Frelsa, do you think something's wrong with Errol?
Frelsa checked her belt to make sure the pouch of gold coins was still there. The gift was precious to her, and not just because the contents equalled to a small fortune. She paced around on the sand trying to think of a way to open the cage.
What do you mean, Kalla? She asked. Her dragon was currently squirming for space with the other two dragons, only half visible through the web of seaweed that still clung to the bars. She, Shepherd and Drukjl had managed to pull the cage ashore through both magic and strength.
I mean, Kalla growled as she slipped and slammed into the side of the cage, look at him.
She did, and realised Kalla was right. The grey dragon subtly tried to push Dýrgrir away, trying to squeeze himself into one corner.
He's just had a shock, she reasoned with her dragon. But his behaviour did unsettle her slightly.
Frelsa lay her hand on the gritty bars, covered in sand, salt and a net of seaweed. She flipped through her vocabulary of the Ancient Language, trying to find the right combination to break it.
"Mor'armr thornessa fang."
Open this cage. Nothing. Expected.
She frowned and ran her hand across the bars. "This is strange, the enchantment should be broken since that Neoettr is dead."
"If he is dead," Drukjl pointed out, running a whetstone down his axe blade.
Very cheerful thought, Erroll grunted. Now please open this cage, I want to get out.
Shepherd tapped the metal cage. "No doors, no locks, how did he get it open in the first place?"
"Magic. Obviously," Frelsa said.
"If he had magic why didn't he use it against us instead of letting us whoop him?"
She offered no answer, instead continuing to contemplate a spell.
Shepherd raised his sword and tentatively jabbed at one of the cage bars. The grey blade was sent flying back, the pommel striking its owner in the shoulder. He cried out in pain and fell to the ground. Drukjl nearly joined him, doubling over from hearty laughter.
"Brejta du Saier."
Break the Spell. She reeled back as the spell took its toll on her, hungrily drawing in her energy at a furious, almost desperate rate. Frelsa immediately severed the connection, leaning on a nearby boulder for support.
Frelsa, try again, Kalla encouraged. We will help.
But what if- Dýrgrir began.
We will help, Kalla repeated.
She felt the dragons' energy reserves opened to her, more energy than she had ever had access to, a seemingly infinite store of power. She cautiously spoke the words again. The toll was enacted upon them, but slower. She imagined the spell as a tall, lone oak in a clearing, refusing to bend to the wind.
The wind grew stronger and stronger, yet the oak did not double, only bending slightly. The wind grew to a gust, then to a storm, then to a hurricane. The oak creaked and groaned and faults started running up and down its trunk. She could see the spell falling before her. The oak gave a great roar of splintering wood and bowed.
The cage bars seemed to glow bright neon blue for an instant, before the top of it blew apart, the bars twisting and mangling into contorted shapes allowing a hole for the dragons to crawl through.
Frelsa gasped and stumbled forward, hanging onto one of the surviving bars, knees weak under her. Errol snarled as Dýrgrir climbed out, Faster.
Did you… say something? Dýrgrir asked with a slight undertone of threat.
Nothing, Errol muttered, seemingly resentfully, as he clawed his way out.
Frelsa glanced at the grey dragon with concern, before her knees buckled again and she leaned on Kalla for support.
There was a distant boom from Feinster. Drukjl pocketed his whetstone and sheathed his axe. "We must leave. The disruption we and the escaped prisoners caused will not last forever."
Frelsa wondered for a moment how the prisoners' escape was going, before Kalla nudged her arm. She sighed and climbed up onto her dragons side.
"So, High Navigator? What be our course?" Drukjl shouted at Shepherd as he mounted Dýrgrir.
Shepherd steadied himself on Errol, saying, "Well, since going back to get Lod to ferry us on his ship isn't an option, I'd say we continue North to Belatona, then from there we keep going along the length of the Spine all the way to Palancar Castle. Or we can cross over now and go for Kuasta."
"Which would you suggest?" Drukjl grunted.
Shepherd replied, "Personally, I'd avoid Kuasta. Because of their isolation from the rest of civilisation by the Spine, they've developed some… strange customs."
"Such as?" Frelsa asked, intrigued.
"Oh little stuff, knocking three times on a doorframe before leaving or entering, kissing the hands of elders they meet, executing anyone who desecrates their chicken population. Little stuff."
Frelsa raised an eyebrow.
"They hold chickens sacred," he explained.
Errol jerked his head. We know our course, let's go.
Agreed, Dýrgrir said.
Was it her imagination or did Errol glare at Dýrgrir for a moment?
The journey settled back into a trundling march of the mundane sort. They had a silent agreement not to fly for the moment, seeing as how Kalla had fell back into her pit of despair. She was devoid of her usual attitude towards her Rider, tailing the other two dragons. Her silence was so unnerving Frelsa was uncomfortable atop her.
They had barely re-entered a sparse forest when their march was interrupted.
"Hold up!" Shepherd, he and Errol in the lead, called back. "I see something."
Drukjl grunted, "What is it?"
"It kind of looks like…" Shepherd said, squinting into the sky.
There was a sound like the distant boom of thunder, the flapping of giant canvas, the trees shook and shuddered, making it rain with leaves. Frelsa looked up in awe as a huge shadow passed over the Sun, circling above them.
