Title: Ignoring Fire
Category: Books » Inheritance Cycle
Author: Morgan K'Treva
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T
Genre: Friendship/General
Published: 02-14-16, Updated: 11-05-16
Chapters: 8, Words: 13,321
Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Some say that the world will end in fire. Some say it will end in ice. Personally, I don't favor one over the other, for all I care, we could go up in a big explosion that's the next big bang, or everything could simply . . . stop. All the energy used up, no more expansion to be done, temperatures dropping to the complete zero. Good bye.
Of course, you didn't come here for my views on how the world will end (and if you did, wow. Way to be pessimistic.), so I should probably tell you about myself.
Hi, you can call me Morgan, a werecat typical of werecats (not that that you know what hat means because we're so rare), or at least I was. Though it's rather hard to be typical of a race that never sees each other, always does the best they can to be individual, and of which there are maybe a hundred at most. But I digress.
Personally, I'd always loved the mountains and the deserts, so as soon as I was able, I left my mother's side to live there. *Disclaimer! Do not try this at home!* That is most likely where my story begins. But it did take a good couple of centuryies. So I basically just wandered the sand, and met with the wild dragon. And then Galbatorix happened, and I found myself in the resistance.
The wild dragons were killed, another one every day, and the riders came up with a plan to hide all the eggs they could find. Because I lived in the desert for so long, and knew all of those who flew in the sky above it, the dragons trusted me even above the dragon riders. So I was the one who flew with the wild dragons and helped them load the multitude of eggs and Eldunari into the carriers. We didn't manage to get all of the eggs from their hiding places, but by the time Galbatorix thought to search for them, he could only find three.
I kept my memories of the Vault of Souls because of the difference between my mind and that of and elf's, or a human's, and I watched as one by one the wild dragons died, and my allies fell into hiding, until it had been years since there had been any attacks. Those in the know held their breath, waiting for the new dragon rider to come, for the blue egg that had been stolen from Galbatorix to hatch. I ran alongside Arya, Fäolin and whichever elf accompanied them while they crossed the desert, and protected them.
Then, after a decade of waiting, something happened to me. Every adventure story has a call to adventure, right?
I trace the lines of metal that spiral around themselves and build into a tree, once again, marveling at the delicate art, and grateful to the tribe for allowing me shelter. I look up as a child ducks into the tent.
"Tagheer-no," the child says respectfully, ducking his head slightly. "Sheik wishes to speak to you."
"Thank you," I say gently to him, standing and quickly tying my keffiyeh. The child smiles at me and scampers out. I follow him, squinting against the sun, and make my way to the Sheik's tent.
I rattle the entrance flap, their way of knocking, and the Sheik pulls it open and motions for me to come in.
"Sheik Fadi," I say, giving him a respectful nod, and he does the same.
"Tageer-ra," he says straightening. "We found something you might be interested in."
"What is it?" I ask, sitting up straighter, and Fadi motions for the servant standing behind him to come forward. I watch with sharp eyes as she sets a wooden box down on the carpet between us, and as Fadi slides the box's lid open, before pushing it towards me. I glance at him before I look down, and can't hold back a gasp at the sight before me.
"This is a dragon's egg!" I exclaim, looking up at Fadi. It was to be expected that some of the wild dragon's eggs escaped both Galbatorix and the dragon riders, but I'd never expected to find one.
"So we were right," Fadi says, sighing in relief as I look back down into the box at the silvery egg. Before I can say anything though, he pushes the box further towards me. "Take it. I want nothing to do with it."
"Fadi," I pause for a moment, unsure of what to say. "You know that there will be no rider for this dragon. If you found the egg out here, then it will not have belonged to the Dragon Riders."
"All the same," Fadi says, reaching over to close the lid of the box. "Galbatorix will kill for any egg he can get his hands on. We don't need that sort of trouble."
I look down at the box before I nod. "Alright. I'll take it."
"Thank you," Fadi says fervently as the both of us stand and he pulls the flap of his tent open for me. I shift my grip on the box and nod. I walk slowly back to the tent that had been granted to me for the night, and I pack. The box with the egg I stuff into the furthest reaches of my bag. I quickly fill my canteen with water from the pitcher they'd provided, and my bag with the various foodstuffs they'd given me and pull both on. I take one look around the room before I slip out, leaving everything untouched.
If Fadi was that worried, then something's up, and I'm not going to implicate the tribe. I start walking in the direction of the next oasis.
I look up at the stars and sigh, shivering in my clothes. The change is quick, and I wiggle out of the confining clothes and the two straps, and curl up on top of them. I'll go on tomorrow. My last thought is for the stars overhead.
There's a squeak, and I startle to full awareness, scanning the desert quickly. The squeak comes again, and I move carefully to cover the wooden box deep in my bag as I transform back into human form and grasp the dagger hilt inside my bag. Another squeak comes, and I blink as I realize it's coming from beneath me, right where the egg is. I blink for a moment before I scramble I dig the box out of my bag. Another squeak comes just as I pull it out, and I blink at the box before I carefully slide the lid off.
"What are you doing?" I mutter as I stare at the oval stone resting in the box. I pick it up, shivering slightly in my human form, and set the silvery egg down on the shirt I'd scrambled out of hours ago and change back as I settle down to watch the egg. It squeaks again, and starts rocking rapidly. Then suddenly the top cracked violently, and I barely manage not to jump. Then it cracks again and again, before the cracks suddenly stop, and a small piece at the top drops into the egg. There was an undignified squawk, this one sounding startled, before a small silver muzzle pokes out of the hole, and the egg rocks to the side do that the hole is facing me.
The dragon spills out of the egg with another undignified squawk. I laugh slightly, still staring in awe at the little one before me. It blinks at me once before it starts turning and licking the membrane off of itself. Its rather smaller than most of the other baby dragons I've watched being born, but that's to be expected with the size of its egg.
"Hello little one," I breathe, not reaching out to tough the dragon after long years of experience in working with the wild dragons. The dragon make a sort of sneezing sound, which rattles its body and makes its wings spread. I laugh a little, and he dragons blinks at me again with eyes like liquid silver. Then it advances towards me with a purpose, and that movement jars me, reminding me that its mother isn't here, and that it'll be depending on me for food and protection. I make sure not to touch it as I walk past it and grab the bag of provisions from the pile of items I'd scattered in my haste to get the egg out of the bag. I change back into my human form to open the bag, shivering in the freezing desert, and quickly change back into a cat once the bag is open, and I drag it back to the little dragon.
I turn to look at the dragon, only to find it right behind me. Before I can move, it buts my leg with its head, and I gasp as suddenly a rush of icy energy flows through me, changing the magic I've held and known for all my life, increasing the amount of magic I have, and changing me a a fundamental level, making me more compatible with it.
I gasp out of surprise and shock and how is this happening to me as the liquid fire fades away inside me, leaving me shaking. The dragon, still staring at me, lets out a pathetic mewl, and head buts me again, making me startle. On autopilot, I pull the food bag closer so that the dragon can reach it, and it lets out an excited squawk and falls onto the dried meat in the bag, stuffing itself full. I can feel it reaching out with its mind tentatively, and when I hesitantly reach out in return, it looks up from the food with an excited squeak. The tendril from its mind follows my reach and wraps possessively around my mind, crowing mine! mine! mine!. I can't help but laugh slightly even as I start planning.
