This is a rewrite of my first fanfiction; It's "A Silver Hope" V.2, if you like.
I hadn't updated the original story for about three years before I started this. I'm re-reading the books (after a VERY long time) now that the last one is being released and I had the urge to go back to this little long lost story of mine. Only I didn't want to simply add a few new chapters, 'cause I'd like to think my writing's improved a little within three years, and I saw a load of problems with the earliest chapters. So I'm rewriting the whole thing! :)
I've altered a few things: Lyra is a couple years older. This is mainly 'cause I'm a couple years older and I want this take to be a little more mature. I've completely scrapped my first chapter, re-thinking it to include more of her background (maybe a little too much, it goes on for a while). And then i've smooshed the 2nd and 3rd chaps in with the first to create one super-chapter for you all. Enjoy!
AND - I've realised that, for an OC introduction, this chapter's quite long; especially if you're not particularly interested in OC's. So, instead of editing and cutting it, I'm letting you know that if you're not one to enjoy 5000 words of OC background, you're free to join Murtagh + Thorn in Chapter Two :)
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"Don't go, Lyra!" The children trilled, forming a pleading harmony.
Lyra tried to shush them. "Stop worrying about me," she told the small crowd gathered about her waist. "I need to do this, and I can do this. I'll be fine."
"But you might get caught!" one small, downcast boy objected. Lyra gave him a consoling smile and tousled his hair before gently pushing her way out of the group of ragged children. She looked around the room, feeling all eyes upon her. Not only the children stared, but the teens too, with sorrowful and slightly accusing stares.
"I never thought you'd actually do this," an older girl, Camri, admitted. "It's too dangerous. I don't see why you can't try at some other mansion. Or why I can't come with you."
Lyra sighed and crossed the dingy basement. It was full of dirty bedrolls and crates, and scattered with a child's battered treasures; torn dolls, odd pebbles and other worthless but adored trinkets littered the floor. Camri was sat on her mound of blankets on top of some low crates. Lyra perched next to her friend. "Look 'round," Lyra told Camri, gesturing to the peeling walls and damp floor. To the hungry and homeless children of Dras Leona in front of them, coated in rags dirty with the grime of the streets. "I can't put this off any longer - we're starving."
"Aye, but to break into Marcus Tabor's damned palace, Lyra. It's madness!" exclaimed Anthony, crouched on a bedroll next to them. A boy not a year younger than herself, Lyra had known Anthony for a long time and trusted him with her life. At sixteen, Lyra was the oldest of this ragtag group of a dozen thieving urchins, and so had taken responsibility for them.
Lyra shook her head as she stood. "It makes perfect sense. Who knows the walls of a palace better than a child who's spent her life living in their shadow?" Camri opened her mouth with what looked like a very stubborn answer, so Lyra interrupted. "Oh, hush Camri! I'm going whatever you say. And Im not taking any of you with me. This isn't gonna be easy, and two heads are easier to spot than one."
Lyra swung a dark cloak over her grey shirt and leather breeches, then fastened a belt equipped with a pair of daggers and a cloth pouch around her hips. She kissed a few of the younger children on the forehead, then had to prise their little fingers off her shirt. "I know you think it," Lyra said hotly, straightening up to face her gang as a whole, "but you don't have to make me feel as if I'm heading to my own bloody funeral."
There were a few weak smiles. Anthony stood, handing Lyra her shortbow and quiver with grim eyes. Lyra swung them over her shoulder and pulled Anthony into her arms. With him being a fair few inches taller, she spoke into the hollow of his neck. "If anything happens, I want you to take over, alright? This lot need you, so no stupid rescue attempts."
They released each other. "I ain't promising to forget about you," he told her flatly, and she smiled.
Lyra's children wished her good luck one last time, then she left, emerging onto a dingy alleyway. On her left was the abandoned house she had just left. On her right was Dras Leona's city wall. The stars peeked out from behind drifting scraps of cloud as she wound through blackened streets. Lyra pulled her hood up, hiding wavy hair and large, grey-green eyes. The market district was deserted, save for the odd beggar, and she slunk through with ease. However as the houses grew larger closer to the cathedral and palace, guards began to patrol.