"Gods above, is that…"
She did not need to finish her sentence. They all could recognise it.
A huge dragon came to land gracefully next to them, a giant of such size he must have been of one of the first broods Saphira and Eragon raised. He was most definitely bigger than Rimgrun. His scales were a deep, rich, luxurious purple, in some areas darkening to black, in others so light they were almost pink. His eyes, fitted with striking violet irises, stared at each of them in turn with a hypnotising power in them. He made a powerful rumble from deep within his chest, the sound making her teeth rattle and her bones shake.
Kalla had been roused from her despair, but she still did not dare speak out in the presence of this dragon. He spoke.
I had expected to find two-legs this close to the City of Hate, but with those of my kind with them, that was something I had not anticipated.
This dragon was definitely wild, his mind had an untempered, feral feel to it, but he still spoke in the Ancient Language, an uncommon trait for a Wild One. Frelsa struggled to find her voice, trying to answer this giant. Dýrgrir responded quicker, Bjartskular, we endeavour to make our way North and back to the Island.
As good a lie as any. The dragon gave another slow rumble. Do not try, there is no island of ours' to return to.
Frelsa paled. She frantically asked, What do you mean?
I mean what I have spoken. Two or three nights past, the mountain of my, our, island breathed fire.
She had guessed as much back under the volcano.
The liquid fire that flowed down its slopes was deadly to the touch, flowing down into our forest and into the stone dens of yours'. Many were asleep, many perished in the fire.
Frelsa received an inflow of terrifying images and sights and sounds, feelings and senses. She felt the air turn to fire, each breathe kill her a bit as the smoke forced its way into her lungs. She heard screams, roars of pain, the molten rock pouring down and devouring the trees of the Elf Corner, the tall buildings of the Man's Corner. The Dwarf Corner was swallowed whole, the Urgal's corner was swept away. She felt the hot air under her wings, the ash on her inner eyelids. The minds of the dragons and Riders around her as they flew for their lives.
She shook her head to clear it of the images. Not her wings, the dragon's.
Many of us took to the air and flew to this land. Many made spells to bring them here. One went awry, scattering hundreds throughout this land.
What do you mean, Drjlun Dari? Drukjl asked. She had never heard the honorific names Urgals gave to dragons, but she knew the meaning of this one. 'Great Dragon'.
One Shur'tugal made a spell to send those around him to this island, but he had not the experience to do so and failed, in a manner of speaking. Yours' and mine kind alike have been appearing as a result of such spells all over this land. You must go to the great forest, Du Weldenvarden, or to Illirea. That is where our kind and you two-legs have assembled to make sense of our tragedy.
Frelsa fell forward and clutched onto Kalla's spike for support. 'Tragedy' sounded like an understatement to her. Their island was gone. Totally gone. How many did they know were still alive? How many weren't?
Kalla kept her gaze fixed on the great dragon. The purple giant noticed and moved neared to them, each step rattling Frelsa's teeth. She could literally feel the frantic pounding of Kalla's dragon heart through their contact.
The purple dragon craned his neck down so he was at eye level with Kalla, but he was so large that his chin brushed the ground. He growled, What is your name, green scales?
Kalla blinked several times, as if she were trying to figure out if the dragon had asked her the question, replying at length, Kalla.
Ah, if I'm not wrong you were sired by Yviltrun and Saetra?
I'm… not sure, I mean, I'm not entirely certain.
He gave a short laugh, but the sound in such close proximity was like a tremor.
My name is Rukr, it was a pleasure to indulge my weakness for speech with you.
He turned to Dýrgrir, asking, You are young, but strong, what is your name?
Dýrgrir.
A good name, a good name, Rukr mused, turning to Errol. And you, grey scales?
Errol snarled, No name you'd care to learn.
Shepherd exclaimed in shock, "Errol!"
His dragon gave a growl, before he faced Rukr again, still glaring. My name is Errol.
Rukr growled, If your Shur'tugal did not harbour such respect for me I'd have shown you to honour your fellow skulblaka, especially your elders. Are we… of one mind?
He turned his giant head so that only one violet eye faced Errol. Kalla urgently said to the grey dragon, Errol, please, don't.
Errol shot a growl at her, before conceding. We are of one mind, Rukr… Elda.
Frelsa felt a surge of relief from Kalla, but Errol still stared insolently at the giant purple dragon. Rukr reclined, obviously still displeased. Your insolence must be tempered, but I sense you are… troubled.
He turned and spread his wings, putting his weight on his back legs and preparing to take off. Kalla asked hastily, You're leaving, Rukr Elda? So soon? Why don't you stay with us a while?
I would value the company of three Skulblaka, but I have been tasked with finding as many as I can, such as you, to inform them of the gathering at Illeria and Du Weldenvarden. And all of us would do well to leave the land near the City of Hate.
But- Kalla began.
This task was given to me by Dröttning, the Queen of Elves, herself. I have no wish to fail it. Keep safe your heart, Kalla. Fair winds to you all, Shur'tugalar, Skulblakur.
And to you, Rukr Elda.
He swung his wings once, making the freshly fallen leaves around them swirl as if within a storm. Kalla gave a dreamy, mental sigh as the purple dragon disappeared over the horizon.
