-4-

A Child

A dragon hatchling has a mind of its own.

...

Oren woke late in the afternoon with a throbbing head and an aching body. He forced his eyes open, but was met only with a painful stream of sunlight which made them snap closed again. He realized that he must have been laying in the same place, in the same position, as when he passed out. He lay still for a few moments hoping that he would feel better, the chilly air helping to numb his head and the soft grass comforting his sore muscles.

With a groan, he raised his right hand above his eyes. He knew exactly what would be there, yet he wasn't sure how he could expect it to look. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he gazed upon his own gedwëy ignasia, a silvery oval imprinted onto the palm of his hand which marked his newfound bond with the dragon hatchling. It itched and burned as if someone had ripped off all the layers of his skin but the last one. He tried to scratch at it, but quickly left it alone when it just gave him more pangs of sensitivity.

"My dragon," he gasped, springing to attention and glancing around for the hatchling. He saw no signs of Eragon, Saphira, his father, or even his dragon. What he found, instead, was a sizable green dragon sitting atop a nearby hill and watching over him. It was much smaller than Saphira and had a face which did not at all emanate friendliness.

At long last, the dragon said flippantly. Could you have possibly been any slower to rise? I've nearly died of boredom because of you. You've failed to instill in me a good first impression, Rider.

"Where's Eragon? And my dragon?" he demanded.

Long gone, the dragon answered. You expected them to sit around waiting for you all this time?

"They're at the ceremony, aren't they?" He asked, holding his head and trying to stumble up to his feet.

The ceremony is long over with, the dragon groaned. You've been sleeping for three days straight. They've been off feeding and raising the hatchling since you've been too lazy to wake up. Don't worry, Rider, you'll be re-united with him soon enough.

"Three days?!" Oren yelled in disbelief. "I… I just… Is that normal?"

Hardly, the dragon laughed coldly. My Rider passed out for a few minutes when I bonded with her, but I've never, ever before heard of a pathetic Rider losing his senses for entire days. Many praises to you for being the first!

"Blade," Oren said. "That's who you are. Saphira's mate, Arya's dragon, and… my dragon's father. Are you proud of your son?"

I'm ashamed to have an idiot as a firstborn son! he raged.

"Why is he an idiot?"

Because he chose an incapable little maggot like you!

Oren scowled and started to say something in his own defense, but he realized there would be no point in arguing with a dragon, so he just stopped himself in mid-thought.

Well, I suppose there is one good thing about it, Blade grunted. Since he was stupid enough to choose you, it might just mean that he's the perfect match for you!

The comment almost pushed Oren too far. "Don't ridicule me!" he yelled back. "We've barely even lived!"

In response, Blade forcefully shoved his consciousness into Oren's mind, causing him to recoil in surprise and grab his forehead. Blade's thoughts were very coarse and uncomfortable as they dug around in his memories and emotions, not nearly as gentle as Eragon and Saphira had been. Blade shoved things around carelessly as if he were digging through a pile of junk just to see what was at the bottom.

"Stop that!" Oren cried, clutching his forehead harder as Blade's tendrils twisted this way and that within him, churning his thoughts around.

Oh, I'm sorry, Blade taunted, did I annoy the young Rider? Your mind is a pathetic pile of carrion. You have no concept of things which every respectable human should know by now. Things which should be easy for you are made difficult by you. Your fear and nervousness are disgraceful. Even your smallest feelings cripple you and distract you from every aspect of your life. Your priorities are laughable. You are spoiled to the core, you know not the difficulty and pain life has to offer. You are unfit, at best, to be a Rider.

"That will change in time!" Oren insisted. "Once again, I've barely lived!"

You have been alive for nearly two whole decades, that's quite enough time, he said. It is your puny mind that has barely lived! And your father is no better. How irreverent your whole family must be! I'd like to have a talk with his father or whoever it was that saw fit to give him the namesake of a dragon he is not worthy to even utter.

Oren grunted in aggravation, seeing that it would probably be impossible to talk the dragon into having a favorable opinion of him; He really wished Blade would just go away. He thought it was awful that Blade did not think highly of his firstborn son or even Saphira herself, but he just didn't know what else to say about it.

"Thank you, Blade," said a female voice from behind him. "Your duty is done. You are free to leave."