Hearing a heavy pair of footsteps approaching from an adjacent street, Lyra swung herself over a set of black railings, into the lush garden of some unknown lord. She swept silently over the lawn, cloak streaming behind her, and used the window ledges and drainpipes to climb up to the roof of the mansion. Rolling on to her stomach at the edge of the tiles, Lyra waited for the guard patrol to pass by the house; she spotted them easily by the torch they were carrying.
Once they had disappeared round a corner, she sprang up and darted over the roof, night shrouding her form as her well-practised feet dislodged no tiles. Though these homes were large, they were crammed in a tight terrace leading up to the palace walls. It was a simple matter to cross the roofs between her and the palace to reach it. She knew this street well, as many thieving trips led her here.
She tried to push away her apprehension, as it tugged at the corners of her mind, threatening her concentration. Lyra didn't kid herself; she knew it was no easy task to pilfer the treasury of the most heavily guarded building in Dras Leona. She did her best to put the dangers out of her thoughts. She knew the plan. The treasury was somewhere below the palace, away from the dundgeons. She knew that much from Camri, who used to work in the place as a slave before she escaped and was picked up by Lyra's street gang. Camri had also given her directions to Tabor's chambers incase the treasury was inaccessable. Which it probably will be, she reflected to herself grimly.
At the end of the terrace, there was a gap of maybe three metres between the palace wall and the roof of the last house. Lyra crouched behind a chimney, eyes roving the area. Two guards were stationed at the gates, two more across the gilded courtyard at the main doors to the palace. Pairs circled the grounds, and four archers were stationed on the wall's battlements. The latter were the ones she needed to worry about, but any hope of reaching the treasury left her as she counted the guards. They would surely double within the walls.
Lyra crept silently towards the edge of the house. The leap from the roof wasn't a problem, but doing it unseen and unheard was, especially with little shadow to hide her once she was on the battlements.
Her eyes landed on an arrow slit in the wall. She noticed it must open onto a spiral staircase leading down from a watchtower. The narrow opening was cracked, the brick around it crumbling. She could fit through it - It was an ideal way to reach the courtyard and the palace. Decided, Lyra grinned and crawled closer to the edge of the roof. As the slit was below her, halfway down the wall, it wasn't so much of a jump she needed as a propelled drop.
The thief swung her booted feet over the edge, then pushed herself off, arms held out. The brief, heartstopping moment of weightlessness ended as Lyra's hands gripped the edges of the window and her body slammed into the brick. She gasped as the air was forced out of her chest, but held on tighter, grimacing as she pulled herself up to sit on the ledge.
Lyra took a moment for her breath to return, peering into the staircase beyond and listening out for guards. Cautiously, she slipped through the arrow slit and down the staircase, into the palace courtyard. She kept to the shadows, eyes on the two pairs of guards either end of the courtyard. They're drowsy, she thought, watching them slump against their pikes. Must be the end of their shift. Which made it all the more easier for her. She trailed around the light cast by a torch bracket, and into the darkness cast by a tall statue. She reached the palace wall without incident. Climbing onto the back of another statue, Lyra was able to reach a window ledge and she swung onto it, beginning her ascent. She resigned herself to the climb up to Talbor's rooms; a series of balconies and ornate stained windows halfway up marked their location.
She stepped silently onto the first balcony, and gently tried the double doors leading inside. They were locked. With a sigh, she kneeled down and produced a set of lockpicks. She made quick work of the door's flimsy lock, and slowly pushed it open. The creak it gave made her grit her teeth, and she darted inside quickly.
Peering through the gloom, Lyra saw that she was in Tabor's study; a large desk stood in the middle of the room, and the walls were full of books, scrolls and paintings. Experience told her that these rooms rarely held the kind of objects she sought. She needed a bedroom or a dressing room. After rummaging through the desk drawers and finding nothing of value, she slid to a door on the right. Wishing for some better luck in this room, she turned the knob and entered.
