Chapter 9: Indescribable Color

A wisp of purple smoke….

a crack of green lightning…

a toad croaking in the background…

familiar royal blue eyes…

an eerie whisper, raspy and croaking, "Eragon"

Huh? Eragon faintly felt himself come back to consciousness. He felt old, so old in fact for a split terrifying second, he thought of himself an ancient rotting corpse, maggots crawling over his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut, never before had he felt this sort of pain. Even the simplest movement sent a terrorizing shoot off searing, hot ache down his spine. Saphira, Eragon weakly called out with his mind. He waited… no response. What was going on? A sudden flash of memories overflowed his brain, a note…fire over taking his body… Saphira roaring and Ayra screaming. Unwanted tears filled Eragon's eyes, as he thought the unthinkable. "Saphira," He screamed with all his might, both mind and voice. She cannot be dead; no it was simply impossible! He tried to sit up, but his muscles refused to cooperate. Eragon felt a soft hand on his brow. He forced his eyes open, Angela smiled down at him. She was whispering something that Eragon could not comprehend and he had to calm himself down in order to hear.

"Stop," she said soothingly, totally unlike her, "I had to drug you, so you didn't feel as much pain. You will not be able to get up until your wounds have healed. Saphira had to close her mind from yours, so the drug did not take control of her as well."

Eragon croaked a reply, his voice was sore already, "That bad?"

Angela nodded, she looks like a mother. Eragon thought as jolt of recognition surged through him, making him remember the images that had flashed through his mind as he gained consciousness. Blue, royal blue, almost navy eyes.

I can't think right. Eragon told himself. But why do I feel like those eyes are familiar?

Angela seemed to sense Eragon's stress, "Just rest," she said, "We will talk when you awake."

Eragon closed his eyes, even though he has no intentions of sleeping; there were too many things to think about. He felt Angela's hand lift off his brow, and heard a door close softly. Eragon opened his eyes a slit. As far as he could tell, Angela was not there anymore. He slowly straightened his neck, trying to see the rest of his body; he tilted his chin towards his neck until he finally could see it.

His arms and legs were covered with boils and oozing puss. Veins could be seen as clear as day, but they were not blue like usual, they were dark crimson. Sticky green goop covered his arms and legs, and the spots on his chest that were not covered by a blanket. Sudden extreme terror erupted in Eragon, why couldn't they fix him? Surly he must be in Ellesmera, where else would Ayra, Saphira, and Orik take him? They all had magic, why weren't they using it to save him? Did they fear to try to heal him, was he that far from saving?

This was all too much. Now, more than anything Eragon wanted to take Angela's advice and just fall asleep, but it wasn't that simple. His mind did not agree with his body, and he felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness. Memories he tried to forget hurled themselves at him. He saw Murtagh mouthing soundless words, words he had tried to forget. Words that threw his world into confusion, threatened him to insanity, words that gnawed at his heart. Eragon felt the pain, the betrayal, the absurdity, even now. Throughout his life he had never had brother, a real true brother, and now that he knew the awful truth he couldn't stand it. The last few days Eragons thoughts of Murtagh had tried to take over, but he had forced himself not to let them. He occupied his mind with other things but it still all felt like a blur, a dream; even dreams felt more like reality.

Eragon felt, beyond anything, alone; alone and afraid. He was afraid of finding out what happened to him, and he was afraid of dieing and leaving his mission unfinished. He was afraid that Roran hated him for not staying and rescuing Katrina. He was afraid of his past and of his future. He was alone without Saphira.

What have I become? Eragon asked himself, as he slowly fell back into unconsciousness.

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Ella was sitting in a small room. The walls were plastered with bark and leaves, and there was a peaceful waterfall flowing into a bed of rocks in the corner. Small doors lead to the toilet, and there was a tray of fresh fruit lay on a cherry wood table beside the door. Alex was sleeping on the elegant four poster bed across from her. There was no window; the door was locked from the outside, and there was no way out.

As tired as Ella was, she offered to guard the egg first, wanting to think about things. But so far all Ella could think was, why did they give me a sword? It was funny how odd she felt, sitting there with a bare blade on her knees. She could barely lift the sword, let alone use it. But regardless of its weight, Ella would have thought twice about getting the beautiful sword dirty. The blade was plain, an iron base with gold swirled around it, sharper than a dragons tooth. Rubies and sapphires were encrusted in the hilt, mimicking the golden whorl on the blade. If it wasn't for the fact that with one false movement the sword could sweep through Ella's skin, like a hot knife in butter, Ella might have kissed it.

Ella tore her eyes off of her sword, checking on the egg, reassuring herself that it was still there. It rested in the crook of her arm with a blanket wrapped tightly around it. Ella reached out her free hand, and removed the tattered layer. It seemed a crime to have something so simple and ragged touching the strange and majestic beauty of the egg. Ella felt the cool of the egg touch her bare skin as it toppled closer to her arm. She studied it, trying to decide on its color. It was a striking emerald green, with lighter and darker tones layered atop each other. Dark veins of amethyst mysteriously weaved in and out of itself, making a random pattern. Inky blues ran underneath he greens, so small you could hardly tell. Imagine what the dragon will look like, Ella thought to herself, it will be beautiful beyond measure.

Ella massaged the egg with her finger tips, whispering to the baby dragon inside, "I wonder what they will do with you." The dragon, of course, did not answer, but Ella knew the answer; Queen Islanzadi would probably hold a Trezgrada or an egg picking with all the elves and the Varden present. The Queen and her counsel would contemplate whether or not they would waste time with letting the women elves and humans hold the egg, after all time was of the essence and there had never been a woman rider before, why would it change now? But every woman would complain if they decided not to let the women try, they would protest their rights and equality, and in the end Queen Islanzadi would allow them to take part in the Trazgrada. The Varden and the counsel would then be angry because the Queen had wasted all this time with politics, but soon enough the Trezgrada would begin. Ella could imagine it; every elf would line up in the great hall and hold the egg for a few minutes. If the egg did not hatch then they would keep moving down the line until the egg finally did.

But Ella doubted that the egg would hatch for a woman, but then again what did she know? In all the years in her life, she had never actually felt like she had the whole story. No one ever bothered to inform her on the details, preferring to keep things secret, much as they did now. She longed to know what was going on outside of their room. She knew it would be exciting, and probably life changing, but who was she to deserve that type of knowledge? The only reason she was in this was because of chance. Chance or luck, her mind told her; but she disagreed. She was not the kind of elf that believed in destiny. She stopped thinking those childish things when the urgals killed her father and destroyed her home, now all she believed was what she could see, touch, feel, taste and hear. She had barely believed in dragons, that is, before she was spooked by Glaedr.

Ella suddenly felt startled; it was only a little while ago when she was still a naïve elf; when she still had a simple life. Ella blinked the tears back for what felt like the billionth time that day. It was weird to have your whole life suddenly thrown up in storm. But even weirder was feeling Ella was now getting from the egg. It seemed to hum, or maybe that was just Ella. She continued to stroke the egg wondering if she should wake Alex. Obviously she was so tired that she was hearing things. She moved her free hand to her sword lifting it up as she stood and dragged it to the bed. Suddenly the egg started to rock violently, tipping and rocking in her arm. Dropping the sword to the ground with a huge thud, Ella grasped the egg with both hands. Alex awoke with a huge start, looking around wildly for the source of the noise.

Ella called to him from the floor. "Look," she sobbed, her eyes sparkling with tears of astonishment, "It's hatching… hatching for me!"

OOOHH!!! don't you just love cliffhangers? Haha...R&R please!