The information he had gifted them with was too much to comprehend easily. It brought the same pain that she had felt when they had first lost Eragon and Saphira…
No! She would not dwell on that again. She remembered Shepherd's words and put the thoughts out of her mind. They could do nothing but harm her.
They continued on their journey. Kalla had not returned into her pit of despair, which would have made Frelsa happy if she had not been ranting non-stop about Rukr.
Gods, did you see how strong he looked?
Yes, yes, that's what, the seventh time you asked me that?
The way he held himself, the way he walked, the way he flew, the way he breathed. It was just so… so amazing!
Mm hm.
And his scales, they were so amazing. I never knew purple could look so handsome!
Yup, handsome, definitely.
And his eyes, they were so deep and strong and beautiful… wait, forget I said that!
Frelsa gave a short chuckle.
Kalla craned her neck backwards for the umpteenth time to check if Rukr was still visible, which he always wasn't. Why did he have to leave so soon?
He had a job to do.
Yeah, yeah, but he was just so amazing, he needed to have stayed a bit longer.
Frelsa smiled and patted Kalla's scaly neck. She was glad to have her returned to her, even if she was swooning madly over a dragon they could not have spent more than five minutes speaking to.
Kalla was still in no shape to fly, not physically but mentally. She soon returned into silence, whether from Rukr's leave taking or still from their past loss. Shepherd was starting to feel very worried for her.
Errol was in the lead, radiating unsavoury emotions to his Rider. He patted his grey dragon's side, Something wrong?
Hm? Oh, no, nothing at all, he grumbled back.
Errol, you've got to tell me. You've got to tell them. If something's up, we all deserve to know.
I'm fine, like you said, just the… just the lovesick.
He was troubled, definitely, but Shepherd had had enough experience with his dragon to know that he wouldn't offer any more information at the moment.
"Hold up!" Frelsa called. Errol turned back and Shepherd heard her continue, "I thought I saw something."
Dýrgrir moved to Kalla's side to allow his Rider a better look and Shepherd heard Errol growl ever so slightly. He spurred his dragon slightly forward, "Let's go."
Once he was at his friends' side, he looked into the forest. It was only half lit by the sun rays filtering through the thick leaf canopy, a labyrinth of tall trunks and twisted, gnarled ones. A chipmunk scurried up a trunk, but besides that there seemed to be no disruptions.
Wait a second… There were two abnormal shining spots in the tree boughs, like miniature stars. They seemed violet in colour. Dýrgrir crawled forward to under the bough, the purple eyes following him. The brown dragon raised his neck and touched the bough with the tip of his snout. The eyes closed, appearing slightly further in the forest.
This is strange, Errol remarked, lifted from his displeasure for the moment.
Sure is, Shepherd concurred. Errol crawled forward towards the eyes' new position, before touching his snout to the bough. The eyes closed so fast they seemed to just disappear, reappearing even further into the forest.
Errol would have advanced further, but Dýrgrir and Drukjl cut them off. The Urgal said, "Hold up, Shepherd, we don't know what sort of djinn or demon this may be."
"We know what it is," Frelsa replied resolutely. Kalla continued into the forest, she and her Rider seemingly expecting their companions to follow.
The eyes led them deeper and deeper into the forest until all the mystery of them had fallen away, indeed they'd become slightly annoying. Soon, Shepherd was praying to the Gods that they'd find their destination soon. The to and fro tipping of Errol's journey turned into his only form of time measurement down where the light couldn't reach through the leaves.
The eyes led them on for even longer, before they shut for the last time. Kalla looked around in surprise. Where'd he go?
He? Dýrgrir asked.
"A werecat, Solembum," Frelsa explained.
Shepherd raised an eyebrow, why would she and Kalla even know a werecat? Kalla started moving outwards, looking for where the eyes might be. Her scaly body brushed against Errol and Shepherd felt a shiver pass along his dragon's length.
They circled out from the eyes' last bough, looking for them, trying to find where they might have gone. But they were well and truly gone.
Drukjl's face remained impassive but it was obvious that he, like the rest of them, was not pleased. He said to Shepherd, "What are we to do now?"
"You tell me, Ram. We're stuck out here in the forest, and do any of us know the way back?"
None of them. "G-r-e-a-t."
We could always fly, Dýrgrir suggested.
Think about Kalla. We don't fly till she can, Errol snapped.
Shepherd placed one hand on Errol's neck, saying privately, Woah there, tone it down.
He growled back. His Rider sat back, nursing the sores opened up by riding without a saddle. "Where's Frelsa and Kalla anyway?"
"Hey! I've found something."
Shepherd sat up on Errol's back. His dragon obediently went to the source of the voice and where Frelsa's mind could be felt.
They tumbled out of the forest down a hill.
Shepherd struck his head against something, Kalla probably, and groaned when he came to a stop, rubbing his head. He looked up, wondering where in the world the supposed werecat had led them, and gasped.
They had emerged into a valley, a large and seemingly untouched one. They were ringed on all sides by tall walls covered in thick blankets of trees. At the bottom of the valley was a large lake, at least the size of the throne room in Feinster. The waters sparkled serenely as sunlight reflected off the calm surface. There was definitely no humans or other signs of civilisation in sight, but there was obviously wildlife. Huge schools of fish grown fat in seclusion swarmed under the water surface, a young buck drank by the lakeside and sprang away as soon as it laid eyes on them.
