Upon Dragon Wings
Abby Ebon
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Ascending…
What is he doing? Eragon asked of Saphira half-heartedly; it wasn't as if he expected her to have an insight to Murtagh's mind – but she might know something of what was going on in Thorn's – as both were dragons.
Then again – that would be very much like Saphira expecting him to know what was going on in another mans mind.
They are headed to the islands just off the coast – I assume because it would be ironic to fight there. Saphira answered, tilting her wings foreword to change a wind current.
It was something of a wonder to Eragon, how she just knew which winds would take them in the right direction – and how they would react to each other. He half wished she had the same ability in regards to the future.
Why ironic, Saphira? He asked her instead – she hummed softly in thought – the soft tone trembling through her neck and though his body; he knew without asking that, like he was – she kept close watch on Thorn.
Galbatorix believes Thorn and Murtagh to be a part of his order of Riders and Dragons – he thinks of you as the last remnant of the old order. Saphira confessed, and Eragon said nothing as they flew over the sea, considering Saphira's thoughts – while mentally preparing to battle Thorn and Murtagh.
Eragon found he was only mildly surprised that Thorn had chosen to land on the island – letting Saphira appear to have the advantage of air, though Eragon knew if Thorn roared out a fireball – Saphira would be hard pressed to miss it.
The air currents were wild, and Eragon wondered if it was only the fact that Saphira's was older that kept them aloft, while Thorn, the younger of the two dragons, had chosen to land.
Despite his determination to keep only Murtagh and Thorn in his thoughts and sight, he found himself distracted by the ancient ruins that surrounded them. The ruins had clearly been made with dragons in mind at all times – and despite times heavy hand – they had survived very well indeed.
Around him hummed the presence – or the very essence of magic, and Eragon felt enthralled by it.
For a moment, something puzzled him - the stone structures surrounding them showed no signs of being touched by tools, within a moment, Eragon had puzzled out how. What must have been ages ago - Riders had, using their magic, pulled the stone up from the very bowels of the earth.
They had crafted it by their force of will and their despite need alone, with only paper plans to guild them.
They likely had gathered here to do it all at once; Eragon thought he knew what would drive them to do such a thing – dragons had, from their early beginnings, thought to be only beasts. Riders had sought out a place, solitary from those ignorant of a dragon's true nature, where everyone would know differently.
That it had survived and stood for so long without either Rider or dragon to protect it, that it had not withered away or fell, was a great testimony to the Riders – and their dragons. Eragon wished he had time to look about the ruins more closely, he wondered if he could find written documents here – and if he did – what would they say?
Eragon wondered if Murtagh felt this too – this need to find out the origins of the other Riders, their stories, and those of their dragons.
"Eragon," Murtagh spoke, for his lips moved – but it was his voice in Eragon's mind, that of the soft touch of velvet on skin, that echoed in Eragon's very core, "Galbatorix has ordered I have Thorn mate with Saphira – and then take the both of you back to him" Murtagh told him, both aloud and in his mind, Eragon felt a little hope dim.
I promise you, Little One, I will not let that happen. Saphira spoke sharply, having heard Murtagh's words and intentions.
Like you can stop this from happening, you're as bad as Murtagh. The rolling thunder of Thorn's voice passed through Eragon's mind like a storm – even though it was directed at Saphira, whose teeth flashed in her annoyance.
At least we are trying and have not given up all hope. Besides – if you are dead, Murtagh will have no way to cross the ocean. Saphira purred back, Saphira did not try to sound so dangerous – Thorn knew she was.
Eragon couldn't help but compare her voice to Thorn's, hers was how he imagined one of the great jungle cats the books in Teirm had hinted at, if they could speak, a low purr – deadly as the grave.
Thorn's tail lashed back and forth, the snow white spikes along his neck and spine swaying slightly with his movement.
He made no motion to threaten Saphira – though he was clearly upset – Murtagh slid off his back, Thorn, following something Murtagh had likely mind spoken to him about, leapt up into the air and flew some distance away.
"So, we have until they mate to find some way of getting rid of his hold on you." Eragon reasoned aloud, using the same trick Murtagh had to let his voice into Murtagh's mind, having seen that Murtagh had purposely let any thought of a fight between Saphira and Thorn fall away.
Eragon saw Murtagh's slow nod of agreement, and Saphira landed gracefully beside him, letting Eragon to the ground. Eragon looked up from his crouch, and for the first time since the Battle of the Burning Plains, he met Murtagh's eyes.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Katrina sat huddled in the shadows, and even if there was a cot, she preferred to sit as far away from them as she could get. Them, they called themselves the Ra'zac, or so they claimed to be.
She was doubtful – for if they were the Ra'zac, they also claimed to be in their fortress city, Helgrind. This, she knew - was very far away from the Spine, her home, her father – who might, or might not still be alive, and her Ronan – her beloved.
