Author's Note: Holy CRAP this chapter was hard. I probably redid this thing four or five times before I was satisfied with it. School started too *suppresses a sob*, as well as the full force of soccer season (football for you non-Americans) so the combination of all these things definitely didn't help in the making of it…Ah well. Hope you enjoy the chappie folks!
Eragon looked down upon the ground below him and Saphira, watching the world pass by.
Murtagh and Thorn were soaring along beside them, looking happier than they Eragon had ever seen them. Angela and Solembum were with them too, for they insisted not to ride with him and Saphira in order to give them some privacy on their first flight together after what happened. Eragon was grateful for that. He didn't think he could keep up the appearance of being happy for too long.
As soon as they all began the long journey back to the Varden, it was as if a switch went off in Eragon's brain. His joy at his rescue, and his reunion with his friends faded away, only to be replaced with gloom.
He didn't understand why. He should be happy right now, shouldn't he? He's safe now; they have Murtagh and Thorn on their side, as well as the last dragon egg. But the cold feeling still creeped into Eragon's heart nonetheless.
His time with Sarissa weighed heavily upon his mind. It seemed that whenever he closed his eyes memories of his torture would flash within it…of Sarissa, a manic grin upon her face…the gut wrenching agony…the helplessness. Eragon shuddered and closed that part of his mind off from Saphira, not wanting to worry her.
Little one? Saphira asked, noticing how he was blocking her. She twisted her head around to face him. Are you okay?
Are you okay? Are you okay? The words repeated in Eragon's mind over and over again, and he was taken back to a different time, a different place.
-oOo-
"Are you okay Shadeslayer?" Sarissa simpered, eyeing him with false concern.
Eragon sat doubled over in the center of the room, clutching his stomach. The stab wound gushed blood all over the floor, painting it bright crimson.
"Do you want me to fix that for you, honey?"
Eragon snapped his head up and clenched his teeth.
"No! Don't touch m-" He growled, but too late. Sarissa kicked him viciously in the gut and he gasped, collapsing further onto his stomach. A groan slipped past his lips as the fall jolted his numerous broken bones.
Sarissa's laughter rebounded within his ears, and then suddenly an agonizing burning sensation erupted all over his back, further adding to the pain of the whip wounds that were already there.
A scream ripped from his throat and tears flowed freely down his face. Desperately twisting away from the pain, he looked up at his torturer to see what was happening to him.
Sarissa stood above him holding a flask of some sort of liquid. Seithr oil. Dread coiled in the boy's stomach and he frantically scrambled backwards, but to no avail. His limbs would not obey his will, their bones hopelessly destroyed.
The witch took another step towards him and tilted the flask towards him, smiling. The liquid flooded out of the opening and onto his stomach.
The last thing he remembered before sweet unconsciousness consumed him was the delighted look on Sarissa's face when his howls of agony resumed.
-oOo-
Eragon? His dragon asked again, worry evident in her eyes.
The young rider blinked and looked at Saphira, his face very pale.
I-I am fine. He said, letting out a shaky breath. I'm fine. Just focus on flying.
Saphira looked skeptical, and snorted a small puff of smoke.
You know you can talk to me, Eragon.
I know, Saph. He said, hoping the rare usage of his special nickname for her would convince her he was okay. But, really, I am alright. I just need some time to think.
She looked at him long and hard, her vibrant sapphire eyes searching his face.
She huffed, and seemed to give up. Fine. Speak to me when you are ready.
The blue dragoness gave him some space, withdrawing her consciousness a bit from his. Eragon felt a tinge of hurt coming from her mind before she could hide it, and guilt flowed through him.
He suppressed a sigh and bowed his head over the neck spike in front of him. What was wrong with him? Closing his eyes, he attempted to calm himself, to get rid of this irrational depression that was latching itself onto his heart. He slid into a meditative state and one by one locked away the troubling thoughts that had been plaguing him. He didn't allow himself to feel the sadness, the hopelessness. He didn't allow himself to feel anything.
