I am flattered for all the interest this and my older stories still attract, but please remember I only have so much time and energy these days to write. This is the idea that makes me excited to write at the moment, so this the story that's getting the love.
Eragon, wake up!
He instinctively shied away from the burning brilliance of Saphira's mind but the numbing void of unconsciousness had been burned away and could offer no respite. Thoughts reeling, it took him to remember his last few moments of awareness, and realize Saphira blazed with fury and desperation.
Eragon's eyes snapped open to darkness. He did not need eyes to feel the cold bite of iron shackles around his neck and wrists, though he could not hear the rattle of chains. Even his clothes were not his own. The coarse, stinking fabric rubbed against his skin. His bare feet shivered on dank stone floor. Saphira's bulk was a comforting warmth at his back.
Saphira! Are you hurt?
Aside from the chains and my wounded pride, no. We are together, little one. I am fine.
For a moment they basked in the warmth of their bond. Then Eragon's lips twitched with a grim smirk. Their captors had caught them unawares but had lacked crucial foresight. They had imprisoned a Rider and his dragon together. They had not drugged him. So long as he could reach Saphira he could call upon his magic.
Eragon turned his concentration inward as he searched for his inner power... and felt nothing. The collar around his neck pulsed gold before it burned. Eragon hissed from the pain and lost his focus. As soon as he stopped reaching for his magic the light died down, the fire around his throat fading into the coolness of iron.
His eyes adjusting to the gloom, he could just barely make out the smooth stone floors and walls of a cell wide enough for Saphira to unfurl her wings. A dull red light emanated from the cell's single window. Eragon squinted but could not make out the door. Inspecting his shackles, he found their arcane runes glowed with a faint gold light. Despite his extensive study with Oromis he could recognize none of them.
Turning to Saphira, he found her uninjured, but such manacles around her neck and all four of her legs. Her eyes blazed indignantly in the dark.
I tried summoning my flame earlier, she said bitterly. Not even sparks.
Eragon's response sputtered and died at the sound of heavy footsteps and clanking armor approaching. He clenched his fists and...
Fell to the ground with a choked splutter as the runes glowed even brighter than before. His shackles refused to budge from the earth, no matter how hard he writhed. Saphira, splayed alongside him, snarled. Against such mysterious magic not even a dragon had the power to resist.
The seamless stone wall of their cell briefly shone before it flowed away like water. Eragon could only gape as two armored dragons easily twice Saphira's size stepped through. The dark green one lowered his head to place a dragon-sized pail of water in the corner. The other disdainfully dropped a coarse bag stinking of fish. Rooted to the ground, Eragon's gaze was naturally drawn to their paws. Both had thumbs like the prints on Vroengard.
Only then did Eragon realize a man stood between them. The dull light just revealed blond hair and light armor of hardened leather. In the darkness his eyes glinted gold.
Eragon's mouth worked soundlessly as the man knelt by Saphira's side but his voice died at his collar. For a moment Saphira's runes shone before the light died down, but still brighter than it had been before. When the man moved toward him Eragon instead threw open his mind to demand answers.
Three minds that burned like fire ruthlessly bore down upon him before he retreated behind his shields. The gold-eyed man bared his teeth at him. His canines were too sharp to be anything human.
"Amhlair," the man hissed.
Rough hands seized his shackles. Eragon flinched back from the raw power that emanated from searing skin.
His enchantments enforced, the man deftly stood and stalked out of the cell, his dragon guards dutifully at his heels. As their tails slipped over the threshold the stone walls surged back in, leaving only the small window behind.
Feeling the invisible hand around his throat release its hold, Eragon ignored Saphira's warning growl and hastened to the window. When he craned his neck just the right way he could see winding stone halls and a brazier where a red flame flickered low. The dark green dragon paused to breathe upon it, leaving behind an emerald light that burned brighter than the old one.
Then he noticed the yellow eyes shining from the cell across from him. A human face, most of its features obscured by an unkempt beard, leered back.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "Where are we?"
The man's weathered features split into a smirk. In the flickering light his teeth seemed sharper by the second. Scales bubbled up from his skin as his face bulged into a snout and his forehead sprouted horns. Stunned, Eragon could only watch in horror as the dragon inhaled... and blew hot and rancid breath into his face.
The Dragon Rider leaped away from the window and to the safety of Saphira's side. The hoarse, rumbling laughter of the dragon-man followed him.
