Eventually, as of course it had to, the forest ended, and they sailed out onto the fields beyond. The Gaena River turned south then and carried them alongside the forest to Eldor Lake, the waters of which were even larger than those of Ardwen Lake.
There the weather turned, and a storm sprang up. Tall waves pummeled the ship, and for a day, they were all miserable as a cold rain and a fierce wind battered them. The wind was at their back, however, and it sped their progress considerably.
From Eldor Lake, they entered onto the Edda River and sailed southward past the elven outpost of Ceris. After that, they left the forest behind entirely, and the Talíta glided on the river, across the plains, seemingly of its own volition.
From the moment they had emerged from within the trees, Eragon had expected Arya and Fírnen to leave. But neither said anything about departing, and Eragon was content not to ask them their plans.
Farther south they went, across more and more empty land. Looking about them, Roran said, “It’s rather desolate, isn’t it?” and Eragon had to agree.
At last they arrived at the easternmost settlement in Alagaësia: a small, lonely collection of wooden buildings by the name of Hedarth. The dwarves had built the place for the sole purpose of trading with the elves, for there was nothing of value in the area save the herds of deer and wild oxen visible in the distance. The buildings stood at the juncture where the Âz Ragni poured into the Edda, more than doubling its size.
Eragon, Arya, and Saphira had passed through Hedarth once before, in the opposite direction, when they had traveled from Farthen Dûr to Ellesméra after the battle with the Urgals. Thus Eragon knew what to expect when the village came into sight.
However, he was puzzled to see hundreds of dwarves waiting for them at the head of a makeshift pier that extended into the Edda. His confusion turned to delight when the group parted and Orik strode forth.
Raising his hammer, Volund, over his head, Orik shouted, “You didn’t think I would let mine own foster brother leave without saying a proper goodbye, now did you?!”
Grinning, Eragon cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted back, “Never!”
The elves docked the Talíta long enough for everyone to disembark, save Cuaroc, Blödhgarm, and two other elves who stayed to guard the Eldunarí. The water where the rivers met was too rough for the ship to hold its position without scraping against the pier, so the elves then cast off and sailed farther down the Edda, in search of a calmer place to lay anchor.
The dwarves, Eragon was astounded to see, had brought to Hedarth four of the giant boars from the Beor Mountains. The Nagran were spitted on trees as thick as Eragon’s leg and were roasting over pits of glowing coals.
“I killed that one myself,” Orik said proudly, pointing to the largest of the boars.
Along with the rest of the feast, Orik had brought three wagons of the dwarves’ finest mead specifically for Saphira. Saphira hummed with pleasure when she saw the barrels. You will have to try it as well, she told Fírnen, who snorted and extended his neck, sniffing curiously at the barrels.
When evening came and the food was cooked, they sat at the rough-hewn tables the dwarves had built just that day. Orik banged his hammer against his shield, silencing the crowd. Then he picked up a piece of meat, put it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
“Ilf gauhnith!” he proclaimed. The dwarves shouted with approval, and the feast began in earnest.
At the end of the evening, when everyone had eaten their fill—even the dragons—Orik clapped his hands and called for a servant who brought out a casket filled with gold and gems. “A small token of our friendship,” Orik said as he gave it to Eragon.
Eragon bowed and thanked him.
Then Orik went to Saphira and, with a twinkle in his eye, he presented her with a gold and silver ring that she might wear on any of the claws of her forefeet. “It is a special ring, for it will not scratch, nor will it stain, and as long as you wear it, your prey will not hear you approaching.”
The gift pleased Saphira immensely. She had Orik place the ring on the middle talon of her right paw, and throughout the evening, Eragon caught her admiring the band of gleaming metal.
At Orik’s insistence, they stayed the night in Hedarth. Eragon hoped to leave early the following morning, but as the sky began to brighten, Orik invited him, Arya, and Roran to breakfast. After breakfast, they fell to talking, and then they went to see the rafts the dwarves had used to float the Nagran from the Beor Mountains to Hedarth, and before long it was nearly dinnertime again, and Orik succeeded in convincing them to stay for one last meal.
With the dinner, as with the feast the previous day, the dwarves provided song and music, and listening to the performance of a particularly skilled dwarf bard delayed the departure of their party even further.
“Stay another night,” Orik urged. “It’s dark and no time for traveling.”
Eragon glanced up at the full moon and smiled. “You forget, it’s not so dark for me as it is for you. No, we must go. If we wait any longer, I fear we will never leave.”
“Then go with mine blessings, brother of mine heart.”
They embraced, and then Orik had horses brought for them—horses the dwarves kept stabled in Hedarth for the elves who came to trade.
Eragon raised his arm in farewell to Orik. Then he spurred his steed forward and galloped with Roran and Arya and the rest of the elves away from Hedarth and down the game trail that ran along the southern bank of the Edda, where the air was sweet with the aroma of willows and cottonwoods. Above, the dragons followed, twining around each other in a playful, spiraling dance.
Outside Hedarth, Eragon reined in his mount, as did the others, and they rode on at a slower, more comfortable pace, talking softly amongst themselves. Eragon discussed nothing of importance with Arya or Roran, nor they with him, for it was not the words that mattered but rather the sense of closeness they shared in the confines of the night. The mood between them felt precious and fragile, and when they spoke, it was with greater kindness than usual, for they knew their time together was drawing to an end, and none wished to mar it with a thoughtless phrase.
They soon arrived at the top of a small hill and gazed down from it upon the Talíta, which sat waiting for them on the far side.
The ship appeared as Eragon knew it would. As it must.
By the light of the pale moon, the vessel looked like a swan ready to take flight from the wide, slow-moving river and carry him into the vast unknown. The elves had lowered its sails, and the sheets of fabric gleamed with a faint sheen. A single figure stood at the tiller, but otherwise the deck was empty.
Past the Talíta, the flat, dark plain extended all the way to the distant horizon: a daunting expanse broken only by the river itself, which lay upon the land like a strip of hammered metal.
A tightness formed in Eragon’s throat, and he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, as if to hide himself from the sight.
They slowly rode down the hill and through the whispering grass to the pebble beach by the ship. The hooves of the horses sounded sharp and loud against the stones.
There Eragon dismounted, as did the others. Unbidden, the elves formed two lines leading to the ship, one facing the other, and they planted the ends of their spears in the ground by their feet and stood thus, statue-like.
Eragon looked them over, and the tightness in his throat increased, making it difficult to breathe properly.