Disclaimer: The Inheritance Cycle and everything in it belong to Christopher Paolini.
Chapter One
The elf was beautiful. That was Eragon's first thought as he swept into the cell.
The man was a shadow come to life, wearing a black cloak over black armour, the cowl of his cloak up obscuring his eyes. The lower half of his face was hidden by a cloth mask that extended from the top of nose diagonally down across his cheekbones allowing only a thin slice of his face to be seen.
If he wasn't so intimidating it would be comical how much black he wore.
His bearing spoke of command. His every movement carried an authority that told the world to bend around him so he may remain still.
At a second look, he mentally recoiled. Upon entry he had seen only her face. But she had been mutilated. Lying naked strapped to a cross shaped bench her injuries were stark. In places her skin had been flayed, she had been burnt with acid. It was clear that she had many broken bones; they broke her skin in places. The worst however, were her hands they had been beaten so badly they resembled stumps, the fine bones broken and mashed together.
What had been done to her went long beyond horrific.
Internally he shuddered; feeling a well of rage forming in his stomach. Quickly he suppressed the emotion. It would not do to show this cursed shade emotion.
Turning to the other occupant of the room, the tall, thin, pallid shade smirked at him.
"How do you find my handiwork Master Eragon?" He said mockingly.
"Durza, I can hardly fault an animal for behaving as an animal can I?"
The timbre of his voice was deep and calm, a match to his bearing.
"No, perhaps that is too insulting to animals. You are not simply stupid but deranged as well. "
Though his face was hidden, the goading smile could be heard in his speech.
The shade snarled at him, immediately enraged taking a half step forward he reached for the knife beside him. Then stopped eyes wide, the tip of a drawn sword was resting over his heart.
"Durza, the king finds you useful, so he permits you to live. I have no such attachment to you. Do not forget who rules these lands in the Kings absence. If you think to cross me, I will cut you down as the rabid monster you are." He spoke with such a level voice he could have been discussing the afternoon's weather.
"Leave! The egg has hatched, you have failed! You are to return to Uru'baen. I will deal with the elf."
He allowed his voice to rise as he chastised the shade. The command in his voice was clear.
Durza looked at the bright blade still levelled at his heart; it had been drawn too quickly for him to react. He had actually felt a thrill of fear when he had seen it over his heart. He snarled once more before lowering his head in deference. Storming out of the cell, the shade's face was as thunder as he left.
"I never though a schoolgirl and a shade would have similarities"
Eragon muttered to himself, shaking his head.
Turning to the elf, he shuddered internally again when faced with the extent of her injuries. Unstrapping her with a gentleness that seemed at odds with his appearance he quietly spoke a word of command causing her body to rise off the bench slowly, as he exited the cell and moved down the hall, the floating elf followed him
It was a haunting sight, this broken elf floating silently after a shadow. Neither of them made a sound.
Returning to his chambers, he caused the elf to be set down on his bed, the blood and puss leaking from her body immediately staining the sheets.
"Saphira", he called to his dragonmentally.
"Yes little one, what is it?"
Her voice was sleepy. He knew she'd not expected much of the day. She often occupied herself on days where he had to inspect things within the Empire; his visiting a prison was of little interest to her.
Opening his mind to her he showed the memories of what had just occurred.
Immediately he felt her strength coursing through their bond as she prepared him for the healing that she knew he was about to undertake.
Kneeling beside the elf he began to heal her, prioritizing the most life threatening wounds. He first tended to the broken bones, mending them and repairing the skin where it had been punctured. Then tending to her organs, mending them where they had been punctured by her broken bones, or damaged in the beatings she had endured.
"She is even worse than I had believed Saphira"
"That shade should be killed, he is an unnatural blight on the world" she said by way of reply the anger in her mental voice palpable.
"You of all people know how I would love to do that, but I cannot anger the King Saphira, you know that"
Her only response was to growl, deep in her throat.
Satisfied that the bones of the elf were once again whole, he stood rang the bell on the table in the study that was attached to his sleeping chambers. A servant immediately appeared at the door to his chambers upon the bell being rung, despite its muted tones. It was enchanted to alert the servant that was assigned to him upon being rung.
