"Hello!" she greeted brightly.
"Angela." Jarsha rose from the ground and extended a hand toward the herbalist. "It's been some time since I've last seen you."
Angela looked at the proffered palm, a bemused expression on her face. Shaking her voluminous hair from her skin, she chuckled and tapped the side of her nose. "No need to do that, Jarsha – we're old acquaintances." Her tapping became more pronounced as she rushed on with what she had come to tell them. "On a brighter note, I think you lot should accompany me. I heard tell that an elf – some friend of Mirofr's, I hear – has come from Du Weldenvarden for some reason or other."
As she began to stride her way past the sun-drenched Surdan plain, an amazed Nanette called back after her, "You always know when things are going to happen, don't you?"
"I can assure you, I have my sources," Angela said with a laugh as she waited for the others to catch up with her. "And, nay – this is not the only thing that is happening around here. I can feel it."
"I'd think that would be the task of Solembum." With a smile, Jarsha pointed to the werecat, who was curled around Angela's ankles with a dignified look on his face. Red eyes keenly assessing the situation, his fluffy tail twitched as he surveyed Nanette. Her hair was in disarray, her eyes were wide, and she looked panicked.
The others seemed not to have noticed, thought Solembum as she scampered to join her friends and sister. I was right to think Eragon isn't the only occasionally dim-witted human.
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"Where's this elf person?" asked Tatiana. "Tell the truth!"
Angela sent a smile to the seven year-old. "I'm not going to lie to you," she replied, cocking her head to the side with the ghost of a smile. Turning around, she pointed in the direction of the heart of Aberon, where, among a thick clump of houses, was gathered a great crowd. The people chattered excitedly among themselves as a tall, silver-haired figure approached from the shadows.
Jarsha started to run with Angela and the little ones, but a shout stopped him.
"He– H-he spoke to me!" she uttered in a wavering tremor, her eyes wide and fearful. "It's Solembum – he spoke to me!"
Ah, now this one has true intelligence, though it must be honed before proper use. Clever Shur'tugal. Tail waving, the cat looked Nanette deep in the eyes before she chanced going on.
"I heard him! I swear!" said Nanette, backing to the point of almost walking onto the werecat's tail. Solembum, however, merely sidestepped and stared at her with deep scarlet eyes. Angela, who was frowning, gave a start.
"What? Well, it's unusual when he talks to anyone aside from me." Angela turned to stare at Solembum, who gazed diligently back. "I only know of three cases besides yours. Don't—"
But Nanette hadn't caught the warning. "He said…" She began shakily, then took a breath to regain herself. "He was telling me that it was time to show myself!"
Of course, young one. My words were not intended for you. Solembum's eyes held a gleam of mischief as he detoured around Angela and cleverly leapt onto her shoulder. The herbalist's eyes widened as she absently reached a hand to stroke the werecat, pupils reduced to cat-like slits.
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"Fanficcer! She's not a werecat, y'know, kupo!" Magic shoved TCF away.
Oh, uh, what he said is right. As a matter of fact, I don't recall any comparison of Angela and a cat in either book – that's Ginny. Hm. I s'pose I'd getter back to the story…
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Nanette's eyes widened. "Then who were they intended for?" she asked, her throat dry.
The werecat watched her with impassive eyes, tail flickering back and forth as he jumped smoothly from Angela's shoulder and began to encircle her. Nanette tensed unconsciously as she felt the fur brush her ankles; it was a lot more jagged than it gave semblance, belying its silky-looking quality. But, in spite of that, you've meddled into my affairs. While curiosity may not kill the werecat – here he stopped to lick his oversized paws – it can occasionally kill the human.
Nanette shivered, as did Jarsha beside her. Merrick, Alden and Tatiana merely stared, their mouths dropping open in astonishment. My words were not intended for you, they were intended for the dragon – the time has come and gone for him to show himself.
Then, it happened…
A sunbeam-coloured dragon flew up into the sky and glided softly, to land on Nanette's shoulder.
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She fainted. Clear and dead away she swooned. Solembum remained sitting patiently on the ground as Jarsha – fearlessly, it seemed – walked toward the dragon, his jaw set but the glow of excited curiosity still burning a shiny fire in his eyes. I've never witnessed a spectacle as peculiar as this one. Why was the dragon keeping secrets?
Stepping delicately, purposefully, haughtily over to the fainted Angela, Solembum licked her nose. When she began to stir slightly, the werecat leisurely raised his maned head; upon noticing the crowd of people – the elf resplendent among them – running toward them, he disappeared.
Nanette dropped down to her knee, grabbing her dragon by the tail and cradling him in the crook of her right arm as she aided Angela. The witch smiled, shaking her head slightly.
"I'll be fine," she chuckled with a nod that sent her curls bouncing. "A witch like me? I've got to survive, what with my skills and talent."
Nanette, seeing that there was nothing more she could do, shrugged and, still holding tightly onto the dragon, got to her feet to face the crowd of people who were now flocking around their original small group.
In one single movement, Tati fled with Alden and Merrick, leaving them to brave the throng alone. Jarsha aided Nanette to her feet, doing anything but hiding the fact that he really, really wanted to continue stroking the dragon's jagged scales.
"Do it," smiled Nanette in response. Jarsha grinned at her and resumed running a hand down the dragon's rounded scales as he assisted her to her feet.
"Where is Milda, anyway?" Nanette muttered as the clamour of people threatened to overpower them from five feet away. "We could use her at a time like this – she's a Rider, you know."
Wincing at the bite of sarcasm in her tone – legend of dead Riders, she was sarcastic for a ten year-old – Jarsha didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice was laced with hesitancy; he could sense the blood rushing to his face, even though he couldn't actually feel it. "She's – Well, last time I checked she was studying with Nolen."
Nanette started to rely, but was interrupted by the dragon, curled up in the crook of her arm with Jarsha's sweat-covered hand still pressed hard against his scales, stopped her. Easily, fluidly, smoothly, he hopped from his perch and began to scurry quickly toward the crowd.
The throng stopped, breath bated, two feet away from the dragon. He cocked his head to the side, seeming to grin – provided that was possible, of course – mysteriously, then continued to survey them from the depths of his amber eyes. So strong, so piercing, so powerful was his gaze that they eventually came to fidget uncomfortably, muttering darkly to themselves as those deep bronze eyes seemed to bore into their very souls.
Eventually there was quiet; the dragon flew back to the group. The crowd, meanwhile, stared at them with legions of eyes – some cruel, some sympathetic, some angry, some wise, some impatient, some burning with passion, some glazed with fear, but all waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Waiting for something to happen.
Nanette, at this point, quickly muttered something about panic and shoved the dragon into Jarsha's hands. He stared at her, with the tiny reptile squirming against his palms, then promptly remembered his mission and turned to the people gathered 'round.
"I tell now, to each and every one of you, that there is a new Rider in Alagaësia," he said, and opened his arms. The dragon flew out from between his outstretched hands and perched on Nanette's head as the black-haired girl emerged from the shadows. And, by the blood of the Shade Durza, was it a weird sight. But, nonetheless, Jarsha ploughed on:
"This is Crimson Flame the dragon, and his Rider Nanette Argetlam."
More staring. Nanette passed out.