Shadow's Heir

by Opifex the Singer

Sequel to Shade Dreams.

4. Skandar

Chapter Four

Skandar

Sif only slept for an hour or so after that, in spite of her tiredness. She had forgotten to close the curtains, and the sunlight streaming in woke her up.

She sat up, wincing as it hit her eyes. She felt tired and woozy, and her head ached. Saphira was still asleep, which made Sif's bad mood worse. She got up and dressed, muttering to herself, and wandered blearily out into the castle. The servants were quick to show her to the dining hall, where she was served a large breakfast. That helped to cheer her up.

She had finished eating and was sipping at a mug of herbal tea when a servant came hurrying in. 'My Lady!'

Sif peered at her. 'Yes, what?'

The servant stopped awkwardly, wringing her hands. 'I'm very sorry to bother you, my Lady, but…'

'But what?'

'There is someone… in the Library,' said the servant. 'I didn't know what to do… I thought he was a thief, but he told me to go and tell you to come to him, my Lady. He said you had already met.'

Sif swallowed the last of her tea. Lord Theremin, probably, wanting to get down to business. 'All right. Show me the way, please.'

'At once, my Lady.'

The library turned out to be toward the centre of the castle, behind a large pair of double doors. Several other servants were loitering anxiously in the corridor outside it.

Sif gave them an irritated look. 'What are you all doing here?'

'Sorry, my Lady,' said one. 'I just… I'll be off.'

They left, but with some evident reluctance. The one who had come with Sif opened the doors to the library, saying; 'I'll just… I'll wait just outside in case you need me, my Lady.'

Sif nodded, not really listening, and stepped into the library. It was a big, round room that occupied one of the castle's other towers, and because of the lack of windows it was quite dark. Shelves lined the walls, and there were tables set up for readers and scribes to use, but these were unoccupied. But there was also a fireplace set into one wall, with a large fire burning inside it, and the light was casting a moving shadow onto the floor.

Sif coughed politely as she moved between the tables toward it, and the shadow stopped moving. There was someone crouched on the floor in front of the fireplace, and…

Sif froze.

Sitting hunched on the rug with his back toward her was a man, naked from the waist up. There was a tunic hanging over the back of a nearby chair, and his bare back, damp and grubby but graceful with muscle, was marred by dozens of deep, raw scars, as if he had been flogged. Higher up, his narrow shoulders were half-covered by a mane of thick, curly hair that was an extraordinary silver-grey colour.

Sif found her voice. 'Who are you?'

The man paused in the act of lacing up his boots. She heard him breathe in through his nostrils, as if he were scenting the air. 'Are you the Lady Sif?'

'Yes. But who are-,' Sif stopped abruptly and took a step backward.

The man's ears, poking through his hair, were pointed.

'Oh my gods,' Sif half-whispered. 'You're an-,'

The man got up and turned to face her, and Sif felt as if an icy sword had stabbed her in the heart. Raw horror flooded into her mind and she stumbled backward.

The man watched her silently. He was tall and slender, lean but well-muscled, his chest scarred. There was a tattoo on one shoulder, and he had long, thin fingers. His face was pale and thin, and angular, but handsome in a cold kind of way, dominated by a pair of glittering black eyes, and though his hair was silver his eyebrows and the short, pointed beard perched on his chin were black.

Sif's hand went to her waist, but she had left her dagger in her room. She pointed at him. 'You! What are you doing here?' She could hear her own voice in her ears, and it sounded high and strained.

The man took a few steps toward her. 'Please, calm down! I'm a friend!' The voice was deep and dark, with a sharp, slightly nasal accent that she did not recognise.

Sif banged into a table and grabbed hold of his for support. 'How did you get back here?'

The man raised his hands. 'My Lady, I'm not going to attack you. I just…' he paused, and winced, clutching at his side. 'I'm sorry if I scared you. I just needed to get somewhere warm.'

Sif hesitated. There was something not quite right here. The man looked like someone she had known, but…

No. She felt herself relax slightly. It wasn't him. He was much too young; only about her age, she thought.

'Who are you?' she said again.

'My name is Skandar,' said the man, bowing his head to her.

'I'm sorry,' said Sif. 'I… I thought you were someone else.'