Lyra froze. Yes, this was the bedroom she was looking for. She tried to make out the bed - the blankets were disturbed, but was there somebody in them?
She slowed her breathing, and stepped, like a shadow, towards the nearest chest of drawers. There was a money purse and a few rings on top of it. Lyra swept them up victoriously, pocketing the jewellry and tying the purse to her belt.
The painting above the drawers had been knocked askew, revealing the corner of a plate of thick metal. Lyra hoisted herself curiously onto the chest of drawers, and lifted the frame from the wall.
A wide smirk lit her face, her eyes glittered. Such a poorly guarded safe, Lyra mused, pulling out a pair of lockpicks. The lock was suspiciously easy.
She gasped when she saw what the safe contained: a foot length of rounded, polished silver rock. She plucked it soundlessly from its prison, turning the smooth, shining surface over in her hands. What was this?... More importantly, how much was it worth?
Lyra was absorbed in her discovery, and was oblivious to the quiet footsteps behind her. She whirled when a frantic voice shouted.
"You!" Marcus Tabor barked. He was fully dressed, though dishevelled and unshaven. "Finally! Your name - What is it?"
After nearly dropping her treasure in shock, Lyra slipped the rock into the pouch at her belt and darted towards the window, unsheathing her daggers as she went. Now was the time to leave.
Tabor uttered some strange words. Lyra felt herself pushed sideways into the wall by some invisible force, and pinned there. She was feet from the window.
She cursed as her lord approached, a desperate kind of glee on his face. "You did it! You've got it, now you can take it, take it away!" He whispered hoarsely.
The girl stopped her struggles. The Lord appeared quite mad in the almost total darkness. He wants me to take this rock? "Well then, let me free!" she hissed.
"Oh no no no, not yet," Tabor said, wringing his hands nervously and pacing in front of her. He was a thin man in his early fifties, with papery skin and tufts of black hair. "I must explain. I've been waiting for somebody to take it for a long time. Made it as easy as I could! And yet, you're the first! You must listen!"
Lyra looked, disbelievingly, into Tabor's wide, watery eyes. She thought back to the easy locks, the only partially concealed safe. Her curiosity won out over her alarm, and she held her tongue.
"What you've just taken is more precious than you can imagine. You must never sell it!"
"But what is it?" Lyra asked, growing frustrated and uneasy. "My Lord?" she added, almost mockingly.
"No. I fear if I tell you, you will refuse..."
"Now I really want to know." Lyra began to tug against her invisible bonds again. "Refuse what? If you want me to take it, let me down!"
The lord raised one quivering finger, pointing at the rock tucked in her belt. "You must take it to Surda."
Lyra paused, stymied with confusion, and Tabor muttered something. The girl was suddenly able to move again. Magic, she realised with a hiss, and took a few steps backwards. Lyra did not however, run for the window. She was far too intrigued for that.
"We must talk, quickly," Tabor told her. "Will you tell me your name?"
"No," Lyra said shortly. "But I will talk... m'Lord"
"Then sit," He said, gesturing to the chairs.
Lyra did not sit either. Instead she pulled the silver rock from her belt. Tabor lit a few candles, and she watched the light dancing off the surface of the stone. "I never seen a rock like this before," she said.
"It is no rock," Tabor said.
"What is it, then?" Lyra asked, uneasy of Tabor and this unexpected situation. Why wasn't he calling for guards? "I'm not doing nothing with it if I don't know what it is. You said it was important."
Tabor sighed. "How old are you, Thief? How skilled?" Lyra remained silent, so he continued. "I'm merely trying to judge whether you are the right person for the task. I hadn't imagined that the thief who would claim this particular treasure would be a girl as young as you." He regarded her with a distrustful gaze in the candlelight.
Lyra ignored this. He wouldn't be getting it back whether he decided if she was worthy or not. "It's no rock?"
Tabor shook his scraggly black hair hopelessly. "It is an egg," he nearly wailed.
