Let us say our names and be done with it, she said.
Eragon sent a questioning thought to Glaedr, and the dragon responded: She is right. There is no reason to delay. Speak your name, and Saphira and I shall do likewise.
Feeling nervous, Eragon clenched his hands twice, then unslung his shield from his back, drew Brisingr, and dropped into a crouch.
“My name,” he said in a loud, clear voice, “is Eragon Shadeslayer, son of Brom.”
My name is Saphira Bjartskular, daughter of Vervada.
And mine Glaedr Eldunarí, son of Nithring, she of the long tail.
They waited.
Off in the distance, the crows cawed, as if mocking them. Unease stirred within Eragon, but he ignored it. He had not really expected opening the vault to be quite so simple.
Try again, but this time say your piece in the ancient language, advised Glaedr.
So Eragon said, “Nam iet er Eragon Sundavar-Vergandí, sönr abr Brom.”
And then Saphira repeated her name and lineage in the ancient language, as did Glaedr.
Again nothing happened.
Eragon’s unease deepened. If their trip had been in vain … No, it did not bear thinking about. Not yet. Maybe all of our names have to be uttered out loud, he said.
How? asked Saphira. Am I supposed to roar at the stone? And what of Glaedr?
I can say your names for you, said Eragon.
It seems unlikely that is what is required, but we may as well attempt it, said Glaedr.
In this or the ancient language?
The ancient language, I would think, but try both to be certain.
Two times then Eragon recited their names, yet the stone remained as stolid and unchanging as ever. Finally, frustrated, he said, Maybe we’re in the wrong place; maybe the entrance to the Vault of Souls is on the other side of the stone. Or maybe it’s on the very top.
If that were the case, wouldn’t the directions contained within Domia abr Wyrda have mentioned it? asked Glaedr.
Eragon lowered his shield. When are riddles ever easy to understand?
What if only you are supposed to give your name? Saphira said to Eragon. Did not Solembum say, “… when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the Rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls.” Your name, Eragon, not mine or Glaedr’s.
Eragon frowned. It’s possible, I suppose. But if only my name is needed, then perhaps I have to be by myself when I say it.
With a growl, Saphira leaped into the air, ruffling Eragon’s hair and battering the plants in the clearing with the wind from her wings. Then try, and be quick about it! she said as she flew east, away from the rock.
When she was a quarter mile away, Eragon looked back at the uneven surface of the rock, once more raised his shield, and once more pronounced his name, first in his own tongue and then in that of the elves.
No door or passageway revealed itself. No cracks or fissures appeared within the stone. No symbols traced themselves upon its surface. In every respect, the towering spire seemed to be nothing more than a solid piece of granite, devoid of any secrets.
Saphira! Eragon shouted with his mind. Then he swore and stalked back and forth within the clearing, kicking at loose stones and branches.
He returned to the base of the rock as Saphira swooped down to the clearing. The talons on her hind legs cut deep gouges in the soft earth as she landed, back-flapping to slow herself to a halt. Leaves and blades of grass swirled about her, as if caught in a whirlwind.
Once she had dropped to all fours and folded her wings, Glaedr said, I take it you did not meet with success?
No, snapped Eragon, and he glared at the spire.