Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon, or any of the characters, though it is one of my favourite stories. All of it is owned by Christopher Paolini.
This story takes place one night soon after Brom has died, when Eragon and Saphira are traveling with Murtagh toward Gil'ead. Saphira begins to have nightmares from the past, and Eragon tries to comfort her.
Saphira looked up into the vast night sky, watching the infinity as the stars reached across it. It was intense blue, almost black, and reflected almost every emotion that had swirled within her soul for the past few days. Dark, empty, void - seemingly. But truly deep, and scattered with blinks of pain, sorrow and misunderstanding. She blinked one large blue eye, shining with unshed tears, and bowed her head, tucking it down into her chest. She caught up a breath of air, and held it in; pending as she built up such a strong agony deep within herself that she trembled. Then she let it go all at once, in a long, tormented bellow that held all of her misery.
Eragon sipped slowly on the mug of hot brew that he held, being careful not to scald his tongue. It tasted horribly foul, but Murtagh had fashioned it from roots and herbs that he'd found outside the cave. He had claimed that it would help Eragon, who'd been high-strung for the past couple of days, to relax. Eragon doubted if he would ever be able to relax again, but decided to accept the concoction, simply because Murtagh had gone to so much trouble, and he feared that he'd already offended the strange man. So he drank it slowly, trying not to taste it as he watched Murtagh arrange their small assortment of belongings out of the corner of his eye.
Suddenly, a fierce anguish shot through his mind. Eragon yelled, dropping the mug as he clamped two fists to his ears in a futile attempt to shut out the raging noise. He could hear Murtagh shouting to him, but couldn't make out what was being said. It was if he was inside a bubble, a strange, enclosed prison of pain that nothing could pass through clearly. He wrenched himself back and forth, trying to get rid of the sensation that had captured his soul. He fought harder, screaming with all of his will.
Let go!
With a sudden, unexpected rush, the pain dropped out of his mind. He fell on the ground with a sickening thud, letting himself go limp for a moment in order to recover.
"Are you alright?" Murtagh bent over him, with looks of concern and deep worry flashing across his features.
Eragon groaned, rolling onto his side. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a shaky wisp of breath. He closed his eyes, swallowed painfully and tried again.
"I…I think…I'm alright," Eragon gasped, allowing Murtagh to sit him up and wrap a slight blanket around his shoulders. He shivered, remembering the commotion, all of the sorrow that had echoed through his consciousness. What on earth had happened?
Eragon.
Saphira's voice was mournful, and Eragon could feel her worry and regret.
What…what happened?
The dragon did not respond. Eragon rotated his shoulder, concerned. Then he turned to Murtagh, who was grudgingly picking up the pieces of the mug that had been shattered when Eragon dropped it.
"I have to go outside for a moment to speak with Saphira. I'll be back in a little while."
Murtagh barely looked his way, giving a short, sharp nod. Eragon sighed, gathered up the blankets and trudged outside of the cave.
Saphira sat perched on the edge of the cave, head hung, wings drooping. She looked so desolate, Eragon was almost afraid to ask what had happened. He walked up slowly, laid a hand gently on her scales.
Saphira? What is the matter? Please tell me.
Saphira moaned, in the deep, emotional way of dragons.
I am sorry, little one. I did not mean to hurt you.
Eragon looked up in unease. He trembled slightly, not wanting to move.
I know, Saphira. But what was it? What did you feel that made you so sad?
For a moment, she didn't answer and stood perfectly still. Eragon ran his hand up along her neck, gently massaging her sapphire scales. He watched quietly, forcing himself to be patient. Eventually, he found his gaze being drawn up to the stars that glimmered overhead. They twinkled, shimmering softly like a kind of wordless song. Eragon smiled slightly, for the first time n days. Then Saphira shuddered and he remembered where he was.
I apologize, Eragon. I am not strong enough to deal with something like this. I can…feel her.
Eragon jerked his head up in surprise. What do you mean? Who do you feel?
I can feel her. Saphira.
Brom's dragon?
Saphira's eyes clouded with despair. Yes. She was killed, centuries ago. Brom was full of despair when he spoke of her. She died a terrible death. I can feel the pain of the end of her existence.
Eragon cocked his head to one side. I don't understand.
Dragons are not like humans, Eragon. When they die, the world does not simply accept it and move on. When a dragon dies, something happens to the earth. Magic, life, the very health of the planet is taken away. The greater a dragon is, the more magic is robbed of the earth.
I see. So Saphira was very powerful?
Yes. Saphira sighed. When Brom's dragon was killed, not only did the earth wither, but it also began to die. Saphira was so connected with the life of the planet that the earth was almost destroyed. It was Brom that stopped it, Saphira explained, before Eragon could even ask. That is why he seemed so frail, why he was so cautious about using his magic. Remember when he explained to you about attempting a magical project that could kill you? Well, that is what almost happened to Brom. He had to use almost every single modicum of his magic in order to heal the wound that the world had. Brom almost died. Fortunately, the project was not that great, for he had the magic from Saphira. He used the last part of her soul to save the earth. However…
However, the earth was still injured, because the wound was so great. And now that Brom is gone, the earth feels the pain and loss of both of them, finished Eragon. Saphira nodded slowly at his side. They stood together for a moment, pondering life.
Will you be alright? Eragon asked, almost frightened of the answer.
Saphira lowered her head, rubbing it slightly against his arm. I will survive. My own magic is strong. As is yours. We must protect each other, for if either of us is lost, then the earth is doomed for certain.
Then we must make sure that that does not happen. Eragon wrapped his arms around Saphira's large neck. She rubbed him playfully with her nose.
Indeed. I will always take care of you, young one.
And I you. As best as I can, forever. I promise.
They curled around each other, warding off the chill of the night. Finally content, they wandered inside the cave, to try to sleep, peaceful and happy in each other's thoughts.
Outside, overhead, the stars shone brightly as a powerful, loving magic began to heal the earth.