His expression flickered briefly. 'Well, I'm honoured to meet you again, Lady Sif.'

Sif stared at him. 'Who are you? How did you get in here? And what do you want with me?'

'I…' he started to speak and then stopped and began to cough; harsh, painful-sounding coughs. 'I need to sit…' he half-turned away from her, making a grab for the chair that had his tunic slung over it. But his fingers slipped and he staggered sideways and crumpled to the floor, landing hard on his back. He made a couple of attempts to get up but then slumped, groaning softly.

Sif forgot her fear and hurried toward him. 'Are you all right?'

Skandar rolled onto his side. 'My back… hurts… please, I need help, my Lady…'

Sif shouted for the servant.

She came at once. 'Yes, my Lady?'

'Go and get some people to help you,' Sif snapped. 'We have to take this man to the infirmary immediately.'

'At once, my Lady.'

The servant dashed off, and Sif crouched by Skandar's side and gently turned him onto his back. His breathing was rapid and painful-sounding, his chest rising and falling with a quick, weak motion to match it, but he clasped her hand and looked up at her. 'I don't want… to bother you,' he said. 'I just…' he coughed again.

Sif touched his forehead; it was hot and damp. 'Don't worry, I've sent for help. Where does it hurt?'

'My back,' he gasped. 'You didn't… quite heal it all… the way, I think.'

'What do you mean?' said Sif. 'I didn't…'

He smiled a little at her. 'I'm sorry if I was… rude. I was in pain, frightened. It's different when… oh…' His eyes closed and he gave a little sigh and went limp.

A group of servants arrived with a stretcher, and Sif stood back while they rolled Skandar onto it and carried him away. She followed them out of the library and toward the infirmary, heart pounding.

'Sif? What's going on?'

Sif jerked slightly. 'Oh! Saphira.'

'I just woke up. What's going on? What are you so excited about?'

The servants had reached the door to the infirmary, and Sif hurried after them while they carried Skandar in. The room beyond was full of beds, and they laid his unconscious form down on it, covering him with a blanket while someone ran to fetch the healers.

Sif stood by the bed, looking down at him. He lay quite still, his upturned face pale, mouth opening slightly to breathe.

'Sif? What is it?'

Sif took a deep breath. 'Saphira, it's… there's a man. He got into the Library somehow, he says his name is Skandar and he's hurt… Saphira, he looks like Galbatorix.'

Saphira shared a feeling of bewilderment. 'What?'

'He looks exactly like him!' said Sif. 'The beard, the face, the eyes… but he's too young and his ears are pointed. I don't understand.'

'Pointed ears? He's an elf?'

'I don't know. He's unconscious, I can't ask him. I'm in the infirmary with him.'

'My Lady?'

Sif looked up. The healers had arrived. One was already examining Skandar, and the other was looking at her.

'My Lady, who is this?' he asked.

'I don't know, he just fainted in front of me,' said Sif. 'He said his back hurt and he kept coughing.'

The other healer had noticed his ears. 'Oh dear gods… he's an elf!'

'Yes, and I don't want him to die,' said Sif, pulling herself together. 'Find out what's wrong with him. If I can heal him, then tell me so. As for you-,' this was to the servants who had lingered in the room, '-You can go now. Go on, stop staring at him and get out!'

They took the hint, and Sif turned to the healers. 'I'm going to go and let you get on with it. Send someone to get me as soon as you can.'

'Yes, my Lady.'

As Sif turned to leave, Skandar stirred. 'Thankyou, my Lady,' he whispered.

Sif left the infirmary, her mind in a whirl. 'I don't understand. Saphira, how is this possible?'

'I don't know… How is he?'

'I think he'll be all right,' said Sif. 'The healers can look after him… I'll talk to him once he's better, ask some questions.'

'Show him to me,' said Saphira.

Sif sent her a mental image of Skandar's face, and instantly felt the blue dragon's shock.

'Oh my gods… you're right. Sif… did Galbatorix have any family apart from the Queen?'

'I don't think so…'

'You must ask him,' said Saphira. 'As soon as he wakes up.'