Shepherd rose unsteadily to his feet and saw his companions in equal awe of their new surroundings. He remarked to Frelsa, "Next time you see that werecat give him my regards."
They made camp there. The six of them were tired from the ordeal at Feinster and needed a place to rest. No one said it, but they also needed a place to take in the recent events. Rukr Elda's words were still fresh in Shepherd's mind, and that fat man in the keep bore an uncanny resemblance to that hideous shadow under the volcano. They were far too alike for it to be a coincidence.
Errol immediately made a beeline for the lake, and so did Dýrgrir. They paused at the lake banks and stared down each other for a moment, as if daring the other to enter first. Shepherd glanced uneasily at them, it was obvious that this was unlike any confrontation the two had ever had before. Drukjl broke the stalemate, patting his dragon and leading him into the water.
Shepherd laid a hand on Errol's side and murmured to him, What's wrong buddy?
Nothing!
I'll take your word for it. Come on, let's go in.
He mounted Errol, wincing slightly as the sores on the insides of his thighs opened up again. He'd have to heal that soon. Errol however, remained fixed on the banks, looking forward unto the lake. Shepherd questioned him in worry but Errol stayed still, shaking his head several times. He said something so softly that Shepherd wouldn't have noticed if their connection wasn't so intimate, No, not today at least.
The humour returned to his dragons mind and he asked, We going in or what?
Errol leaped up to an outcrop of rock hanging over the lake and leaped off, beating his wings once to gain some extra height. Shepherd shouted for joy as they floated through the air for a moment, before they plummeted. Errol pressed his wings close and prepared to dive in.
The water was like the water of the sea, but purer, cleaner and much clearer. Huge schools of fish darted away in fear as Errol dived deep into the lake and swam forward with paddling feet. It truly was an alien world underneath the surface, the water was illuminated a strange greenish blue and white rays filtered through from the surface. Long tendrils of strange plants rose from the lake bed and the huge schools darted down and swam like one huge seething mass of serpents between the tendrils.
Errol seemed to sense his Rider's lack of air and spreading his wings underwater, beat them once and sent them shooting up towards the surface. Shepherd shook his head and spat out a mouthful of water as they took to the air once again, before diving down.
The second time they surfaced, Shepherd saw Drukjl and Dýrgrir nearby, facing them. He leaned down and whispered something to his dragon. A second later Errol swooped down from above and forced the Urgal and his dragon shooting underwater. Drukjl surfaced and laughed, Dýrgrir eyed Errol suspiciously for a moment before his mind filled with mirth.
They were soon enlaced in a nigh on deadly competition to force the other underwater as many times as possible. The two of them were struck from behind by Dýrgrir and were sent below the surface with such force that ripples turned to high waves that slammed into the banks. Shepherd laughed as they surfaced but Errol did not immediately take off. He head was turned to the left, pointed at a particular green dragon.
Kalla had lapsed from her despair when they'd met Rukr Elda, but had fallen once again into that miserable pit, or maybe she was captivated completely with her swooning over Rukr and sadness at his leve. She lay silently on the same rock outcrop that Errol had first taken off from, head against the ground and eyes half open. Her despair was so strong that it seemed almost like a tangible object. Frelsa lay against her, eyeing them enviously. It was obvious that she wanted to be with him and Drukjl but Kalla's state held her at vigil.
I wish I could do something to help her, Errol sighed. He seemed free of his previous hate and perpetual annoyance with everything.
Oh but you can, Shepherd replied mischievously. Listen close…
Kalla sighed and laid her head against the cool rock surface, sighing. Frelsa didn't know whether her despair was from Rukr's leave or a lasting remnant of the loss of Saphira and Eragon. The blue dragon had been almost like a mother to Kalla. In any case, she didn't feel like asking her dragon.
Looking up, she saw Errol and Dýrgrir diving down and swooping at each other, disappearing beneath the surface and reappearing at an instant. She wanted to be with them, but she couldn't leave Kalla. They were dragon and Rider after all.
Why did they have to leave?
She looked at her dragon curiously, Rukr?
Not him, but now that you say it, those Wild dragons don't ever stay long do they?
Kalla, you've only spent time with one, and he had a duty to do, Frelsa pointed out.
Kalla gave a mental sigh and lay her head against the cool rock again, not even answering. She seemed to be stuck in limbo between love crazed swooning and despairing and mourning.
Frelsa looked at the lake again. Drukjl and Dýrgrir looked back at them, but where Errol and Shepherd had once been were nothing but ripples. She asked her dragon, Where's Errol and Shepherd?
Kalla got to her feet with some difficulty and looked around. Frelsa projected her mind and realised where they were, right below them.
Errol burst forth like some form of sea beast, water flowing smoothly off his grey scales. The dragon clung onto the outcrop and raised up his claws, wrapping them firmly but gently against Kalla, pulling her and her Rider off the outcrop and into the water.
Frelsa gasped as she was sent into the deep water, immediately reaching out and wrapping a hand around one of Kalla's spikes as she easily paddled back up to the surface, where they were greeted by two laughing Riders and their dragons.
Mounting her dragon, Frelsa saw that sly look come to Kalla's eyes and she lunged forth, placing her front claws on Errol's head and pushing him under. She made that curious dragon laugh before they were sent shooting under. Frelsa looked up and saw Errol shoot down as Dýrgrir attacked.