I let myself sprawl as I start making plans, ignoring the possibility that the dragon had chosen me for nir rider (that's not how it works). I blink when suddenly something buts into my stomach, and I find the little dragon curled up against me, eyes closed and content, silver hide reflecting the stars and moon above.
I should probably visit Kian some time soon.
I don't own the Inheritance Cycle. So, what do you think of Morgan? And what gender do you think ne is?
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
"Come on," I murmur, baiting my charge forward with a bloody strip of rabbit. It's been a month, and she's been hunting for her own hunting for her own food, but that doesn't stop her from coming begging for treats. I smile up at her as she eagerly grabs the meat out of my hand and scarfs it down. I smile at her, and she tilts her head before echoing the smile back, her lips drawing back to show her teeth in what would have been a frightening gesture if I hadn't seen her do it so many times. Then she turns back to the deer she'd managed to drag down and kill today.
Morgan. There's a sort of a knocking sensation on my shields accompanying the name, and I let her in with a smile. She sends me an image of me smiling before she pushes a rush of memories towards me and sits back, bouncing in excitement as I sort through them.
The first is fuzzy, and I find myself watching as I point at myself and hearing an echo of my voice saying "Morgan." while images of the letters, then an image of a small tide pool next to the ocean flash before my eyes.
I smile slightly at the memory, remembering it as the first time I'd tried to teach the silver dragon my name, before I move onto the second memory.
This one is more of a patch work of things put together than an actual memory, but I follow it. First there's an image of the sun beating down on the desert, then an image of the mountains in the distance, and finally a shaky memory that I recognize as my memory of the ocean. Then, almost as an after thought comes a jumble of sylables picked liberally from what I've spoken.
Fellsmountain
Fells? I ask, and the silver dragon, who had looked up from the deer carcass to watch me, raises her front leg awkwardly to pat her chest like I had patted my chest when I was telling her my name.
Fells, she proclaims proudly, repeating what I had said just moments before. I smile.
Nice to meet you Fells.
"Morgan," Kian greets as I approach him, and I bow my head as he continues. "Ruler of the Night Sky, Wanderer of the Desert, Kin to Dragons, why have you come to me?"
"Well, it could have something to do with the shadow in the sky," I state calmly, looking up. "Kian Eldest, Ruler of the Far Reaches, Fast of Heart, and Augur of All That Has Passed. You will not know if you don't look up."
Kian looks up from his drawings in the dirt, his purple eyes suspicious before he raises his head to look at the sky. I don't need to look to know that Fells is immediately visible as she flies lazy circles over the corner of the Beor mountains that Kian had decided to make his own.
"Morgan, this is exactly why we call you Kin to Dragons," Kian states frankly, his tail twitching in irritation as his eyes track Fells's silver form. "But just because we call you that does not mean you need to live up to your name and do impossible tasks. So, what's your hatchling's name?"
"If it were impossible, then it would not have happened," I state archly. "Every one knew there that we hadn't found all of the eggs. There was always the possibility that one of them would be found and would hatch. And her name is Fells. She wants to be desert mountain ocean."
"Once again, the possibility of that happening now was as high as the possibility of a giant lake in the middle of that precious desert of yours," Kian hisses, his eyes tracking Fells as she glides towards us. Then he pauses and shoots me a glance. "And don't think that I don't know what you being here with her means."
"Why does me being here make any difference?" I ask archly, raising an eyebrow. "I cannot be a rider, that's not possible. the contract between dragons and riders hasn't been changed, and if it were, I highly doubt they would have included werecats. We have already been refused."
"As if dragons can't choose their riders."
"As if I would be chosen."
"You're forgetting who gave you the name 'Kin to Dragons'," Kian snorts, raising one front leg to shield his eyes as Fells's wings blow up dust. "I was honestly surprised that none of the wild dragons had laid their claim to you, let alone that none of the younglings hadn't."
I open my mouth to reply, then blink as a sense of smug satisfaction hits me, and I glance up at Fells as she bends her head down to nuzzle at my fur.
Mine. she states smugly, and I forget the argument as I flow into my other form to give her a scratch above her eye ridge. She leans into my fingers like a cat, nearly bowling me over and making me laugh as I scratch harder. It takes me a moment to remember Kian, but he isn't angry when I turn back to him, simply resigned.
"That is exactly it, sibling," he says gently. Then he shifts like water and holds out both hands. "Let me see."
I hesitate for a moment, but it's easy to see that delaying will be no help, and I sigh as I hold out my right hand and let him examine it. I don't look, fairly certain that I know what's there, and determined to at least have the uncertainty for a few more minutes. I managed not to look at my palm for two months, a few more minutes is no hardship. Kian releases my hand after a moment, but I leave it there, used to the way he examines things.
The a chuckle comes, and I can't stop myself. After two months, I finally look down to see the gedwëy ignasia shimmering on my palm, and I shiver, but before I can say anything or move my hand so I can't see it, Kian grabs my hand, and I watch as suddenly the silver on my palm is gone.
". . . you've got to be kidding me."
What? I thought you'd like it. Fells says, puffing a bit of smoke over me. It'll be harder to find this way.
". . . you have got to be kidding me."
"How are you liking the other side of the problem, sibling dearest?" Kian asks as he releases my hand and changes back to a cat, flicking an ear slightly. "Not so much fun now, is it?"
"No, no, no, no, no, it does not work that way," I try to protest, but Kian gives me a pointed look.
"Dragons do what dragons want," he says smugly.
"Fine. Whatever. so, what's going to happen now?" I ask him as he returns to his dirt symbols.
Fly with me? Fells offers hopefully.
"Long term, I meant," I say, gently scratching her eye ridges. I can fly with you later.
Fine.
"Well, you're obviously not a fighter-"
"What gave it away?" I ask sarcastically, but Kian ignores my interruption.
"So there's no reason to contact anyone."
"And the elves? I know they have a claim on the next dragon rider."
"Do you truly think that he elves can teach you any more than what you already know?" Kian asks sarcastically. "I mean I'm sure there's some trick you haven't taught them, maybe they can teach you how to sing perhaps."
I have to smile at that. "Point."
"Thank you. Besides, the desert is the best place for you to hide. You have lived there for centuries, and the shifting sands will cover your tracks. I doubt that any would be able to find you easily, even with magic. Not to mention the fact that Fells probably loves it."
"She does," I say, relieved that I won't be forced away from my home.
"Then go," Kian urges with a smile. "You'll know if you are needed."
"Are you quite sure?" I ask.
"Quite sure. Live as you want to," Kian says. There's an odd look to his eyes now as his tail curls forward to cover his paws. "Say hello to Solembum if you see him, yes?"
"Of course," I say automatically. Then I blink as his word catch up to me. "You think I'll see him?"
"Why would I have asked you otherwise?" Kian says before he waves a dismissive paw at me. "Go. Have fun. Live."
Alright, so this may be confession time. Mainly; I am the second eldest werecat alive still, and I remember the times before Elves, Humans, and Urgals were here. I also remember a time before the dwarves moved to their mountains. Originally, I wandered the Beor mountains, only occasionally walking the the very much smaller Hadarac desert before the dwarves were forced to move to the mountains as the climate shifted. And my age is more on the side of millennia than centuries.