The days passed like that, of him protecting himself from his dark thoughts and emotions. He knew everyone worried about him. He knew they saw the emotionless and cold man he was becoming, that did not smile or laugh, or even cry. His face was blank, his voice inflectionless, and his eyes dead. He rarely spoke, and if he did, it was only because he had to. The only one who was privy to his true feelings was Saphira. She stayed with him always, her mind a constant companion to his own. She was very aware of what he was going through, and knew there was nothing she could say that would be enough to bring him out of the slump he was in. Every moment the boy was awake, she was there, silently comforting him and trying to gently take down the emotion blocks he had put up. Her rider was broken, and it cut her to the core.
Three days into the journey, Eragon and Saphira were gliding high above the world, taking it slow so the elves on the ground could keep up with them. Eragon was staring off into space, lost in thought when suddenly, a mind touched his.
Despite himself, Eragon flinched and instinctively stabbed harshly into the intruder's mental barriers, sending them away from him. Memories of Sarissa attacking his consciousness and usually gaining access to it because of his severely weakened state arose within his brain, causing his heart to stutter. She had loved to harass his mind, loved having complete control over him and witnessing his innermost thoughts.
The mind flinched back from his attack, but hesitantly came back after a moment. It gently brushed up against his barriers and Eragon recognized it to be Arya. Slightly embarrassed, he granted her access.
I apologize, Arya Svitkona. I did not know it to be you. He expected her to be angry, for he had no reason to do that. To his surprise, her consciousness was soft against his own, as if she was afraid to startle him once again.
Of course it is fine, Eragon. You should not apologize. She paused. Our feet are sore, and we are hungry. She sent him a mental image of her and the elves. We must rest for a few hours.
Aye, that would be wise. I will inform Saphira and Thorn.
I thank you. A moment passed, and Arya seemed to grow uncomfortable. When she finally spoke, her voice was a little strained, as if what she was about to say something that was very difficult for her.
Eragon? Are you doing okay? She said softly, concern coloring her tone. Your mind seems…troubled.
The blue rider rubbed his forehead and gave a slight sigh.
It is of no consequence, Arya. I am fine. Do not worry about me. Eragon's mouth twitched into a humorless smirk. He was saying that a lot today. He sent a flow of reassurance to the elf woman, but it seemed flat and bogus even to himself.
Arya mentally raised an eyebrow at him and her emotions flared.
Do not lie to me, Eragon. She said, her voice low and dangerous. Don't you dare lie to me.
As soon as the words registered in the blue rider's mind, something broke inside him. It was only for a split second, but it was enough. He slipped up in his efforts to imprison his emotions, and his strong mental wall came down. The tormenting feelings of the past day that he had locked away flooded into Arya's consciousness. The elf woman didn't even have enough time to gasp before Eragon regained himself and slammed the barrier back up.
Eragon…She whispered, shocked at the depth of his hurt. But before she had time to get more than that out, he immediately recoiled and shut up even more barriers around his mind. A tense moment passed between the two Shadeslayers.
I think it's about time I tell the dragons to land, don't you agree? Eragon finally said, his voice cold. He severed the connection.
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Arya stood frozen, her eyes wide. Eragon's inflectionless tone echoed within her brain, shaking her to the core. The depth of his pain astounded her. He was more traumatized after his torture than she had realized, and now she just made it worse. Oh, why did she have to be so quick to anger like that? Of course Eragon would not want to talk about what happened, just as she did not want to either when she was rescued from Durza. She mentally slapped herself and tried to think of a way she could fix would she just did.
"Arya? Did you tell them to land?" Yaela prodded, snapping her out of her brooding.
She nodded and tried to keep her emotions off her face.
"Is he okay?" The silver haired elf woman asked once more, her tone softer than before.
Arya shook her head, not trusting her voice.
Yaela frowned and put a hand on her shoulder, surprising her.
