Wow, it’s been a while. Between lack of inspiration, real life problems, and Clash of Clans, I’ve been away from the writing for far too long. So, let me make it up to you with an extra long portion of the Riders, and a finish to what I consider to be Chapter 1 🙂 Much is revealed… and hidden. And boy, did this take a lot of planning. And a lot longer than I thought.
Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months as the young dragon grew and grew. Soon he began to communicate with Ismira with actual words, his vocabulary expanding each day. He eventually started flying around, and showed off to Ismira as often as he could. You know, I need to give you a name… He mentally nodded to her, already thinking, secretly, of one himself. Ismira guessed a few, then felt something from him she hadn’t before: Amusement. She smiled to herself, then said, I think you already know what your name is, don’t you? The dragon sent her a mental nod. I do. Would you like to know? Ismira stamped her foot. Of course I do! The dragon chucked to himself. I’ll give you a hint. It’s Palodan. Ismira stopped stamping her foot and stared at her dragon. “Palodan…” she said, trying out the name. “It fits you. Regal purple and ready to save the world.” Palodan gave a small growl, which Ismira interpreted as a purr of affection.
A few days later, Ismira got called to her parent’s room early in the morning. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as her father explained why she had to go, but refrained from telling her where. When he finished, Roran turned to Katrina, who handed their daughter a pack they had finished filling the night before. “But where am I going? And how will I get there?” Kartina put her hand on Ismira’s shoulder. “You’ll be going to your uncle’s with Orik. He’s the dwarf king, and he needs to go talk to Uncle Eragon. You’ll be safe with him.” Ismira nodded, frightened a little by the prospect of travelling outside Alagaesia, even to see her uncle.
Towards noon, Albriech came into the village, bringing news of the dwarves’ arrival. Ismira clung to her mother’s skirt, waiting in apprehension as Palodan circled the village, practicing his flying as he waited. A few minutes later, Orik and his band of dwarves – Roran counted no less than 6 in the vanguard – strode into the village. Roran chucked privately as he noted that Ismira seemed no more afraid of these dwarves than she did of her mother. That is, not at all. She’d find out differently later, he mused. He moved forward to greet the dwarves, and motioned for Ismira to come with him. She shuffled forward, intrigued but acting shy, and took her father’s hand. Palodan landed next to Ismira, showing off his still-growing body. His shoulder was level with Ismira’s head, and his wingspan was impressive as well. At the sight of Palodan, all present, except Roran, Ismira and Orik, backed up a few steps. Roran chuckled, and extended a hand to Orik, who then shook it and then looked to Ismira. “You’re a small one for a Rider. Guess I’ve got my work cut out for me, though.” Roran raised an eyebrow at the dwarf. “You’ll find Ismira’s more of a handful than you think, Orik. But don’t let that stop you. She’ll get along fine.” Orik nodded, and motioned his guards forward. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning. Let you all say your goodbyes. And, dragon, it’s been nice to meet you.” Palodan rumbled low in his throat, and Ismira relayed his thanks.
When the dwarves departed, for the inn, Roran turned to his daughter. “Ismira, you know what you’ll be doing, correct?” Ismira nodded, and clambered up Palodan’s back. Roran remembered something, and told Ismira to wait there. He ran into his house and searched under his bed for the single gift Eragon had sent in case this happened. He returned to Ismira and Palodan with Eragon’s first saddle. Strapping it on as he had seen Eragon do not too long ago, he gave one final gift to his daughter. “I’m going to miss you. Travel well.” Ismira nodded, and Palodan took to the air, giving Ismira her first flight. He circled for a moment then went off towards the rendesvous point to wait for the dwarves.
The Shade settled into the darkness of Du Weldenvarden, waiting for a victim. His heightened senses detected someone coming through the darkness. Silently, he stalked his prey. Spyro heard a simple crack in the silence, and immediately knew something or someone was following him. He vaulted into the trees, and searched the ground for the intruder. As soon as he saw the blazing red hair, three thoughts occured to him. First, what was a Shade doing in the forest? Second, a suspicion as to who the Shade was grew stronger. Finally, unbidden, Spyro considered the posibility of enlisting the Shade’s help to aid his ambitions. Spyo dropped back to the ground, landing lightly on his feet, with no sound, and tapped the Shade’s shoulder, weapon at the ready. The Shade whirled around to see an elf with a sword to his heart. Spyro pushed the weapon closer, and the Shade squirmed. “You look familiar. I know I was only very young when I heard the stories, but I have to be sure.” The Shade nodded, and spoke. His voice, Spyro noted, was like honey, and hard to ignore. “Yes. We are Durza, and we have returned.”
All Names, locations and characters (with the exception of those outside Alagaesia and Ismira’s dragon) (c) Christopher Paolini