03/11/09

Chapter 1 - Damage

The night was silent and cold. Icy wind breezed the remained leaves on the trees bringing the scent of winter into the late autumn night. The sky was dead black, no stars glinted on the dark silk. Not tonight. The moon was almost white, round and full, shining otherwise than normally as though it had known this was nothing usual.

Everybody sensed it: in the wind, in the air, in the silent. There was almost no noise in the forest, every animal hid in its shelter not risking death which was predictable. The people didn't feel it so determinably, they didn't sense wyrda as the animals did: they just sensed something was not well. Not usual. They hid into their houses wondering what may have caused their shuddering every time they glanced out into the darkness from the warm, safe room.

Arya knew what the wind whispered, what the leaves rattled: it was wyrda. She was shivering in her tent, not with cold, but with fear. The shadow of something deep, something powerful became a heavy weight on her soul. Last time she sensed this, exactly this, it meant two deaths of two friends and endless torture for herself. She sipped from her herb tea and thought of Eragon. She sighed. If she hadn't been able to sleep, and she knew she hadn't, she could as well find out what to do with him.

She closed her eyes enjoying the warmth against her hand radiating from the mug of hot tea. It was a hard question to answer. Every time she thought about that embarrassing – fascinating, wonderful and perfect – scene between her and Eragon, her body reacted the same way, and after two seconds her pulse was racing, her eyelids heavy, her lips full and her body aware.

It was like a poison, spreading in her veins, changing her want, fighting her consciousness. She was able to feel it right now, the hot liquid working in her blood making her want to spring up and run, hurry to the man. The man who wasn't able to heal her, just inject her with more and more of the drug into her body. She knew the name of this poison too: desire. It made her forget about the cold winter night outside, feeling like on a hot summer night with flames in her blood, like magic. A poison.

She remembered the celebration of Agaethí Blödhren: the songs, the magic, the life in the air caused the same feeling. Disorientation and desire. Passion. She knew she shouldn't have this way, yet as though her body decided against her – it betrayed her. Again.

And every time she got near Eragon, his presence activated the poison working in her blood, making her feel dizzy and have reveries… reveries which were more embarrassing than she thought her mind was able to ever create. Her mind. It was the next station on the glorious journey, the next poisoned, the next destroyed, the next getting out of under her control. Suddenly, she wasn't even able to remember her arguments why she shouldn't, couldn't be with Eragon - not mentioning believing them.

It made her dizzy all the time… If you yourself not, then who will tell you the truth? She hated more and more that little voice in her mind. Why couldn't it be in silence? Yes, she had to admit she was feeling desire, she wanted that scene to stretch further and further until there was no stop. Yes, she had to admit she was conscious, she had known what she was doing, all the time. Yes, she knew that. But why couldn't she simply shift all the responsibility onto him?

Stupid voice… She let out an irritated sigh and stood up. There was no use resting in her tent as she wasn't able to sleep or rest or do anything besides imagining… embarrassing situations. She was about to go out for a walk, run a bit in the forest and find a place of her own, then she immediately sat back remembering another time she wanted to get out of her tent and crossed the way of Blödhgarm. She definitely didn't want to meet Erlendr.

She sighed and lifted her mug. She stared into the steam and closed her eyes once again trying to achieve that level of calmness she always had in dangerous situations. Relax… Afterwards, she didn't remember much of the happenings, just that she heard someone clear his throat. Opening her eyes, the sight was so frightening and ominous she couldn't help but tremble. He mug fell to the ground making the floor wet. It had a dull sound as it dropped, she could always recall that afterwards. The hot tea droplets on her hand burnt her skin but she didn't feel it.

The expression Erlendr wore was so hard and determined; she immediately knew something very bad had happened. Something fatal. The man didn't take time to explain her anything, just grabbed her hand with a bit more force than necessary and pulled her out of her tent.

The sky was a far-stretching black silk above their heads when they left the camp running. An owl's shriek cut into the silence and Arya felt it her death-sentence. The force Erlendr held her hand was much more than any elf should use against his princess, but she didn't say a word sensing the terrible shadow above their shapes.