"He'll come around in time. That was a terrible ordeal he has just been through, and many never recover fully from it. I'm sure you can relate."
Arya lifted her eyes to meet her comrade's.
"Aye. It is." She said quietly.
Yaela gave her a solemn smile and then walked away towards the other elves, who were sitting on the ground replenishing their strength with some food and water. Arya was about to join them too when she heard the dragons land behind her.
Turning, she watched as Eragon slid down from Saphira's back and patted her on the cheek. There seemed to be a flurry of mental conversation, and then the blue dragoness snorted and flew away.
Arya cast her mind out in the direction Saphira flew to see what she could be doing, and realized there was a creek a league to the north.
Switching her attention back to the dragoness' rider, she watched him from the corner of her eyes as he walked to a nearby rock and sat against it. He stared up at the sky, no expression upon his face. Concern for the boy clawed at her heart. She was about to go talk to him, but Murtagh beat her to it.
She couldn't stop herself from listening in.
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Murtagh closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight on his face and the rhythmic beat of Thorn's wings. He felt so light, and…happy. That was the only word for it.
I am happy. He thought to himself. A wry smile came to his lips. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think that he would say that. Ever. Murtagh had lived a hard life with few pleasures, but now everything was falling into place.
Thorn, who was listening in on his thoughts, agreed with the red rider.
I am too, small one. It is a wonderful feeling, this happiness. I do not feel the weight of evil-snake-tongued-oath-breaker-false-king on my back any longer. I feel free.
All of Alagaesia is open to us now, my friend. Murtagh replied, then added as an afterthought, Once Galbatorix is dead, of course.
The crimson dragon's thoughts turned dark, and he let out a small growl.
Yes, when he is dead. We will never truly be safe until he has been killed. And, oh, I await that day with much impatience.
Murtagh patted him on the shoulder. It will come, Thorn, it will come. Now that we have joined the Varden, the rebellion will succeed. It will. He will die.
Thorn nodded, a quick but strong bob of his head. He will, small one.
A lapse fell in the conversation as Thorn decreased his height in the air by several yards to adjust with the changing wind pattern. When he was finished, he spoke.
What will we do about the hatred of the people of the Varden, Murtagh? He said, his voice betraying his young and innocent age.
The red rider's mouth twisted into a slight grimace, and he sighed.
I suppose we will just have to ignore their anger and hope we will not be executed. Trust might come in time once we have proven ourselves as allies.
Thorn's thoughts took on a more solemn note, and he also sighed.
You are right. I just wish it did not have to be this way.
A mind touched his and Thorn's and interrupted his reply. Surprised, he slammed up more barriers around himself, but then took them down when he realized it was Eragon.
Hello, brother. He greeted a little stiffly. He was still unsure of how to act around him, or anyone for that matter. He was not their enemy anymore, but he was definitely not their friend. Maybe the situation was different with Eragon though. His younger brother was extremely forgiving.
Right now, however, the boy seemed very troubled. His mind was cold and featureless, as if he was hiding his feelings away. A tint of depression coated his consciousness, though, so Murtagh knew he was not handling things very well. A wave of pity rose up within him. Eragon did not deserve what Sarissa did to him. He least of all did not.
Greetings Eragon. Thorn said.
Hello. A pause. I have been told by Arya that she and the rest of the elves wish to rest. Saphira and I are going to land. You should land as well. His voice was emotionless, the stark opposite of what it usually is. Worry panged in Murtagh's stomach.
We will. Thank you. Thorn replied, pity evident in his mind.
Eragon mentally nodded and withdrew his consciousness. Saphira started diving down to the ground right after, her scales shining brightly in the dying sunlight.
Thorn dove too, and landed beside her on the ground. Murtagh could sense awe in his thoughts.
You think she's beautiful, don't you? The red rider questioned, a smile on his lips.
Thorn, who was always very honest, turned to him. His eyes were glistening with a strong emotion.
She is the loveliest, most glorious, and magnificent creature I have ever laid eyes on.
