Wizard and Noble Rider Meet Once Again

'It's only been five days,' Yet before the Rider was an impossibly large castle.

After Mipsy led Eragon past the gate, she quickly disappeared, saying she would alert her master to his arrival. Eragon was left alone to wander.

It wasn't some ramshackle buildings that the wizard had raised in his short stay here. What the Riders saw was more art than structure. Something meant to frighten and awe in the same breath.

Eragon had long abandoned the notion that dwarves had constructed this castle; the castle's spires and odd materials were proof enough.

Theodore had done the work of years in five days. The wizard ignored the hundreds of laborers, and the tons of material required to build a castle and magicked it into being.

This place was overflowing with bizarre magic, indicating that the wizard had taken care in building his new home.

The gates radiated magic Eragon had never seen before. The vines it tangled with were utterly alien, likely from the wizard's homeland.

The Magician wondered how they had proliferated so quickly. The effort and magic required to sing such an expanse of vines into being would have made a team of a dozen elves, even over a week's span, bone weary.

Though these were no ordinary vines, Eragon saw thorns follow his eyes, liquid oozing from their needle tips.

His elven eyes could see even the stubble of the leaves lean toward him as he passed. That awareness unsettled him, so he paced further away from the wizard's gates.

The field of grass he walked through was eye-catching. For one, it grew in a dozen colors, and for another, its very presence in a place without sunlight was odd.

There were other oddities, a thousand little details to notice and take in all at once. All that novel splendor paled to the presence of the castle it surrounded.

Looking at the building was like looking at the night sky draped over castle walls to warm its bones.

The building loomed above him.

The castle's spires were like some odd combination of horns and jagged teeth. Together, they form a beast, one that might devour a dragon in just one gulp. There was beauty in its danger. Such beauty that even as Eragon's heart raced, he couldn't stop himself from admiring the curves and subtle lines that made the structures.

Its obsidian walls seemed organic and pulsed with life. He could see blue veins burning just beneath the surface.

Curious to feel the magic of its construction, the Rider reached the equivalent of a finger out of his mind.

Magic bore down on him like the sun scorched the desert.

The castle's glossy walls shimmered with heat and trembled with what felt like unlimited magic.

It was more magic than contained within his father's ring, which he had long ago thought could move mountains—more magic than Eragon had ever touched at once.

It held so much the Rider feared whatever contained it would explode under the pressure.

Eragon had seen the result of a vessel of magic being filled over full.

When Eragon returned to the Varden, Du Vrangr Gata became obsessed with filling rubies with magic.

Healers found ruby shards embedded in more than a dozen young magicians over-eager to prove their worth. Those gem fragments were gruesome to extract, even with magic.

The scalpel edges of gem dust had left a smattering of scars, though luckily, whether it was because the gem fragments were too small or those men were extremely fortunate, there had been no fatalities.

Eragon had no difficulty imagining a castle's explosion would be much different.

The Rider paused at the thought, no longer pacing, as his mind turned entirely toward the castle walls.

He reached out and touched its source.

Unexpected pain lanced the Rider's mind.

Blinding heat scattering his thoughts, Eragon suddenly forgot what he was doing or why.

In the confusion, he even forgot to let go of the magic inside the wall.

He remained there, standing more out of luck than a result of finesse. His heart thuds, freestyling into violent symphonies—belts of muscle unbound from regular contractions.

Then, like Grieves stomping glass, his will to survive made itself known. The metaphorical sound of glass shattering should have been like the horn of war rallying Eragon's natural defenses. That wasn't what happened, and he remained paralyzed still.

Thoughts of survival shook around the pieces of his shattered mind, splintering them into even smaller bits and pieces. The jagged edges, the interlocking puzzle pieces of his mind, blunted each other's edges. Until the contact of thought on thought, the effect changed from the grind of thunder to the flicker of sparks.

His mind was breaking still, and now he couldn't bring himself to care that he was dying.

He saw Saphira and their very first flight, her ironclad terror, as she snatched him away from Gorrow's farm.

She had worn the inside of his legs raw.

He remembered his grief after the death of Brom.

He had been killed by Ra'zac's dagger when he needed him most.

He remembered the killing of Durza, an enemy that seemed to have caused him endless fear and anguish, and also the subsequent cursed wound he had to endure because of him. His mind flinched from pain reflexively.

It jumped to the image of a freshly rescued Arya instead.

He remembered the elf as he first laid eyes on her freshly tortured.

He remembered how beautiful she was even then, when she sat at the razor's edge between life and death, with her silky raven hair and catlike features, which he, too, now shared. She had threatened to kill him when their minds met, and all he could notice then were her beautiful emerald eyes.