The six of them laughed and played in the Sun and in the water. Frelsa realised that she'd never really done something like this, only watched with disdain as Shepherd and Drukjl did so. It wasn't half as horrible as she thought it'd be. Laughing as Kalla forced Dýrgrir under, she was reminded of her past, or rather, her lack of one. But it never bothered her for long.
When their battered bodies could take it no longer, they surfaced. Frelsa and Kalla first, before their companions followed. Dýrgrir gave a brotherly shove to Errol, who's eyes seemed to darken for a moment before he returned the blow. Frelsa kept an eye on him. The darkness didn't really leave him.
The Sun was beginning to set, so they made settled down in a rough circle on the lake banks. Frelsa lay against Kalla's warm belly, grateful for the ramblings of the love struck dragon. They reminded her that she had not fallen into despair.
Once the Sun had set completely, Errol muttered something about hunting and made his way to a patch devoid of trees to take off, accidentally stepping on Dýrgrir's tail. He gave a growl and drew in his tail hurriedly, saying, Be careful.
Why don't you be careful? Errol shot back.
Errol? Dýrgrir asked as he got to his feet.
The grey dragon snarled at Dýrgrir again, the brown dragon quickly said, Brother, this has to stop.
What?
Your behaviour of late, I had thought Rukr Elda's presence would have tempered you, and for a moment it seemed so, but it has evidently not.
You care about yourself and I'll care about me.
Drukjl jerked his head at Shepherd, saying, "Control your firebreather!"
Shepherd stepped forth and stretched out a hand and laid it on Errol, who remained still and unmoving. Frelsa felt Kalla twist under her and felt her dragon get up and advance towards the grey dragon. She said, Errol, what's wrong?
Frelsa expected the problem to be resolved from there in two seconds, maybe three. Kalla always had a way with Errol.
He turned to her and his glare softened somewhat. Nothing you'd care about, swooning all over 'Rukr Elda'.
Errol, tell us, she repeated with more authority.
He glared at Dýrgrir again, before turning to leave. I'm going hunting.
Frelsa raised an eyebrow at Shepherd, who shrugged his shoulders. She remembered Rukr's words, about how Errol was 'troubled', and knew that he was true.
Kalla returned to her Rider, complaining, What is his problem?
Rukr said he was 'troubled', she reminded.
I know, but still, is that any reason to act like that to Dýrgrir?
Several tense, silent moments passed, no one daring to speak out. Kalla grumbled a bit more before taking off to hunt as well, visibly veering away from where Errol had gone. She returned to them quickly with two deer, one of which she pushed to Dýrgrir.
When Errol returned to them, the silence grew even tenser, and a great deal more awkward. He carried a veritable ton of fish in his jaws, and several in his claws. She wondered how he even stayed airborne with such a load.
The grey dragon lay some near Dýrgrir and timidly pushed a few towards a glaring Kalla. He was different now, shier and more nervous. He seemed guilty for his actions earlier.
I got some for you as well, he muttered quietly, head hung.
Kalla eyed him suspiciously, before her hunger won out and she reached out one claw and pulled the fat fishes closer.
Watching her dragon tear apart dead animals in the dark usually made Frelsa retch, but now it only made her aware of her hunger. She realised she must not have had anything to eat since her trip in the prisons the day before. It took her a moment to actually realise she was salivating as she watched her dragon tear through the deer and slide huge fat fish whole down her throat. Kalla caught her Rider's stare out of the corner of her emerald eye and took another larger bite, taking care to chew slowly and make strange, rasping noises of great pleasure.
Is that supposed to make me even hungrier? Frelsa asked.
You know it is, and you know it's working.
And it was. She licked her lips and imagined the taste of venison between her teeth, soft wet flakes of fish sliding between her lips.
Kalla took another luxurious bite before pushing the half eaten deer carcass towards her. Here, I've had my fill.
Are you sure? It looks like-
I've had my fill. Go make a fire and cook something up.
Frelsa smiled gratefully at her dragon, before calling, "Hey Drukjl, see what you can make with this."
There are those who would say that Urgals are savages who eat meat raw and whole, they're wrong. Frelsa had no idea how to prepare and cook a meal, so the task was left to Drukjl and Shepherd, and Shepherd was currently embroiled in a silent, mental argument with his dragon so the task fell to Drukjl alone.
He frowned a bit at the state of the half eaten carcass, before mumbling something in Urgal and producing a small knife from the folds of his war skirt. Through a bit of difficulty he skinned, gutted and cleaned the deer. Frelsa used magic to easily form a raging fire.
Drukjl asked as he held his knife over the skinned deer, "Human, how would you like your meat done?"
A rumble emanated from her empty stomach. "I want something I can sink my teeth into, something filling."
Drukjl grunted affirmatively and set to slicing up the deer, cutting off the, what was it, back strap? Yes, he expertly sliced off a chunk of back strap maybe 30 centimetres long, then produced a small satchel from within his skirt.
"How many things do you keep in there?" Frelsa asked in amazement as he continued to pull forth an assortment of small satchels.
He smiled, "More than you know."
He opened the largest pouch, pouring out a handful of salt and sprinkling it generously over the meat. Drukjl revealed another small object, a small glass bottle full of some liquid. He poured the liquid onto the meat and expertly spread and rubbed it into the meat.