Murtagh's smile broadened and he rubbed his dragon's neck.
I'm glad you think so, Thorn.
Then, he turned to Angela who was snoring softly behind him.
"Angela. Wake up. We've landed." He shook her awake and nodded placatingly at her mumbles of annoyance for being disturbed from her sleep.
Solembum stretched on his lap, his claws digging into Murtagh's legs.
That was a most uncomfortable nap. The werecat said, eyeing the rider with distaste.
"I'm sorry to hear that." He replied, and then dumped him onto the ground.
Solembum yowled in surprise, but landed on his feet. Hissing, he glared at Murtagh and told him he would pay for that later. Murtagh just yawned in response.
Angela, now fully awake, laughed heartily. "You sure have guts, young man."
Murtagh helped her down from the saddle and bowed mockingly.
"I thank you."
"And you have wit! You're the opposite of that brother of yours." Angela said jokingly.
Murtagh's grinned and glanced over at Eragon to see if he heard. The boy was leaning against a large rock, staring blank faced up at the sky. He showed no signs of hearing Angela's jests, no signs of hearing anything. Murtagh's grin faded away and concern filled him once more. Walking away from Angela and Thorn, he approached him.
"Eragon?" He asked a bit hesitantly.
The blue rider seemed to come out of a daze as the words left Murtagh's mouth. He blinked twice and shook his head almost imperceptibly as if he was trying to rid himself of a bad dream. When his eyes cleared from whatever horrible vision the red rider had a feeling he just saw, Eragon looked up and met his eyes.
"Yes?" His voice was hollow and weak.
"Are you doing okay?" He questioned gently.
Eragon immediately recoiled and his face hardened.
"I'm fine." He said, his voice cold. "I'm fine."
He stood up and walked away to the direction of the woods, muttering something about needing to be alone.
Murtagh sighed and surprisingly, heard someone echo him. He looked over to where he heard the sigh, and saw Arya standing by the other elves, her ear turned towards where the conversation occurred. Eavesdropping. The elf woman looked after where Eragon had departed into the woods, an unreadable expression upon her face before she turned to look at him. Their eyes met and she gave an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgement that he returned.
They both knew that could've gone better.
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On the fifth day after their departure to the Varden, the whole group was sitting by the fire, resting for the night. The sun had set and the moon had just risen.
Eragon sat leaning against Saphira's foreleg, staring up at the stars. His mind was empty of all things, as was his face. His features betrayed nothing, for there was nothing to betray. He was an empty vessel—the only feelings he had for anyone or anything were for his dragon.
Eragon? She asked, and his eyes snapped to hers. Her head was facing him, her striking blue eyes looking deep into his.
Yes Saphira?
I am going flying with Thorn. She said. Would you like to come with me?
Eragon took a second to consider this, and then agreed. He didn't want to sit here for longer than he had to and experience everyone's constant worried glances at him that they thought he didn't see. Arya's most of all.
As soon as the hint of a yes appeared in his mind, Saphira broke out into a wide dragon smile, and then grabbed him with her large paw and put him on her back.
Let's go then! She exclaimed, pure excitement running through her. Eragon couldn't help himself, he smiled too. Her joy was contagious.
The great blue dragoness and her rider burst into the sky, spiraling among the twinkling stars. Thorn and Murtagh appeared beside them and the two dragons twisted and turned in a beautiful dance that struck awe into the onlooker's hearts.
Eragon actually felt the barest hints of happiness for the first time in a long while.
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The next day, they reached the Varden.
It was late afternoon when they finally saw the long parade of soldiers, marching towards Belatona where inevitably the next battle would occur. As soon as the members of the Varden caught a glimpse of the party of elves running towards them and the blue dragon in the sky, they cheered for all their worth.
Chants of "Shadeslayer" as well as the thunderous clangs of the soldiers beating their weapons against their armor could be heard for miles around, attesting to the fact that the Varden had hope once more.