Moving to the man, who was obviously uncomfortable being around him.
"I'd like food please, vegetarian dishes only as I'm sure you've been informed."
The man nodded vigorously.
"Also bring me some cordial, that will be all."
As the man scurried off, Eragon sighed as he turned back to the elf. This would be exhausting.
Walking back to the elf he found himself once again admiring her beauty.
"Heal her first! Then dream about mating with her."
Saphiras voice broke his reverie as she mentally scolded him.
Smiling ruefully beneath his mask he didn't reply, but he once again knelt beside the elf and began to heal her.
He extended his senses towards her. Now that her life was in no more danger he turned his attention to the injuries that would cause her the most pain. Her flayed leg, and her destroyed hands. The hands would require a huge amount of energy to mend and likely several rounds of healing he thought. The leg would require a large amount of energy to regenerate the skin but it was relatively straightforward to heal.
Her hands however, were so badly destroyed that it would not only take a tremendous amount of energy, but mending them would be a very technically rigorous job. But Eragon was a master of his craft. To say his training in magic was comprehensive would be a gross understatement, his tutors ancient, powerful and wise. They had not been kind or light when training him, but the results spoke for themselves. Aside from the black king and the elves in their secret forest he was likely the only healer on Alagaesia capable of restoring her hands to their former shape, such was the extent of the damage.
Deciding to do the needful before there was any chance she may awake. He begun to work on her hands.
"Jierda" he whispered. The bones of her hands had begun to set in their new places, before he could begin to heal them it was necessary for him to re-break the bones. Even in her unconscious state, her body tensed and a pained expression flickered across her face as the bones in her hands cracked apart again.
Settling into the job, he grew dull to outside influences as he immersed himself in his magic. He realigned the bones, forcing the hands back into a natural shape, as he did so he was forced to tear skin and flesh as the bones reset into their proper places. Much of the difficulty in the healing was that her hands had begun to heal into their deformed shapes. Once the bones were set as they should have been, he coaxed the muscles and tendons of the hand back into their original shape. Where the sheaths of muscles that controlled the fingers and become deformed and twisted, he straightened and relaxed them. Her tendons, torn and stretched through the hand were restored and reattached. The broken twisted knuckles were reshaped and softened so her fingers would again be flexible.
After all this was done, Eragon returned to himself, exhausted. The elf's hands looked like hands once again, still far from perfect, they would require several more rounds of healing before they were as they had been prior to they're maiming. There was still broken skin and twisted flesh which he had not had the energy to fix, and there was major work yet to be done on the nerves of her hand. However, the underlying architecture of her hand was once again sound.
Stiffly climbing to his feet from where he'd been kneeling, Eragon looked around and saw the food and cordial he'd requested sitting on his dining table. Ravenous he tore into the meal, which was now very cold.
"Saphira, what is the time" He asked curious
His windows showed that it was now very dark, he had started healing the elf just before midday. He felt the sleepy touch of Saphira's mind.
"It's nearly dawn, little one"
His eye's widened in surprise, that meant he had been working on the elf's hands for a good 16 hours.
"Well that is by far the longest healing I've ever attempted, the Masters would be proud"
"I'm sure they will be little one. Now let me sleep"
Eragon chuckled, "lazy dragon" he muttered, as Saphira returned to sleep.
But he too shared her exhaustion; he knew she had provided him with a huge amount of energy for the healing.
Turning from the elf, he knew she would not wake, and even should she; she was far too injured to do much. However he would take no chances, casting a spell on her to immobilise her he left his chambers. Exiting the prison he walked around to the rear side of the complex where he knew she was. The partner of his heart.
Even asleep in the moonlight she was glorious.
Her scales, were a deep royal blue, sparkling and bright. They glittered in the light of the full moon, her spines rose and curved in graceful lines, her body was lithe and powerful. The very image of a perfectly formed dragon.
Moving towards her, Eragon found her wing where it lay on the ground, she lifted in for him and he climbed beneath. As he settled himself to sleep he could hear her humming quietly.
This is my first fic guys so please be nice and review. Open to ideas and constructive criticism.
