Nindan had always been satisfied with his life. He was only fiftheen years old, but he earned enough to survive, and he never needed more than that. Since he had been a child, he worked hard, harder than others, maybe, but hard work seemed to be a fair price for his surviving. He was born as a homeless child, by homeless parents, and now he lived in the streets of Ilirea. Deathly danger was something like routine to him. No, he was thankful for what he had, and he never asked for more. Even if he never had something that he could call a job, he was able to earn money by helping other people in little things like carrying their bags, go hunting for them or calm down their nervous horses. He often found work; maybe, because he was well-known in the town. Or, more probably, because he looked trustworthy with his clear, sea-green eyes, his dark brown hair, his small, athletic figure and his pale skin. He never hoped or wanted to be more than he was. Or so it was, before that strange event changed his whole life.
It began with a very ordinary summer day. The streets were hot and dusty, and the heat created tension in the air. In such days Nindan usually worked inside – cleaning the tables in a bar, for example – to escape the heat and the burning sun. This time Martland Redbeard, one of the most famous men in town, asked him to substitute his sick stable-boy and make Martlands beautiful snowwhite mare ready for a trip to Gil´ead.
Nindan didn´t have objections. He liked Martland, who often offered him little jobs and – often – payed him more than others. Martland was the one, too, who once showed Nindan how to fight with his short hunting knife, the only weapon Nindan had. Even if the former Varden warrior once lost his right hand in a battle, he was still a good fighter.
Nindan was just combing the horse´s tail when Martland Redbeard entered the stable, together with two other men. One of them, a tall-grown, athletic man, was Jörmundur, one of the commanders in Queen Nasuada's army. Nindan recognized him at the first sight; he often saw Jörmundur on military parades or when Nasuada, the Queen, had a speech; Jörmundur followed her like her shadow.
Nindans´ heart started to beat faster. Such an important man, and he stands almost in front of me.
„I´m sorry", Martland was saying, loud enough for Nindan to hear every word, „I haven´t any horses to give your carrier. Why didn´t Nasuada gave you one?"
„She is still fixed with the idea that someone could be observing the palace", Jörmundur sighed. „And she thought that, whoever it is, could notice it if he would leave the palace on horseback."
„Maybe she´s right." Martland became silent for a moment, then he added, with more energy: „Well – I have only this horse, and I´m gonna need it myself. Sorry. Couldn´t Nasuada just have contacted Orrin with the dreamsight?"
Nindan gave a little gasp of excitement. Nasuada! Orrin! The palace, observed! He didn´t get the full sense of Martland´s and Jörmundur´s words, but he understood enough to know that he was hearing things that weren´t supposed to be heard by someone like him. Automatically, he passed the comb again and again on the horse´s fur, without really paying attention to what he was doing. All his senses were concentrated upon the two men.
„Orrin wouldn´t like that – he isn´t a fan of magic, he likes the traditional way", Jörmundur told Martland. Nindan could hear the approach of a smile in his voice. „That´s what Nasuada says, and she´s right, I guess."
„As always", Martland murmured, with an amused voice.
„As always", Jörmundur agreed. „So – do you really desperately need your horse? Or could you give it to my carrier? He´ll bring it back as soon as he can."
Martland sighed. „It´s important, I guess. Well, look after the mare and don´t ride to fast, she isn´t young. Boy? Are you ready?"
Nindan almost made a somersault when he realized that Martland had just talked to him. He tried to breathe in a normal rhythm. It didn´t worked. „Y-yes."
With shivering fingers, he untied the horse and led it to Jörmundur, who thanked him with a nodd. Then, Nindan tried to leave, but Martland's voice hold him back.
„Boy?"
Nindan turned around, and suddenly noticed the pergament in Martlands´ hand. „Yes, sir?"
„Is there a way to persuade you to bring this pergament to the palace? It is for the Queen. The guards will let you in when you show them my seal."
A letter for the Queen. Nindan wasn´t sure how to manage that. But, apparently, there was no way to escape this duty without being rude. So he came back to take the pergament. „I feel honored, sir. I´ll do it."
With the precious letter in his hands he left the stable.
It didn´t take long from Martland's house to the Queen's palace. As Nindan arrived and showed the guards Martland´s seal, they allowed him to come in, as Martland had promised. The Queen was out to visit one of her army commanders who, as Nindan was told, was ill. But the guards left him into the Queen´s room, even if they didn´t looked happy about it.
„Wait here", one of them told Nindan, before leaving the room. „And don´t touch anything – don´t try to steal anything – or you´ll be dead before you can drop it. Alright?"
Nindan nodded with a slight sense of danger. When the guards left, he wasn´t sure if he was allowed to sit down somewhere, because that would have meant touching the chairs. He stood where they left him and explored the room while he waited.
