Saphira's wings beat steadily as we flew toward Oromis's cliffside house, wind sharp against my face. Halfway there, Oromis's voice cut through my mind: Head to the arena, there you will face the elf Vael. I frowned—another test?—but banked Saphira toward the sandy ring. "Who is Vael?" I muttered. She rumbled, he's their best fighter.
We crested the trees, and Saphira stiffened. Two dragons, she hissed, alarm spiking. I scanned the arena—gray and sea-blue beasts, house-sized, wings folded. Wild? My hand flew to Brisingr. Saphira dove, claws out, ready to strike. I spotted Arya below, talking to a girl beside the gray dragon—a Rider? The blue one's Rider was hidden. Heart pounding, I pulled Saphira up, landing hard. Dust swirled as I approached Arya, who stared at a tall, silver-haired elf, lean, well-muscled, with mischievous sea-green eyes.
Another elf was talking to Arya when she stepped forward, gray dragon at her side. "Annabeth Chase," she said, sounding almost bored. "I presume you're Eragon?" I nodded, my jaw dropping to the floor, knowing we now had a chance in this war.
Another Rider? Saphira's shock echoed: Three dragons? Just then, the elf Arya had been observing, finished sparring, striding over. Up close, his black hair, tan skin, and cocky grin screamed non-elf-like. Arya's gaze lingered too long. Jealousy flared. "Excuse me," I snapped, "you do realize you're in the presence of two Riders?"
He smirked. "Yeah, and... Arya, right?" She nodded. "Arya's in the presence of three Riders. What difference does it make? I'm Percy, by the way." He stuck out his hand, sending my jaw to the floor yet again.
Three riders! Now it is Galbatorix who should be worried! Saphira crowed triumphantly
I hated Percy's smug grin. I over sauntered to face Vael, showing Arya that I was a better rider than Percy.
I'll crush him, I thought, stepping up. Vael bowed, sword flashing. I lunged, Brisingr a silver blur, aiming for his shoulder. He parried effortlessly, spinning inside my guard. I twisted, slashing low—he leapt, blade arcing for my chest. I blocked, but his elbow cracked my jaw. Stumbling, I thrust; he sidestepped, hooking my ankle. I hit the sand, Brisingr skittering away. One minute. The crowd gasped at my defeat. Percy clapped, infuriatingly calm.
"Nice job, Eragon. Try not to overcommit—leaves you open." I snapped, rage boiling.
"I could destroy you! Shut up!"
Percy and Annabeth laughed, thinking it a jest. My blood roared. "Let's go! Right now!" Percy's smirk intensified as he nodded, stepping in as elves bowed, clearing the ring. More fuel.
"One hand? Blindfolded?" he asked, seriously.
"Just shut up," I growled. I charged, Brisingr high. He uncapped a pen—which transformed instantly into a sword—bronze gleaming. I slashed; he flowed like water, dodging, then tapped my wrist. My grip faltered. I swung wildly; he ducked, swept my legs. I crashed, his blade at my throat. Seconds. The arena spun.
I groaned and opened my eyes to Percy's helping hand. I took it on slightly better terms than before, but the desire to tear down his reputation was still there.
The walk to Oromis's house tasted like ash. Percy and Annabeth flew ahead, their dragons' wings brushing, while I trailed, Brisingr heavy at my hip. Amateurs, I told myself, but the arena still burned. Oromis greeted us on the cliff, silver hair glinting. "Rimgar," he said, voice calm. Percy and Annabeth flowed into the dance-combat like they'd practiced for years—graceful spins, perfect balance, blades singing. Annabeth's footwork was flawless; Percy's strikes carried water's unpredictability. I fumbled a pivot, nearly tripping. Oromis's nod to them stung worse than Vael's elbow. Why are they so good?
Saphira, Shorai, and Furnöst launched with Glaedr, wings thundering, leaving dust in my face. Orik clapped my shoulder. "I'll watch you swordfight tomorrow, lad." I groaned—more humiliation. Oromis began mental fortifications, probing my mind. Percy and Annabeth blocked effortlessly. Of course. Oromis sent them to their dragons for aerial combat. Percy scooped Annabeth, and they dissolved into mist, reappearing aloft. My jaw dropped. What sorcery?
