'It' was not a sword, or a club, or a hammer, or a mace, or a knife or dagger. 'It' was not a weapon or any kind, nor was it any torture device, as Roran had feared. 'It' was a polished green stone.
Thoughts raced through Roran's mind as the slave girl Midori brought the stone to Galbatorix. It was not what it looked like. It was not a stone, but a dragon egg. There was no mistaking it. It was exactly as Eragon had described Saphira's egg, except this one was a sparkling emerald green instead of a radiant sapphire blue.
Midori handed the egg to Galbatorix on a fancy red pillow. Galbatorix's evil dark eyes fell on Roran and his lips curled into a sinister smile. "Now, Roran Stronghammer," Galbatorix announced. "We shall see if you were worth the death of one lethrblaka." Galbatorix handed the egg to Murtagh, who eyed it cautiously before walking over to where Roran stood in his tattered clothes. Roran shot Murtagh a furious glare, but Murtagh returned it with an emotionless stare.
"Good luck," Murtagh whispered as he handed Roran the egg.
Roran was a little confused. Good luck? Was holding a dragon egg some sort of test that he needed luck to pass? He looked down at the egg. For a few moments, he thought nothing was going to happen and was a little unsure of what to do with it. Then, suddenly, Roran felt something stir beneath the shell. He looked down again in alarm. There was a faint glow coming from it.
Galbatorix grinned in ecstasy. He had found the last Rider, the last pawn in his scheme.
After a few more moments, a long split appeared in the eggshell and it felt too hot for Roran to hold. He nearly dropped the egg in surprise, but Murtagh was there to catch the egg with the red pillow. Roran looked at his burnt palm and gasped. He had the gedwëy ignasia, or shining palm, just like Eragon.
A clicking sound from the egg brought Roran's attention back to the hatching dragon. Murtagh handed him the pillow with the egg on it and retreated to Galbatorix's right hand. Roran watched in awe as the fragmented pieces of the shell fell away to reveal a tiny emerald green dragon. It snapped its miniature jaws at Roran playfully.
Galbatorix was clapping and Roran looked up to the evil king. "Excellent!" he shouted happily.
Roran narrowed his eyes. He had played right into Galbatorix's trap.
Galbatorix snapped his fingers and several red-robed guards came and took the newborn dragon away. Roran looked to Galbatorix in protest.
"What's going on?" he demanded indignantly. "It's mine isn't it?"
"Yes," Galbatorix answered. "He is being taken to the dragon stables where Shruikan, Thorn and Saphira are waiting for him. They will teach him what is going on and how to be a good dragon. Now, we have more important matters to attend to."
"Oh?" Roran asked curiously. "More important than my dragon?"
"Yes," Galbatorix snapped angrily. He whispered something unintelligible in the ancient language and Roran felt himself being forced to his knees. "You, unlike Eragon, have yet to show with whom your loyalties lie. I am going to make certain that you chose correctly."
Roran glared at him defiantly. "My view of correct is different from yours." Katrina gasped as Roran felt himself being knocked backwards by an invisible force, Galbatorix's magic. He groaned in agony and found the strength the stand again.
Galbatorix was leering at him. "In time you shall learn to respect your master." He motioned to Katrina. "Be careful what you do Stronghammer. One false step and you may never see this fair maiden again."
Both Roran and Katrina gasped in horror. How could Galbatorix even do something like that? Roran didn't even need to think of what to do. He would choose Katrina over his own life. He sighed and lowered his head in submission.
"You see, Murtagh," Galbatorix said. "Even the most stubborn will bend when you apply the right leverage."
Roran's eyes fell on Katrina. If his freedom was what he had to pay for her, than so be it.
"You have chosen wisely, Roran," Galbatorix smiled. "Now swear your fealty to me, the all-powerful king of Alagaësia."
Roran opened his mouth to speak, but Galbatorix stopped him. "You will speak in the ancient language. This way, you cannot lie."
Roran looked at the floor. "I no nothing of the ancient language," he confessed, embarrassed by his ignorance.
Galbatorix raised his eyebrows. "Is that so? Murtagh! Tell him what he is to say." So Roran succumbed to Galbatorix's wishes in order to be with Katrina again and repeated the words of the ancient language after Murtagh. He didn't know exactly what he was saying, but he had some idea. He was pledging himself to Galbatorix. Now he was not able to disobey.
When it was over, Galbatorix released Katrina and undid Roran's bound hands. With tears in her eyes, she ran to him and he embraced her.
"Katrina," he whispered. "I missed you so much."
"How did you get here?" Katrina cried. "What have you done?"
"I'm here now, that's all that matters," Roran told her, yearning to taste her lips again. "You are safe now."
"Roran," Katrina whispered and buried her face in his shirt.
As they melted into each other's arms, for the first time in ages everything felt okay again. For a brief moment, Roran had completely forgotten about Galbatorix, Murtagh, Eragon and the Riders. He had Katrina again, and as he lifted her face to his and felt her lips against his again, all he knew was pure bliss.
But a nagging at the back of his mind caused him to pull away from their loving embrace. Images flashed through his mind, images of the newborn dragon that had hatched in his arms.
"What's wrong?" Katrina asked, seeing his confused expression.
"The dragon," he whispered. "It's in my head. It's sending me images of it. I think it wants me. Come see it with me. Come meet my dragon." His last few words set off an alarm in his head. His dragon. His dragon. He was a Rider! Roran held Katrina's hand as they left Galbatorix's throne room and followed the series of pictures that the green dragon was sending him. In only a few moments, the two of them stepped into what was called the dragon stables.
Galbatorix's black dragon Shruikan was there, and so was Murtagh's red Thorn. Saphira was there too, and she didn't look too thrilled. In fact, she was livid. The small green dragon was bouncing around happily on her back.
She touched Roran's mind. Does this belong to you? she demanded.
Roran nodded and then noticed Katrina's frightened expression. "Katrina, this is Saphira," he introduced them. "She belongs to Eragon. Saphira, this is Katrina." Katrina stepped forward timidly as Saphira lowered her head. "You can pet her."
"Hello, Saphira," Katrina forced a smile and reached a hand out to stroke Saphira's scaly neck.
Roran looked at the little green dragon. It was so innocent, so happy to be bouncing on Saphira's back, so hapless. It knew nothing of the horrors that would come soon enough, the horrors that only Galbatorix could force upon them.
He will need a name, Saphira informed him.
Roran nodded. "A name," he repeated. He turned over possible names for a dragon in his head. Saphira was named after another dragon, Brom's dragon. He knew no other dragons to name this one after. However, he did think of one person that he would like to name this dragon after, to remember. "Garrow," he whispered. "I will call you Garrow." He stroked the little dragon's neck as he said this. The dragon nuzzled him happily in return.