Nothing could dampen their spirits
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Thorn looked down upon the cheering members of the Varden and heaved a sigh. He and Murtagh were hiding high up in the sky amongst the clouds, away from the sight of everyone who hates them. Angela and Solembum were not with them, for early that morning they slipped off with only the muttered explanation that something interesting was going on in one of the small towns nearby.
Just then, Eragon contacted him. Thorn quickly took down his mental barriers and allowed him into his mind.
Yes Eragon-friend? He asked. The boy's consciousness was still utterly empty of emotions and feelings. Thorn felt a pang of worry deep in his gut. He was a broken rider, just like Murtagh had been all those months ago.
There is a small grouping of trees a little a ways to the west. You can rest there until it is time to reveal yourselves. The boy replied.
The crimson dragon sent his understanding through the link, and Eragon withdrew from his consciousness.
Murtagh, who had been listening in on the conversation, sighed.
Soon we must confront them. The man said, reluctant.
Aye. We must. He replied, not trying to hide his apprehension.
His rider sent a wave of reassurance to him, comforting him.
Don't worry, Thorn. We'll get through this.
Thorn nodded, but still held onto his fear. I hope.
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Nasuada felt better right then than she had ever felt. As soon as she saw the great blue shape of Saphira appear over the horizon, hope was fully renewed in her. And when the dragoness landed and the Varden's one hope dismounted and instantly was surrounded by everyone in the vicinity, she couldn't keep the smile off her face. Of course she knew that Eragon was alive and healthy already before that point, for the elves had scryed her right after their success, but seeing him in person really made it real for her. He was back.
She hurried towards him, parting those in her way as easily as a wolf does when making its way through a herd of sheep. "Eragon." She said warmly when she reached him.
"Greetings, my lady." He replied, bowing. When he straightened, she got her first good look at him. Her smile faded a little. He looked thin and pale, not fully recovered from his ordeal at the hands of Sarissa. But beyond that, he looked…off. His normally warm brown eyes were cold and dead. His face showed no emotion, and his smile looked forced.
"It's great to see you again, Eragon." She told him sincerely, though there was an undercurrent of regret in her voice. It was partly her fault he was captured and tortured in the first place. "And I thank you for your sacrifice." She added softly.
Eragon looked down and nodded, but said nothing. Saphira nuzzled him and a short mental conversation seemed to ensue. Giving them their privacy, Nasuada turned her attention towards the young rider's approaching guards. Arya was at the group's front, looking more out of sorts than Nasuada had ever seen her.
She greeted the elves, paying special attention to their obvious exhaustion.
"Candler!" She called out to one of her Nighthawks. The man hurried to her side.
"Yes, my lady?" He answered obediently, though his eyes kept flitting to the newly returned blue rider.
"Fetch fourteen meals with no meat for our travelers, as well as a cow for Saphira. Deliver them to my pavilion which will be set up right there," She pointed to a spot close by, "in a half an hour." She commanded.
Candler's eyes widened at the elves, obviously surprised at their diet.
"Candler!" Nasuada repeated, snapping the man's attention back to her.
"Oh, I apologize my lady, I will get right on that." He replied, already backtracking away.
Nasuada sighed and returned her attention to the newcomers.
"Shall we meet in the pavilion in a half an hour's time to discuss what has transpired these past two weeks?" She asked them.
"I suppose the decision has already been made for us, hasn't it?" Arya replied, amusement within her voice.
The dark-skinned leader laughed and nodded. "You caught me." She joked.
The elves laughed lightly with her, but Eragon remained silent. Nasuada tried her hardest to keep the worry for the boy off her face.
A half an hour's time came and went. Nasuada spent it casually chatting with the few elves that did not leave to relieve themselves. Eragon and Saphira had disappeared, the latter with his head down as if he didn't want the ogling members of the Varden to see his face. She hoped they would be back in time for the meeting.