The Urgal collected a handful of thin branches and handed them to Frelsa, saying, "Make these to not burn."
"Why?"
"We will make a grill, and in the absence of metal we will have to improvise."
Frelsa easily muttered a spell to protect the branches from burning up and handed them back to Drukjl, who laid them out in a rough grate. He continued to spice ands season the meat, and when she could stand the hunger no longer and was about to ask him to hurry up and cook it the Urgal unceremoniously threw the chunk of meat onto the wooden grate. He jerked his knife at Kalla. "Firebreather, the rest of the meat is yours."
Kalla gave a nod and pulled the rest of the meat close, chomping through it.
Drukjl reclined against Dýrgrir's belly. "So, Frelsa, might I ask a question?"
"Fire away," she mumbled as she eyed the meat on the fire. The crackling of the flames was somewhat soothing.
"You've never told me about your past, before the Riders."
"I haven't? Must have told Shepherd."
A brief silence followed. Drukjl asked expectantly, "So?"
"Oh, yeah, my… past. I don't really have one."
"What?" He asked in surprise. "Is this a riddle?"
"No, it's just that, I don't have one," she said as she picked up a branch and carved twirling patterns into the dirt. "Maybe I do, but I can't remember it."
"That is impossible. We all have a past before us. Shepherd was born in Aroughs, I was the third born son of the warchief of the Yultuk tribe. You must have a story from before the Shultghal, the Riders."
"That's the thing. I don't." She got that strange feeling in the bottom of her stomach again, the one she got whenever she talked about this.
"You know the rumour that that airheaded girl, Salin, passed around? That I washed up on the island a year or two ago? She's right."
"You mean…"
"Yup, woke up on sandy shores, with Eragon and Saphira standing over me. They never talked about it to me again. I still get flashes of a place I once knew, feelings, biting cold, or maybe visions at night, tall mountains and snow, snow everywhere."
Drukjl settled into silence, as did Frelsa. Her past always made her uncomfortable. She didn't know what it felt like to have family, to have a brother and sister, to have neighbours to laugh with. For all she knew, she was not even a true human. To put her mind off of it, she asked Drukjl, "So how about you? You said something about being the son of a warchief?"
He nodded, "The third born of Wiulkren, warchief of the Yultuk tribe."
"You don't seem happy about it."
"I never was. Being the son of the warchief, you are expected to be the best. The most skilful hunter. The fastest runner. When they found I was Kull, the expectations grew more taxing, I was to be the greatest among great. The annual Tribal Games were no longer a competition against other Urgals, it was a competition between me and my brothers. And soon, once I surpassed them, it was just a competition against me. The Elves would bring the eggs through the tribes every year and the young would lay their hands on them to see if they were chosen to be Shultghal, but I was never allowed to go. Always had to be training, to be practicing, to be working. When the elves came in my sixteenth year, what seems like so long ago, but was only seven months, there was a great cheering and bellowing of rams. I snuck out to have a look and saw that with the elves was a new visitor. A man like an elf, but unlike an elf still. He had with him the greatest beast I had ever seen, a great orange monster with scales like gems and a roar like thunder."
"A Rider?"
"Yes, humans are rarely welcome in the tribes but Riders, they are different. He spied me in the shadows and beckoned. The other rams who were jousting to lay their hands on the eggs parted for the chief's son, and the Rider brought forth a brown egg with amber veins running across it."
Dýrgrir gave a rumble and laid his head under Drukjl's hand.
"Dýrgrir hatched even before I lay my hand on his egg. My father saw and was at first outraged that I had disobeyed the chief's orders and left my training, but seeing the dragon in my arms he calmed and was in wonder, as was I. Sons of chiefs rarely become Shultghal. I was brought to the island and the rest you know."
Drukjl looked at the meat and cursed, growling, "Gharz, I've left the meat on for too long."
He swiftly retrieved the hunk of meat. Frelsa licked her lips as the smell of the freshly cooked meat met her nose. The Urgal drew his axe, placing the meat firmly on a flat rock, and sliced it into thick slices. He tossed one to her, the meat spinning like a disc. She frantically raised her hands to catch it, then dropped it into her lap immediately as the meat seared her hands. "Ow!"
Drukjl called to Shepherd, who had concluded his silent argument with a tamer and timid Errol, "Shepherd, catch!"
He quickly wrapped his tunic around his hands and easily caught the meat.
Frelsa took a moment to just savour the smell of the spices and herbs mixed expertly together as Drukjl asked Shepherd, "By the way, have you told Frelsa about your story?"
He took a tiny nibble of the meat and said, "Oh yeah, I haven't. You wanna hear it?"
Frelsa took a bite and reeled back at the explosion of flavours in her mouth. Drukjl might've left it on for what was a moment too long to him, but it was perfection to her. "Actually, I would prefer to just enjoy my food."
"I'll take that as yes. As Ram said, I was from Aroughs. Born to the Master of the city, from an early age I-"
"Shepherd," Drukjl said.
"Fine, I was the son of a masked vigilante, who ran across the rooftops and stole from the rich, giving to the poor."
"Tell the truth."