"Gealtair!" bellowed the dragon-man in a thunderous voice. "An sithiche ta a gealtair!"
From the surrounding cells came a chorus of roars and cries of "gealtair!" Some fell silent as the guards stormed past. Eragon just glimpsed the gold-eyed man and the two dragons from his window before they stepped into the cell across from his. A dragon's agonized bellow turned high and reedy before it broke off altogether. Dead silence reigned.
Unable to stop himself, Eragon crept back to the window. He glimpsed a small shape huddled at the back of the cell across from his, trembling but alive. Three pairs of eyes caught eyes. Man and dragons alike had glowing eyes but round pupils instead of slits like Saphira's. The gold-eyed guard bared his fangs, scales crawling across his face as a warning before Eragon retreated away from view.
Weredragons, he thought numbly, not daring himself to speak aloud. We've been captured by gods damned weredragons.
For a long time Saphira was silent. I was not aware Solembum and the werecats had such cousins.
Her Rider swallowed thickly. They don't.
Sweat poured down Brede's back and her limbs trembled from exhaustion. Try as she might, she could not retract her claws. They gouged into the stone floor as she knelt before the Righ. She breathed shallowly to avoid coughing on the smoke that billowed forth from his nostrils. He tore through her mind with the ruthless force of a storm in search of the memories she had plucked from the boy's memories.
Eragon. The boy's name was Eragon. It was like the gods were trying to make her Righ a kinslayer. If one could count the mud-blooded Rider bastard of an exile as kin.
Again and again, the Righ cycled through her recollections. Always he paused at the memory of the boy's eyes. The eyes of his daughter, the eyes of his mate. The Righ kept his emotions to himself. So did Brede. She could serve as the boy's salvation or execution.
"The boy," the Righ rasped at last. "Bring him to me."
Brede was about to ask of the she-dragon, but her mind was still open to the Righ's. Raw power flowed across their link, chasing the ache from her limbs and granting her the energy to fly to the ends of the earth and back.
"Bring them both to me." Sparks flew from the force of his words.
Brede deepened into a full bow before she sprang for the exit. She did not know whether the Righ wished to embrace the boy as his own or else personally make an example of him. Her Will was the Righ's, and he Willed them brought before him.
Neither Eragon nor Saphira could gauge how long they had been unconscious in captivity before their awakening. Without a natural light source it was impossible to track the passage of time beyond patrols. Each was a man flanked by two armed dragons. The second and third routine patrols passed by their cell without a second glance, pausing only to replenish the flame in the brazier. The fourth patrol once more forced them to the ground before entering to burn away their refuse and leave yet more water and salted fish after renewing their bonds. None had reacted to his attempts at questions or even to his insults. He doubted they understood him at all.
Eragon wrinkled his nose and downed his share without complaint. His need to remain strong and keep Saphira from worrying about his health prevailed over his discomfort at consuming flesh. After all, his meditations had only lightly touched the small fish swimming in Du Weldenvarden's shallow streams. Their minds had been too alien and simple to truly relate to. He sorely wished for something to cleanse his breath. Everything in the cell rank of salted fish.
Between the patrols Eragon slept in spurts. His dreams were a fragmented mix of falling and drowning.
At the sound of the fifth patrol Saphira growled for the extra footsteps. She bared her fangs in a furious snarl when their collars once more left them prone upon the ground.
When the stone melted away Eragon's gaze first flicked to the familiar faces. The gold-eyed man and his first two dragon guards were there. With a silent snarl the gold-eye man slammed a smaller pail of water upon the floor. Behind the three guards loomed two strange dragons. One was stone-gray and the other dark brown, their hides marred by well over a hundred scars between them. Twined around their right horns were pale silver bands of wool with another of blood-red beneath.
At their paws stood two new humans. The gold-eyed man's armor was rough and simple, covering only his shoulders and torso. The armor of these two were still leather, but of finer quality, and covering most of their bodies. Around their right arms were the same bands of silver and red, bright against the dull leather. Eragon squinted before he blinked in mild surprise. The slighter figure must have been a woman, albeit with the craggy face of a hard life lived. Both stepped into his cell to drop the bundles in their arms before returning to the sides of the dragons.
