MUCH TIME had passed. Eragon could tell that much when he opened his eyes for the first time. He had been plagued with horrific dreams while he slept, visions of death and destruction. He saw everyone he loved fall by the sword, and he saw the yellow eyes of the Shade he killed. The sights within his mind were hazy and unclear, but he knew that they spoke of nothing but complete and utter violence. He was wrapped in bed, inside a curving room carved of stone. Small holes were drilled into the wall on his left, and the dwarves tunnel-like cooling system forced small gusts of wind from the city into his humble chamber. Eragon felt the pressure of bandages around his chest, back, and stomach. He pulled his arm from his blanket, and it too was bandaged with stained cloth. It throbbed painfully, like the rest of his body.
A door outside of his field of vision creaked open, and a dwarf girl walked in, wearing a simple dress and carrying a platter that held a small bowl. She stopped, and looked at him with surprised black eyes. Eragon opened his mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was a rasping cry. She turned from him and field while he convulsed on the bed, the wounds dealt to him by the Shade seemingly ripping him apart. He shot his eyes wide open, and he saw some black shadow crouching at the foot of his bed. The figure opened its mouth, and red blood dribbled from between its lips as yellow teeth gleamed in a fearsome smile. The creature lunged, claws scraping at Eragon's neck.
Eragon!
The sound of Saphira's voice smashed apart the vision like a hammer crashing glass. He saw no figure, and felt no claws. His heart jumped within the confines of his wounded chest, while Saphira rose from the side of the bed where she had been sleeping. He turned his head slowly to look at her, and his eyes widened in surprise. She had gotten large. Before, during the battle, she had been bigger than the darkwolves but smaller than the shadowlions. Now . . . she was nearly of the same size. Her wings brushed against the wall and Eragon's bed, and now that she moved, her actions shook the bedframe.
You've gotten large . . . how long was I unconscious for? Eragon asked. Saphira turned her large snout towards him, brilliant blue eyes brimming with intellect.
Five months.
Eragon was shocked. Five months? He attempted to raise himself, but that shadowy pain sent jabs of pain into him, forcing Eragon back down into the bed. His mind was filled with whispers in a strange tongue that slowly subsided.
What is wrong with me? Eragon asked Saphira. Every time he moved he felt intense pain. But it was more than that. There was a darkness lingering within him, some evil presence that clung to his innards, hooks wrapped around his ribs and muscles, causing pain, reveling in it.
The Shade you fought . . . you defeated it, Eragon. But . . . the healers have said that portions of its essence have clung to you. We tried exorcising it from within your body, but you were not awake, which made it harder. Every spell we attempted to use was thwarted by the fact it infused itself within your body, to the bone, meaning that we would literally have to rip your body apart to free you from the spirit.
Eragon looked up to the ceiling, hearing the voices again.
I don't understand, Saphira.
Eragon felt waves of compassion coming from Saphira, a wizened sadness ripe with pity. The feeling made Eragon uneasy, doubled by the fact Saphira had fallen silent.
What do you mean? He pressured.
Shades are a joining of a body and an external spirit. Shades can use a dead body, or one that is still living if the host is willing, or too weak to resist. However, the connection is never truly complete- The Shade can leave a body if the host is about to die, or their corpse is threatened to be destroyed. If a Shade dies within a host body, it dies as well . . . host bodies can contain hundreds of spirits, and it seems that one entered into you as you destroyed the host body. The Healers say it tried to possess you, and it would have succeeded, but sub-consciously you contained and locked it within your body. The nature of the prison you created stripped it of its possession power, and quite literally made it part of you, Eragon. But as it is a part of your body, it is still aware of its own existence, and has the power to plague you with pain and other factors. I'm so sorry, Eragon.
Eragon could feel the spirit now, lurking within him, curling underneath his skin. His mind was his own, and control of his limbs, but the spirit coursed in his blood, flexed with his muscles, and expanded with his lungs. It truly was a part of him, and although it could not possess him, it was capable of causing him pain.
Where is Brom?
He is stable. He lost his arm, and the wound bled far beyond than what was normal, but the Healers were able to cure him of the curse left by the Shade's blade. He is living and well, but it will take time for him to adapt to a new sword-arm. We won the battle, Eragon. The enemy forces were shattered without the leadership of the Shade. All of them were killed. But we lost many. Fifteen thousand souls now lie dead.
A spasm of pain racked Eragon, and he clenched his teeth together.
Fifteen Thousand. An almost unreal number. Eragon couldn't even visualize that many bodies.
Saphira picked up her head, and in a few seconds Eragon's door opened. He saw a brilliant-colored elf stride in, silver hair framing a pale colored face with bright blue eyes. The Elf wore black robes that trailed after his long legs, and thin arms crossed his chest as he stopped by the foot of Eragon's bed.
"Drakefyre," He bowed. The Elf lifted his head, and eyed Saphira.