The room was originally very big, but it was so full with...with things of every kind, that it looked much smaller. On a table there were a lot of pergaments: Letters, maps, book pages. On another table, Nasuada had apparently collected strange, shimmering metal objects with a lot of sharp points. Nindan examinated each one with attention, but he couldn´t understand the purpose of any of them. They seemed to be made only for looking mysterious. He wondered where Nasuada would get them from; after a few moments, he remembered that he helped to rescue stuff like that from King Galbatorix´ destroyed castle.
He remembered...
Since he was born, he lived in Surda; when the Varden went there and started to fight against the crown, Nindans´ father was one of King Orrins´ men who partecipated at the battles and followed the Varden to Urû´baen. In the last battle, Nindans´ father fell, and since then Nindan lived alone in the streets of Urû´baen, that was now named Ilirea. He remembered the huge explosion – whatever caused it, it destroyed almost the whole town. And he remembered the sound of the fighting dragons; Saphira´s, Thorn´s and Shruikan´s roars, the hissing sound they produced when they spit flames and the growling sound of the breaking rock. Even if he was too young to fight, in this last battle Nindan had managed to follow one of the Varden´s batallions and, somehow, to survive the chaos.
He shook his head and turned his thoughts to the present.
There were shelves with big books on them, which seemed to be as old as the humanity. Some of them had burned pages or covers, others looked as if someone had put them on the floor and let them be calpestated by the Queen´s army.
Nothing indicated that the Queen lived in that room; if Nindan wouldn´t have known it, he would have thought that he was in the bureau of a literary student or something like that.
And then, there was it. At first, Nindan didn´t notice, because he was obsessed with the strange, sharp-pointed metal objects on Nasuada´s table. Then, as he turned around, he saw it. Right behind the table with the pergaments on it.
It was placed on a short column, almost as high as Nindan´s head was. Nindan had no idea what it was. But from the first moment on, he felt in a strange way attracted to it. As if it were calling for him, and only for him. Irresistible.
It was white. Not white as Martland´s horse; Its white was cleaner, brighter, not like the snow; more like a white petal, fresh and full with a mysterious aura of life. But it wasn´t a petal. It looked more like a stone, a stone as big as Nindans´ head, and a perfect oval. It shimmered a little bit in the sunlight that penetrated through the two little windows.
Knowing that he was just onto breaking the one rule the guards had told him, he moved slowly towards the column. He didn´t know why that thing attracted him so much. Maybe, it was magic. Or maybe, it was because Nindan hadn´t seen many things in his life that were beautiful like this.
With extreme care, as if that thing – he thought it could be a stone, but a very precious one – as if that thing could bite him, he walked near to it. He touched the stone with one finger. It felt cold, even if the sun was hitting it, and his surface was very hard and smooth. But nothing happened.
Of course not. What was he expecting? Silly, Nindan thought. I am silly. It´s just a stone. What should a stone do to me? But I...I would really like to know if it has a purpose here or if it´s just here because it´s so beautiful.
He carefully placed his hand on the stone, enjoyed how smooth and cold it felt. For a moment he stood like that. Then, he remembered the warning of the guard and wanted to leave the stone quickly, before someone could notice that he had touched it. But the stone moved first.
Yes, it moved.
Or, to say it exactly: It trembled. It trembled so hard that Nindans´ hand trembled with him. Nindan somehow managed to restrain himself from screaming; he jumped away from the stone and almost landed in the pergaments on Nasuadas table. Gasping instead of breathing, he stepped back. His thoughts were running, no, flying through his head so fast that he didn´t understand them. A trembling stone. That couldn´t be. And if, why would someone use magic to make a stone tremble?
The stone trembled again, and he almost fell off the column. Should I hold it so that it can´t fall?, Nindan wondered.
He wasn´t sure. He had never learned how to handle trembling white stones. Maybe, it would have turned useful to know it now.
Carefully he stepped towards the stone to examine him with attention. There were small black cracks, a little bit like lightnings, all over the stones´ surface. Whatever was happening here – it wasn´t normal and it was all Nindan´s fault. Maybe the stone got crazy everytime it got touched. Maybe, that was why the guards told Nindan not to touch anything. But why should a stone get crazy with every touch? It made no sense. It really made no...
The stone trembled again, and this time it really fell off the column.
This time, Nindan almost launched a little scream. He staggered backwards, trying to calm down his heart that was beating faster than a horse could run.
When he touched the floor, the stone burst into pieces. It made a strange clear sound, more like glass than like stone. And then, suddenly, something black came out of the side of the broken stone, throwing away one of the white pieces. It was darker than the darkest night, of a so pure black that it was almost more beautiful than the white of the stone. And Nindan needed a moment to realize that it was a wing. A wing.
Suddenly, the whole event was clear. Even if Nindan couldn´t believe it. Even if he didn´t want to believe it.
A dragon. That stone...a dragon egg...hatches for his rider...when he touches the egg...or is near to him...a dragon...and if the dragon chooses the person who will be his rider, there is no escape. The fate – wyrda – hadmade his choice.