He turned to see Arya, the elven princess, coming to the top of the hill. Even though her face was fair enough, there was something dark and difficult about her. It was like she had lost her childhood innocence so many years ago and didn't give a second thought to trying to get it back. She wore an unappealing white tunic that somehow didn't do her justice, and covered it with a thick black coat to help her cope with the cold climate. Her long black hair was tied in a ponytail, yet it was still tangled this way and that. When Oren had seen Eragon, he thought for sure that, based on his appearance, elves could command some sort of magic to make their physical appearance clean and picturesque. If it were true, he had to wonder why Arya had stopped using it on herself. She nodded to Blade, who immediately grunted and flew off.

Although in the presence of yet another distinguished hero who was just as great as Eragon, Oren felt strangely different about himself now than he did earlier. His shyness had subsided, his confidence was surprisingly strong and effective. He wondered if it had come from his new bond as a Rider. When he opened his mouth to speak to her, he said exactly what he wanted to say.

"Arya," Oren said calmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm sorry that I don't know what other names to properly address you by..."

"That is fine, Oren," Arya said. "Come with me. Everybody wants to see you. We'll have plenty of time to talk later."

"Is Blade always like that?" Oren asked, still feeling some pangs of shame from his accusations.

"Blade has his pride," she said simply.

She led him around the town and into the forest beyond. The forest was much less menacing drenched in the sunlight than it had seen the night Oren rode into Qin. The terrain of the forest was jagged and hilly, and the path which he traveled with Arya was a straining one.

"Why so far in?" he wondered.

"We have to keep the news hidden for now," Arya explained. "You must tell nobody of the dragon except those you trust the most. That will change someday, but please believe me when I tell you that you're not ready to become famous just yet."

"I believe you," Oren said. "What did you tell the people when you only had two eggs to offer instead of three?"

"That was a problem," she replied. "We thought about it, but when the time came, we decided to tell them the truth. We said that a Rider had been chosen already, but we wouldn't tell them when or where."

"How is the baby doing?" he asked eagerly.

"See for yourself," Arya said. "We're here."

At last, Arya shoved aside a nearly solid wall of shrubs to reveal a clearing. In the center of the clearing stood Saphira, Glaedr, and Eragon with the hatchling in his arms.

"They've been waiting for you ever since Blade called me," Arya said. "They're all eager to see you, especially the little one."

A cheer arose as Oren stepped out of the woods and approached them. Glaedr rushed up to his son and hugged him tightly before he could say a word. Oren enthusiastically returned the embrace.

"Welcome back, my boy!" he shouted proudly. "You had me so afraid! I'm so happy for you."

"You had us all afraid," Eragon said. "I was worried the infusion had killed you, even though I've never heard of such a thing. But you kept breathing, and the hatchling stayed healthy, so we figured it would just be a matter of time. Do you feel alright?"

"I'm a bit dizzy," Oren said, "but I'm fine, I think."

Knowing that he was very eager to see his dragon, Glaedr let go of his son very quickly. The little black-scaled child had grown much in the course of just three days, now having as much mass as a small dog. It squealed in glee when it saw Oren approaching and struggled to escape Eragon's arms. Not wanting the child to take Oren off guard for a second time, he kept it well-contained and uttered some calming words to settle it down.

The little one missed you, Saphira said gently. He barely slept. He stayed up at night just trying to call out to you. We couldn't do anything to comfort him. He even kept me awake.

Eragon stretched out his arms to offer the little dragon to its rightful owner. Oren took the squirming little beast into his hands as best as he could.

Oren's heart seemed to melt as he looked at his little friend. It did like him. He knew it because he could feel its thoughts with his mind. He realized that his consciousness was now free to wander outside of the confines of his own self, a feeling which Eragon had described in his book but Oren was unable to imagine for himself. He felt the dragon's tendril of thoughts attack him, wrapping itself around his mind tightly and plunging the end into him as far as it could go. It felt a little discomforting, like having someone's thumb constantly pressed up against the back of his head, but he grew used to it soon enough. The dragon made some purring noises as it lifted its head to Oren's face and tried to touch his nose with its own, its blood-red eyes gleaming with affection. Oren ran a hand over its back as if to pet it, but stopped once he felt the scales tearing at the rough skin of his hands.

"Does he have a name?" Oren asked, not taking his eyes off the dragon.

We have not named him, Saphira said. You will be the one to do that.

"But not yet," Eragon explained. "You should wait until he grows a bit and he can understand you better. He has to be able to tell you if he agrees with the name you choose."

We do not choose our own names, Saphira said, but they are very important to us. Take great care to choose a name that he likes.

The hatchling wiggled out of Oren's grasp and crawled up his chest, poking his skin with claws that were quite sharp. It climbed up onto his shoulder and looked content to stay there, leaning against his head and curling its lengthy tail around the back of his neck to rest on his other shoulder. It gave an excited cry as if it considered itself Oren's rider and it was ordering him to get moving. Oren was amused at the thought.