He sighed dramatically, "I was born in Aroughs. Nice place, tall white walls, clean buildings. You just have to know what water is good to drink. Great place, oh yeah, besides the swamp that has magic in it."
"What?"
"Don't need to look so shocked. Just a few werelights and will-o-wisps. So I didn't really have a regular childhood, I was born to shop owners, my parents ran a carpentry shop, and since that commanded most of their attention I had a lot of time to roam the streets."
"They didn't ask you to help with the shop?" Frelsa asked before she sank her teeth into the medallion of meat, sighing in pleasure as the meat's juices filled her mouth.
"Oh they did. Many times. Never succeeded though. So I spent most of my time roaming the streets, spent a bit of time in the gangs, had my fair share of run ins with the guards. Not everything I did made me proud."
Frelsa raised an eyebrow. He actually sounded guilty.
"Back a seven months or six maybe, the elves came with the eggs. They always come every year, but I never paid them much mind. But then I realised that one of those eggs might fetch a very nice price from the right buyer."
"You didn't actually…"
"I did. Swiped the closet egg off its velvet cushion. I thought I was home free, and hid in an alley to examine my take. That's when he hatched. Little grey dragon, biting me all over, I sat there stunned. The elves found me easily. Then after that I got sent to the island."
Frelsa was aware of Kalla's piercing glare on an uncomfortable Errol, and felt slightly bad for him despite his behaviour towards the other dragons. The grey dragon seemed to be squirming in his skin as he tried desperately to avoid making eye contact with Kalla.
She reached forward and took another medallion of venison before saying, "I think that's enough liveliness for one night. What say we turn in?"
Kalla kept her glare fixated on Errol, slowly saying, Fine.
That night was the darkest in a long time. In the throes of the heavy-dark-night, Errol dreamed of himself and Kalla. But it was unlike his other dreams of the time before, brother-of-another-nest-Dýrgrir wasn't there. And neither were the two-leg-dragon-bond-Riders. Just the two of them, with each other.
His dream was a strange-deep-swirl of heavy greens and dark greys, him and Kalla twined together in a seemingly endless tapestry. Their bodies joined together in a bond so intimate that they seemed to be not two but just one-great-sinuous-creature. He felt her hot scales under his body, and her burning breathe against his own scales. The edges of her wings, the sharpness of her claws. Their bodies were so close, it felt as if any closer and they'd fall into the essences of one another. They were in each other's company for a time untold, for what time exists in dreams?
Errol awoke breathing hard, panting-hot-breathe. He looked around, the two-legs-dragon-bond-Riders were still with them, brother-of-another-nest-Dýrgrir and Kalla lay sleeping peacefully under the stars with their Riders against them.
Rising slowly so as not to disturb brother-of-soul-and-mind from his slumber, Errol rose to his feet. Shepherd turned and mumbled slightly, but did not wake. He walked down to the lake side and fell down to the dirt-hard-dry-mud-ground, trying to find some salvation from his fitful dreams. Looking across the dark-shadow-still-water surface, he cast out his mind-voice forward, careful not to project it to those behind him.
Why me?
His head fell against the dirt again, and before long the strange-bad-mind-voice answered, as he knew it always would.
In time, my little pawn, in time you will know.
Why me? He pleaded again.
In time, my little dragon. We have worked too hard for our efforts to fail. Until then, the voice grew sly and humourful, as if its owner was smiling viciously somewhere, sweet dreams.
He wanted to sleep, but sleep never came, only the morning.
The red-strong-bright-fire rose over the edge of the valley, its rays colouring the surface of the lake with beams of red light. He soon felt a presence next to him, and joined his mind to it, shocked to find that it was Kalla.
Beautiful, isn't it? She asked in awe as the Sun rose slowly over the edge of the valley, staining their paradise crimson. The green dragon didn't even turn to regard Errol. It's amazing that no one else has found this place.
He remained silent, not daring to speak out. She seemed to have dropped her grudge against him, but he was never sure how to interpret her actions perfectly. Kalla's scales became bright orange, the gold-orange-morning-light overwriting her own green scales. Errol gingerly shifted from foot to foot, not sure what to say to her. She said, I have no idea what's wrong with you.
He turned to her, What?
You heard me well, I don't have the faintest idea what problems you may be facing, but I would very much like to.
Errol said after a silence, You don't know what burden I carry.
You're right, I don't, but I can sense you have a bad secret kept in you.
Secrets are powerful, he pointed out. Especially bad ones.
She turned and looked at him with her rich, green eyes like big-green-bright-stones. Yes they are, but when they are told to another, the badness is not as before, the badness is shared.
Errol didn't know what to do, cursing himself for appearing weak and indecisive in front of her. She didn't seem to mind, humming softly to some unknown tune, not seeming to care that he was acting like an unlearned hatchling in front of her. At length, Errol offered an awkward reply, I… I think I can share my secret.
Are you sure? She asked. He thought over it, should he tell her about the bad-mind-voice? That he'd been listening to that evil-strange-mind-voice for so long without telling any of them? He could never bear the shame. But the truth? He wasn't sure that it would be much more bearable.
Kalla seemed to sense his uncomfortableness, and said, You don't need to tell it now, just soon. It's okay if you can't.
He felt only relief, but knew that it wasn't long before his bad-evil-secret got out. But still, the bad-strange-words flowed out of his mind against his will. I'm sure you would just love to know my secrets wouldn't you?