When her pavilion was finally set up all the elves suddenly emerged beside it. They gracefully slinked from the depths of the crowd setting up their tents for the night, like cats on the prowl. Saphira appeared in the sky, approaching the tent. As she got closer, Eragon was seen upon her back.
Nasuada walked to the pavilion, her guards providing a constant but protective wall around her. Saphira landed and everyone filed into the tent, taking their seats. The blue dragoness shoved her head through the pre-made hole in the fabric to participate in the meeting.
As soon as everyone was settled, Candler and several other men arrived to deliver Eragon and the elves' meals. One was also dragging a cow behind him for Saphira.
"Oh, I apologize, Saphira. Do you want us to halt the meeting until you are finished?" Nasuada asked the dragoness.
No, that is not necessary. I will listen through Eragon.
The dark skinned leader nodded and Saphira withdrew her head. Nasuada then turned her attention to the boy she wanted to hear from most.
"Eragon. Would you like to tell us your view of the past two weeks?" She hesitantly asked, wary of how he would handle it. "I understand if it's hard—" He cut her off.
"No. I'm fine." He said, no emotion within his voice. He began his narrative.
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Eragon almost sighed before he began speaking. Though he didn't show it, he dreaded having to recite what had happened. His stomach twisted at having to revisit the painful memories of his torture which he tried so hard to bury. Saphira sent a wave of comfort to him, aware of how he was suffering inside.
He started from the very beginning, from when he and Saphira first set out to rescue the green egg. He was blunt and concise, trying not to show his discomfort. Bringing up his experiences wasn't exactly helping in his task of keeping his emotions under control however. Especially when he spoke of Sarissa. He described his tortures quietly, voice detached. The sting of all that had happened still affected him, and he worked his hardest not show that to his listeners. Though his listeners weren't exactly hiding their horror at his words either. Nasuada sat very still, stricken at the extent of his suffering. The elves were acting similarly, dismay written all over their features. Arya in particular was very pale. Her concerned green eyes never left his. He would've blushed if he still felt things like that anymore. But he didn't. He barely felt anything anymore.
Saphira, who had finished her meal and had her head through her hole in the wall, snorted in discomfort. She hated listening to this as much as he did saying it. Eragon suppressed a sigh once again.
When he told of how Murtagh and Thorn changed their true names and aided in is rescue, Nasuada's eyes widened in surprise, but a slight smile adorned her face.
Happy now, Nasuada? He thought bitterly to himself. Now you'll have two riders, and two dragons to use as weapons.
In terse words, he summed up the rest of his story. Now caught up to the present, the blue rider sat back in his chair and awaited his liege lord's judgment.
Nasuada was speechless, a seeming first for the young woman. When she finally did get her words back, her voice almost had a tremble to them.
"Eragon…I am deeply sorry for what you have had to endure. What Sarissa has done to you—it was awful. Again, I thank you dearly for your sacrifice." She said, words heartfelt. Pausing, she took a deep breath. "What were the extent of your wounds? I would like to know." She said quietly.
Blodhgarm helpfully responded in Eragon's steed, knowing that the boy would most likely not want to speak any longer of it.
"It was very bad, Lady Nightstalker. I'd rather not say any more than that."
Humbled, Nasuada nodded. "I understand." Another pause. "Where are Murtagh and Thorn now?" She asked, curious.
Eragon spoke up. "I told them to stay in the thicket of trees about a mile west of us until there would be a good time for them to reveal themselves."
"I see. Would that time be now, do you think?"
"Aye. But before they come, you must assemble the Varden and explain what is going on so they do not lose control when the red pair appears. Tell them the truth. Make it clear to them that Murtagh and Thorn have truly escaped the King's grasp and are here as allies. They are friends to us now. Do not let this go unheard." The blue rider replied, his voice strong.
Nasuada nodded. "It shall be done. When I give you the signal, tell Thorn to come."
Everyone prepared to leave, eager to bathe and wash the grime of traveling from their bodies. As Eragon was about to exit the tent, he suddenly thought of something he needed to know. Before anyone could leave, he spoke.