So, she sat on the stone floor in the corner of her cage; it was three lengths of her body across, and two lengths from front to back – yet it was still a place she did not want to be – and thus a cage.
Every once in a while, a Ra'zac – grim and dirty, would pass the bars. In a way – Katrina found herself thankful for the bars – just as they kept her in – they kept them out.
As if her thoughts had summoned one – a Ra'zac stood suddenly in front of her cage.
"You know, Eragon?" It questioned, a low hiss to its tone, but she knew it was pronouncing its words carefully.
Her nails – grimy and dirt encrusted, dug into her skin, and she loathed to answer him, her – it. Jerkily, she nodded, keeping her silence – there must be more then one Eragon in all the land – surely.
"Good." It purred, chuckling softly, Katrina narrowed her eyes, not daring to look away.
"The King has ordered you kept here, because of your Eragon." Her heart thudded in her chest – surely, surely, they kept telling her these lies just to gain some twisted amusement in it. Day after day – it was the same game with them.
"He also says, now," the Ra'zac clicked softly, listening to nothing, "that you are to touch this stone. Pretty – pretty – emerald. You will – yes?" It hissed, and she could tell – even from the shadowed corner of her cage, that it hated her – that it wanted her dead.
For the first few months – it had been questions about Eragon, what she knew of him – who he loved.
They hadn't gotten anything useful from her, she had rambled like a drunken fool – about what clothes she liked - what colors she found pretty, and even what she had once dreamed up of a 'normal' life with Roran would be like. About anything, but what they wanted to hear.
They would have killed her for that alone – but something else, some outside and unseen force – perhaps the King? – kept them from touching her. That didn't stop them from terrifying her – they rejoiced in it, keeping her up all night with noises she did not want to know the origins of.
She was still fed once a day, allowed a bath – if with their leering eyes on her, once a week – allowed 'cleaned' clothing after a bath, all the same – she hated them.
So, the first few days they had asked her to touch the stone – she had thought it another sick change in her normal routine. She had ignored them, not speaking, until the Ra'zac had left in disgust.
This time though – she had thought all night of that little green stone, how it called to her – as if it asked her to take it from this place, as if it too was a prisoner here.
When Eragon had showed her father his sapphire stone - she had been there, she had thought it lovely – but the little emerald the Ra'zac kept showing her – kept asking her to touch, it was special – somehow, she just knew it.
So, for the first time, she nodded – agreeing to touch the emerald. The Ra'zac grinned – wide, the sight of its mouth sending shivers down her spine.
Loftily, it kneeled, and sent the green stone tumbling over the stone floor, the clear – pure, note was alike jewels dancing as it crossed to her side, tapping gently against her shin. As if to say – I am here, you are safe.
Katrina felt her stomach clench, a tight – cold feeling gripped her heart, trapping her tears – as she had trained herself. She would not let the Ra'zac see her cry.
Gently, almost lovingly - she found herself stroking the little emerald with her finger, it warmed pleasingly to her touch.
It shivered, all on its own – something, Katrina suddenly knew, was moving within it.
All at once, it glowed from within – the light shinning through the shell, lighting the shadows in the cage with warm green light. For the first time in a long time, she felt comforted – loved.
Then the egg – for that was the only answer to what the little emerald truly was, broke in half. A tiny head – serpentine and cat like, peered up at her – with wide green eyes it surveyed her - and the cage – expectantly, it turned back to her, as if to demand an explanation.
It mewled softly, as if to reinforce her impression – in awe of the little being that had suddenly appeared in her domain; Katrina brought her hand foreword so the little dragon – for that was surely what it was – could sniff her fingers.
Wary – very careful of her, it leaned its head down – its lips pulled back, showing off a row of sharp teeth, and a forked tongue flicked at the air around them, as if to sense her intent.
Its nostrils flared - inhaling her scent, and it let itself – as if a royal being – be caressed, a soft – if surprised, purr echoing from its chest – filling the cage with its show of pleasure and approval of her.
All of a sudden Katrina felt her world tilt – lights of every color alighting behind her eyes – power itself seemed to course throughout her body. She slumped against the wall, the little dragon turned to glare at the Ra'zac – hissing softly, its wings spreading in an effort to appear threatening.
The Ra'zac hissed back – but left swiftly, to report to the King that the egg had, indeed, hatched for the girl.
Unknown to Katrina – a silvery scar had appeared on her palm. Comfortingly, the small green body of the dragon curled around the girl's legs, the insistent sound of its purring echoing in the cage.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
AN: In my mind, the islands near Surda - would all be Rider lands, as no one would be using them in favor of the lush mainland. (Islands; Βeirland, Nia, Uden, Parlim, Eoam, Illium, Doru Areaba/Vroengard, Sharktooth.)