But hey, there's always time for confessions.
I'll admit that I do entirely deserve the name given to me by those who saw me around dragons. The title Kin to Dragons hadn't been entirely for my many supposedly impossible feats, but rather for the way the wild dragons treated me.
When the elves first came, we ignored them. I watched them at times, curious about these strange creatures who look so much like the dwarves, but my attention was fleeting. But then they killed with their magic and their spells, and the dragons hunted down the one responsible in their fury. I was often left as a last line of defense during the long years it took for the war to come to a close, when those old enough to spit fire for a minute left to fight and kill the elves.
I was not there when the elves came in the night and shattered so many of our eggs with their harsh magic, but any sympathy I had for them was washed away in my pain, and then my fury. I threw myself onto the nearest dragons back as she cried out in pain, the hollow left by the connection of her neck to her back large enough to hold me with out any need to secure myself, and as one the thunder winged back to rock. We had been away to discuss the possibility of me speaking for us, but that died a sharp death at the sheer agony.
I only half remember the rest of that night, collapsing onto my knees next to a youngling I had talked to happily just minutes ago, who had only just started breathing flames. Beside her was the shattered egg of her brother, green shards scattered around the curled corpse of a small green dragon who had never had a chance to live.
There were so many others, the newly hatched youngling with his brains dashed on the rocks, golden eyes unfocused, the silver egg smaller than my palm shattered, and the for withing trampled, blue eggs and black eggs, and purple eggs and the broken wings of their siblings. Every where there was blood, and my ears echoed with the mourning howls of thee dragons as they found their younglings dead.
Two years passed before the dragons let me out of their sight, and another year passed before they allowed me to fight. And on the first thunder I rode out with, I saw them, we all saw them, the young white dragon, not old enough to fight, and the small elf on his back, both of them trying to stop us from fighting each other.
I gave a cry, as they dove through our ranks, sending us floundering, and below us the elf desperately cast a shield, trying to protect us from the spells thrown at us by his own people. I remember not thinking, just acting because there is a child save him save him, diving off of brightscalelongclawfishhunter and landing heavily on the white youngling, just behind the startled elf. My hands clamped onto his shoulders, and he gave a shout, but held onto the power I fed into him, managing to maintain his shield until the thunder could get away.
He slumped against me in the saddle as he shield abruptly dropped, and the dragon gave a frightened-worried-angry call and quickly winged up and away from the elves on the ground. I instinctively reached out for his mind as I had done with all others but the elves before him, and was unprepared for the flinch and backlash when he refused and pushed me away, and it knocked me unconscious.
I didn't wake for hours, and I found the elf looking at me in contemplation.
"Ono waíse breoal abr skulblaka?" he asked me after we stared at each other for a while, but I knew nothing of the language he spoke in, having no use for it.
I learned much later that he had told me, "You are family of dragons?"
But for then, I watch him cautiously, unable to keep myself from glancing at the white dragon he was leaning against (so young, so much like those I had buried so recently) as I carefully move backwards. When I reach the forest, I turn and vanish into the tree with barely a glance behind me.
When I arrive back at the nesting place unharmed, many of the dragons are relieved, and I laugh when several of the little one bowl me over, the older ones demanding promises that I will never leave them again. It takes me a while to escape from the little one's jealous attention, but once I manage, I am pulled into the war meeting. I contribute what I saw of the young elf and the hatchling who had carried him, and listen as they debate. It isn't until the night is nearly over that they decide that should the young elf come with the youngling, they would hear him out.
The war lasted for another year, but eventually Eragon managed to negotiate between his peoples and the dragons, but I did not meet him until the final treaty was to be signed, and the first eggs were given to the elves in recognition of the terms, because the dragons were once again unwilling to let me out of their sight.
I stood next the many colored dragons, and I met Eragon's eves across the crowd, and he smiled at me for some reason.
When the treaty had been signed, and the eggs given to the elves, Eragon came over to talk to me, other elevs following his lead to walk amoung the dragons.
"Ono waíse breoal abr skulblaka!" he'd exclaimed cheerfully. Behind him, Bid'Daum inlices his head to me.
You are kin to dragons, a voice whispers into my mind, and I blink slowly, digesting the words I have not had need to understand since my child hood before I dredge up memories.
Tell him he is stupid, I say, directing my smile to Bid'Daum. And little one, tell him thank you.
Of course.
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
As it turns out, I do see Solembum relatively soon. Him and his pet witch are waiting for me in the desert at an oasis, and I blink at the brightly colored tent sitting among the drab tents surrounding it. Fells is staying well away from oasis with people in respect to their wishes. Right now she'd hovering at the edge of my senses and peering through my eyes.
Solembum comes running up to me as I pass the first line of tents, his usual haughty demeanor gone, and he transforms a bit away, just in time to crash into me and knock me over.
"Uff," I grunt as my back hits the sand, but I smile as I look up at Solembum. I speak the oldest language to him without hesitation. "Hello brat. And greetings for Kian as well."
"He's alright?" Solembum asks without hessitation, instantly sitting up. "And how are you? I haven't seen you in years!"
"You'd think we didn't annoy each other is we spent a week together," I mutter as I push myself into a sitting position. "Kian's fine. He's still in his valley so not much has changed there. And as for me, well, what can you tell?"
Solembum pauses, a slightly wary look on his face, but he sits back and looks at me, eyes tracing my clothes, and a thoughtful look of his face. He leans forward and buries his face in the junction between my neck and my shoulder, making me laugh slightly as I bush sand off my clothes absently, waiting for him to think.
"You still smell much the same," he starts, "Like sand and sun . . . and dragons. Did you steal an egg from Galbatorix? I hadn't heard of anything, but maybe he wouldn't say anything . . ."
"I didn't steal my egg from Galbatorix," I reply, a smile playing on my face as I watch him puzzle out the problem.
"Did the blue one stolen from Galbatorix hatch for you then?" Solembum asks.
"Kid, I'm pretty sure the nearest my egg was to Galbatorix was a league, if not more," I say, a smile spreading over my face as he adds the rest of his information to that answer.
"You found a wild egg?" Solembum practically shrieked. "Morgan, I will never understand how you do that! You wander the desert, and you find a wild egg."
"Mhm," I smile at him. "So, how's your pet witch?"
"She's fine, thank you for asking," Solembum says as he sits back. "So, how old is the dragon you found?"
"She's a year old now," I reply with a smile.
Tell him hello. Fells suddenly speaks up.
"She wants me to tell you hello," I say to Solembum. He smiles slightly.
"You can speak to me directly, I don't mind," he says looking into my eyes, and for a moment, I am desperately homesick. I start as Solembum's arms suddenly close around me, then smile and relax into his embrace. "Come on. Let's go inside before we get sunburned."
"Hello," Angela says, looking up from her mortar and pestle as we slip into her brightly colored tent. "How are you today, Ruler of the Night Sky?"
"As well as I have been, Witch," I say, sitting down cross legged on the rugs. "And how have you been? Learned any more of the ancient language yet?"
"I have no need of it, as ever," she replies with a smile. I look down when Solembum brushes against my knees in the manner of a cat begging to be pet, and quickly start running a hand down his back.
