3

Eragon squinted his eyes under the bright blue sky of a summer morning. He could hear the rumble of the competitors' voices coming from the arena outside Mount Arngor.

The place was carefully built by talented constructors especially for the Games, and although it was simple, it showed all the commitment the residents of Arngor had towards its development. The arena was composed of a large field for wrestling, sword fighting, archery, jousts, and other strength competitions, and flanked by strong but not so tall bleachers.

On one end, a grandstand was built in a more sophisticated kind for the guests of honor. It was adorned in wood, with tall, padded chairs. Eragon thought they shouldn't differentiate who was "important" and who was not, but it was expected of him that he extended his cordiality to the monarchs and leaders, just as he was one of them.

Eragon was supposed to join them and give a speech to open the games, so he walked through the field greeting the competitors, wishing them good luck. Some of them were residents of Arngor, of all races, and they were particularly touched by his friendly attitude. Others were travelers, eager to prove themselves in front of the most famous man in the world, as they claimed, the legend himself. The urgals were the most concentrated, the reason being their validation among their peers and the opportunity to prove themselves worthy of a good mate and respect in their tribes. He felt genuinely happy to walk among them, not caring if it took too long to cross the entire field.

When he got to the grandstand, he saw all the leaders already expecting him. He climbed the steps and bowed to them. As he took the front to speak, he watched as three big dragons approached the arena and joined the younger ones by the other end of the field, an open space for the dragons to watch the competitions. The newcomers were Saphira, Fírnen, and Thorn.

He sighed in frustration. Now everyone would know Murtagh had come to Arngor, and Eragon feared he would have to put out more fires than he expected.

He sensed the others shifting uncomfortably behind him and watched people looking for the Red Rider, who wasn't anywhere to be seen. They were commenting with each other, probably, mean words about his half-brother.

Eragon cleared his throat, and after a voice enhancement spell, he started to speak. He thanked each of the leaders there present, turning to look at them. Orik had a fiery look, and Eragon felt regretful for hiding Murtagh's presence there, fearing he had lost his friend's trust; after all, the dwarves were still resentful of the murder of their king, Hrothgar.

Looking away from Orik and the others, he addressed the residents of Arngor, who stumped their feet on the ground in response, synchronized as a single organism. He felt proud of their unity. He then proceeded to greet the Apprentice Riders, that emerged from their seats on the bleachers and raised their hands. They were about fourteen students, the senior ones, an urgal and a dwarf, were expected to graduate in the next spring.

Next, Eragon greeted the competitors, praising them for their courage. They were a group of about fifty men and women from all races. Those with magical abilities were instructed to avoid any use of magic during the games, including healing spells. All wounds were expected to heal naturally, to be borne with pride. Only if one were to be severely injured, then the healers would treat the wounds with all means available to prevent death or other unfortunate consequences.

After the instructions about the rules and schedule, Eragon took a deep breath and fell silent for an instant. His gaze traveled around on each of those faces looking back at him. They were all quiet, and if that was supposed to make him feel awkward and inadequate, it failed, for his spirit was calm. He wasn't responsible for anyone's life anymore like he had been in the past during the war. Eragon was an admired figure, even loved, and his only responsibility now was to pave the way for the new players, make them apt to move the pieces on the board. How they chose to play, however, was not up to him, although he would not stand to raise a new tyrant like his Master Oromis had raised Morzan and helped to instruct Galbatorix. And that day, the only duty he had was to start a celebration of union and peace he helped forge.

"Lastly," he broke the silence, "I'd like to address the very reason we are here today. Our friends, the dragons."

All the faces turned to the opposite end of the field to look at the dragons.

"They are the magic of this world. The reason we see the flowers blossoming in the spring, the animals running wild and free throughout the land. They are the core of our peace treaty because, without their power, our races could never be bound to one another in an ancient pact. For all you do for us, I thank you."

The crowd looked to the dragons with admiration and cheered loudly. The Riders seemed to be extremely touched and proud, which made the giants hum with pleasure.

"In particular, I would like to pay tribute to the reason of my existence. Saphira." The blue dragon puffed her chest and looked at him with fondness. "Your strength, beauty, and wisdom are often neglected throughout Alagaësia, which is unfair, but understandable, for it would be impossible to capture all you are with mere words. A lifetime, long as it can be, is not enough for me to thank you for choosing me as your Rider. I hope I can honor you with every breath and every step take."

Saphira bowed her head and lifted it back up to throw a huge blue flame to the sky. The other dragons followed her lead until the temperatures in the arena went up considerably. He laughed when the competitors flinched, getting away from the heat.

I think it's enough, Saphira. You're going to burn them all alive.

She stopped the fire and winked at him.