The boot's slow and steady descent crushed a lit Molotov cocktail of emotions buried deep within the Rider. Love, betrayal, hate, and understanding mingled. Flames sprang from nothing, and Eragon's thoughts melted together, still brittle but whole once more.

He became aware and sank into his magic and let its light consume him.

Eragon's numb, swollen, half-bitten tongue stumbled through the words in the ancient language needed to clear his mind.

It worked. Eragon could see with perfect clarity his mind still holding the magic within Theodore's walls. He let go.

He wobbled, swinging unsteadily from side to side, managing barely to keep his balance as the buzzing stopped.

It was then He felt something large and alien watching him. The Rider didn't dare reach out with his mind to touch it.

The consciousness that held him now had likely been there the whole time, waiting to see if he would survive.

Now that he had, it was as if gravity had taken a magical cast ready to squash him like a grape if that consciousness found him wanting.

Would this be his end? To a wizard's haphazard trap. Would Theodore have killed him by accident, or did he know his trap was sprung?

Not that betrayal would mean much to a dead rider.

The Rider waited silently, accepting death if it would come now.

Something told Eragon that if he reached for magic, the pain from before would return with a vengeance.

He'd be senseless again, helpless against his ignominious end.

Eventually, the judging presence faded, and Eragon took his first deep breath. His mind was free.

He heard a pop beside him.

Eragon barely managed to catch his red blade before it made mincemeat of the wretched creature that appeared suddenly beside him.

Upon looking at the creature for a second time, with its prominent thin nose, elephant-sized floppy ears, and overly large tennis ball eyes, he found the creature no less alien than the last time it popped before him. Its prim suit with Theodore's iconic crest was a small comfort against its strange cadence and the way it moved its spindly fingers as it beckoned him forward.

Eragon followed closely behind the creature in a slow walk, easily keeping pace with the elf's smaller strides. The rhythmic pounding like a sword on his mind dulled its edge, but he still felt as if he had been brained recently. So he followed the elf in a haze of steps and clattering pavement, paying little attention to his surroundings until they were about halfway to the wizard's large entrance door.

With his first step forward, a gold-encrusted tile made a dull metallic clang, and he was entranced. His eyes followed lines of them, dozens of tiles left, right, and forward, forming a golden path.

With muttered words in the ancient language, he learned that each tile contained enough gold to start the shipping empire of a shrewd merchant, but Theodore had used it as his doormat instead.

The waste of such wealth made Eragon inwardly seethe. The wizard had gold to waste and hadn't seen fit to give even an ounce of it to the Varden's cause when they had needed it dearly.

It was then a picture of his lightning bolt flashed through Eragon's mind, reminding him of all the thousands the wizard had slaughtered.

The thousands he had killed with ease with other magics, and he felt guilt curl with shame over his childish anger.

He turned jealous eyes away from Theodore's tiles and focused on the house elves' back instead, allowing his eyes to track the creature's swinging ears with mild amusement as he followed the house elf forward.

Mipsy paused at the circular door to the castle, and Eragon, who was distractedly following, joined the house elf in waiting.

Crackling from the two blue flaming torches on either side, five fully formed Phoenixes aflame erupted, and they hung in the air in expectation, as if waiting for Eragon to die of awe in their presence.

It was a near thing. Those birds' sudden presence had certainly shocked the Rider.

Each had distinct features outlined by flames, blue, gray, and brittle. All wore crowns of blue that sizzled and lapped the air as they beat their wings. As if oversaturated with light, they flowed like the beautiful gold hair of a princess molded in blue plasma around their necks.

Their bodies were so bright it was as if a thousand stars were nestled among their feathers. Balls of stellar flames paying for their ride in twinkles and sparkles.

Their feathers organized into fractal patterns that danced around their necks to the very tips of their wings, which opened to unbridled flames.

In a moment, they were indistinct beams of fire, circling the pair of them more quickly than the Magician's eyes could follow.

So, instead, his eyes followed their flame's wake to find where each of them perched on Theodore's gate.

White eyes hotter and brighter than the stars themselves watched him balefully as if preparing to burn him to ash. They were eager pyromaniacs inches from a well-set tinder.

Inwardly, the Rider smiled. He was happy to add more fuel to his nightmares.

Eragon was no stranger to the smell of sizzling flesh.

Saphira liked roasting those who wore armor. She did not want to cut up her mouth as she bit into the sharp edges of their armor or chip a claw as she scratched metal.

The Rider was sad to say the smell of burning flesh was familiar to him. That would only make his new nightmares all the fresher for it.

