Prologue Part 2: Searching

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For a while they were content to drift upon the river, watching the unfamiliar scenery pass by. Eragon glanced back at the shrinking figures on the shoreline, and glimpsed a torrent of flame shooting high up into the darkening sky, the final goodbye from Arya, Roran, Firnen, and everyone else Eragon and Saphira were leaving behind. Soon, they were naught but indiscernable specks in the distance, as the sun finally set, plunging everything in darkness. His heart ached still, but the journey forward spurred him on, and he spent most of the ride conversing with the Eldunari, and attending to the eggs at Glaedr's insistence and instruction. It dawned upon Eragon that he had little experience caring for eggs. Curiously, he extended a tendril of thought towards one of the eggs, a silver colored one that stood out from the rest. As he brushed against the hatchling's consciousness, he recoiled back. The hatchling did not have the same feeling to it that Saphira, Glaedr, and the other dragons had. Instead, the feeling was somewhat alien, even more so than the minds of elves. He could detect a subdued, untamed, animalistic instinct within the mind of the unborn hatchling, as well as a sense of intelligence.

Is this how you felt when you were inside your egg? asked Eragon.  

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Don't all creatures feel a sense of enclosure around them before they taste the air for the first time? asked Saphira. But aye, I was aware of other beings around me while I was with Arya.

Eragon nodded, then continued examining the other eggs. How exactly does a dragon know when its the right time to hatch? he asked Saphira and Glaedr.

There is no way of knowing the right time, Glaedr said. It is just something one knows.

After he finished inspecting the eggs, he began to survey his surroundings again. Casting his mind out, he detected nothing but animals and sparse plants that grew in this region. It reminded him of setting out from Carvahall with Brom. Brom, he thought mournfully. How he wished the old man could see him now, as the new leader of the dragon riders and the hero of Alagaesia. Eragon had no doubt in his mind that Brom would have been proud of him.

The boat continued on the river, moving faster with the current. The scenery however, remained unchanged for the most part, so Eragon went with Blodhgarm and the other elven spellcasters who accompanied him to try and reason with the maddened Eldunari rescued from Galbatorix's twisted rule. They fared poorly, with the Eldunari often rambling about things that did not exist and never will again, or else muttering some incomprehensible gibberish. But eventually, they were brought back and set aside, with Glaedr and the other Eldunari filling them in on what had transpired.  

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The long hours Eragon spent with the Eldunari helped melt away the time spent on the boat, and it was four days later when Saphira spotted blue ocean from the air. Rolling plains had become coastal scrubland. The current seemed to pick up as well, as if eager to join with the massive expanse of water. Beyond, Eragon knew, or rather, hoped, was the place that he envisioned, a safe haven for the new Riders.

This is it, Saphira, he said one day. We are about to meet our destiny.

Though he was about to leave Alagaesia for possibly the last time, for Angela had foretold that he would not return, a part of him still remained, yearning for Arya, Roran, and the other people who helped him bring down Galbatorix, both in direct and indirect ways. Mostly, he lamented that he could not watch Ismira grow up to be a fine young woman along with Roran.

The boat floated on down past the coastline, where strange, white birds squawked and flapped around Saphira, not at all intimidated by her presence. But when she roared in annoyance, it sent them all in a frenzy, showering them with droppings that they were barely able to deflect off the ship. As the land finally faded out of view, Eragon sighed. He felt that this now cemented his fate. He would never again return to Alagaesia.

[Prologue Part 2/End]