Then they stepped aside to allow two new human-shaped beings into his cell. They had eschewed helms, allowing a clear look at their faces. The left was a man, tall and gaunt, long black hair tied back and with a hawk-like nose. His expression was stone and his eyes blazed silver. He stood slightly behind his companion, a woman shorter and stouter than he. Her blond hair was cropped close to her ears and eyes a blue lighter than Saphira's.
"You will come. You and the she-dragon."
Bewilderment exploded from both sides over his link with Saphira. Never had they heard one of the weredragons speak their tongue before. The woman's voice was both rough and hissing, but every word careful and deliberate. They understood her.
"Why?" Eragon spat.
"The Righ wills it. So you will come. Wash. Dress." She gestured at the supplies her roommates had deposited on the floor. "Look... not like this. Do not fight."
"Why not?" This time he kept his tone carefully neutral. Saphira's mutinous snarl spoke for them both.
She casually nodded to the prison guards behind her. Chains were slung over their backs. One snorted a puff of smoke. "You still go to Righ."
Saphira huffed in seething resignation. I reek of fish and that crazed bastard across the hall can't shut up. There's gods forsaken grime in my scales. If this Righ means to kill us at least we won't die in this blasted cell. Little one, let us face whatever lies ahead with dignity. I won't be chained like some rabid beast.
"Will you remove the collars?" He was not surprised in the slightest by her blunt refusal. With only slight hesitation he relayed their concession in the common tongue.
"No." Eragon's heart stopped. Would she demand an unbreakable oath in the ancient language? Instead the woman's steely eyes locked gazes with Saphira. "I hear your vow from you, she-dragon. Not your Rider."
Most humans were content to believe Saphira merely an intelligent beast of burden. The elves revered her to the point where they dared not touched their unworthy minds to hers. Of course one half a dragon herself had no qualms. With grudging respect Saphira lowered her defenses enough to consent. Fearing trickery, Eragon opened his mind too. Better he die defending her than allow a stranger to bend her will. But the weredragon accepted Saphira's sullen agreement and withdrew behind her own shields without incident.
While the weredragons left the cell, the patrol took only few grudging steps out of sight. Eragon couldn't help but roll his eyes when the hold on his collar finally released and allowed him to stand.
I suppose they don't want us mounting a daring escape with your grooming supplies, Saphira said sardonically.
First Eragon took the larger pail of water and with a rag scoured the scales Saphira always had trouble reaching. She rumbled in appreciation. Then he stripped and turned the water and scentless bar of soap upon himself. The clothes given were modest things of wool and leather, plain brown and white. They were not his clothes, the ones he had been captured in or the ones stowed in Saphira's saddle bags, but they were miles above prison rags. The rough leather boots were ill-fitting but better than bare feet.
Eragon slapped a hand to his collar. The dwarven charm that shielded him from scrying had been taken too.
Little one, we don't have the foggiest clue where we are, Saphira pointed out. I don't think anyone is coming to our rescue.
Her Rider shivered. Who said Galbatorix wants to rescue us? Not only will he find us, but the army of dragons he always wanted.
If Galbatorix knew about them they would have been used against the rebellion from the beginning. Their magic can block even my magic, aye? Oromis and Glaedr never spoke of weredragons. Surely they must have some way of screening themselves... which also means our allies still can't scry us.
Focusing on the task at hand, Eragon sniffed the contents of the smaller pail. Smelling mint and vinegar, he took a smaller rag to scrub his teeth before rinsing the foul taste of fish from his mouth. Then Saphira downed the entire bucket to do the same. The comb was a rough thing of bone. Eragon winced as he wrenched it through the snarls of his short hair.
His other hair was not a problem so easily solved. Running a hand over his patchy stubble, he frowned. Oromis had pressed him to remain clean-shaven unless he wanted to grow out a proper beard. During his time in Du Weldenvarden he had not been able to and so had shaved every day. Still young and stubble erratic, it was a habit he'd maintained. One guard had sported a short beard, both the gold-eyed man and the hawk-nosed stranger were clean-shaven.
No razor, he grumbled. Gods forbid I try to stab anyone with it.
"We're finished," he called aloud. Their shackles promptly sent them back to the floor.
Once more the woman and the man entered the cell. She spared Saphira a curt nod before her critical gaze fell upon him.
"Leth-chinnichte clomhrachan," she grumbled.
From his belt her companion pulled out a long iron file. It unfolded to reveal a razor. Stoically he knelt down and wet the blade. Eragon froze as it was roughly ran over his cheeks. Saphira held back a snarl. They both heaved silent sighs of relief when the dark-haired man stepped back.