Eragon, facing something that could kill him easily for a second time in the handful of minutes since he entered the wizard's home, met the middle bird's eyes lazily, having passed his threshold for excitement.

The birds, especially the middle one, stared at him unblinking and paused as if waiting for something.

Mipsy seemed to have expected this as she walked in front of him and held up a sign with her hand—her thin, spindly forefinger folded over her equally spindly thumb.

The birds bowed toward the house elf, and with one last glance at Eragon, they promised pain if the Rider was to misbehave. They disappeared with an incandescent flash, leaving only embers behind.

"Come Rider. Master is waiting."

Eragon absently nodded, and the elf retook the lead.

The tiny creature triggered some clever mechanism, and the fortress doors, half covered in the waxing moon symbol of house lupin with a twirl, broke their seal. A click sounded, and with a hiss, the doors slid open. A hall lined with blue torches opened before him.

Then he was lost. Mipsy led him along winding halls, meant to confuse, into a cool room that might serve as a restaurant dining room.

At the side sat a saloon where servants might serve drinks to guests. Stools sat underneath the counter in a row where customers might sit and mingle.

At one side of the inside counter was a mechanism with many handles and dispensers for a variety of drinks ready to be tapped. Eragon breathed in deeply; he smelled the musty scent of a dozen breeds of beer.

Above hung a chandelier with thousands of crystals gleaming like clear ice under the pale light that spilled through the window's thin, cloudy curtain veil.

Looking away from the windows, which Eragon couldn't entirely focus on, he looked at the rest of the room.

Theodore had filled the ballroom center with white cloth-covered tables and antique chairs with flower carvings—enough for hundreds to eat and spacious enough to be comfortable. Because the room lacked people, it held an eerie silence—the kind that inspired caution.

Eragon felt like some beast might come out from under one of the tables when he least expected to feast on his flesh.

The House Elf, unperturbed, navigated the sea of tables and led him to the very back of the room. There, Mipsy indicated Eragon should take a seat under the overhanging balcony next to the room's farthest marble wall and wait.

The Rider nodded his agreement, not minding the House elf's abrupt disappearance.

He'd prepared himself for its sudden blip from reality this time and was slightly relieved at the house elves' absence. The creature seemed like a caricature of an elf—something elves might become if stuck in dark caves where food was scarce and left to breed for eons in the dark.

It was unfair of the Rider to judge the elf's appearance, but Eragon couldn't help but feel uneasy.

Eragon wondered how the creature disappeared.

It could be some kind of invisibility Or perhaps a similar magic to what Arya used to transport the egg when Durza captured her.

Steaming tea seated on delicate china, a spoon, and a fine porcelain box appeared suddenly in front of him as another blip in reality. Eragon opened the box to find pristine sugar cubes the size of grapes.

Eragon suddenly leaned toward teleportation.

The preparation and delivery of the tea were too fast to have happened otherwise. Eragon remembers the disorientation of being blinded in invisibility. The house elf hadn't toppled over half a dozen tables and chairs before reaching an exit, so it must have used some other magic.

With that matter settled in his mind, the Rider took a closer look at the room he'd been led to.

The floors, with a pristine white and black checker pattern, gleamed with the same pale light as the Chandelier. Eragon wondered just where that light came from.

The Rider's elven eyes were not much affected by the curtains' cloudy veil, and with some concentration, he saw through the obfuscation. The delicate fabric parted to reveal a waxing moon and a sea of stars.

It was a well-done illusion, and it seemed permanently transfixed. Eragon's eyes picked up the slightest movements and took it to mean the moon was traveling in an arc. The Rider suspected it was following the day and night cycle.

Eragon looked for the flaw in its design, something that might give the image away as an illusion.

Eragon had never really looked at the moon close enough to discern any differences. The Rider never thought he would have to identify or compare something to its likeness.

The Rider had just finished imprinting the moon's image in his mind when the ballroom doors opened.

Theodore came in strolling and stroked a black rabbit. The tiny thing seemed to burrow its tiny black head against his chest as if digging for warmth, folding its ears in satisfied comfort as it tucked itself between his left arm and chest.

The rabbit aside, the wizard looked much the same as before. He had noble features, eyes the color of dried amber, confidence, and stature that brook no infringement of his authority.

A certain careless charm expressed itself in his powerful gait as his insightful eyes washed over Eragon, dissecting every flap of skin forward, backward, and underneath for good measure.

Theodore's face showed no signs of what he had noticed.

Emotion or impatience seemed foreign to his face as he sat before the Rider, and even the smile he usually bore was absent from his face.

