Eyes on his reflection in the mirror, Murtagh ran the wet comb through his hair, forcing the tangled brown strands to form some semblance of order. Normally he would just pull his hair back in a ponytail and call it done, but today was one of the few days it was worth putting the extra effort into his appearance.
What's taking you so long? Thorn appeared over his shoulder. It's almost time.
Yeah, yeah, just give me a few more seconds. Murtagh tugged on the comb until his hair fell to his shoulders tangle-free and relatively smooth.
Aren't you done yet? Thorn's tail twitched like a hunting cat's. Seriously, you're taking forever.
Like you didn't spend all morning preening. Murtagh smoothed his hair down one final time before turning away from the mirror and grabbing his jacket – leather, dyed the deep dark red of Thorn's scales in shadow. All right, let's go.
Side by side, they walked out of their shared hall and onto the sunlit ledge. It was a beautiful day, especially for late autumn – the sun was shining, there was only a hint of wind, and the sea stretched out far into the distance, perfect and blue. A perfect day for a Hatching.
Thorn knelt so Murtagh could climb onto his back. The second Thorn took off, wind rushed through Murtagh's hair, undoing all his hard work. Thorn snickered. It's a good thing you put so much effort into it.
Oh, shut up. Murtagh drummed a heel into Thorn's neck, though he doubted Thorn even felt it.
They swung around the complex of buildings in a wide arc. Murtagh was genuinely fond of the Academy – goodness knew enough of his and Thorn's sweat and blood had gone into building it – but more than that, it was … it was home. For both of them.
People were already gathered in the amphitheater, the light glinting off of dragon scales. Murtagh saw Ampora, and Tagen, and Bedella and Sonorm and Jin, which meant…
Where's Katya and Narada?
Thorn snorted. Where do you think?
Murtagh sighed, shook his head. I swear, that dragon was late to her own Hatching.
Thorn landed on their ledge on the side of the amphitheater. Ampora was already perched there, his neck arched so the sunlight caught his glittering crest of spikes. Torrens, lounging on his foreleg, waved and grinned at Murtagh as he dismounted. "Hey, boss!"
"Hey." Murtagh strode over to Torrens, who jumped up and clasped his forearm. "Excited?"
"Are you kidding? This is my favorite day of the year."
Murtagh laughed, cuffed him on the back. "That's the spirit."
The other dragons and Riders were gathered on the other side of the amphitheater. They saluted him, grinning, and he returned the gesture. "I see everyone's here."
"All except Katya."
"Yeah, where is she? Thorn still won't talk to Narada."
She won't talk to me.
Torrens chuckled. "They're flying here. Should be landing any minute."
"Good." Murtagh scanned the gathered families seated on the amphitheater steps. "Well, it looks like a promising crowd."
"Mm-hm. There are some good kids down there."
"How many are there?"
Twenty-two, total. Youngest is seven, oldest is eighteen. Seventeen repeats, said Thorn.
"Really? Who are the new ones?"
Thorn showed Murtagh mentally. Four boys, one girl, all of them promising choices. "Well, let's hope we see a hatchling or two today, huh?"
"Let's hope so, boss," said Torrens. With ten-plus eggs and twice as many children to choose from, it wasn't often that there was a Hatching when nothing actually hatched. But it'd happened – and was as disappointing as hell.
A triumphant dragon bugle rang over them, and Murtagh looked up, shielding his eyes against the sun. There was Narada, shining honey-gold in the sun. She landed neatly on Thorn's other side. Both dragons completely ignored each other.
"Hey, boss!" Katya dismounted, unwinding her head scarf with a flourish and coming over to clasp Murtagh's forearm. "Sorry I'm late. But I had a hell of a time getting away from Ilirea." She grinned, and tossed a wink over Murtagh's shoulder to Torrens. "Hey, Torrens."
He saluted her. "Cat."
Katya laughed, tossing her scarf over her shoulder. "So when's the Hatching start?"
"Any minute now, now that all the Riders –" Murtagh shot Katya a look "– are assembled."
She refused to be abashed. "Aw, come on, boss, it's not even –"
"Save it for later, Katya." Murtagh climbed back into the saddle. All right, let's go!
Thorn pushed off the edge of the platform, gliding down to the floor of the amphitheater, Narada and Ampora following. Facing them were the rows of families, seated on the steps carved into the cliff face, and in between them on the rocky ground was the long table, the eggs laid out on it under a heavy cloth.
The audience, quiet from the moment the dragons touched ground, held their breath collectively as Murtagh, Torrens, and Katya dismounted and walked up to the table. Seated in the first two rows were the candidates, eyes wide and hands trembling in both fear and unbridled excitement, and for a fleeting second Murtagh wondered what he and Thorn would have been like if he'd been one of them, and Thorn a waiting egg like those on the table.