"So why have you come, truly? And don't tell me it was just because Solembum wanted to see me," I say getting straight down to business as Solembem drapes himself across my lap. He goes rigid as he hear the question, and I look down to find him communicating with Angela. I watch him, not stopping my stroking as I wait for the two to come to a consensus. Finally, Angela looks up, and Solembum turns his face to hide it against my torso, his ears pressed flat against his head.
"We traveled here because we wanted to warn you," she says. "I - well, the spell slipped recently-"
"Are you alright?" I instantly ask, reaching out to grab her hand, and she smiles at me.
"I'm fine Morgan," shays softly. "Though that is part of it. Could you renew it? I think it was running out of energy."
"Of course I can," I say, already reaching out. I easily find the spell, and take a moment to reassure myself that it is just energy deficient and not damaged, then I carefully open my reserves and channel energy into the spell's reserve. I carefully watch the level and immediately cut off the flow of energy the moment the spell's reserves are full. I draw back and examine it slightly before I pull back entirely. I blink, and find Angela watching me with sharp blue eyes. "There. That should last you."
"Thank you," she sighs, visibly relaxing.
"Don't worry," I smile at her. "You're my little nephew's pet-"
Morgan! Solembum protests in embarrassment, digging his claws into my leg.
"- Of course I'd help you. So what was the other thing you wanted to tell me?"
"Well, when the spell slipped up, I Saw something," Angela says, looking down. "It was slightly odd because it was two fold, but I saw you, and you were lonely. Then you looked up to see something I couldn't, and you weren't. Then you looked left, and you were happy."
"And," I prompt gently.
"Then something happened, and you were running as you held someone's hand," she continues. "There was danger, but at every turn you grew more happy. I never did see anyone else, but I think you were meeting more people."
"Angela-"
"Don't you dare try to tell me that you like to be alone Morgan," Angela cuts me off from saying exactly that. "This is the first time you've been this alone in your life."
"But-"
No buts, Solembum says sharply, looking up finally. You had lived with possessive, protective, rambunctious, always there dragons for centuries before I was born, and for centuries after. The most they would have left you alone for was a week. Now, you've been alone for almost a century.
I look between my nephew and the with before I sigh. "Alright. I am lonely. But the dragons are gone, and I'm scared that I'll forget them."
I blink back tears and start when Solembum rubs his head against my chin. You won't forget them. And I know that they wouldn't want for you to be lonely. Don't forget just what they did to cheer you up.
"I could go and create a giant sand sculpture of someone for you destroy," Angela says helpfully, making me laugh through my tears, because that's exactly what some of them would have done.
"No, I'm fine," I say, sniffing slightly and trying to wipe my tears away. "Did you get a time frame for any of that vision?"
"It'll happen in under half a decade," Angel promises. "Are you sure that you don't want to destroy a sculpture of that man? It'll be fun!"
"No, I don't want to destroy a sculpture of Galbatorix," I say. My breath is shaky as it moves, but I can't bring myself to care. "I think that part of your vision has already happened. Do you want to meet her?"
"There's a her?" Angela asks, but she's already gathering up her things. We move outside, and with a quick intonation of pack later, Angela picks up the rather large bag with her things and tent, and looks expectantly at me.
"Come on," I say with a smile. Fells is humming happily in the back of my head as I lead the others to her, looking up at the stary sky above with a smile.
Since this is what seems to be happening, let me tell you the origin of another of my names, Ruler of the Night Sky. This one comes from the Riders, from when hey'd asked for my help in practicing their exercises during the night. They were mostly stealth attacks, which they had discovered there was a big difference in opinion of. The elves wanted the dragons to stay low and fast so that they could not be seen against the stars until it was too late, but the dragons disagreed entirely. The dragons wanted to be high above the trees in the sky so their wings could not be heard and fast moving in aerobatics so that any start that were obscured seemed to simple be twinkling, and there was no straight path of obscured stars to get suspicious of.
This was in the early days when most of the training the dragons had came from either wild dragons, or from Bid'Daum. The wild dragons, despite fighting the elves for years, didn't know entirely how they interacted with the world, and Bid'Daum, while aware of how saw the world, didn't really know how to fly other than how his instincts guided him.
So both groups tuned to me, expecting me to tell them what to do one way or another. I'd been watching them in amusement during the night with on of the silver dragnets who had escaped the Night of Broken Eggs, silverglintwhiteflowerbrokensadness. I told them to come again the next night, and I would show them what to do.
They'd come the next night, and I'd taken off on silverglintwhiteflowerbrokensadness. After flying away, low over the forest with a silencing spell on her wings, silverglintwhiteflowerbrokensadness and I had taken to the sky far above the small target that the riders had set up. Then I'd dropped the large bundle of wood bound to stones that I'd brought with me, and after moving far enough from it that the flare of light wouldn't catch on silverglintwhiteflowerbrokensadness's scales, I set it on fire. I did that several times, always hitting my target, and the oil pots within the wood-stone bundles broke upon contact with the ground, quickly spreading the fire.
Then we dropped down to fly just above the tree tops to hide ourselves. silverglintwhiteflowerbrokensadness settled on the grass behind them, and I lifted the silencing spell on her just in time for her to let out a satisfied burst of flame. The riders turn around quickly before they notice us, and I flashed a sharp tooth grin at them.
"How did you do that?" Eragon asks, the awe in his voice clear. "You just disappeared, and then fire balls were falling out of the sky!"
"Flew low close to you with silence, flew high as soon as possible," I explained, the words awkward on my tongue. "Drop wood-stone-oil, few away, set on fire."
"So you flew both high and low," Eragons observes before he turns back to the sheepish elves behind him as I turn around and pat silverglintwhiteflowerbrokensadness gently on the muzzle and bring her over to the deer carcass I'd asked the elves to bring for her.
They asked me to come to watch them again the next day, and I frown absently as I do. The dragons are clumsy, not knowing how to move to keep themselves invisible against the sky, but they do much better than they had before.
It becomes a regular thing for me to meet them once every moon and tell them how horrible they are doing. The dragons do get less clumsy, but there are always younglings for me to teach. And for some reason that I was never able to understand, they could never see me or the dragon I was flying on at night, leading the older ones to jokingly give me the name "Ruler of the Night Sky". Of course when the younglings hear it, they take it entirely seriously and start presenting me with fish and other things when they meet me during the night exercises.
Despite what the elves claimed it was entirely clear that what ever their beliefs in the gods, they did still believe in luck and fate.
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
I spend a week with Solembum and Angela as they travel back to Angela's shop. With Solembum and I as cats, and Angela's things strapped to Fells's belly, we make pretty good time. I manage to remind Solembum of exactly why we only ever spend a week at a time together, but we part on good terms, and I laugh as Fells takes to the sky, her body rumbling with her laughter underneath me. But with the news they gave me, I find that I am no longer content to simply wander the desert.