Sif hung around in the corridor outside the infirmary for a while, not wanting to leave until she had learned more about Skandar, but when no-one came out to fetch her she reluctantly decided that she should go and talk to Lord Theremin as they'd agreed the night before. It would be rude to keep him waiting.

She eventually located him in the solar, waiting for her with a slightly nervous air.

'There you are,' he said, relaxing and coming toward her. 'I was beginning to worry…'

'Apologies, my Lord,' said Sif. 'I hope you weren't kept waiting too long?'

'It was not a problem, my Lady,' he said, bowing. 'Only there was word of some kind of disturbance in the Library…?'

'Oh-,' Sif hesitated, and then decided it would be better not to tell him, at least until she had a better idea of the situation. 'It was nothing. Shall we get to work?'

'Of course, my Lady. Now I have brought these documents…'

Sif hid a gloomy sigh and sat down with him at a table, and he started to brief her on her new role and duties and on the workings of the city. She listened politely, doing her best to take it all in and asking questions, but all the while thoughts of Skandar lingered in the back of her mind. Was he all right? Who was he, and where had he come from? The memory of those black eyes flitted across her mind, and she shook herself and listened while Theremin described the workings of trader licensing, which took several minutes.

'…it's really not quite as complex as it sounds,' he finished. 'And in any case, my Lady, it's all written down here-,' indicating the papers on the table in front of him. '-and I'll be on hand if you need any help. Now, on to more pleasant things… I think I would be correct in thinking that we should hold some kind of celebration to mark your arrival? I would of course have begun organising something myself, but I was uncertain…'

Sif perked up. 'I want to hold a dance.'

'A dance, my Lady?'

Sif nodded. 'I want to hold it outdoors, near the lake, on a nice clear night. All the nobles would be invited, and maybe a few other people as well.'

Theremin appeared to be thinking it over. 'It would be difficult to organise…'

'Would there be anything wrong with it, though?' said Sif, a little anxiously.

After another pause, one which made her insides churn very slightly, Theremin finally shook his head. 'No, I don't think so, my Lady. It can be done. And since you want it, it shall be done.'

'Good!' said Sif, a little too loudly. 'I mean… see to it. I have a list of suggestions.'

Now it was Theremin's turn to listen, which he did, very politely, while Sif outlined the plans that Saphira and herself had made during the journey. She described the table settings, the music, the dances, and food and a dozen other details, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice, and Theremin had obviously noticed it because he smiled.

'Yes, that all sounds feasible,' he said during a rare break. 'And might I suggest-,'

They talked it over for a while, and Theremin wrote down the list of things they decided on. When he was done he said; 'I shall show this to the castle steward and see what can be arranged. Leave it to me, my Lady.'

'How long will it take?' said Sif.

Theremin scratched his ear. 'I'm not entirely certain at this stage, my Lady, but at a rough estimate I would say… a few days; three or maybe four. It all depends on the weather being suitable… it may be a good idea to wait for a full moon, and…'

'Four days!' Sif burst out, unable to stop herself.

'I'm sorry, my Lady,' said Theremin. 'But this will be a very important social event as well, and the guests will all want some time to have new outfits prepared and perhaps to invite friends from neighbouring cities and so on. A few days of waiting will give us all more time, and help to build… anticipation.'

Sif sighed. 'All right. I understand. See to it.'

'I shall, my Lady. In the meantime, perhaps we should arrange for someone to give you a tour of the castle, so that you may acquaint yourself with your new home.'

'I would like that,' said Sif. But knowing the talk was over sent a little jolt of urgency through her spine, and she got up, saying; 'There is something I must see to first. Send someone to the dining hall at midday; I should be there by then.'

'Yes, my Lady.'

Sif left the solar without another word, and hurried back toward the infirmary. At first she was fairly certain she knew which way to go, but she took a wrong turn and ended up lost somewhere in the living quarters, swearing under her breath. A handy chambermaid pointed her in the direction of the infirmary, and she took it, almost running in her eagerness to get there.

One of the healers came out to meet her shortly after she arrived, and she had to stop herself from grabbing him by the arm. 'Well? Well? How is he?'

The healer drew back slightly. 'He is fine, my Lady.'

Sif sighed loudly, half from impatience and half from relief. 'What was wrong with him?'