The girl raised her eyebrows. This looked this no egg she had ever seen. A foot long, with the texture of polished diamond? She held the egg closer to the candlelight. "My Lord?... I don't believe you."
"I did not expect you to. But listen," he whispered, and leaned closer. Tabor rapped the egg with his knuckles, the rings on his fingers producing a high, clear note that would definitely not come from stone. "You hear? It is hollow, but not empty."
Lyra stared, her lips slightly parted. She raised the egg to her ear, and struck it as Tabor had done, the metal studs on her gloves pruducing the same, impossible sound, if not clearer. As the sound died, another followed; an abrupt squeak. Tabor's eyebrows knitted together in surprise. Lyra spoke tentatively. "What's... What's that inside it?"
"You would not believe."
"No - I think I would," Lyra said. She could think of no other explanation. "This is a... dragon egg, isn't it?"
The Lord let out his breath in relief. "You understand. Now, please - take it from here. To Surda, and the Varden."
Lyra regarded him curiously. "Hold on - Why'd you have to wait for somebody to steal this? You could have just sent anyone away with it!"
"No, I couldn't. The King himself suspects me of hiding something of importance from him. He has spies, here. In my palace. Do you recall when he came to the city, a year ago? Well it was so he could investigate himself. I still can't truly believe he failed to find it..."
"But... ," Lyra began incredulously. "Does this mean... are you a member of the Varden?" She found it hard to believe that Lord Marcus Tabor, Ruler of Dras Leona, secretly supported the rebel group.
"God, no!" Tabor replied, "I would never be able to conceal such an allegiance. I do not however, want to see Galbatorix in power any longer. What you are about to deliver to the Varden will tip the scales in this war. I never gave this egg to a messenger for fear he would run to Uru' Baen. The King's spies always seem to know what I'm doing, I couldn't risk it. I doubted, however, that any street thief such as yourself would have loyalties with their cruel King." Lyra shook her head, and thought about the urchins, sleeping in the cold basement of a long abandoned house. "I just knew I had to explain before I allow anyone to run off with it," the Lord said, "so I laced spells around the safe that would let me know if anybody picked it up. You see, if it is stolen, it never had to be in my possession in the first place! Nobody would even know about this robbery if I don't report it!" The glee on his face made him look completely insane.
Wanting to get out of the room as quickly as possible, Lyra said; "Alright. I'll take it to Surda." She hated to leave her young friends, but this was important, an oppurtunity she would not pass up. In the long run, if she succeeded, she would help the Varden overthrow the Empire. The Varden were a group she had longed dreamed of reaching; she would travel to Surda, and escape the dirty streets she had been born into.
"Have you travelled before?"
"I've been to Belatona and Teirm. But tell me - how'd you get a dragon egg? Have you always had it?"
"It's been in my possession for a long time," replied Tabor. "My Father... he was one of the last dragon riders - one of the Forsworn. You know of them, don't you?" Lyra nodded, thinking of the tales she'd heard on the streets, telling of Galbatorix's rise to power and the fall of the riders. "He left me this over forty years ago, before he was killed. His own dragon was the mother."
Lyra gazed at the legend she held in her hands. She recalled some whispered rumours she had heard many times over the past several months, and had sneered at. "People say the Riders have returned," she said slowly. "There's a red dragon allied with the king, they say, and a blue one that flies for the Varden."
"Those rumours are true," Tabor said. Lyra's head snapped up in shock, but not disbelief. "I know," Tabor continued, "because last time Galbatorix called council with the nobles, he explained our standings in the situation with Surda. He doesn't think he has much to gain from keeping the Riders secret, and he couldn't in anycase, with his rider soaring in and out of Uru'baen. But yes - two. Murtagh Morzansson is the name of the King's Rider - he is the one you need to fear. I don't know the name of the other."
Lyra shook herself and headed to the window.
"Here," he said, and handed her a map. "But by all means, you don't have to take it to Surda! Bury it in the forest or drop it in the lake, just don't sell it - It could be recognized, and reach the king."
Lyra nodded to show she understood, and opened the window.
