Uh oh, italics! You know what that means, right? Can you say 'the dragon needs therapy'? Good…memorize that.
This story has no 'quest', despite any events that might say otherwise. I just like doing things that make the drama deeper…
Saphira watched from what seemed to be far away, the sight of a field under a blank cloudy sky before her. She gasped in horror when the field suddenly leapt up with fire, the sky turning red as blood. She heard a howl of anguish, a cry of rage and pain, something that she recognized…Eragon. Her rider stood in ragged clothes in the middle of the burning filed, the silver sword alight with blue fire. He raised the blade and yelled at the top of his lungs.
Dark shapes, like wisps of black mist or walking shadows, converged on Eragon, grasping at him with long fingers. Eragon swung his blade, cutting the figures down as easily as Saphira would slice blades of grass with her claws. Though Eragon destroyed dozens, hundreds more came to replace them. Saphira tried to move to his aid, but was held back by an unseen force. Eragon seemed small and weak before the shroud of darkness. Unbidden, the bit of nonsense that Eragon had recited during the battle with Murtagh came to mind…
Under a cold and empty winter sky
Stood a wee, small man with a silver sword.
He jumped and stabbed in a fevered frenzy,
Fighting the shadows massed before him…
There stood Eragon, small amidst an army, wielding a bright sword of silver, fighting valiantly against the shadows…and Saphira could only watch as the army drew around him in a tighter circle. She lost sight of Eragon, hearing his cries of pain. Though he fell, the silver blade continued fighting without him, but it too was crushed by the shadows. Saphira cried out to her rider, but there was nothing she could do…
Eragon! Eragon, no! Saphira screamed as the world went dark, consumed by the dark figures, which were laughing at her helplessness.
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Saphira gasped, sitting up and looking around in the moonlight. She sighed, shaking her head; it was only a dream…or was it? The question loomed in her mind; what if she too was seeing the future, as Eragon had? Saphira shook her head to clear the thought from her mind. No…there was no way a dragon could see the future. Besides, there were no creatures like those in the dream. She had just had too much stress lately, and it was getting to her.
Eragon slept between her forelegs, his hand against her scales. Saphira smiled at him, wondering what he was dreaming about, if he was at all. Saphira yawned and laid back down, closing her eyes to sleep…
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Saphira walked among the ashes of the field, but though she searched she could find no sign of her fallen rider. She saw a glint of light, and her eyes widened as she approached it, her claws cracking on the blackened remains of the once living earth. The silver sword was sticking point down in the ground, surrounded by ashes that swirled in a cold breeze. As the ashes blew away, Saphira saw that they covered something…
Before her was a bright stone, a sapphire blue that shone in the cold light of the winter sky. A dragon egg, there was no doubt. Saphira reached out to pick it up, but her claws went right through it…but touched the blade. The egg wasn't solid but the sword was. It hummed softly, turning green. Vines curled around the hilt, and the pommel turned to a white rose.
The egg quivered, cracking into pieces. Saphira watched as the head of the dragon emerged…
"Saphira!"
Saphira bolted awake, looking around in fear. Eragon rubbed her neck, trying to calm her.
"Saphira, what is it?"
Eragon…nothing…just a dream. Saphira closed her mind. …I think…
Sorry for the short chapter, but this is what I get for skipping lunch to write a chap…oh well, review and tell me what you think about this symbolic chapter!