"Welcome, everyone!" said Murtagh, the rocky walls amplifying his voice. "Welcome to this year's Hatching!"
The audience applauded, two little girls in the front row gripping each other's hands excitedly. Murtagh smiled, planted his hands on the table in front of him.
"This is a big day for all of us, dragon and human alike," he continued. "But perhaps – for a lucky few of you – it will be even bigger. I must ask all of you candidates now to think seriously about the decision you're about to make. Having a dragon is life-changing. It can alter the very essence of your being." Pausing, Murtagh turned to put a hand on Thorn's nose. "But it's completely worth it," he said quietly.
Thorn whuffed softly, eyes half-lidded in affection. Murtagh ran a thumb across the tiny scales between Thorn's nostrils before turning back to his audience. Many of the candidates were staring open-mouthed at him and Thorn.
"So realize what's at stake when you come up here," he said. "Becoming a Rider is a commitment, more than anything else you will ever do in your life. It means having another living soul tied inextricably to yours. It means leaving your home and family and becoming part of something else. And it means responsibility – it means a huge responsibility." He smiled at the awestruck looks on the candidates' faces. "But it's also absolutely fantastic. And if you're ready – if you really want that – then maybe there's a dragon waiting just for you." Stepping back, he nodded to Torrens and Katya, who came forward to stand at the ends of the table. "And maybe that dragon's right here."
In one smooth motion, Torrens and Katya lifted the cloth off the table. There were the eggs, thirteen of them, gleaming in various shapes and sizes and especially colors. Many of the candidates and spectators audibly gasped.
"Candidates," said Murtagh, making sure to look each one in the eye, "please step forward."
None of them seemed to want to get up. Then one dark-haired boy did, and soon they were all moving in a reverent huddle towards the table.
"Don't be afraid to touch the eggs," said Murtagh as they approached. "Handle them. Get to know them. The dragon needs to get to know you to hatch. And go with your instincts." The candidates were beginning to follow his advice, patting and stroking the eggs with various degrees of hesitation. "If you feel drawn towards an egg, go to it."
Breathless silence filled the amphitheater as the candidates milled around the table. The dragons were watching as avidly as the parents; whoever hatched would be their new comrade and fellow.
There was a sudden squeak of surprise from one of the candidates, a boy with straw-colored hair and freckles. "It moved!" he gasped, pointing to an egg so dark blue it was almost black. "It – it's rocking!"
Every eye in the amphitheater was fixed on him. Katya was instantly at his side, murmuring encouragement, advice. Thorn walked up next to Murtagh, humming, as the boy reached out again to touch his egg.
Whose egg is that? Murtagh asked Thorn.
The sire is Dandr, and the dam, Audren, daughter of Saphira.
So the line continues. Murtagh mentally contacted Torrens. Who's the boy?
Tavis, from Kuasta. Those are his parents. Torrens pointed out a man and woman, both blond and stocky like their son. This is his third Hatching. He seems like a decent kid.
The egg rocked again, nearly hitting the eggs on either side of it. Other dragons began humming as well, the chords vibrating off the rocky walls and floor. Murtagh touched their mental stream, heard them talking to the hatchling. You can do it, Thorn was saying. That's it. Just push a little harder.
With a crackling sound like glass splitting, the egg broke apart into several pieces. And there was a hatchling, dark blue like the egg, unsticking its spindly wings from its sides. Katya murmured something into Tavis' ear, pushed him forward. And Tavis reached out a shaking hand and touched the tip of his fingers to the hatchling's nose.
His shout of pain echoed in the amphitheater and he collapsed against Katya, who dropped to her knees to support him. There were cries and gasps from the audience and candidates as well. Murtagh saw Tavis' mother leap to her feet, hands over her mouth.
"He's fine!" said Murtagh, over the noise. "Perfectly fine. It's all part of being a Rider."
Blinking, Tavis came to himself. Eyes wide, he looked down at the glowing circle on his palm. Katya squeezed his arm comfortingly and helped him to his feet.
The hatchling still sat among the shards of its egg, meticulously licking bits of membrane off its scales. When it saw Tavis, it whined and stretched its neck – so thin and fragile-looking – towards him.
A hesitant smile on his face, Tavis reached out and ran his fingers over its head. And then magic happened as the dragon scrambled up his arms and onto his shoulder, tail twined around his neck and face pressed lovingly into his. Beaming, incredulous, Tavis petted his dragon and turned his head so he could look right into its eyes.