You spoke beautifully, little one. A true poet. She said with tenderness as the other dragons ceased their fire too.

Thank you.

No, little one, thank you!

Eragon smiled. He decided then it was time to let the games begin and announced open the first edition of the Arngor Games.

It was refreshing for Arya to enjoy a warm and pleasant day outside, watching the competitions take place in the field in front of her. She enjoyed the jousts very much but was eagerly expecting the sword fighting.

As a human knight was brilliantly knocked down from his horse with a spectacular hit from his opponent's lance, she rose from her seat applauding along with all the other spectators. The winner took off his helmet and rode his horse around the jousting area, waving his hand and receiving praises. He made it to the next round.

Turning back to her seat, she crossed eyes with Eragon, who took his seat on her left, smiling at her.

"It's a pity that elves don't compete in jousting. It would be a sight to see," he commented lightly in the Ancient Language like their conversation had been going all morning.

She shook her head.

"We will let humans excel in at least one thing, in respect of our good relationship." Arya smiled provocatively. She had not felt that good in a long time.

"We are jesting, today, aren't we?" He laughed.

She did not care to respond, simply looking back to the action ahead, where two other competitors readied to start a new match.

The entire morning was spent like this, watching the jousts, talking in good humor, and taking in the summer warmth. From time to time, she would look to her left just to see that Eragon held a content expression. He looked young still but mature beyond his age. A child in elven terms, but a full-grown man for several years now by human standards. But she knew both parameters failed when measuring his maturity, for he could be considered neither human nor elf. He was something else. He was a Dragon Rider, but not only that. She knew the Eldunarí shared with him their memories, poured into his mind their knowledge, concepts so old as time itself. How could one expect to remain unchanged before all that? Eragon was born human, turned into a Rider, transformed into an elf-like being, but became what no one else would ever be. The memory of Alagaësia itself.

Once during their conversation, his eyes went blank and stared away. She held in her mouth the words about an odd fellow she had met in Teirm in the past year and waited for him to resume his attention to her. Lines of concern marked her forehead.

Eragon then shook his head and turned his eyes to her again.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You were saying…"

The lines on her forehead deepened.

"Are you ill?" Arya asked in a quiet tone.

His eyes widened, then he smiled dismissing her concerns.

"No, no! It's the dragons. Sometimes they infuse their memories in my thoughts in the most inopportune times. If it happened only at night in my sleep-like trance, it would be great, but I find myself traveling through time and space when doing all sorts of activities." Laughed a bit, but his eyes were clouded somehow.

She sensed some of those memories were worrisome enough to trouble him.

"Once, I was in the middle of a meeting with the dwarven ambassador," he started, "that was telling me about how beautiful and sad his brother's funeral was. Well, it's enough to say that the memory one of the Eldunarí decided to show me contemplated a failed attempt of a dragon to free himself from a clump of nettles when he was only a hatchling." The corners of his eyes pushed back in amusement, forming thin lines of expression that she found endearing. "The look on the poor man's face was priceless when I burst out in laughter right in the middle of his sad narrative." He laughed again, reliving the moment. She smiled kindly.

Then, when he ceased his laughter, she voiced her concerns.

"But not all the memories are this cheerful, are they?" It was rhetorical, but she expected an answer, nevertheless.

Eragon took a deep breath and looked around. They were surrounded by his most trusted advisors, the other leaders of Alagaësia, and their servants. Arya understood that there was not the right place for such conversation.

"No, they are not." He looked away just in time to see the end of another match. "Lunchtime!" He announced and got up to call the audience and the competitors to the dining tent.

Arya sighed and prepared to follow the others when Eragon touched her elbow and signaled for her to follow him instead.

They walked under the refreshing shelter provided by the trees against the intense midday sun. It was a slow pace, quiet and tense. She felt him struggling with his reflections, possibly debating with Saphira about what he could tell Arya of his memories, so she let him to it.

Her eyes, on the other hand, could not leave him alone, and she found herself throwing him long and inspecting gazes. She noticed he had tried to comb his short brown hair back, but a strand fell stubborn on his forehead. His well-trimmed beard gave him a serious look, like he was a young lord, heir to some noble house's name and properties, just like many human men she had met in her duty as Dragon Rider.

With few exceptions, they all tried to gain her attention with pleasantries and even presents. She would politely decline, not without annoyance, stating her work as a Rider would not allow her to take any compensations from those she had helped. They would mumble a plead or an apology in return, but soon enough she would be on Fírnen's back preparing to take flight.

Shaking her head, she wiped that thought from her mind. Eragon was nothing like those young lords. In fact, she was sure that if anyone tried to call him "My Lord", he would dismiss the title, attesting he was no lord. It was true, he was not a noble, and again, Arya dwelled on the notion that he was something else now. She wondered how much of his true name had changed over the years because it was clear it had changed.