I start wandering into the Empire, leaving Fells to soar over the desert and watch through my eyes. At some point, I apparently make a name for myself because I find a wanted poster with a crude drawing of my human form on it. I go back to Fells after about a year has passed, and we play together for a week or so before I feel the pull to return. This happens again and again, until before I realize it, four years have passed and I smile at one of Fells's tricks. then suddenly my attention is ripped away with a burst of magic that almost feels unfamiliar because of how long it's been since I've felt it and I turn with a gasp of recognition -
- but just before I can burst out of the trees, my long latent prophetic abilities roar to life, and I collapse in pain. I can hear a herd of some animal with hooves thundering past me, and the sound of an arrow slamming into a tree over my head, and in the back of my mind I can hear Fells screaming at me to respond to her, but all of my attention is taken by the images forcing their way into my head.
First there's me, walking with my head hung low. Then suddenly I'm looking up. I'm curious. Then surprised. Then scared for a moment. Than happy. I reach up to touch what ever it is I'm seeing. Then I'm turning to my left, surprised again. Then I'm happy, and I reach out -
- and grab someone's hand. Then suddenly I look right, and I'm scared, I turn back to the person whose hand I'm holding, and we run, my right hand still held above me. We turn, and turn again, each time more sharply, but I can see the expression on my face, and I'm smiling.
Then I blink, gasping as Fells screams at me in my head.
Fells - I start, but the words are slow to come to me. I shake my head in frustration and try again in the language I used the longest.
desertmountainocean. Fells. Happy. Image of Arya. Magic. Image of me looking up. Image of sun on horizon. Image of me looking at shimmering mid day sun. Happy. Image of me in crowd. Image of sun on horizon. Sad. Image of me alone.
There's a dissatisfied snort before Fells sends me an image of myself frowning and shaking my finger like I used to when ever Fells tried to eat my portion of the meat. She's long used to me being unable or unwilling to think or speak in words.
Image of Arya. Image of blue egg. Curious. Scared. Image of Brom. Image of two sticks next to each other. Image of Fells. Image of two sticks far from each other.
Image of me shaking finger. Disapproval. Fells retorts. Image blood on my skin. Image of blood on my fur. Anger. Image of Fells in sky. Image of Fells breathing fire.
Image of me on goat path. Image of fells beneath me on goat path. I insist before I add; Caution.
Caution. Fells snorts. Image of path splitting in two. Image blood on my skin. Image of blood on my fur. Anger. Image of Fells in sky. Image of Fells breathing fire.
Caution. I repeat.
Image of my best skeptical stare. Fells grumbles, but she with draws slightly as I sigh and push myself up. I bat absently at the dirt on my cheek before I shift.
- and promptly knock my head into the arrow over my head.
"Ah!" I yelp, still too incoherent for words, but the sentiment of my muttered growls is the same as I hunch over and try to remember the word of healing. After a moment of straining to remember, and decide not to bother with magic with a growl that would have been vulgar had I been able to remember words before I push a trickle of magic to my very sore head and tell it to make my head like so, showing it an image of my head when it isn't threatening to split apart. My magic drains away slightly, but I smile as the pain fades with it, bringing clarity.
Better? Fells asks, pacing the edges of my mind.
Better, I reply with a smile before I creep forward into the clearing. Before me, there's a wide circle of charred grass, and trees with singed trunks, stripped of their needles and leaning away from the explosion.
Good, Fells snorts in satisfaction. Now you can sleep. You can find out that Arya deemed important enough to send to you later. We can probably find whoever picked it up in the morning.
Alright, alright, I say, smiling slightly. I tilt my head, considering the charred grass in front of me before I paw at it. It's still warm in that nice way, and I pad forward lightly to curl up in the grass.
I yelp as suddenly a pair of hand grab me under my armpits and lift me into the air. I swipe at the person, and when that doesn't connect, I shift and blindly try again.
This time there's a yelp as my palm hits something, and who ever it was that picked me up drops me. I land in a crouch and squint against the pink and yellow sky to see a boy of about fifteen years blinking at me.
"Who are you? How did you do that?" he demands after a moment of staring at me, his drawn bow pointing at me, making me eye him warily.
"Please don't tell me that you haven't heard," I state after a moment before I frown at the boy's face. "I even transformed in front of you."
"But - I thought they- you were only stories!" the boy says, but I ignore him, looking closer at his features. Fells, awakened by my own sudden wake up, slips easily into my mind, and I show her and image of Brom, Brom's love, and the boy before me.
"You're lucky I'm not my nephew," I tell the boy absently as Fells looks between the three images. "He would be using words you don't know, and reasoning you can't follow."
They do look quite alike, Fells muses as the boy stares at me, his bow lowered now.
"If you don't mind, I quite think I'll be going now," I say, slinking away from the boy on all fours.
"Wait," he calls before I reach the trees, and I pause, ready to shift at any moment and sprint before he gets any ideas. "What's your name? Please."
"I have many names," I say, eyeing him warily before I shift so my posture is more human-like as something nudges playfully at the edge of my mind. "There is the one my mother gave me, and the one that is all I am. There are names given to me, and names that I have chosen. Only some are ones you might know."
"I - what should I call you?"
The boy's expression is still uncertain, and I stand fully up right as I turn to face him. There's an odd sort of weight to him that he's unaware of, one that presses against my mind and makes me think of old times, times when Iwas subject the a prophecy that I thought I would die to fulfill. And now I recognize the presence at the edge of my mind, and curse myself for recognizing it sooner. "You can call me Kai."
Then I turn and throw myself into the bushes, shifting forms as I fall. I run away on all four feet as the boy calls out behind me.
That was rather rude, Fells observes as I push out the boundaries of my mind, Brom's location, and I find him in moments. And if Arya really did send the egg, you should have stayed with him to protect it.
Yes, yes, I know, I reply as I practically fly through the trees. I consider my position for a moment before I push off of a log and jump higher and higher into the canopy, finally jumping off of one of the highest branches. "Thrysta!"
I change back to my human form in a moment, letting out a whoop as I go flying into the air in a long curving arc. I wobble for a moment before I correct my course to a steady path skimming the trees. It's so odd though - little Brom had a child. He's come so far, and yet he will never go as far as he could have. And as far as the subject of the egg, I'm pretty sure it will hatch for him.
You know, I am far younger than him, Fells states, amused as she lets the subject of the egg drop. Most of my experience comes from your memories.
Well, I start slowly, from my experience, dragons who choose riders usually grow up with their minds so closely entwined with that of their rider's that from one point of view, you are very much a part of me that split off to another body.
My lips twist bitterly as I consider the thought. That very fact is the reason - from what we could tell - that dragons died with their riders, but riders didn't die with their dragons. The dragons partly developed while in the egg - it allowed them to choose when to hatch for the wild ones, and who to choose for the rider's eggs - but while that development allowed the dragons to have different personalities then their riders, it wasn't enough for the dragons to survive without half of their mind. Riders on the other hand, were usually mostly developed by the time they wee chosen by a dragon, their minds weren't nearly as dependent on their dragons. That didn't change the fact that they would loose a part of themselves should their dragon die, but they developed without the dragon's support, and the structure to support and individual mind was still there.
It's not as if you haven't gone through as many of my memories as you can, I say to Fells, shaking off the bitter melancholy my contemplations brought me. I glance down at the forest whizzing beneath me before I adjust my course slightly to avoid a tree. How has your project been going?
