and little else, while a faint glow came from above through crystals set within the distant ceiling. The two rows of lanterns ended over five hundred feet away, near the base of a broad dais, upon which rested a throne.

On the throne sat a single black figure, the only figure in the whole room, and on his lap lay a bare sword, a long white splinter that seemed to emit a faint glow. Eragon glanced at me, and I nodded. This was definitely my father. The moment the five of were all in the room, the gold doors swung shut behind us.

"Ah, I have been expecting you. Welcome to my abode. And welcome to you in particular, Eragon Shadeslayer, and to you, Saphira Brightscales. I have much desired to meet with you. But I am also glad to see you, Arya—daughter of Islanzadí, and Shadeslayer in your own right—and you as well, Elva, she of the Shining Brow. And of course, Glaedr, Umaroth, Valdr, and those others who travel with you unseen. I had long believed them to be dead, and I am most glad to learn otherwise. Let's not forget about the mysterious young rider and her dragon. Welcome, all! We have much to talk about."