Walking down the five flights of stairs was not necessarily hard work, but mind-numbing. My bare feet hit the perpetually cold stone silently, and on one small landing I scared a scurrying, disheveled maid. The crude, rough-hewn railings were nothing like the rich, smooth, decadent ones in the great halls and the areas where nobility resided. The craftsmen's negligence of the servants' chambers always seemed to get Nasuada worked up. It was not at all uncommon for me to be unable to sleep, and wander about, to find her there, bleary-eyed and silent, sanding away the wood in a fit of queenly defiance. "Simply because I am a queen, does not mean I can not deal with rough work. How quickly they all have forgotten me on the battlefield!" she would mutter at times.
Nasuada's stubbornness and that situation in particular never ceased to entertain me. Whoever heard of a queen sanding her servant's railings when insomnia struck her bed ill suited? Of course, whoever heard of a witch child and toads not being toads, only frogs? If you ask me, this castle is chock full of crazy people! Sadly, they happen to be ruling the country. What makes the situation funny is that this country is much better off then it was. Perhaps this land is doomed to one insane leader after another. I'm fine with that so long as I do not take throne. I fear then the world would be quite doomed.
Upon reaching the bustling kitchen, I managed to elbow my way through the frenzy and place a pot over the fire. The head maid went to put me to work, until she realized who I was. Quickly she apologized, and backed away, as though I would suddenly curse her for a simple mistake. Her eldest son was getting ready to leave home tomorrow morning. She'd give him tonight's wages, even though they were behind on their taxes. I would have given her coin, but I also happened to know she was quite prideful. She would not accept my help. I asked the one cook, Eric, for a pitcher of warm ale.
I placed my tea on a wooden tray, and when I smelt the concoction, I knew why men drank it. Women weren't stupid enough to drink such foul-smelling poison! The way back up was slower than before, because I wasn't about to drop this. I knew by bow, the kitchen would be buzzing with speculations about me, and I wouldn't go back down there if my life depended upon it. I hated the awkward, instant silences that occurred when I walked in the room, the sudden absence in conversation caused by the subject of said conversation being there. Such instances would best be dealt with me acting as nothing had happened. I always knew what had happened, but I knew that myself running off crying would do no good.
I pushed open the doors, and walked into the dragon hold. Murtagh had taken off his traveling cloak, but I noticed that his sword remained strapped to his hip. Perhaps if we talked more than once, I would ask him about why I always saw him with his sword. He was stretched along Thorn's foreleg, his hands clasped behind his head, and staring at a spot on the wall with a look of meditation. Of course, the usual influx of pain came, but after a moment, I took a deep breath, and then an unbearable pain washed over me. I gasped and put a hand to my stomach, hoping it would dull the burrowing pain gnawing away at me. Of course, I dropped the tray, and with the loud clatter of the silver tray and glass shattering, Murtagh hopped up and started running down the steps. The hot ale and tea splashed my white dress, staining it. I gasped. A voice, loud and male, boomed in my head.
Help me. Help me. I need… I need…
I doubled over, clutching my stomach.
I tried to nicely ask the elves. They wouldn't help, so you shall. Help me… Help me…
"Elva? Elva?" Murtagh rushed over to me, "What's wrong?"
I looked up at him, "I don't know." I whispered, but with every breath, it was like a knife in my chest. My entire body was cold. I turned around to grasp something to prop me up, and I fell backwards. It was like slow motion as Murtagh reached out, and missed. The white marble was streaked with purple, a color not normally present in it. My head hit hard on the floor, a piece of glass embedding itself in my yawe, and the alcohol and tea seeping in and burning it. I curled into a ball whimpering and shivering, and I heard the voice boom more.
I'm so cold. So cold, amethyst girl…
"What's wrong Elva? Elva? What in the hell is happening?" I knew my pupils were shrinking, and my iris was enlarging, leaving my entire eye purple, and blurring my vision to all but the pain.
"The curse. The pain." I gasped incoherently. "Help me, Amethyst girl. I'm so cold. So sick. The elves didn't notice. I tried to be nice." I knew I sounded crazed muttering what the voice said to me. I swiveled my head around and saw the source of the pain- the purple egg. I sat up, staring at it. "Amethyst girl, I need the witch doctor. She can help me. Help me. I'm dying. So cold, Amethyst girl. So cold."
I leapt up, fighting off the dizziness. Ignoring my vow to not use the ancient language unless I needed to, I used the one spell I knew from stealing the baths in the Rider's quarters. "Brisingr." I muttered, my hands lighting on fire as I reached for the egg.
"Adurna!" Murtagh shouted, dousing out the fire as it burnt my sleeves.
"YOU QUAGMIRE!" I yelled, turning on him for only a moment before I said it again, lighting my hands on fire as I grasped the egg.
Murtagh muttered something I didn't understand, and yanked me over to him. "You're going to get yourself killed. Burn yourself to death in your idiocy!" was all I could discern as he pulled out a dagger and cut the sleeves off. I tugged away from him, the coldness in my body never ceasing as the fire engulfed the egg. When I was able to jerk away, I barreled out the door, Murtagh following behind me. "Elva! What is wrong!?" he exclaimed, but all I could think about was the pain, the pain and the cold. The simple stone gave way to more splendorous and exotic stone, but in the blur as I ran I noticed little. I only knew I had to get the egg to Angela. Then all would be fine. Murtagh trailed me for some reason, and people hurriedly pressed themselves against the wall as we rushed through. When I hit the ballroom, I knew right away where Angela was, and I turned and yelled for her, "ANGELA! THE EGG!" Murtagh came by me, panting, and I went to take a step forward, and tumbled down, the fire going out, and feeling utterly drained.
Thank you, Amethyst girl. Was combined with Murtagh going, "Elva? Are you awake?" as purple and blackness swirled into a mass and I was no longer awake.