Disapproval, Fells sends me, before an image of an almost naked young child with silvery hair and a scattering of silver scales and unfocused eyes from the perspective of something on the ground drifts to my mind. I can also see the sun beating down on the sand around the girl before the image fades as Fells talks to me again. I've gotten better. If nothing else, a dress will cover the scales, and I can blame my coloring on my parents.
Is it getting easier? I ask with a smile. And yes, you are doing well. You look very good.
Yes, it's getting easier, and thank you for the compliments, Fells answers, pride clear in her voice.
Good, I reply. Keep practicing.
We keep talking, or occasionally showing when words aren't adequate. Some time around sundown, I sit up in my seat of wind to stare over the valley, a smile breaking out over my face. I slow myself down, and once I'm past the cliff, I carefully spiral down to the ground below me. The sun has set by the time I set myself down on my feet at the base of the Anora falls. I shake myself and stretch, placing my palms on the ground and letting my forehead touch my knees with a sigh before I stand and peer out of the grove of trees I had set down in and at the motley collection of houses not for from here.
I shift, and pad forward warily on my paws. Time to meet an old student.
Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Hello, Brom.
"Who's there?" the man before me asks, quickly shutting the door and looking around the room. His eyes settle on me and widen. "Morgan?"
Hello. You do realize that Jeod thinks you dead?
"Your coat has changed," Brom says, avoiding the question. "You look like a calico now."
I give him and unamused stare before I stand and leap off the chair to pad up to him. Your son found a dragon's egg.
"What?" Brom asks, his face going pale. "How? Is the egg alright?"
Arya, Fäolin, and their companion were most likely captured. But you shouldn't take the egg. She choose him. I say as I settle down in front of him and wrap my tail around my paws. So, your son's name?
"Eragon," Brom says, stepping over me and carefully lowering himself into the chair. I follow him, and leap up to settle on his lap, my paws pushing ever so lightly against his trousers.
You named you son remembrance? You know what happens to those named Eragon, don't you?
"I didn't name him," Brom sighed, his fingers settling on my back and stroking as I flick my ear in irritation. "I don't know how, but Selena must have come across the name in a book. She told her brother the name as her child's. What about Arya and Fäolin?"
My ear flicks as I contemplate what must have happened for her to send the egg all this way. I have to go find them.
"You do realize just how much trouble Arya had to be in to try sending the egg away."
Of course I know, I snap, my tail lashing back and fourth, hitting him occasionally. If nothing else, I am very good at sneaking. I can heal any of her injuries and put her into a sleep so that she does not feel them.
Brom's eyes widen before he smile at me. "It's nice to see you care again."
I pause in my frustration at the thought of not being able to save Arya.
What?
"Ever since Galbatorix killed old rock worn away by time, you've tried to not care."
I . . . I'm going to find the elves. Go talk to your son. And tell Jeod that you're alive. Take the weight off his shoulders, I say. I leap off his lap, dislodging his had in the process. I pause at the door way before I turn back and look at him. Please, don't get yourself killed. You're the last human dragon rider. I could't - I -
I flee before he can reply, leaping out of his window into the night.
I scry Fäolin after I return to the clearing that I'd slept in last night. I sigh in relief when I see that my bag is still there, and I quickly shift to dig through it and make sure I'm not missing anything. The money and dried meat I had were gone, but nothing I didn't expect. After I sit pull on one of the sets of clothes, I sit back for a moment to contemplate what I should do next. There are several ways I can go about this, but none of them really appeal to me. I grimace to myself before I pull my knife out of my pack and unsheathe it. It's not as reflective as water and mirrors are, but using it saves a lot of energy, especially since I burned so much with my little flying trick.
"Show me," I murmur absently, trailing my fingers over the blade. Fäolin's image comes reluctantly, and I quickly shift it away from him the moment I see the stillness, images wheeling across the blade as I try to figure out who the second guard was this time. The wards of Du Weldenvarden tingle over my magic as I ignore them, searching frantically. The images go still as I recognize Glenwing's still body, looking much as Fäolin's had before I let the spell dissolve. I let my eyes close and hold back a sob because this is exactly why I tried not to care for so long. My fingers clench, but it isn't until I look down that I realize that I've cut my fingers.
I contemplate . . . not healing myself. I shouldn't die from it, though I might loose some motion. Its not like any one would notice.
I'd notice, Fells whispers from a corner of my mind, drawing my attention to her. I rather like you being able to stay on me without a saddle.
Guilt floods into me at the reminder that it's not just my life I'd be risking and thought quickly mends the torn flesh. I'm sorry.
Fells snorts, but I can feel her relief as I reach back for her and let the feeling of her presence settle around me like a cloak. You do know that you needn't feel guilty. I knew before I hatched that you wouldn't be able to heal me if I get hurt. I choose to risk it.
You shouldn't have, I sigh, absently tracing my finger down the blade again. You've seen how easily you can be harmed.
Mutually assured destruction, Fells replies. There's a morbid humor to her voice now. Neither of us are surviving long without each other.
That though makes me almost happy. I've lived a long, long life, and I've done many things.
Now focus on Arya. I want to meet her, so she'd better be alive, Fells demands childishly, interrupting the somber mood. A swipe of my fingers over the blade brings the image of Arya, and I relax as I see the slight movement of her chest rising and falling. Then I register the cuts and busies littering her bare skin. Fells remains silent, but her presence grows more here around me. I'm so focused on her that it takes me another moment before I look to see her surroundings. I sigh as the cell walls before I push myself up and grab my bag.
You know where she is? Fells asks gently, and I nod. Fells feels my reluctance for words and after sending a rush of warmth, her presence fades back to the corner of my mind as she concentrates on her surroundings once more.
Arya is in the cells of Gil'ead.
It takes me a week and a half to get to Gil'ead, some of it spent on two legs and some of it spent on four legs. The city itself is mostly rough buildings shared by the hunters and fishers when they come back to sell off their goods for supplies. Those stand it sharp contrast to the simple and serviceable lines of the military buildings, built by Galbatorix to defend against the elves. I slip into the city as a cat, gaining some food from trappers as I wander the streets.
I reach out to Arya now, hoping to find her now that I'm closer. I find her mind, but it's so tightly closed off that I doubt that even my soft touch had been felt. While unable to touch her mind, I manage to use that to direct myself to the keep. It takes me moments to scale the wall high enough to land of the sill of the window, and I quickly drop into the room withing, darting to hide under the bed. There's a gasp, and the feet I ran by were quickly drawn up so there was nothing showing. I watch the edge of the cautiously as long, brown hair dangles and slowly pools on the floor as luminescent eyes the color of pure copper peer over the edge of the bed.
I wince as suddenly the vision of me turning left flashes before my eyes with a flash of blinding pain. The person quickly withdraws, then peers at me again after a moment. We watch each other for moments before the person's head disappears, only for the person to step out of the bed and lie down to look at me.
Hello, I say after another moment. The child's head tilts, and something swipes at the edges of my shields. I frown and put more effort into my shield, but before I can reach out to see who did it, a word throws itself at my shields.
Hello.
Was that you? I ask the child.
Was that you? comes the reply. I frown for a moment, and the child mimics the expression.
Curiosity. I blink at the child, sending the feeling like I had with my dragons long ago. Warmth. ?
The child blinks back at me, realization crossing his eyes. ! Understanding.