"What now?" Oren wondered out loud. "I'm a Rider now. My dragon is only three days old. What should I do? How can I take care of him?"

Talk to him, Saphira said. Talk to him constantly. Tell him everything you know and everything that even comes to your mind. Even though he is so young, he will understand every word you say as long as you supplement them with your thoughts. Our inherent instincts allow us to learn about the world very quickly.

"A gift that you will one day share with him," Eragon added. "Everything he has will be yours to share, even the wisdom which came from his ancestors. Because of Saphira, my training passed very quickly and I became a formidable swordfighter in less than a year. I was able to pick up new skills in months where it would have taken somebody else decades."

I've been trying to pour as many thoughts into him as I can, Saphira said. But it is your voice which he needs to hear now, not mine. He will not learn your spoken language unless you speak it to him.

He turned his attention to the dragon's mental link, which still had his mind held in a brutally tight deadlock. What do you think of all this? Oren asked it, wondering how it would respond. The dragon answered him, but with some obscure feelings which he didn't quite know how to interpret.

"What are our plans?" he asked as he reached a hand up to stroke his dragon's leathery wings.

"We'll take things as they come," Arya said. "Neither I nor Eragon have ever needed to train a young Rider such as yourself. It will be a learning experience for us as much as for you. For now, though, I think we should stay near this village for a few more days until the little one has grown enough to stand on his own. After that, we can return to your hometown and decide how to continue from there."

"You heard him," Oren jokingly told the dragon, "hurry up and grow so we can go home!"

But the dragon didn't answer him this time. Even the tendril of thought had weakened its hold on his mind, transmitting only a simple feeling of satisfaction. Oren glanced up and saw that the dragon had fallen asleep right there on his shoulder like a contented familiar. He was touched at the sight.

Finally! Saphira said with a smile.

"So, how does it feel?!" Glaedr eagerly demanded of Oren.

Although the village of Qin was just a habitat and not at all built for visitors, it still had a social tavern of sorts which provided food and drink to whoever would come. It was late that evening as Oren and Glaedr sat at a table under its roof. Even in the prime hours of the evening, the place could barely even classify as active with only twenty or so people within – but it was still noisy enough to mask their conversation.

"Are you happy?" Glader asked.

"I don't know what to think quite yet," his son admitted. "I've been thinking about it a lot, and as far as I know, my whole desire for a dragon could have just been a curse to make me chase after one. Saphira and Blade have been saying the same things to me, that the life of a Rider is not a pleasant path at all. The gods only know I'm not ready for any of this, though there are times I think I am. Just the fact that I'm so full of glee over my hatchling goes to show how naïve I am."

Glaedr felt far too guilty for getting himself captured and missing the hatching, only wishing he could somehow make it up to his son. He knew his words of encouragement could hardly do that, but it was all he had to offer him at the time.

"Stop looking at it like that," insisted Glaedr. "Arya told me that Blade was trying to talk circles around you. Don't mind him when he ridicules you. Your little flaws hardly matter in the great scheme of things. As far as I'm concerned, the little thing chose you, and that means you were meant to be with him. End of the story."

"But it's not the end, is it?" Oren said with a far-away look in his eyes. "It's only the beginning."

Oren raised his hand from the table and slowly turned the palm upwards, letting his father get a good look at the silvery marking but trying to hide it from other prying eyes. Glaedr lifted the hand up and inspected it for a few moments.

"This is for real, isn't it?" he uttered. "I'm still finding it hard to believe. How are we going to raise a dragon back at home? Where will it live? Should I build a separate house for it? How big is it going to get? What does it eat? How much will it cost to keep it healthy?"

"I don't think we have much to worry about," Oren said, retracting his hand. "Eragon's book says that dragons are resourceful enough on their own. We could probably leave it in the mountains and it would grow and thrive there just fine."

"I'd like to be able to show it a little more affection than just that," Glaedr said. "I'll tell you what: we should let it sleep in our house until it gets too big. Then, we tell everybody about it. Everybody in Rassan-Kaya. We have them swear secrecy so that our town doesn't get flooded with idiots overnight. We threaten that they'll get eaten if they disobey! Then the dragon can stay anywhere he likes around town."

"I like it," Oren said. "But let's do as Eragon and Arya say and take it one day at a time. All three of us can decide on something when the time comes."

Oren suddenly stopped talking, finding himself overcome with a small bout of paranoia. He glanced around room and thought noticed that a lot of people were staring at him… although something told him that it was just his mind.