Errol recoiled at the own sneering remark that had left him just as Kalla's eyes narrowed, And what's that supposed to mean?
I-I meant, I didn't… It wasn't-
Shut it, Kalla snapped at him, literally, turning around and heading back to their camp. I'd thought I could help you. Thank you for proving me wrong.
Errol watched her leave his company, lying down next to Frelsa and the bright-shine-glow of her eyes closing shut, but not before giving him one last dirty look.
He slammed his head against the nearest tall-wood-tree-body making it rain with dying leaves, groaning to himself, Why me?
All good things come to an end sooner or later. With the morn came the decision to leave their hidden paradise. As she washed her hair quickly by the lake, Frelsa noticed how Dýrgrir and Errol had returned to good, mostly, relations, but Errol and Kalla's friendship had deteriorated to the point of nonexistence. Kalla never looked at Errol, or even deigned to notice he was there, leaving the grey dragon sullenly behind. He seemed to be trying to reconcile with her, approaching her several times, once with a peace offering of fish, but she always walked past him without turning.
Kalla flexed her wings impatiently, Hurry up Frelsa. We've got to get to Palancar, and the World does not wait for one girl.
She seemed good humoured enough. Frelsa buckled Delswoir on and attached the purse full of fat golden coins, quickly counting out the small fortune of gold. With it they could buy anything they wanted. She checked again to make sure she had everything, before mounting Kalla who was, as opposed to the previous days, itching to get into the sky.
Faster, little girl, I need to feel the wind against my scales and under my wings again. Never knew two-legs were this slow.
When the six of them were in the air, Frelsa realised that the sensation of riding Kalla in flight was different. Maybe it was because she hadn't done so for a few long, long days, but it felt different nonetheless. The wind felt new and young as it made her long hair whip around her face, her worn clothes flap and ruffle. She squinted forward as the biting wind struck, leaning close against Kalla's body to prevent herself from getting blown off it the absence of a saddle to keep her in place.
Errol gingerly advanced, saying, Kalla, about just now…
Shut it.
Frelsa raised an eyebrow and expressed her curiosity to her dragon, who offered no answer. Supposedly, it was a 'secret'. She spat the words out like they disgusted her.
He walked between the huge piles of crumbled stone and mangled bronze, simply passing through the solid objects. The centrepiece of the room was intact though, a huge pit several hundred feet deep. Any other time a soft blue glow emanating from its bottom would be visible, but today there was nothing but black mist.
Bending down by the side of the pit, he drew one hand across the surface of the mist and the dark shadows cleared, revealing a pool of viscous blue liquid. A figure seemed to be struggling within its sucking grasp. The being would have grimaced, if his face had been reformed.
He reached down and felt his insubstantial limb coated in the magic, pure, distilled. His arm tingled and burned, and quickly wrapped his hand around the being at the bottom and pulled it out and onto the ground beside him, dusty with dirt from the collapsed chamber.
The being before him was wretched, covered in a glowing blue coat of liquid that slowly pooled around his feet, lying on all fours and making sounds like a wounded animal. He asked, "Tell me, Áqirni, how did you Eight beat me the last time? Looking at you, I'm starting to doubt that you and the warrior I knew were the same beings."
The body covered in and dripping blue liquid raised its head to look at its rescuer and two eyes appeared, bright blue globes glowing brighter than the liquid. Áqirni spoke, "You! I thought, I thought your revival would have incapacitated you."
"And it did." He grimaced slightly before continuing, "I would have arrived sooner if not for a mortal and dragon who tried to fight me. I felled the mountain on them."
The figure groaned again and curled up like a foetus as the coat of biting magic ate away at him. He looked down in disdain, "To think you were the embodiment of Justice in our people, that you were among the strongest of us then."
"I could still defeat you in a fair fight," the figure spat out, a little bit of the old pride still remaining.
Laughing, the figure above him kicked once, sending Áqirni onto his side and crying out in pain. "Look at you! Struck down by six mortals, young ones in fact! What happened to you!"
He groaned and moaned, crawling about on the ground blindly as the magic stung his eyes. He managed to say, "Things… change…"
"Indeed they do, and indeed they can."
Áqirni looked up, to see a hand offered to him, one of spinning energy in perpetual turmoil. He asked the golden eyed figure above him, "B-But I was one of those who defeated you last time, foremost among them. Why should I believe you'd trust me?"
"As you said: Things change. If you don't trust me, trust your allies. The Twins have already cast their lot in with me. They know how to pick the winning side. Even now their magics work against those mortals who defeated you, soon I'll put my own to use and expect you to do the same."
Áqirni's eyes narrowed, and for a moment it seemed that he had still retained some part of his long gone past, some vestige of the guardian he once was, the 'Angel of Justice'. But no, he raised one goop covered hand and grasped the tempest before him.
The magic disappeared, revealing two figures, one a tempest and one a shadow, hand in hand. The Tempest would have smiled as he said, "Come, we have to find the rest of the Nine."
8-1-14
I'll probably not be able to release chapters as fast as before, due to a horrible thing called 'school', but will do my best. This chapter, and probably the next as well, will be used to deepen the characters of my characters, and the plights that are befalling them, make them more like real characters, with flaws and all, then perfect beings in a perfect world.