'He's undernourished and suffering from exhaustion, and there is a slight infection in his lungs,' said the healer. 'But he should be fine with a few days of rest.'

'What about those injuries on his back?' said Sif.

'They are not serious, my Lady. Most of them are almost completely healed already.'

Sif breathed deeply. 'Can I go in and see him?'

'Yes, my Lady. He is awake and quite clear-headed. He has been asking for you.'

Sif nodded and went into the infirmary at once. Skandar was there, sitting up in bed and awkwardly clutching a bowl of soup. There was a spoon lying next to him, but he didn't seem to be aware of it and was drinking the soup directly out of the bowl. But he lowered it quickly when he saw her. 'My Lady!'

Sif stood back a little, watching him. 'I… uh… how are you?'

'I feel much better now,' said Skandar, almost eagerly. His eyes were wide and earnest, like those of a child. 'Thankyou so much, Lady Sif.'

She shook her head. 'It wasn't a problem. So you feel stronger now?'

'Oh yes. Your… friends gave me this-,' indicating the bowl. 'I don't know what it is, but it tastes good.'

Sif stared at him. 'It's soup. Don't you know that?'

He peered at it and took another sip, smacking his lips. 'It tastes like… I don't know, I've never tasted anything like this. It's good. Does "soup" mean "good"?'

In spite of herself, Sif giggled. 'You've never had soup before?'

'No. Do all humans drink it?'

'Sometimes.' Sif paused. 'Skandar, are you an elf?'

Skandar shook his head. 'No. I've never seen an elf before.'

'Well then if you're not an elf, what are you?'

He gave her a slightly anxious look. 'I'm sorry, I don't want to scare you or anything… don't you recognise me?'

Sif felt a tightening in her chest. 'Should I?'

'We met before,' said Skandar. 'By the lake. You and your dragon were very helpful to me.'

She froze. 'What?'

'Look at my eyes,' Skandar said gently.

She did, and her bewilderment increased. 'But… but that's not…'

'It's all right,' said Skandar. 'I'm a weredragon, my Lady.'

Sif gaped at him. 'What? A what? A weredragon?'

He was watching her, still wide-eyed and anxious-looking. 'A weredragon. You know what that is, don't you, my Lady? I can change my shape. I can be a dragon or… this. Like a werecat.'

Sif managed to calm down a little. 'I know what a weredragon is. I mean… I've heard stories. But you're supposed to be all gone!'

'Not quite all gone,' said Skandar. 'As far as I know, I'm the only one left. I…'

'What?' said Sif.

Skandar shook his head. 'I'm sorry, it's just that… I can't believe I'm talking to a rider. A real rider! Just like my parents told me about!' his voice was a child's voice, high and excited.

Sif grinned despite herself. 'You're excited about meeting me?'

'Oh yes. I've always wanted to meet a rider,' said Skandar. 'Can I…' he broke off, blinking shyly.

Sif came closer. 'What is it?'

'Well… I don't want to… could I see your hand?'

Sif held it out for him to inspect. He put down the bowl of soup and looked at the palm, examining the silver oval. He made a move as if to touch it, but withdrew and sniffed at it, like a dog or a dragon. 'A gedwëy ignaesia…' he breathed.

'You can touch it if you want,' said Sif.

He did, brushing it with his fingertips, but although he did so lightly and carefully Sif winced.

Skandar hastily withdrew. 'I'm sorry. I have to blunt my claws…'

Sif stared at his hands. 'Can I see?'

'Of course, my Lady.'

She took hold of his right hand, turning it over in her own. The fingers were long and delicate and perfectly human-looking… but he had claws. They were black, curved and quite sharp, hollow on the underside but very strong. Sif touched them. 'My gods…'

He grinned shyly, revealing sharp white teeth with elongated canines. 'It's very annoying, actually. I have to file them down all the time so I don't hurt people.'

Sif let go of his hand, suddenly embarrassed. 'Where did you come from?'

Skandar coughed. 'I grew up in Du Weldenvarden… a long way from where the elves used to live. My parents died when I was ten, and mostly I raised myself. I knew there were humans living to the South, and I wanted to come and see them, but I got attacked by a dragon and my wing was damaged, so I lost control and fell into the lake.'