"We should go," Oren said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "We might have been talking too loud."

"Fine, then," Glaedr said, putting down his cup.

As they walked back up the blackened roads of Qin, it reminded Oren of his first night there and how dead it was. He couldn't help but glance around and marvel at the dark houses and empty streets. Where was everybody? Did they sleep their days away? Were they all shy? He saw about three people walking quietly walking through the streets as he traversed them, but as they got closer to the southern edge of town, all Oren could see in the way of company was a cat sitting on a nearby barrel, watching them with glittering eyes.

"Rassan-Kaya is smaller than Qin by area," Oren noted, "but it's bustling with activity compared to this place..."

He tried to complete his thought, but couldn't. A strange thought began to distract him.

"You're right," Glaedr said. "But remember, this little place isn't as fortunate as we are. The men are probably all out on a hunting trip to prepare for winter."

Oren tried to reply, but something was bothering him. He couldn't quite tell what it was.

"Is something wrong?" Glaedr asked, noticing his annoyed expression.

As if by some strange instinct, Oren knew exactly what was wrong. He turned to look at the cat that had watched them pass by. Upon closer inspection, he found that it wasn't a cat at all. It was his dragon.

"You!" cried Oren in astonishment.

The dragon sat proudly upon the barrel like some dark sentinel, its eyes gleaming red from the reflections of the lanterns farther back in the village. It gave a little growl as if to say, "Here I am!"

"What do you think you're doing following me?!" Oren demanded as it picked up the little devil. "How did you ever escape from Saphira?!"

The dragon replied by touching Oren's mind with a thirsty feeling. It wasn't a thirst for water, but for knowledge and understanding. It told him in thoughts and feelings that the world felt like a such a big place to him, something which he couldn't yet hope to comprehend, and that he wanted badly for Oren to guide him through it and be with him. He noticed that its thoughts were completely devoid of remorse or even comprehension that it had gone somewhere it shouldn't; it felt proud of itself for being faithful and thought it was earning Oren's respect for its action.

"You have to stay secret!" Oren scolded, backing up his words with displeased thoughts. "Please, stay with your mother and the Riders. Please! We can't have you being seen! Not now!"

The dragon started to express regret and remorse, although it clearly didn't know what it had done wrong. Its thirst for understanding grew even greater.

"Maybe you shouldn't be so afraid for it," Glaedr suggested. "The little thing is black, it must be good enough at sneaking around. Just look how good it is at hiding in plain view!"

"Maybe," Oren said, cradling the dragon. He's right. You may make a fine shadow-prowler someday, but I need to obey Saphira and start spending time with you. I promise that I'll spend all day tomorrow with you.

The next day, when Oren questioned Saphira about the little one's escape, her only reply was "Oops." He decided to forget about the whole issue.

As promised, Oren spent the next day conversing with the dragon, as well as the following few days after that. He took walks with it in the forest and described everything he knew about everything he saw, from the way the birds lived in trees to the way you'd find swarms of bugs underneath dead logs to the kinds of rocks laying on the forest floor which contained metals that could be used to reinforce certain things his father made. When he couldn't think of anything else to describe to it, he told it his life's story as best as he could remember. He told it recollections of his childhood, his beloved father and uncle and how they raised him, his long and tedious devotion to becoming a master smith, his fascination with Eragon's legend, and his desire to be a Rider. He felt the dragon's mind grow rich with insight and confidence each day, and he marveled at the fact that the hatchling was actually drinking in all of his babbling and learning from it.

Sometimes Eragon would quietly watch him from afar, and it would bring back certain long-forgotten images of the days he spent in The Spine with Saphira. He would share these memories with her, remembering the fading days of his childhood innocence when he would empty his anger about Roran into her understanding mind or find comfort in simply watching her fly around. It was the first bonding of a beautiful and powerful friendship, one that was being created anew right before their very eyes.

How far we've come, little one, Saphira whispered to Eragon one day when they were watching Oren play with the dragon by the bank of a lake. I have my own memories of those days. They're dim, but I treasure them dearly. I am what I am today because of how you cared for me then. And look. Just look at my son! Isn't he magnificent? He's growing so fast. He's well on his way to maturity, thanks to Oren. Look at how quickly their bond is forming. I couldn't have wanted a better Rider for him.

"I look at him, and I have to wonder if he really knows what's going to happen to him," Eragon said. "He likes having a dragon, he's prepared himself for this bond, but does he really have a concept of how far it will go? What it will become?"