Trembling now even more than the stone – the egg – did before, Nindan went a step closer to the newborn dragon. Or better, to the dragon wing, because that was the only part of the dragon´s body that managed to get out of the egg. The rest of the dragon inside the egg was – judging from the noise – fighting with all his strength to leave the egg, but even if it was broken, the white pieces only trembled a bit, still connected to each other. Then, the dragon launched his first scream. It was a sighing, shrill sound that made Nindans heart cry.
„Hey", he murmured. That was the only thing he was brave enough to do. He feared that he could hurt the dragon if he would try to help him to get out of the egg. „It´s gonna be fine. You´re alright. Come on, try again, and you´ll get yourself out of there. Everything´s allright."
And he kept on murmuring and whispering words to his dragon while the little creature tried to free himself from the egg. First, he managed to make a hole for his tail and for his hind legs. Then he pushed, and the rest of the egg broke in an explosion of white fragments. Nindan closed his eyes to protect them, and when he opened them, in front of him there was a dragon...his dragon, even if that seemed incredible.
The only dragon Nindan had ever seen in his life had been Saphira, the shimmering, blue-scaled female dragon, Eragon's partner. He was only ten years old then, and he lived and fought with the Varden, together with his father. He still remembered everything – Saphira´s deep blue eyes which seemed to look straight into his soul when they met his green eyes, her self-confident way to throw back her head and roar at the sky, the deathly blue firetongues that she could spit, her deep growls that always reminded him of an earthquake, her massive, mighty body and how casually she defeated her enemies in battle. Saphira was...mighty. She was the most alarming, impressing presence that Nindan ever knew, and that even if he didn´t know her well.
The dragon in front of him was...young. He was as big as a cat, maybe a bit smaller. His scales were black, exactly like his wings, and they were not shiny as Saphira´s; they looked darker, not like diamonds, more like a black metal. He didn´t looked like Nindan expected – like a smaller version of Saphira. He looked like her, yes, but his wings were creased, his eyes were bigger in his small face than Saphira´s eyes had been, he was really thin and his paws were to big for his body. He seemed a bit...incoordinated. A puppy.
And then, his eyes were light blue, like ice.
That reminded Nindan of something. He heard often how the Barden sang about Shruikan´s death... „...Shruikan, the enormous black dragon, with eyes as blue as ice..." A strange feeling made his heart beat faster (if that was possible). Was his dragon looking like Shruikan?
There was only one thing that his dragon had, and that Nindan never heard say about Shruikan: His white – yes, white – eyelashes. In fact Nindan never heard about a black dragon who had white eyelashes. Black dragons have black eyelashes, blue dragons have blue. Until now, it had always been like that.
And the really interesting question was now how he would tell the Queen why he was sitting in her room on the floor, together with a dragon...oh dear. There was really no explanation for something like that.
The dragon seemed to feel how frightenend and confused Nindan was; he made a strange sound, like a purring cat, and started to climb Nindans´ lap. Nindan remembered what he heard about what happens when a Dragon touches his rider the first time and tried to stop him, but it was too late. The Dragons´ hard black scales touched his hand.
It was like...like being hitten by a lightning. An icy feeling of electricity ran through Nindan´s arm and made his whole body tremble. He tried to move, but it wasn´t possible. He could only sit on the floor without moving a finger, watching the blue and white lightnings that danced in front of his eyes, and feel the cold that was making a way through his spine, or that was how he felt.
After a few seconds, the feeling stopped. Nindan gasped for air; his right hand, with which he touched the dragon, was still itching, and he felt cold, as if he just came in from a winter night. Or maybe as if he had just been freed from a block of ice.
And then...there were something new. As if the moment he touched the dragon had opened a new connection in his head, to let someone in who waited behind a door that Nindan didn´t know before. When he focused on that feeling, he could get feelings and thoughts that didn´t belong to him. The dragon...
That feeling made him uncomfortable. There was someone whose thoughts he could hear...someone who could hear his thoughts. He tried to push back the dragons´ mind, to ignore him, but there was no way. The dragons´ mind still moved marginal to his own, like a sleeping snake, just an unfocused kind of a sixth sense.
The dragon had run away and hidden behind the column; when Nindan protended his hand to calm him, he noticed the round, scar-like sign on it. The sign was shining in a strange white light.
Before Nindan could understand why he was now glowing like a lantern, the door was opened, and he turned around to see a young woman come in. She was wearing a little crown, and that crown almost fell off her head as she stopped and watched the strange scene. Her dark eyes widened. It had to be Nasuada; why should another woman walk into this room with a crown on her head?
In a normal situation, Nindan would have fallen on his knees, but he was already on his knees and he was too confused to do much.
He clenched his fist, hiding the glowing sign. „I am the new Dragon Rider", he whispered in a strange voice. And for a moment he could see his own shock reflected in her eyes.