'You mean you've never been in a city before?' said Sif, amazed.

'Never.' He was giving her a look that mingled diffidence with intense curiosity. 'I can't believe it, how you all live here in the same territory, so close together. And so many of you! Don't you fight each other?'

Sif nodded. 'All the time. How did you get into the castle, though?'

'I flew, landed on the…' he waved his hands, frowning, 'The… thing… like a cliff. Your dragon was there, sleeping. I changed back into this shape and came down through the wooden thing-,'

'-Trapdoor,' said Sif.

'Yes, the trap… thing. I followed your scent for a while but I lost it again so I wandered into that other place, with the fire in it and those sort of gaps in the walls, you know, with the… sort of things like flat pieces of wood-,'

'-Books.'

'-So I sat down there by the fire to rest and dry my clothes and someone found me so I asked them to go and find you.'

'Why didn't you change back before?' said Sif. 'When we were by the lake?'

He shook his head. 'I was exhausted, and I wasn't certain if you were a friend. I thought you might panic and attack me. I'm sorry if it was rude of me to come into your territory without permission… I wanted to find you to ask, but I was so tired…'

'It's all right,' said Sif. 'Please, get some rest. Finish your soup before it gets cold. You're my guest; I'll make sure you're looked after.'

Skandar smiled that shy smile again, not quite meeting her eyes as he obediently picked up the bowl again.

Sif watched him as he finished it off. 'So,' she said when he was done. 'You said you wanted to meet the King.'

Skandar nodded and dabbed his mouth clean. 'I know about him from talking to the dragons. They say he's a dragon. The oldest dragon in the world, with scales as black as night. Ravana, the Night Dragon… with black fire and magic more powerful than any other in the world.' He said this in a tone of deep reverence. 'The leaders of every race had to go to him and take an oath of allegiance. And I thought that… well I'm the only weredragon left, so I suppose that makes me the leader.'

Sif, watching him, felt a deep sadness in her chest. 'So you decided you would go to him and take the oath.'

'Yes, my Lady,' said Skandar. 'But… I don't know the way, or how far it is. I need someone to help me.'

'I can help you,' said Sif. 'If you need a map I can give you one, and anything else you need… but you should rest first.'

Skandar lay back, smiling. 'Thankyou, my Lady.'

Sif smiled back. 'You can call me Sif.' She glanced toward the door. 'I have to go now; I have things to do. If you're strong enough to be up later on, we can have lunch together.'

'I could get up now,' Skandar offered.

'No, you get some sleep,' said Sif. 'I'll see you later. All right?'

She left the infirmary, filled with excitement. 'Saphira, he's a weredragon! Not an elf, a weredragon!'

'But why does he look like Galbatorix?' said Saphira.

'I don't know, it's probably just a coincidence. Everyone knows he didn't have any family. Anyway, he wasn't a weredragon; he was a dark elvish half-breed.'

'You're sure?'

'Skandar told me his parents were weredragons, and I believe him,' said Sif, surprised by her own fierce tone. She kept thinking of Skandar's bright eyes, and the idea that he could be any relation to the man she hated most in the world made her feel almost angry.

'All right, calm down, there's no need to be like that about it. It's just… strange.'

'Well, he was part elvish,' said Sif. 'Everyone said that's why he looked like that. Maybe… maybe all elves look like that. How should I know? I've never seen one. Anyway, I'm going to have lunch with him and he can tell me more about himself. He wants me to help him get to Ilirea so he can talk to the King… swear allegiance to him on behalf of his race.'

'So you'll give him a map?'

'Yes… well, I don't know if he'll know how to use it. He's never even seen a city before. He probably can't even read.'

'I want to meet him,' said Saphira. 'See if I can get the measure of him.'

'You already did meet him,' said Sif. 'He was the dragon we met by the lake.'

'Him!' Saphira exclaimed. 'Are you sure?'

'He said he was. He's got scars all over his back. You can tell it's him from the eyes.'

'My gods, I thought there was something odd about that dragon.'

Suddenly, inexplicably, Sif felt happy. 'I like him.'

Saphira grinned mentally. 'So much for Gil'ead being boring, eh?'