"Where is the green egg?" He asked Nasuada.
"I will tell you, but you must promise to swear that you will not divulge the information to anyone else." The woman replied, eyeing him and the rest of the elves. Her eyes met Saphira's as well.
They all swore in the ancient language that they would not.
"It is hidden within my horse's saddle bags with a powerful spell around it so if anyone comes within ten feet of it they will suddenly forget what they are doing and then walk in the opposite direction. Arya set the spell before she departed to rescue you, so she should be able to take it down I suppose." She looked towards the elf woman for confirmation. Arya nodded and Nasuada resumed speaking. "I will take you to it right now if you'd like."
"Yes." He replied quietly.
Nasuada led them all through the exit of the tent and to the direction of where the horses were being kept. They easily found the Varden leader's roan charger amidst the other horses, picketed next to a tub of water and a large patch of grass. His saddle and saddlebags were beside him.
Suddenly, as Eragon drew close to the large horse, following Nasuada, his mind grew fogged. What was he doing again? His thoughts in the clouds, he dazedly turned around and walked back towards the tents. Dimly, he saw that the other elves were beside him. But not Saphira…Where was Saphira? He couldn't seem to remember…
"—Hey! Snap out of it." A voice interrupted the fog over his brain and he looked back. Nasuada, Saphira and Arya were looking at him and the elves. "Arya is taking the spell down now so you will be able to come over in a minute." Oh right! The spell! Eragon's thoughts came back to him and awe filled him. That was one powerful spell indeed. He hadn't even known what was happening. But apparently it wasn't strong enough to subdue Saphira.
You did not feel the effects of the spell? He asked his dragon.
She snorted, smug. Of course I felt it, but it was not enough to distract my mind. We dragons are powerful. A simple spell cannot divert us.
He nodded and almost smiled in amusement. Almost. It was just a twinge of his lips, for emotion could barely reach him anymore. Not after what happened.
Arya completed taking down the spell and beckoned them over. Battle-storm whinnied uncomfortably as the mass of people crowded around him, along with a dragon.
Nasuada reached down into the saddlebag, and then, making sure no one else was anywhere in the vicinity, revealed the green egg.
Eragon nearly gasped at the magnificence of it. It was around the same size as Saphira's was, but maybe a tiny bit smaller. It shimmered in the sunlight like an emerald, casting beautiful speckles of green lights onto the onlookers. Eragon had to admit, it was a dazzling sight to behold, but not as amazing as Saphira's egg was. He much preferred blue.
His dragoness hummed in contentment as she listened to his thoughts. Thank you little one.
Eragon's heart warmed the slightest bit, and he felt a sliver of joy and hope. Perhaps thing would turn up after all. Perhaps.
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Arya looked upon the emerald egg with reverence. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. A strange emotion grew inside her. Bidden by some unknown instinct, she reached her hand out to stroke the shell. It was smooth and warm, and as soon as her finger made contact, it seemed like all her worries melted away. She felt calm and content, like everything in the world was in its right place.
She was slowly tracing the faint veins that were visible on the shell when suddenly a sharp crack echoed throughout the clearing. Flinching, Arya stepped back in surprise, as did everyone else. Nasuada put the egg on the ground and backed away slowly, seeing something that the others did not see. Looking closer, Arya saw a large fissure in the egg's shell walls. Another crack resounded and the fissure grew bigger, revealing a small golden eye that was staring right at her.
Arya gasped. The egg was hatching. The egg was hatching! Her thoughts in a wild rush, she approached the green hatchling that was making its way out into the world and knelt down beside it.
The little dragon finally rid himself of his confining green husk and made his way straight for Arya.
As if in a dream, Arya dazedly reached her hand out to the hatchling. He connected his head to her palm.
A jolt of electricity immediately blazed through her, the worst pain she had ever felt since her time with Durza accompanying it. The last thing she saw was the little green face of the one who her life was now bound to.
My dragon. She whispered to herself. The world went black.