They were halfway to the palace when Eragon and another elf joined them, running as well. Arya wondered what event could happen shaking them so much. The moon shone stronger on a clearing they crossed and she recognised Blödhgarm in the dark shape. His face was wearing the same hard mask, but his eyes were not covered so well as his features and she could read the shock in them.

Fear pressed her heart with a sudden force. What had happened?

Eragon didn't know either, she could see that, his face was questioning and wondering. The desperate speed they had, delivered them in only five minutes to the palace, but the elves didn't stop or even slow: they headed towards the back entrance and the pressure around Arya's heart hardened. She couldn't see any reason behind keeping their arrival in secret.

They yet yards far when with a movement of his hand, Erlendr opened the door and ran further, through the door, leaving them slightly behind, showing them the way in the system of corridors and stairs and halls. She recognised it: it was the same route they had done a few days ago discovering the secret chamber. She hadn't taken much time with observing the journey and the way that time, but now, the walls became all a blur with the desperate speed.

Erlendr stepped aside in the hall in front of the spell-defended chamber-door and Arya saw every other elf was there, waiting for Eragon.

"I'm very sorry for immediately taking you here without an explanation but we have to be quick… I guess." He added, showing hesitation for the first time. His voice was even and lifeless, the voice of a dead. Eragon looked around and nodded, stepping to the door without a word. He opened it quickly, running through the corridor without glancing back. He obviously understood something Arya had no guess about.

The elves, holding their magical lamps high, followed her. They moved more slowly than he did, and Arya understood their hesitation after a moment: they had never been here yet. The corridor wasn't long, they were standing in the secret chamber in some seconds. The elves were looking around nervously and fascinated while Eragon hurried to the other end of the room, opening the soft membrane for Saphira. The dragon was worried as well.

The man was visibly a host at this place, he lighted the lamps hanging from the walls and motioned towards the middle of the great hall, pulling aside the sofas, chairs and tables with a quick ward. Behind Arya's back, another group arrived, bringing Nasuada with. To get here so soon after them, Eragon and the three elves had to pass by the little group the time they hurried through the corridors and stairs, but Arya didn't remember seeing them.

The woman didn't comprehend the situation either and seemed quite pale despite her dark skin. She stepped to the side, from where she could see everything happening but didn't disturb the elves hurrying here and there in the room. Arya felt a bit lonely as every elf seemed to avoid her gaze. Her mother's image appeared in one of the large mirrors on the walls. She was obviously wakened from her sleep when the message arrived at their camp.

Arya caught Blödhgarm glancing at her, and she was not sure what she saw in his eyes. Anger, worry, pity? Saenía, her best friend among the elf group stepped into the middle, holding a bag. As she opened it, a sound could be heard, sharp and… painful? She reached into the bag, the shrieking grew stronger, and lifted the hidden dragon egg from it. Arya exhaled the air she was not aware she was holding and stared at it in disbelief and horror. What was wrong with it?

Eragon's face reflected surprise and disbelief before his face regained the hard mask. Emotionlessly, he stepped closer and examined the egg which emitted incredible noise. The bag must have been silenced with magic. Arya felt a bit calmer as his face didn't reflect horror or shock, only concentration. He glanced at the woman who was to guard the egg after Erlendr heard some of the gossips about the … incident between Arya and Eragon.

It had nothing to do with the truth, of course, but she considered better to keep her mouth shut. She suddenly understood the look in Blödhgarm's eyes: whatever was wrong with the egg, it was her fault. It was only an hour ago that somebody else possessed the egg, for it was then she gave it to Saenía; it was her that committed the crime, whatever crime it might have been. Saenía simply hadn't been guarding it long enough.

"It is for almost half an hour now…" Saenía whispered and Arya could see the tears in her eyes she didn't cry. Half an hour… it was definitely her fault. Eragon nodded and gently caressed the emerald surface. The shrieking stopped for a moment then continued with new force.

"Maybe you could… you could use some scrolls to… to find out what's wrong. If… if it's something wrong…" Erlendr suggested nearly stuttering. Arya could see on his face he didn't honestly believe it could be fixed now. Eragon nodded.