It was hard though for her to forget his human features, physical or behavioral. Eragon still had warmth and curiosity pouring from his eyes, and his eagerness to learn and connect to people was very much present under his elven façade. His pointy ears and slightly slanted eyes could never cover his unique approach to novelty. Without seeing him for ten years, she knew it all to be true still. And there was also his appearance.

Arya's eyes traveled down from his dark beard adorning his strong jaw. He was wearing a simple but elegant blue, short-sleeved tunic, and a vest, embroidered with green thread, forming delicate and intricate vines. It was the perfect fit for his strong frame, adorning his shoulders and chest with harmony. The fabric was not elven made, it followed the customs of his people, the Palancar Valley inhabitants. She had seen them wearing clothes like Eragon's before, adorned with the same type of embroidery, but never in this summer version.

Roran had greeted her in the last fall wearing a similar type of tunic, except it was dark blue and long-sleeved. Arya wondered who had made it and sent it to him. She suspected Roran had sent Eragon presents through Murtagh, for Eragon's family told her the Red Rider had visited Carvahall only a month before her.

Sensing her analysis of him, Eragon grabbed the fabric with his fingertips and confirmed her suspicion.

"Katrina embroidered and sewed it to me, this and many other pieces of clothing. They're not as refined as the elven ones, but I think they suit me just fine. She asked Murtagh to give them to me when he told them he was to join us here." He looked disappointed as he shook his head. "I wish they had come with you to watch the Games. Roran said they would, but that was before they knew about Katrina's pregnancy."

She nodded.

"At least it is for a good cause."

Eragon agreed.

"How did that happen, Murtagh and Thorn?" Her question was vague, but if he thought it sounded inarticulate, he was delicate enough not to mention.

"They've been here before, but never to stay. This time I think he considered retiring from Alagaësia's drama." He smirked.

"Is it possible?"

"Well, I like to believe it is. I mean, for me at least, because if another enemy is threatening the Kingdom or any of your realms, I don't think I will be very helpful from this far. I think my role now is to forge the ones who will help." Eragon pointed to the colorful group of dragons gathered around the dining tent. "I guess I'm almost retired from Alagaësia's drama. Except, you know, for politics and brothers, and all their resentment."

Arya was confused.

"What do you mean, you will not fly back in case of need?"

He shrugged.

"I don't think I can. I can't leave the Eldunarí and the eggs unattended."

"I am sure your spellcasters can protect them just fine!" She was a little annoyed with the fact that he was seriously considering never coming back, even in a situation of great need.

"It's not their duty," he tried to defend himself, with a careful tone, as to not offend her. "It's mine, as the Head Rider. And as long as I remain in this position, I must guard the legacy and the future of our Order." He stated as if he had memorized the words. "One day, a younger and stronger Rider will be considered fitter for the job, but even then, his or her strength will be better employed in action, not at the dragon hold, guarding eggs and Eldunarí. I believe my duty is a lifelong task."

He did not sound sad or tired but resigned. It was hard to accept that the Eragon she met once, energetic and fit for battle, would agree with being left behind strategizing, studying, in the rear end of the fight. He had really become something else.

"We will have to let the future take its course then," she said looking ahead, still dealing with the dissatisfaction.

Eragon nodded, and silence fell upon them once more.

Arya followed with her eyes as Thorn rose from his spot by Saphira's side and flew to the mountain, a few yards away. He entered through an opening high up and disappeared.

"What do you think I should do about Orik and Murtagh?" He asked in a pained voice.

"This is a very difficult situation. The dwarves are not easily dissuaded from their beliefs, and Murtagh unfairly killed Hrothgar, cowardly, as Orik would say." Arya breathed in before continuing. "I believe the best you can do is to see what Orik's thoughts on the matter are and reason with him, try to keep his trust and friendship. Be wise, for the dwarves are big suppliers to the academy. You need them."

He sighed.

"I know." Eragon's eyes captured hers, and she saw he was divided. "He's my brother, Murtagh. I would fail him and our mother if I didn't accept him, but Orik was always so loyal, my brother too, bound by heart, not something as random as blood. He will blame me for betraying the Ingeitum."

"Give it time, Eragon."

"That's the solution to everything, it seems." Arya noticed a drop of bitterness in his voice and got surprised as his eyes darkened and he averted his gaze.

She did not say another word on the matter, instead, she waited until his lighter mood returned. It took him a minute or two, then he took a deep breath and spoke again.