"Be good," the woman told them sternly. "Do not fight. Do not run."
The invisible hand on Eragon loosened its hold. Then the two weredragons bent down and hauled him to his feet. Even the woman was a head taller than him. His pride stung slightly at that. Hands holding his shoulders in an iron grip, they ushered him into the hall. From the other cells peered curious eyes. None dared call out a single word.
He dragged his feet until the two banded dragons and the humans at their feet entered the cell and came out with Saphira shuffled between them. Wings half-spread, one stood at her front and the other her rear.
The three prison guards led the way through labyrinthine hallways dotted only by braziers and the shining eyes of prisoners. Eragon studied the floor. A gradual gradient slowly led them upward, the hallway widening to a point where they no longer had to squeeze against the walls to let passing patrols by. They passed through iron gates that shone with runes and through stone walls that gave way to halls. Even so far from his cell the salty smell lingered. Were fish all they fed their prisoners?
The sudden sound of cracking bones and Saphira's alarmed growl made his head whip around. With two iron grips upon his shoulders he could move no more. He just managed to catch her two previously human guards in the last moments of transformation as they heavily thudded onto all fours. Now that the hall was wide enough for three dragons in a row Saphira was squarely situated between them.
Up ahead glinted the smallest bit of sunlight. Eragon squinted against the brightness. His nostrils flared at salt upon the fresh breeze. Only then did he hear the faint murmur of the sea and realize the stone floor was now faintly wet with spray.
Armored dragons and men in leathers watched them like hawks as they progressed to the gaping maw at the end, more cavern mouth than prison gate. Two unarmored dragons, one blood-red and the other golden brown, stepped forth from the ranks to flank his sides. Upon their backs were riders. Whatever their shape, all four weredragons wore the same silver and red bands.
"Stop," the woman ordered.
Eragon obeyed, Saphira's escort halting behind him. She held both his shoulders firmly as the hawk-nosed man released him and stepped forward. Pale flesh, dark hair, and leather seamlessly blended into black scales as the form grew and lost any semblance of humanity. The weredragon stretched raven wings before furling them. His front legs sank forward into a familiar stance.
"Be good," the woman chided. Then she wrapped one arm around him and climbed onto her companion's back one-handed.
Bemused, Eragon let the woman settle him between her and the black dragon's spike, smaller than what he would have expected for a dragon of such a size. Saphira's jagged scales rubbed his legs raw without a settle. Testing the weredragon's scales, he found them firmer and more closely folded together. They did not cut his flesh. Behind him sat the woman, a small but firm shape that radiated a dragon's heat. Her breath was hot on his neck. In a heartbeat her fangs could tear out his throat.
Lifting her right first to her heart, the woman announced something in her guttural tongue, too deep and rumbling for him to make out the words. Her nine companions echoed her call. The prison guards rumbled their response. Humans and dragons both mirrored the right hand to the heart, but bared their exposed necks in her direction.
The raven weredragon unfurled his wings, leaving the thresh-hold behind with a single thrust. His two guards followed, flanking his sides, before Saphira's escort ushered her after them. Above the morning sun blazed bright and clear. Below white waves crashed upon jagged rocks.
Eragon craned his neck to finally view their prison. From the sea jutted a solitary mountain of jagged gray stone, its sides barren but for caterwauling gulls and windswept lichen. Dragons with riders circled its peak in rigid patrols. The prison wasn't built upon the island. It was the island, its cells and passages carved into the very rock.
He squinted thoughtfully at it. As their prison sank into the distance its craggy surface almost resembled some great brooding beast about to rise up and bellow after them.
Saphira snorted at his sentiment. Good riddance.
Eragon agreed. Whatever fate awaited them with the Righ, they would face it together, and not die alone and forgotten in the dark.
Look at the pairing tags and hint's I've been dropping, people! Of course I was going this path ;) Though our mysterious race would take great offense to being called 'weredragon' if Eragon or Saphira ever dared say so to their face.
Young and inexperienced as she is with foreign languages, Selena's phonetic interpretation of her mother's tongue was very... loose. Having mastered a foreign language himself and having had quite a bit exposure to several others, Eragon is better able to process the words even if he can't understand a word of it yet. By now it should be very obvious what language family I'm primarily drawing from.
Sea stacks are friggin' awesome works of nature. That is all.