Humming again, Thorn put his head over Murtagh's shoulder, remembering his own hatching. Murtagh looped an arm under his jaw, throat tight. Even in Galbatorix's palace, even after torture and terror, nothing had darkened Thorn's hatching or their memory of it. For those few precious moments, it had been pure love.
Katya led Tavis and his hatchling off to one side. The other candidates slowly returned to the table, running their hands over the eggs. Murtagh was pleased to see there was only a little jostling. Last year a fight had all but broken out between two candidates over an egg. Needless to say, it hadn't hatched for either.
But after nearly fifteen minutes, it became clear none of the other eggs were hatching. Well, one isn't bad at all, thought Murtagh. And they seem like a good match.
Indeed they do, thought Thorn. Torrens began shepherding the disappointed candidates away from the table – several had tears in their eyes, and one young girl was sobbing in disappointment. Murtagh stepped forward to speak again when one candidate, a dark-haired boy in his early teens, reached back to caress a silvery-green egg for the last time.
And the egg shivered.
The boy gasped, looked right at Murtagh, his eyes wide in his pale face. Without hesitation, Murtagh went to stand behind him, putting his hands on the boy's shoulders. "What's your name?"
"Lane, sir." His voice was quiet, all his attention focused on the now-immobile egg.
"Don't worry, Lane, it's all going to be fine." He gave Lane a little push forward. "Touch the egg again." Thorn, whose egg is this?
I don't know. This is one of the eggs from Vroengard.
Lane stepped closer, ran his hand across the silky surface. The egg shivered again, more violently. It began to rock from side to side as the dragons resumed their humming, hair-thin lines appearing on its glassy surface.
"My God," breathed Lane. The hatchling inside squeaked, as if in response to his voice, and he gasped. The cracks were widening, but only slightly, and the squeaking began to get more and more frantic.
"He's stuck!" gasped Lane. "Can I –" He barely glanced at Murtagh for permission before jumping forward and digging his fingernails under one of the cracks. "Hang on, little guy, I'll get you out of here!"
"Whoa, hey, that's not such a good idea," said Murtagh, pulling Lane back. "You'll rip your fingernails to shreds like that."
Lane stared up at him, desperate. "But he's trapped!"
"He just needs a little momentum." And Murtagh knocked the egg off the table.
Lane's cry was barely audible over the sound of the egg shattering. But the sage-green hatchling that shook itself free of the bits of shell was chirping happily.
Awestruck, Lane sunk to his knees next to it. Murtagh knelt beside him, put a hand on his shoulder. "Touch it," he said. "Make contact with your hatchling. It'll hurt a lot, at first. But it's necessary."
Lane took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and touched the top of the hatchling's head. Almost instantaneously his body stiffened, his teeth clenching and his face contorted. Then he went limp against Murtagh, breathing hard.
The gedwey ignasia on Lane's palm was gleaming. Sitting up, he stared at it, then looked up at Murtagh, who smiled. "Welcome to the ranks, Argetlam."
Lane nodded, light brown eyes wide. Then he reached forward and scooped his hatchling up in his arms, cradling it against his chest. The hatchling chirped softly.
Murtagh put a hand on Lane's shoulder and stood. "Thank you, everyone, for coming," he said. "It's always an honor to witness events like these." He looked from Lane to Tavis and smiled. "And for those candidates who were disappointed, you are always welcome to try again next Hatching." He looked over the rejected candidates, wondering which ones would be back next year. "Now please, feel free to head over to the main hall. Our cooks have prepared quite a lot of refreshments, and while I don't doubt the dragons could eat it all, I rather think the food is intended for human consumption."
The audience laughed, and many began moving away. Tavis' parents had joined him and Katya, hugging their child and exclaiming over the hatchling. Lane got to his feet, still holding his hatchling, and scanned the crowd.
"Are your parents here?" asked Murtagh.
"My mum is," said Lane. His face lit up as he spotted her. "There she is!" He waved, beaming.
Murtagh looked over. And then his jaw nearly dropped.
The woman walking over to Lane with a smile on her face was an elf.
Half-elf! said Murtagh weakly to Thorn. Sure, now he could see it in Lane's face – the smooth pallor of his skin, his high cheekbones, the slant of his eyes…the slight point to his ears.
Thorn sniffed. I don't see what all the fuss is. You look like a half-elf yourself.
Yeah, but…it's just so rare.
"Shur'turgal?"
The elf's voice was silvery without being high-pitched. Murtagh looked up at her, right into her silvery-green eyes. She was standing with an arm around Lane's shoulders, silver hair pulled back in a neat bun. "Well, this is a big day, indeed," she said, and held out one slim-fingered hand. "My name is Aedela."
Murtagh took her hand, her skin cool and smooth against his. "Pleased to meet you, Aedela."