As he sat arm's length away, Eragon could faintly smell an ocean tide on him. He smelled of salt and a hint of vegetation's decay. That out-of-place smell was what derailed the Rider from taking the conversation's initiative.

"So Nasuada didn't receive my message. It seems I've been somewhat lax with Trianna. I told her to pass on the fact that I had finished both of Varden's objectives with the dwarves. Orik told me the dwarves would be ready to march within a week."

Theodore finally took on his familiar smile, and with it came a smugness oozing from every iota of his being. An arrogance that Eragon found unpalatable but acceptable.

Theodore wasn't just being arrogant afterall; he'd done fantastic work.

In two weeks, Theodore managed to get Orik elected king, speed along Murtagh's trial to a peaceable solution, and form a dwarven clan of his own.

Sadly, that did not change their circumstances.

"Aye, Trianna reported something to Nasuada."

"Really, that's good. It's always nice to hear orders being followed. It is alw..."

"She reported Nasuada can stick her scrawny black neck in a noose." Eragon interrupted none too kindly.

Theodore sighed, though it seemed polite as if to say,' Well, this is going to be good, so you might as well lay it on me.'

It forced Eragon to give a slightly embarrassed smile unintentionally. He dropped it as soon as he noticed it, and he resigned himself to a gruff demeanor.

"I do hope you know, Lord Lupin, Nasuada had Trianna imprisoned for treacherous actions against the Varden."

"Well, that doesn't sound at all like her. There must be some mistake," Theodore said mildly while stroking the black rabbit held in his arms, soothing its obnoxious twitching. "Though I have been slightly worried. I hadn't heard back from her in a couple of days."

The Rider's eyes narrowed.

"So you've maintained contact with her? Nasuada was unsure. She sent me to confirm whether you were part of her rebellion."

Theodore, seemingly unconcerned with implications that the Varden might think him a traitor, tilted his head consideringly.

Eragon, clenching his teeth, tightened his grip on his pommel.

The Rider had hidden the fact that Nasuada might have sent him on a suicide mission from even Saphira. His dragon wouldn't have let him leave otherwise. Eragon, on the other hand, wouldn't let his dragon die with him if it came to a fight with the wizard.

"I have no reason to go against Nasuada. I think she makes a fine leader for a rebellion."

Eragon combed through his words, looking for what he actually meant, 'A fine leader for a rebellion but not a good queen?'

Eragon relaxed a little because, despite his budding dislike for the wizard, he believed Theodore.

The wizard might have more power than sense, but thus far, he had done nothing but to help the Varden's cause. It was because of all his help and his power that Theodore had forced Nasuada's hand.

The Rider swallowed some saliva, and with it mingled a flicker of pain.

Theodore noticed and looked genuinely concerned. His amber eyes were soft, caring even.

"Are you okay, Rider? I heard from my Djinn that you might have poked your mind where it ought not to be."

"Djin?"

"The artificial consciousness that controls the magic circling my castle's walls."

Eragon nodded his recognition, feigning understanding, though Theodore saw through the ruse with a knowing smile.

"The magic within my walls and the wards surrounding them need constant maintenance. It isn't something that humans efficiently do. "

Eragon nodded.

"A djinn has a human's intelligence and is made from magic, so it can manipulate it like a human breathes air. It ensures the eddies of magic won't bunch up and grow unstable. Now, we should really come to why you are here, Rider."

Eragon nodded in acknowledgment, managing to withhold gasps of awe at such an intelligent construct.

"Lady Nasuada Nightstalker, leader of the Varden, daughter of Ajihad, would like to offer you leadership over the Varden."

Theodore paused for a moment while petting the rabbit, and his amber eyes were wide as if genuinely stunned.

"Nasuada is sure she wants to give up power so easily?" Theodore asked, stressing that last word as he spoke.

Eragon nodded, "She and the Elder's council have convened and unanimously elected you the leader of the Varden."

The Rider, with some reluctance, pushed back his chair and drew his sword. The wizard looked at the Rider with caution but made no move to attack.

"I, Eragon Shade slayer, pledge myself to Grand Magus, Theodore Lupin, The Thunderer. Do you accept my oath?" Eragon asked in the ancient language.

"Sure." The wizard said quickly before mumbling something almost inaudible that suspiciously rhymes with 'Hazy Lemon.'

"Well, as my new vassal, there are probably a few things I should tell you." Theodore sprouted a beard spontaneously and began combing his finger through his hair.

"What to tell you?" Theodore said, his eyes searching the ceiling in thought, not much minding the Rider's wide-eyed expression to his spontaneous beard.