Oromis turned to me, eyes kind but piercing. "Your turn." He tested spells—brisingr, stenr—my flames roared, stones cracked.
"Better than I hoped," he said, with a smile. The bitterness eased, just a fraction. Maybe I wasn't that bad.
We flew to the new Rider house—pine-woven, glowing runes. Percy and Annabeth bantered, their ease grating but... less so. I collapsed on silk cushions, Saphira's excitement flooding my mind: Furnöst is strong. A worthy mate someday. I was gladdened by her hope, the day's sting fading. Tomorrow, I'd prove myself.
Orik's POV
I woke to birds chirping like a dozen hammers on tin, the sun shining through the windows. Give me Tronjheim's stone ceiling and torch-smoke any day. Grumbling, I rolled off the feather mattress—far too soft—and trudged to breakfast. More fruit. Bright, glowing, accursed fruit. No bacon, no ale, could they even call this breakfast?. I missed the deep halls of the Dûrgrimst Ingeitum already.
Map in hand, I set off to watch Eragon show these tree-lovers what a proper warrior looked like. The parchment marked two spots with tiny crossed swords. The first led me straight to a smithy—bellows roaring, hammers ringing. "Blast it," I muttered, recognizing the sound. Wrong place. I backtracked, boots stomping pine needles, until the second mark brought me to a wide training field ringed by glowing trees.
I stomped into the training field ready to watch Eragon wipe the smug off all of the stuck-up elves. The lad's sword arm was forged in fire and blood—no tree-hugging dandy could match a Dûrgrimst Ingeitum warrior. My beard bristled with pride.
Then I stopped dead.
Two more dragons lounged at the edge of the arena, each the size of a small keep. One sea-blue, one storm-gray, wings folded like war banners. My heart nearly burst. Three free dragons! I waddled over as fast as my legs would carry me.
The black-haired lad with sea-green eyes grinned. "Hey, I didn't think I would see a dwarf around here. I'm Percy Jackson, and this is Furnöst." The great blue beast dipped his snout politely. The gray-eyed girl beside the gray dragon inclined her head. "Annabeth Jackson. My partner's Shorai." The dragons rumbled greetings that rattled my bones.
Before I could properly introduce myself as Orik, foster-son of Hrothgar, king of the dwarves, the elves in the ring bowed—not to Eragon, but to Percy and Annabeth, as they walked into the arena. My jaw dropped so hard it nearly hit the pine needles. The elves respected a human? And over Eragon? I continued, watching with even more attentiveness.
Percy cracked his neck as his opponents surrounded him
Some tall elf, Eragon, and Annabeth all stepped forward. I shook my head. Madness. No one stands against the first free Rider and lives to brag about it.
The fight started.
It was a blur of bronze, silver, and drakon-bone. I caught flashes—Percy moving like water, Annabeth striking like an elf, with Eragon and the elf hitting the sand in under ten heartbeats. The crowd went dead quiet. Then Percy and Annabeth turned on each other, blades singing, feet barely touching ground. Five minutes of pure chaos—sparks, laughter, insults flying faster than steel—and they called it a draw, stepping apart grinning like madmen.
They strolled over, Percy scratching Furnöst's snout, Annabeth leaning against Shorai's foreleg. I found my voice. "By Morgothal's beard, I've never seen the like! You two fight like Durgrimst legends!"
Percy laughed. "Thanks, man. Good to meet someone who appreciates a proper beat-down." He walked a bit away, talking to Annabeth.
I turned to Eragon, still dusting himself off, red-faced. "Lad, there are three free Riders now. The age of dragons is back, and it's bigger than any of us thought."
Eragon managed a sheepish nod, but there remained an indiscernible look in his eyes. The trio mounted their dragons—wings unfurling like storm clouds. Furnöst and Shorai launched with roars that shook the earth, sending up a hurricane of dust and leaves. I shielded my eyes, beard whipping, grinning like a fool as they vanished toward the Rider houses, knowing we could soon overthrow Galbatorix.
A/N: DUN DUN DUUUUUUNNNN!!!! For some reason, I'm thinking of Star Wars right now! :) Hope you guys enjoyed this part, it's 1,363 words. I also appreciate the support so much!