Happiness. I smile, feeling Fells shift at the back of my mind. Image of me. Small tide pool next to the ocean. Endless ocean clashing with shore. Silvery scales littering the burning sand. The sky above filled with stars.
Understanding. The child returns before he frowns. Darkness. The fear of pain after sound. Curled in a corner. Blood on white.
Sadness. I immediately respond. I pause to think, but I don't need much time. ? Acceptance. Curiosity. Open door.
?
Open door. I reply. Acceptance.
Open door? the boy asks.
Open door. Freedom. I smile, and the boy's eyes widen.
Freedom? Acceptance!
I crawl out from under the bed, and brush the boy's thigh as he scrambles back. His eyes widen as he flinches back like he's been scalded. Darkness?
Fear. the boy flinches.
Warmth. I insist slowly padding forward, frightened eyes watching every step. I put my head close to his hand and patiently wait for the boy to move. I takes several minutes, the boy's eyes flicking between me and his hand before his hand twitches and brushes my fur. When nothing happens, his hand slowly uncurls, and he hesitantly touches my fur. I purr and he flinches again, wide eye watching me.
Warmth. I encourage him, still purring. Freedom.
Acceptance. the boy replies uncertainly, but he lets his hand rest on my fur again. After a moment, I turn to the door. The boy snatched his hand back as it slides off of my back. There's a click as I prod the lock, making the boy's head snap up to look at it.
Open door. I remind him him. Freedom.
The boy's mind pulls hack as he stands and looks at the door. He sets a hand on the handle and turns it, peering out into the corridor beyond.
I slide out through the crack and start towards the direction I can feel Arya. Darkness. Trail of ants.
The boy quickly slips out of the room to follow me.
Who is that? Fells asks as I find my way through the winding corridors.
Some one Galbatorix is interested in. I reply. Then as I hear the footsteps of soldiers ahead, I quickly dart into a room, the boy following behind my without a sound. I couldn't leave him, so I asked him to come with me.
You seem to be picking up a trail of people now, Fells observes as we dart back into the hall and towards Arya again. First there was me, and while you left the little one and Eragon behind, I have no doubt you'll go back for them. And now you have this boy and Arya.
Again, it wasn't intentional, I reply as we duck into a room again. The footsteps pass, and after a glance outside, we quickly start down the corridor again.
That's what makes it so hilarious, Fells laughs as I slide to a stop n front to a door on the left side of the corridor.
Hush, you, I murmur absently as I prod at the lock. It clicks open, and I enter, waiting for the boy to enter before I push it shut. Then I turn to face Arya. She is staring down at me with disbelieving eyes, and I shift without a thought.
"Morgan?" she gasps, then grimaces and presses he hand to her side, doubling over in pain.
"Arya," I cry, rushing over to her.
"I will be fine," she says waving me off. "I suppose you intend to rescue me."
"Yes," I reply, my hands fluttering uselessly over her midsection.
"I've been poisoned," Arya states bluntly. "By Skilna Bragh. Can you do anything about that?"
"That'll be the easy part."
"Good," she replies, then she looks past me. "So, who is this?"
I turn, and flinch to see the boy cowering in the corner of the cell.
"One moment eld varda," I say as I crouch down.
Darkness?
Fear! Lost! Alone! the boy throws his emotions. Where?
In front. I reply patiently. His eyes land on me, and before he can look else where, I add; Approval.
?
Approval. I explain.
Different. Not soft. he narrows his eyes, and I smile at him.
Me. Come.
The boy is still suspicious, but he uncurls and stands.
"Arya, this is, as close as I could figure, Darkness. I found his in one of the cells."
Arya studies him for a moment before she nods. "How do you plan to get me out of here?"
"That's the fun part," I smile.
Alright. So . . . tell me if that was too confusing.
Chapter 6: Chapter 6
Morgan, being carried out over your shoulder is not fun! Arya yells at me as I leap up and use a soldier's head to land on the wall. Darkness, who's floating above me in the iron clad grasp of my magic, laughs as we fall the four stories of the wall. Can't you at least float me as well?
The last time I did that to you, you told me 'Never again!'. I'm just honoring your wishes. I reply as I soften our landing with burst of magic, darting through the barracks and huts towards the edge of town.
Well I'm revoking that right now! I'd rather be floated along than carried like a sack of flour twice as tall as you!
You're no fun. I pout, but I let go of her waist and she joins Darkness in his floating above me just as we clear the wall meant to keep bandits out of the trading settlement.
You're millennia older than me, Arya snaps back, but I can feel the edge of amusement and relief in her tone as I keep my two passengers floating at a steady level. Shouldn't you be less concerned with fun?
You're millennia younger than me. Shouldn't you be more concerned with fun?
Fun? Darkness asks before Arya can reply.
Fun. I answer, sending not the word, but the feeling, and Darkness mulls it over as I sprint ever onward into the gathering dusk.
Fun.
It isn't until dawn that I finally stop, exhausted and out of breath from the run. My two passengers are both asleep in the air above me, and Fells a quiet murmur in the back of my mind as I set them down and sit down myself, panting.
Arya sleeps the deep sleep of one exhausted, and I find that I am almost glad that she is still asleep when Darkness stirs.
? he asks me when he sits up and rubs his eyes, looking around at the bushes shielding us from prying eyes.
Warmth. Tired. I reply, allowing my weariness to show. Caution?
Caution. Darkness agrees as I yawn.
I wake around midday to find Darkness and Arya laughing together and eating warm bread. When they notice that I'm awake, Darkness comes running over to me, brimming with images, and Arya comes behind him with the bread. I take the slice offered to me, and eye the bush I fell asleep under, noticing the missing leaves. Bread isn't my favorite thing to eat, but it will sustain me, and I know that Arya wouldn't be able to stomach my usual meals, even if they had been cooked.
"How are you?" I ask her, and her smile looses some of its merriness.
"I am better, but I have been better," she offers simply. I take the words for the meaning she gives them, and pat the grass beside me. We spend the rest of the day resting, and at dusk we set off again.
Arya is well enough to run on her own, and I had shifted to a shape I hadn't taken in years, one large enough to carry Darkness, and we had run though the night, thoughts fleeting.
(I try not to remember the last time had used this form - with it's orange and black stripes. Try not to remember curses and friendships and lives long past.)
Darkness clutches at my fur and leans into the wind. His lips are chapped after an hour, but he doesn't seem to mind, only burying his face in my neck when it gets too bad.
It takes us three weeks to make our way back to the clearing where Arya sent the egg. About half way through, once it becomes clear that I won't see her this year if she doesn't come, Fells finds us while we are asleep and takes the shape she's worked hard to find. Arya isn't really surprised at a new person joining our group, long used to the others that had joined occasionally when I followed her with the egg, and Darkness is delighted to find someone who speaks to him as fluently as I do, rather than Arya's stuttering attempts.
Now, Darkness slips off my back and looks around the clearing curiously. There are still char marks from the excess energy Arya thrust into the spell, uncovered by the snow that hides the rest of the clearing, and Arya frowns as she kneels down to touch the blackened grass. Fells, I can feel reaching out curiously as Arya stands.
"Morgan, what is this?"