"Come back without the egg," the Lord said, "and I'll pay you with your weight in gold. I must thank you for this."
Lyra hesitated. If she ever reached Surda, she had no plans for returning. "No. There's something else you can do for me. In the abandoned house on Market Street, there's a dozen children I look after. They're the reason I came here in the first place. You can pay them their weight in gold instead. Even better, build them an orphanage."
Tabor returned her scorching gaze, and then nodded. Lyra swept from the room.
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The girl's breath grew ragged as she left the palace behind. This could all be a hoax, she reflected angrily. Though somehow, she knew that it wasn't. Tabor knew so much about the riders, and nevermind that he was half insane - he was a magician.
Coming to a halt outside the house, Lyra pushed back her hood and knocked softly on the doors leading to the basement. As she had expected, Anthony was behind them, waiting to let her in once she returned. He grinned as he saw the bulging purse. "Yes! I knew you could do it! Everyone's asleep, let's go tell 'em you're back." Anthony took her hand and began to pull her down the stairs to the basement.
She took her hand away and retreated back into the night. "No I can't Anthony - I'm sorry."
"What's the matter? You're okay, right?" He looked her over for injuries.
"I'm fine, I just need to leave for a while."
He looked at her blankly. "Leave? What for?"
Lyra shook her head, and handed Anthony the solid gold rings she had snatched. Alone they would fetch a small fortune. Then she gave him half the coins from the purse, incase Tabor did not keep his word. "I'm going to Surda. I found something in the palace that shouldn't be there - I need to deliver it."
"And what's so important?" He asked, knuckles turning white over the trinkets Lyra handed him. "Surda isn't exactly close by. You're needed here!"
"I can't tell you. Just know that it is important. I wouldn't leave if it wasn't." Lyra did not have the heart, or the courage, to tell Anthony she was not planning to return. "It should take me about two months, there and back. You can look after them while I'm gone. What I stole should keep you going. And they don't need me at all - they got you, remember?."
"Fine," Anthony said, though he was clearly not happy. He gestured to the sleeping children downstairs, "You're going right now? What do you want me to tell them when they wake up then?"
Lyra gave a sad smile at Anthony's attempt at guilt-tripping her. "Tell them the truth. I've gone away for a while, but when I come back I'll have lots of coins for them."
"Is it goodbye for now then?" He said sourly.
"Not exactly," Lyra said and then looked down, scuffing her toes. "...I need you to help me steal a horse."
Anthony raised his eyebrows and swore at her.
"Please, Anthony! I'll be back before you know it."
"And why in the name of Helgrind should I help you run off?"
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Anthony's cheek. His expression softened immeadiately. "You're scared I won't come back," she told him. "But I will - I promise."
Anthony sighed and gave in. "Alright then. Which stables?"
"The Golden Globe isn't far," Lyra said, relieved, and she darted down the street. Anthony followed at a slower, more forlorn pace.
The sun was beginning to rise, dusting the eastern sky to a chalky lilac. In the distance, Lyra heard the portcullis being raised for the early morning travellers.
They reached the Golden Globe's stables within a few minutes. The only stable boy was asleep on bales of hay stacked in a corner. Lyra swiped the few coins out of his purse as Anthony led a sturdy-looking mare out of her stall. The horse's tack and saddlebags were hung in the back of the stall. They saddled her up together, Lyra disappointed after discovering the bags contained nothing more than a bedroll and some odd blankets.
Lyra swung into the saddle and trotted towards the street, while Anthony looked out for any approaching inn workers.
"Thank you, Anthony."
"Just go quickly," he said hoarsely. "And come back quickly, too!"
Lyra gave him one last smile, then turned her stolen horse to canter through the street. She didn't look back as she rode through the portcullis and out onto the road.
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Darkness was falling once again, and Lyra was exhausted after a day's hard riding. Yawning widely, she led her horse off the road, into a patch of trees out of sight from the lake.