"Maybe I could." His voice was calm and if she hadn't known the impossibility of it, she would have said he was amused. At least his voice was calmer and less shocked than the elves were. It was a bit comforting he knew something about it, there was somebody to ask about it. Though, the worried expression remained on their faces: no matter who in particular, an elf had guarded it, and obviously hadn't guarded it well enough. The shock was all in their eyes.

He thought for a moment then stepped to a shelf, reading the titles one by one. He obviously found the one he was searching for and he sat down comfortably onto one of the sofas. Saphira groaned and touched the egg with his snout. The emerald stone did the same as before, at Eragon's caress: stopped then continued it even louder.

The minutes passed slowly by and Arya sensed the first wave of exhaustion as the shock slowly disappeared of her. Meanwhile all the leaders arrived, looking around with curious eyes not knowing what was going on. Arya felt strange gazes on herself which made her uncomfortable. It was considered her fault, she knew that without anybody mentioning it. Staring back at Islanzadí and Saenía, she let out an annoyed sigh. Being annoyed was so much better than being terrified.

"Saphira's egg never did this. And this either." Eragon glanced at her thoughtfully then back at the scroll in his hand. Nobody replied her and the woman began to feel more and more uncomfortable. Time passed by and the egg continued to shriek. Arya buried her face into her hands. This was not her day and although she had felt something was going to be wrong, she was grateful for nothing fatal had happened. Eragon was going to fix the problem whatever it was and everything was going to be back to normal. It just had to be.

The man surfaced from the scroll and, not being bothered by the intense looks into his direction, walked to the shelf and pulled the scroll back. People waited for him to do something, do anything and the air became filled with tension in a moment. He stepped to the egg and placed his palm onto the emerald surface murmuring almost soundlessly. Arya tried hard but she couldn't make out a word of the spell he used.

It took long and she had time to consider the bad option. If something had gone wrong and Eragon would not be able to solve it. If it was her fault that they lost the last dragon egg in Alagaësia. It was not too cherish option. She swallowed and stared at Eragon, praying soundlessly.

The man finished his long ward and lifted his hand from the egg. Turning it upside down, she saw the gedwëy ignasia glinting with silver light on his palm. Little ball made from emerald flames appeared above it whirling with incredible speed. The ball moved forward and Eragon followed the movement towards the door. He was walking slowly checking every step using the ball as a guide.

Arya looked around and suddenly realized how alone she was. Every other elf disappeared from her leaving her alone. She forced herself to stand calmly while Eragon took his last step to her. He was standing very close, too close. She felt she would faint. So it was her fault.

The man's hand clenched into a fist killing the little flame ball. The Dragon Rider sighed unhappily and examined her features. She knew she blushed but couldn't help it. Eragon stared deeply into her eyes while he commanded everybody out of the room. Only Nasuada, Orrin, Orik and her mother's reflection remained. His voice was so cold, nobody dared to protest, not even Erlendr. The people glanced at her for a last time or better say, glared at her.

When the last person had left the chamber, he waited another moment to close the outside door at the end of the corridor. Arya knew what he waited for, but the leaders became disoriented when he waited further than they could see a reason to, and started to speak all at the same time. Arya collapsed to one of the sofas and buried her face into her hands. She took some deep breaths and looked up. There was no use of crying now. Eragon was still watching her.

He lifted the egg from the cushion Saenía had placed before leaving.

"Can you… fix the damage I had done?" Arya whispered forcing back her tears. She felt so guilty.

The Rider glanced at her with lifted eyebrows. "Nobody can… 'fix the damage you had done'." He repeated. The woman felt suddenly very weak. As though the world had lost all the colours. Everybody stood silently waiting for him to explain.

The Rider walked to Arya, placing the egg into her lap. The people in the room stared at him with shock and disbelief. Disorientation filled her. Then, she discovered the small crack on the brilliant emerald surface. She paced her fingertip at it and felt the egg tremble at her touch. She stared at Eragon with a sense of suspicion.

His voice was low yet clearly comprehensive in the silent room as he emphasized each word. "You are the last Dragon Rider, Arya."

To be continued…