"That is the excess energy from your transportation spell," I tell her as I let magic seep out and shape a bed around me. A corner of my mind is monitoring Fell's connection with Saphira (Fells provides me, her shock at the name very carefully hidden), the egg I left with Eragon Bromson.
"The egg?" Arya asks sharply, looking around as if the egg were still here.
"Hatched," I say with a slight smile. "I left her with Bromson."
"Bromson? He had kids?"
"He did."
"Morgan," Fells calls, making me turn to see her and Darkness setting up their shelter. "Will this work?"
I walk over to the mound-like structure that they had made against the hill a bit away from the clearing and kick it. The side doesn't ripple any, holding as steady as a pile of snow covered rock, and I nod approvingly. "It's pretty good."
"Thanks!" Fells smiles at me, Darkness shyly copying her as I send him the feeling of approval. The two of them turn back to their creation and eagerly go back inside.
"I haven't ask before, but I need to know. Who is that girl, Morgan? Who is she?"
I sigh as I turn back to look a Arya. I know of every mark beneath her dress that has not healed, the welts, the bruises, the cuts, and in that moment she looks so tired, so alike the many children I've comforted over my years that I want to hold he and comfort her. Every one of those marks is a sign of my failure, of my curse.
"That egg is not the only one to hatch in the last ten years," I tell her finally. "But by the contract that binds, there is only one new rider. That is all I will say on that subject."
Arya's eyes widen, but that's all I see before I glance at the mid-day sun and turn on my heel to look for food. Later that day as we eat the various wild plants I found and the two youglings tear into the rabbit I caught, Arya's eyes watch me over the fire.
I wake up before the others the next days, and after scribbling a short note on an old leaf, I fling myself into running. I make my way down the mountain with ease, and creep through the village on four legs through the dusk that has set.
"You're back," Brom comments as he closes his door. He sounds tired, with all the stiffness that comes from that, but despite his age, I can see the easy way he moves when he isn't thinking. He can easily grab the staff from beside the door and swing it at me.
I am. I reply as he drapes the black robe he has been wearing over the back of his chair before he sits down himself. Has anything happened?
"Well, since you warned me, I caught him before he could try to trade the egg off for meat. Told him to keep it and indulge an old man," Brom sighs. "Lucky I did, Sloan can't tolerate anything from the Spine."
Considering the way people die, he's quite reasonable.
"Tell that to someone who isn't struggling for food."
I have. They were quite appreciative of the deer in particular, if I remember right.
Brom eyes me, then chuckled raspingly. "And when exactly was this? Four hundred years ago?"
Perhaps.
"Troublesome cat," Brom mutters, but there isn't any malice to it. "So, how did it go? You obviously did not get captured, but that doesn't mean you succeeded."
What confidence you have in me. I note dryly. And I found her. She's up in the mountains with . . . a friend and someone else I liberated.
"Shouldn't you be picking up responsible people? You're the stray."
Very funny . . . kitling.
"I'm not ten anymore!" Brom growls at me, his face red as I laugh, glade to still get that reaction. "Any watch your fur balls you menace."
You know very well that was not as fur ball!
"After last time?"
I have to concede the point, though I hadn't exactly been trying to hack up a fur ball last time either.
"Back on topic now. How is she?"
My ears flick back. I need to start growing some Fricai Andlát, and I need to do it fast. The rest of her injuries will heal, but she needs to have the energy to do so. Staying in one place will help, but not having the poison would be better.
Brom nods at my words. "And can you do it?"
Easily. I nod. But like I said, I need to do so soon.
"Then go," Brom sighs. "Come visit some time though, Sky Lord."
Like I'd let you keep sulking kitling. I quickly dart away and out the window as he growls at the name.
"Not ten!"
Like I'd said, not moving helps Arya greatly, and as I grow more used to the area, I find more plants that would work better than the ones that are easy to run into. The mushrooms grow quickly under my touch one the wind finally brings me the spores, and I have them ready to harvest in a day. The last of the cuts fade with the weariness that the poison had created, and Arya finds herself healed and full of energy. With nothing much else to do, she joins Fells in her attempts to teach Darkness how to speak, and at some point the lesson transition to Arya teaching Fells how to fight as Darkness watches from the sidelines.
At the end of the week, I send myself falling down the mountain again, and find myself creeping into Brom's house at mid-day to curl up in his one scroll clear chair to sleep. The sound of voice wakes me, and my ears twitch as I strain to her them on the other side of the door. "-questions never seem to end."
The door swings open, and I open my eyes, watching the two people come in.
"Now for a light." The taller one announces, and I recognize Brom. He lets out a low curse as something crashes before there's a sharp spike of magic and a white spark. "Ah, here we go."
A candle flickers, shyly lighting the room and the boy standing still in the door way.
"Did you get a cat Brom?" the boy asks, more light coming onto his face as he moves closer. My tail flicks back and forth as I recognize Brom's son, Eragon.
"Cat?" Brom asks, turning with a scowl. "What ever are you-?"
His scowl dies slightly when he sees he. "Oh, so you're back are you, you menace?"
I tilt my head as if I have no idea when he's talking about and let loose a mournful yowl. "Don't try that on me. Get off my chair you lazy thing."
I consider it for a moment before I shake my head.
"Brom, why are you talking to the cat?" Eragon asks, sounding truly curious as he eyes me.
"Because it can understand me," Brom grumbles as he bends down to light the fire. He hangs a kettle over the fire and pulls his hood back. "Will you at least let me have a seat?"
I tilt my head and leap down, as if I was miffed that it had ever been a consideration. I wander over to the door and paw it open, looking around Brom's bedroom for a moment before I shift, and go over to his closet to dig out a tunic that will cover everything. The sleeves are a little long, but I just push them up with a grimace. I'm not going to mutilate the shirt for a one time use. I wander back into the main room just in time to hear Brom say, "If you must know, elves are not legends, and they are called fair because they are more graceful than any of the other races."
"Do realize that this is all a matter of perspective," I comment as I stop by Brom's chair.
"You again! You're that werecat!" Eragon exclaims, and I roll my eyes.
"Now you recognize me." I shake my head as I pull myself up to sit on Brom's lap with his robes.
"What do you mean a matter of perspective?" Eragon asks curiously as I settle myself.
"Well, the elves are quite attractive to some, but fair can mean many things. I know- have known many elves who believe that werecats are far more fair than themselves."
"Might I speak again?" Brom asks as I finally stop wiggling to find a comfortable spot. Eragon nods, and Brom continues.
I recognize the story after a couple of sentences, and find myself listening with a strange fascination. As someone who was there throughout most of the rider's history, even if I was never a Rider, it's interesting to see how history was passed down.
When Eragon leaves after asking for the names of dragons, Brom slumps into his chair. "He doesn't know whose child he is."
"She never told him. What name do you think he will get her to agree to?"
"She's a blue, you know. You only gave him one female blue dragon's name."
"I guess I wasn't thinking."
"Don't worry. If she wants more names, she can come to me."
"That's not how it's supposed to work, and you know it."
"And I always thought that was stupid."
Chapter 7: Chapter 7
I'm putting this on hiatus so I can concentrate on fewer stories. I'm sorry.
Chapter 8: Chapter 8
Hi. This is abandoned, and will go to my Dribbles story tomorrow. I apologize.