Lyra unsaddled the mare and picketed her next to some foliage. She made a small fire and sat close to it, warming her hands and face until the last dusty red cloud had faded from the horizon and the sky was Lyra lay back on her bedroll. She had a great deal to think about. The guilt of lying to Anthony and leaving her old life behind dominated her thoughts. Maybe she would return after all.
Pulling Tabor's map of southern Alageasia from her pocket, the girl inspected her route closely. All she had to do for now was travel south following the shore of Leona Lake, then the Jiet River, into Surda. From there she was confident that it would be easy to find a guide to Aberon, the capital. Lyra thought that the discovery of a dragon egg would be a matter that the King of Surda would want to be involved in. He, of all people, would know how to get it to the Varden.
As she folded the map next to the dragon egg in her saddlebags, the egg caught the flickering light of the fire and reflected it brilliantly, making it look not just silver, but gold, white and dozens of shades of red.
Intrigued, Lyra plucked it from the bags, and watched the light dance. Moments passed before she realised a faint beating was coming from inside the egg. She held it to her chest and pressed her ear to the surface of the silver shell, listening intently.
She could hear a heartbeat.
She froze in wonder. She knew it wasn't her own heart - hers did not seem to be beating. Could she really be listening to a dragon's heart?
A faint squeak pierced the tranquility in the clearing - from the egg. It was the same noise that she had heard come from the egg back in Tabor's rooms, after she had struck it.
Unsure of what to think, Lyra jumped when the squeak came again, this time louder. The egg began to rock. She set it down with shaking hands as cracks appeared in the shell. Moments later Lyra's eyes widened further as a small, spiked head emerged to the world, blindly squeaking its defiance. The rest of the egg split open with a resounding crunch, and the hatchling stumbled forwards into the fire light.
The tiny dragon was exactly the same colour as the egg, but it shone like the moon. Everything about the creature was slender; its head, neck, limbs, body and especially the tail. It fixed a pair of sparkling grey eyes on Lyra, and tried to take a few tentative steps towards her. It tripped on those oversized wings and fell.
As Lyra reached out for it, the dragon stretched and nudged her palm with the tip of its nose.
Lyra cringed and yelled out as icy pain jolted up her arm and spread throughout her entire body. It was minutes before the pain eased, but her palm wouldn't stop tingling. There, on her right hand, was a shining silver oval, same colour as her dragon. ...My dragon, she thought.
"This is absurd," she told the hatchling, her voice shaking a little in disbelief. It simply cocked its head, gazing at her curiously with those twinkling eyes. It sat on its haunches, front paws resting on her legs. Lyra gently pulled the hatchling onto her lap and stroked his elegant neck, barely believing what she was doing was real. While she did so, she felt a strange presence against her consciousness. It puzzled her for a while, but when she realised feelings were emanating from it – that certainly were not her own – she guessed she must be feeling the dragon's consciousness... but that just confused her even more.
She pulled the spit of chicken wings from the fire and gave most of them to the dragon, who tore into them with the unexpected ferocity of a lion.
Tiredness called to Lyra once again, blocking out all other thoughts. She lay down, and fell asleep as the dragon tried to snuggle against her chest.
xxx
For the next few days, Lyra rode around the seemingly endless coast of Leona Lake. She kept away from the roads and villages, with the dragon in her lap. He was always wide eyed and energetic, constantly gawping and chittering at new things with intensified curiosity.
Lyra's knowledge of dragons didn't stretch very far but she did know some things, mostly little facts gleaned from stories she'd heard from various bards. She was aware that they came in every shade of every colour, were intelligent and had been in Alageasia much longer than humans. She had also listened to a minstrel perform a song about a war that took place between the dragons and the elves long ago, but she didn't know how true that was.
Although Lyra was utterly oblivious, the bond between her and the dragon was strengthening all the time. She found she was able to crudely communicate to him by vague emotions and images, though how it worked was beyond her.
She hoped she could find answers in Surda, and the person she most longed to meet was the rider of the saphire dragon. She was sure he would teach her what he knew, and she would be safe until she - and her dragon - we're strong enough to face whatever they had to.