"Well, I suppose to start. I should probably mention I'm not native to this world, and neither, I suspect, is the black king."

"Not from this world," Eragon repeated.

"Yes, though probably it would be more accurate to say I'm not from this reality. You are not allowed to tell anyone this, of course. It might cause something of an uproar."

Eragon, speechless, managed to nod his head in understanding.

"I've had some time to think about this, and while you undoubtedly don't know this, I've come to a conclusion about the assassins that were searching for me almost as soon as I came to this reality and about the godling that made an attempt on my life." Theodore paused, noticing the Rider's brow furrow at the word godling.

"Godlings are these beings thinking creatures make, usually by accident. It's actually quite an interesting symbiotic relationship between Magic feeding off of living things' thoughts and Magic protecting life's continued existence. In the end, it depends, of course, on how many living creatures there are and what type of creatures, and that results in godly creatures, wizards of some kind, or dragons. I never quite got why, but Magic just loves dragons," Theodore paused and looked at the Rider to make sure he was following. Satisfied, he continued.

"Anyway," Theodore rolled the word.

"What is magic protecting life from," Eragon interrupted before Theodore could continue.

"That's a beautiful question. I'm afraid that's something I won't tell you. Existential crisis and all that. I wouldn't want you to become useless."

"Wait, you're not going to tell me because you think it will make me mad or something?"

Theodore smiled, his beard becoming longer and braiding itself as he continued to stroke it.

"Well, mad, maybe. More like depressed." Theodore said as he shrugged.

"Anyways, as I said before, I've been thinking about the way the king just knew I was here almost the instant I arrived, and I've concluded he's probably an eldritch horror or something similar. I mean, how many other things know death magic."

"Death magic?" Eragon asked

"World-ending magic, so to speak. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he holds the fate of a significant portion of this world. That's slightly problematic but not impossible to fight just yet."

Eragon needed a moment to digest the brick of information that the wizard had thrown at him, and Theodore, deciding to be considerate, gave him some time as he mixed a bit of tea for himself, plopping two grape-sized sugar cubes into his cup with a bit of milk. The black rabbit, unsettled by his movements, began twitching again, sniffing and twitching, only settling once more when Theodore petted it vigorously.

"So you aren't from this world?"

"That is what I said."

"Neither is the king?"

"Well, he might have been at some point, but he probably isn't now. There is always the chance that some demon might be sitting at his shoulder, driving him to use forbidden magic."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I figured any genuine servant of mine should know the situation," Theodore, beardless once more, shrugged, "It's the least I can do."

Eragon nodded appreciatively at this.

"So what do we do now?"

"Wait, that's it. You're going just to accept what I just said without evidence."

Eragon gave him a look of mild interest, "Do you have any?"

"Of course not. It's tough to lugg around the head of a dead godling without spilling all of its divine ichor. Not to mention very dangerous."

The Rider nodded as if sympathizing.

"So that's it then. No question about what I am or why I'm here. No more attempts to ferret out what exactly might extinguish all life?"

"Would you tell me?"

"Of course not."

Eragon nodded as if this made complete sense.

"Well, I just don't see any point. I mean, you told me you were a Wizard. I do want to know why you're here, but you might lie to me if I just ask you why. It isn't as if all the crazy things you are talking about are all that much more crazy than magic elves and dragons existing. You know I grew up as a farm boy, right? Everything I've encountered since becoming a dragon rider has been a little bit strange and mad." Eragon states serenely, his zen nature only betrayed by this white-knuckled thumb anxiously rubbing his sword's pommel, "All that matters to me is that you're against the black king." Eragon said, a little strained.

Eragon gave a nervous chuckle, reaching up for his pointer finger to rub his brow, "Besides, I've already given my oath. At worst, you're mad but doing the right thing. At best, you've told me the truth, in which case Nasuada inadvertently picked the best person for the job. Either way, I am now oath-bound to follow your orders."

The Rider gave a half-mad smile, which Theodore returned. The wizard held out his hand, and Eragon took it in his embrace.

"Well, I'll need to test a few things with your dragon. You might as well call Saphira here. I'll ensure the Varden is still protected."

The wizard stood, and still holding his grin and petting his black rabbit, he decided to mention one last thing. "Also, you are wrong about one thing. I have no reason not to tell you why I came to this world. I might have entirely accidentally destroyed my world. I have wizards to settle here because it is quite rare to find a world with such plentiful magic, even if it is quite defused. You may remain here for the night, Rider. Mipsy will show you the guest rooms."

With that, the wizard left, and the Rider sat dazed.