"You asked about the memories." She nodded. "Well, they show me everything, good and bad. Sometimes it's their own memories, sometimes it's their Riders'. Sometimes it's not even the past, it's now as if they had eyes throughout all over Alagaësia. It confuses me when they won't explain."

He stopped walking, which forced her to do the same. They stood under an oak tree, halfway between the arena and the dining tent. Eragon finally seemed to acknowledge the rebel strand of hair that fell lazily on his forehead. He ran his right hand through his hair and pushed it all back. It seemed soft under his touch.

"Lately – and I don't know how relevant it is –, they've been showing me different uses of magic across the land. I said lately, but it has been happening since we moved here. Powerful beings inhabit Alagaësia, people we don't even dream to know, hidden in their lairs." He exhaled heavily. "These visions make me think nonstop about Nasuada's prohibition of magic. I know people have been punished all over the place, we even have refugees from the prohibition living here, which does not please Nasuada. She is being friendly to me, because, well, we are friends, but I know she's holding it against me." He shook his head. "Now Orik is mad too, and I'm sure Garzhog is fed up with all the royal treatment he's receiving, and Orrin, he's Orrin." They shared a laugh. "What are your complaints against me?"

Arya pretended to think about it.

"I have no complaints up to this moment, but I'm sure you will mess something up very soon."

Eragon chuckled.

"It does sound like me. But I digress, I was talking about the prohibition. I don't think it's the solution. Who is proficient in magic, really proficient, and you know this better than I am, will never get caught by Du Vrangr Gata." She smirked in sarcasm. "Those magicians I saw, they would never get caught by Trianna, not even in her wildest dreams. So, instead of forbidding it, we should be educating magic users to stop them from diving into black magic. Like we do to the Riders when they show the first signs of their powers, so they don't get the chance to use it inadvertently."

He caught her interest completely with his excited tone.

"How would we do that? You do not expect me to receive them in Ellesméra for training, do you?"

He smiled.

"Of course not. Nor they would have to come here. You forget we will have new full-formed Riders and Dragons flying back to Alagaësia in the spring, and two more the next year and so it goes. Above everything, the Riders are scholars and teachers. So they will teach!"

Arya frowned. An education in magical use was the standard procedure when raising an elven child, but she was not sure if it could be applied to other races. Humans, especially, were prone to overuse it, to take advantage of it, and overthrowing their peers. When she voiced her thoughts, he shook his head.

"They do that because they weren't instructed properly. I'm not saying there should not be laws regarding the use of magic, I just think educating is better than forbidding. Don't you think all the people around the country would benefit from having more healers and scholars?"

It made sense. He forged peace not with his sword, but with his magic. A powerful and simple spell subjugated the King, freeing all Alagaësia from tyranny, and after that he tied the races together in a magical bond, granting all the same rights. It was clear to Arya that Eragon considered magic to be the way to a prolonged and peaceful agreement between all the living creatures.

"It sounds reasonable. If you have a plan, you should expose it during our next meeting."

Eragon looked satisfied with her approval.

They stood there looking at each other. His eyes inspected her, while his mouth curved discretely upwards. He looked at her face with interest, especially her lips, then her hair, and even her body in a glance. She saw the longing in his eyes and deep adoration. Arya took a deep breath that caught his attention, and his gaze found her eyes again. He realized he had been staring and looked away in embarrassment, his cheeks turning red. She thought it was amusing the sight of this grown man blushing because of his attraction to the way she looked. Arya called his name.

"Eragon." He did not look back at her but answered with a "hum."

"May we go have lunch now? As much as I like talking with you, I feel hungry." Her tone was light, as a mean to excuse him from any embarrassment.

She understood, after a decade his feelings seemed to remain strong, his desire at least was all there in his probing eyes. Arya saw the surprise on his face when he turned back to her. Did he think she would scold him for staring at her that way or run away from his eager eyes? Arya guessed it was only coherent of him to think that, for all the times she rejected his advances. She did not find it necessary to push him away this time, since they were not in a turbulent time, fighting a bloody war. They were not so different in knowledge, for his years with the Eldunarí had matured him beyond even her years. And most importantly, she had time to make sense out of her feelings for him in the last decade and was sure that, if they lived close to each other and she had not taken her people's crown, they would probably be engaged in a romantic relationship already. It was a scenario full of ifs and maybes, but there was nothing more she could do at that moment.

"Of course. I'm so sorry for keeping you so long." He motioned in the direction of the dining tent.

Arya spared him a magnificent smile and walked ahead. Before losing sight of him though, she saw Eragon losing his breath for a second, providing her a moment of vanity. Some things never change. Others, however, are bound to be re-evaluated over time and gain a new perspective, and she was glad life worked that way. It cannot be, or can it? Maybe one day, Arya, one day.