"Eldunra" He said, and Saphira unfurled her wings slightly.
"Lord Vayim." She greeted, with her actual voice.
"I was told you have awakened. King Orrin will see you soon, Drakefyre. No doubt Saphira has informed you of your current fate . . ."
Lord Vayim outstretched his hand towards Eragon.
"Yes, I can feel it. It watches, Eragon. It watches everything. Has it spoken to you? Has it shown itself?" Lord Vayim questioned.
Eragon remembered the voices, remembered the crouched shadow at his bed.
"It speaks in a language I do not understand. I saw . . .," Eragon closed his eyes as he felt shards of pain cut at his throat.
"I saw something sitting at my bed. A black being, with yellow teeth and a mouth full of blood." He finished, gasping as sweat beaded down his face.
"A spiteful spirit. When a Shade possesses a living soul, you can tell the nature of the dominant spirit within it by the color of its hair. Dark red dignifies a malicious creature. Blue means it is benevolent, and green declares that the shade is more neutral in persona, not prone to doing evil or good."
Lord Vayim strode towards Eragon, and delicately gathered a portion of Eragon's long hair. The Elf held the strands before Eragon's eyes, and Eragon could see the bright red streaks that ran through his brown locks.
"The Shade nearly succeeded in possessing you. Had it been successful . . . I doubt any of us would be here. A dragon-rider Shade is a dangerous thing. Due to the connection shared between Rider and Dragon, it would be able to corrupt Saphira, as well."
Lord Vayim backed away from Eragon, and he felt his hair lightly slap against his cheek.
"Saphira has told me that there is no way to free my body of this spirit."
Vayim nodded solemnly.
"Freeing you of the spirit now would be akin to pulling your skeleton away from your muscle. If you wish to live, it cannot be done. It is as much a part of you as your blood is. My condolences, Drakefyre." Vayim bowed his head once more. The door opened yet again, and Vayim moved aside as Orrin entered the chamber, with the dwarf Prince Orik and more elves. Among them was Arya. Eragon's heart nearly jumped at the sight of her. Her hair had grown longer, beautiful and mysterious, while her slim body was dressed in dark brown leggings with a tunic that hugged her chest. White Sleeves ran down her arms, while a small crown hugged her head. Bright eyes regarded Eragon with the cold indifference common in Elves.
"Eragon Drakefyre," Orrin greeted. He reached for Eragon's hand, and took it strongly.
"Your success in battle has resulted in our victory."
"A grim victory." Prince Orik grumbled.
Orrin's face softened. Blonde hair fell down to the King's earlobes, while a yellow cape hung over his left shoulder and traveled down to the bottom of his feet. A sword shined at his belt, and a massive crown sat atop his head. Eragon noticed then, shy in Orrin's shadow a comely dwarf woman, her head at the curve of his shoulder. She wore regal dressings, a jade-colored dress. The draping covered most of her body, save for a square cut-out, lined with diamonds, above her breasts. She looked at Eragon with solemn black eyes, almost as big as dinner plates.
"Prince Orik speaks true. During the battle . . . we lost a valuable prisoner, and many of our mages defected. Fifteen thousand now lie dead . . . many of them dwarves. We will still march . . . " Orrin trailed off, looking like a young man instead of a brave King. He repositioned his crown on his head.
"Was it the Empire?" Eragon asked. One of the elves answered him.
"We do not know. But we came here to discuss something of higher importance. We know you are weak, Eragon. But you must make your way to Du Welden Varden. The situation . . . has grown more dire."
"What has happened?" Eragon watched as a brown-skinned elf stiffened.
"The Sealed Elves have betrayed us. They are attacking the Xoshan elf lands. Many of their Aurosa have fallen already. Dark powers aide them, Eragon. For now, the war in Du Welden Varden has reached a stalemate, and we Laen Elves are fortunate that the destruction has not reached us. Which is why you must go to train with Oromis now, while he still lives, and while the Laen Elves still exist as a society."
"Orrin has agreed to allow a portion of Laen Elf generals to leave with their men to support the war that has gripped our homeland. Sealed Elves still loyal to us will come as well." Another Elf informed.
Arya stepped forth then, a few elves parting away so she could be seen. Her jade green eyes settled on Eragon's, and her fine lips parted as she spoke.
"We must depart immediately, Eragon. We have been dealt a grievous blow, and your human lords will have to contend with Galbatorix while we reclaim what was lost to us. The Sealed will pay for their treachery." Arya said, her fine hands curling into fists.
(A/N) Soo a quick thing. Working on the lore, and as you can tell, I renamed the elves.
High Elves (Arya, Islanzadi, etc) Are now called "Laen Elves)
Wood Elves (Solembum, Elonenbum, etc) Are now called Xoshan Elves)
Dark Elves (Herzig, Danziig, etc) Are now called Sealed Elves)