He can't, Saphira said very solemnly. It's much too early for that. Just let him enjoy the simplicity of life for a bit longer before everything he knows is pulled out from under his feet.

Oren sat close to the edge of the water as the dragon danced around and over his legs, sometimes listening intently to his banter, other times sniffing and playing with various things that held its interest. He was just finishing up an interesting dissertation on a girl he once wanted to marry when the dragon interrupted him with some curious thoughts about the pond which lay before them. It asked a very silly question, one that roughly amounted to "how is someone expected to drink all of that?"

"It's a home," Oren explained. "Creatures live down there. Just like you and I breathe the air, there are some creatures that breathe the water instead. They're hidden down there. They're called fish. They spend their entire life swimming around in circles and eating smaller fish to stay alive. We eat them too, since there are so many of them and they're so easy to catch. I don't like fish, though. You can go in the water if you want, but you need to take a breath of air first since you can't breathe water like the fish can. You have to come back out when you need more air. Believe me, you'll know when you need more air."

Some very odd images arose from the dragon's mind as it wondered what it would be like to enter the water. He wondered whether he would sink to the bottom and be trapped forever, just like the pebbles and things that would fall into the water pits which he drank from.

"No, you'll float," Oren said. "Your body is full of air, and air wants to be with air. So if you keep your body still, you'll rise back up to the top. It's not hard at all, actually. Just follow your instincts. I would think that it would feel a lot like flying. Of course, you still need to try flying someday."

The dragon stepped up to the shore. Eager to experience the water for itself, it dipped its front claw just an inch below the surface. It retreated almost immediately, a vibration of shock echoing into Oren's mind. It was cold!

"Hah," Oren laughed. "That's a problem. We usually don't go swimming until the warmest days of summer because it's too cold this time of year. You could freeze to death!"

Suddenly, a feeling of determination pulsed from the dragon's mind, and it dove headfirst into the water. Oren sprang up at once and rushed to the shore's edge, quickly contemplating whether or not to jump in after it. However, the dragon sent back a confirmation that it was fine, that it figured out how to swim, and that it was really fun. It gave him some images of trying to catch the slippery little fish which were continually evading its grasp.

Then, before Oren even knew what was happening, he was slammed backward into the ground by a wall of freezing cold water, as if the entire lake had been emptied straight onto his face. The horrible crashing noise only came to his ears after the fact.

Saphira had plunged down from the sky and into the water after her son.

He could barely move, his skin erupting into horrible shivers and his muscles cramping from the sheer impact of the blast. His hand slipped across the now-soaked dirt as he tried to push himself back up. He could feel the little dragon's terror as it was suddenly thrown out of control and lost its breath of air, not understanding what it had done wrong and knowing that Oren was too far away to help it. Saphira snatched him up soon enough and came out of the water with him. It could do nothing but gag up scream after scream of agony as Saphira placed it back on dry land.

Sorry, she said curtly when she saw she did to him. Some humans are afraid to swim. I didn't want to take a chance.

"It's… okay…" Oren croaked as the hatchling scrambled onto him and buried its shivering head into his neck, still screaming like a traumatized baby. "You're being a good mother."

Thank you, she said as she shook her enormous body and sprayed drops of water in all directions.

Saphira kindly lowered her head over Oran and took a very deep breath. She exhaled a long stream of scalding hot air onto him, causing the moisture on surface of his skin and clothing to sizzle. His body gave a great shudder of pleasure as the cold water all evaporated, leaving him almost as dry as if nothing ever happened. The warmth brought a level of comfort to the child as well, but it still couldn't stop crying.

You also need to learn how to be a good mother, Saphira said. No more swimming for him until he grows much more.

"If he ever decides to swim again after this," Oren said coldly.

He put his hand to the dragon's head and rubbed it softly, trying to comfort it as squeals of anxiety still roared from its little mouth and terrified thoughts still surged through its mind. The shock of being completely helpless under the water just wouldn't seem to go away.

"It's all over with," he said to the distressed little thing. "It's all in the past. You're safe now. Everything's okay."

The dragon started to calm down after a bit, but its terror slowly faded into a different emotion. It was shame. It felt that it had betrayed Oren and was worth nothing to him, and it pleaded desperately for forgiveness and acceptance. It felt fear that Oren would disown it never want to see it again.

"Stop it," Oren said sternly. "I don't feel like that. I never will! I'm your Rider! You'll always belong to me."

The dragon kept yanking on Oren's heart strings, almost enough to make him cry as well. Oren looked up at Saphira.

"Being a mother isn't going to be easy, is it?" he said weakly.

I suppose it will be as difficult as we make it, she replied.