Chapter 2

After hours of waiting in the cramped shelter, the villagers all heard a gentle tap on the wood.

"It's safe to come out now," declared a male voice.

They trembled in the dark, afraid for their lives. As they waited, a pair of claws ripped through the wooden doors that barricaded them from the danger outside. The children began to cry uncontrollably, while women and men alike shrieked. The light flooded the room, blinding them for a brief moment.

"It's me, Eragon," said a man with light brown, wavy hair and warm brown eyes, suddenly appearing.

Alena was the first to climb out. Shielding her eyes from the sun with a hand, she stepped out into the light and took a deep breath. She was shoved aside by the village master and the children. The village master rushed up to Eragon, flustered while the children scrambled to Saphira, hanging off her spikes and saddle. Saphira snapped her jaws playfully, receiving a warning glance from Eragon and the children's parents.

Alena stood on the side, isolated from the people who were panicking at the sight of blood and gore, crying out with joy as Saphira flew around in small circles, all crowding up to Eragon. She wondered whose eye she had seen, that icy blue eye. She had observed that Eragon's eye was a soft brown, definitely not the cold blue eye she had seen earlier.

"Perhaps it was just an illusion," she muttered to herself.

She looked around frightfully. Here she was, in the outside world, surrounded by the people of her village. The face she had seen was nowhere in sight—the piercing blue gaze in particular. From the far distance she normally observed the villagers, it was impossible to determine their eye color. But she was sure that none of them was outside—they had been all squished under the shelter until Eragon and Saphira had declared it was safe enough to come out again. They had arrived at a scene of blood and dead soldiers, with Eragon panting, his blue sword Brisingr drawn and Saphira licking at her nails with satisfaction. There were no signs of any village people—or anyone alive, for that matter. She glanced around the villagers that had horded up against Eragon, wondering who would have such eyes.

Eragon faced the crowd, smiling broadly, his sword, Brisingr, sheathed. People had gathered around him and Saphira, all gaping.

"I take it that you haven't had much misfortune at this town, seeing how you are panicked by blood," he noted.

"Yes," began the village master. "This is… our first direct attack."

"I'm sorry to bring such misfortune upon your village," he apologized. "This was the nearest village, and we wanted the soldiers to be too tired to fight."

"A fine tactic," marveled the village master. "And there is no reason for a Rider as noble as you to apologize to us. We should thank you, for saving our village."

This man is just dripping with humbleness! And it's all fake! exclaimed Eragon to Saphira in astonishment.

Yes, replied Saphira, snorting.

And who is that girl? She seems so isolated? And deep in thought.

Eragon, pay attention to the conversation!

All right, all right.

Eragon returned his focus to the village master, who had been babbling on about his gratitude and thanks to Eragon. He nodded, and smiled. He looked around warily, making sure there was no damage to the village. As he began to climb onto Saphira, a bright, green light appeared in a flash, and a young man clutching a brown package fell to the floor, writhing. He squirmed desperately, and fell limp, dead.

Eragon leaped off, startled. He neared the man, and reached out with his consciousness.

"Dead," he declared.

The villagers gasped and turned their heads, not wanting to see any more dead men.

Saphira… do you think…?

Look at his ears, she said, shivering with excitement and horror.

Gently, Eragon lifted the rust-colored hair covering his ears. They were pointed. Chills ran up Eragon's spine.

"No…" he whispered. "It… it can't be…"

It is, said Saphira stiffly.

Eragon slowly took the brown package in the elf's arms. He then placed it on Saphira's saddle and slowly peeled the rough brown material from the package. He gasped and pulled the object into his arms.

"The mission. It succeeded," he said slowly, awe-struck.

The stood up and raised the package high over his head.

"A fourth egg!" he declared majestically.

A gasp rippled throughout the crowd, along with murmurs of disbelief and amazement. Alena looked up, surprised.

"A new dragon egg?" she whispered frightfully. "There's another one?"

"An egg was discovered. So that rumors did not spread, three elves were sent to retrieve it. Two elves were killed, and the third made it here without dying. Although he has passed into the void, his great deed will bring us much good fortune. Because Saphira and I will have to travel to towns to find the egg's owner, we will start here. All must line up, and touch the egg," said Eragon, his voice loud.

Gasps of excitement ran through the crowd. Only Alena remained still and unexcited. Eragon, observing this frowned slightly. The news of a fourth egg was more than enough to excite somebody.

She's so… different.

Is there anything wrong with that?

No… it's just… she seems so afraid of everything.

Then ask.

I just told you, she seems afraid, he said impatiently. Asking would only frighten her more.

Wise observation, remarked Saphira.

Then what do you want me to do?

Observe.

Eragon sighed and looked away. It would not be wise to argue with Saphira. She always won with her sharp, witty replies and infinite wisdom. Turning to the crowd again with his public smile, he carried the egg to Saphira's back. He set it down and shouted instructions to the villagers. They all lined up, murmuring excitedly at the rare chance of touching a dragon egg. When Alena did not line up, Eragon sneaked to her side, trusting Saphira to guard the egg.

"Hello," he began, an awkward silence developing them.

She jumped almost three feet into the air, and waved.

"H-hello," she said, turning a deep red.

"May I ask, why do you stand so isolated from your villagers?" he asked with a charming smile. "If I caused any offense or discomfort, I am terribly sorry."

"I… I am afraid," she whispered, not daring to look up.

"Afraid? Afraid of what?" he asked as kindly as possible.

There was a long pause. "The world. And… people."

"People, you say?" he asked, curious.

"Yes. They frighten me. The world, the world frightens me. Is it not people that cause us to hurt? Is it not people, that causes misfortune and misery?"

"Why do you think so?"

"My mother was shunned. She was not only shunned—despised by the people of this cursed town. As she gave birth to her first child, the village people killed them—brutally, leaving only chunks of flesh and echoing cries. After the horrors had passed, my mother dared not step out of her cozy home. When she was pregnant with her second child, she was terrified. Rumors spread of her new baby, and the villagers set off to kill it. After it too, had been savagely ripped to shreds, she was once again restricted to her home once more. When she was pregnant with her third child—me—she was determined to make sure I was kept alive. She gave birth without the help of any others. After I was born, she was careful to hide me. I grew in my home, inside until I was 5 years old. Oh, how pale I was. My skin was chalk white—I had not seen the sun for 5 years. When I became old enough, my mother instructed me to arrive at the town as if I were an orphan, so that I could go outside. So one night, I snuck out the back door at night. When morning came, I was amazed by the Sun, who beautiful it was, shining in the sky. I stumbled into the town, acting as if I were a poor orphan in need of a home. When I arrived in the town, the village people looked upon me with scorn and distaste. I was forced to live with my mother, which I was glad for, but the people despised me. I was hated. When my mother died, killed by the villagers after a mistake, I was 15. She passed away only a year ago. I was forced to take care of the village children, which I have been doing for the past year for a meager supply of food, water and coins," she explained, her voice barely a whisper by the end of the story.

Eragon gasped at the brutality of the villagers, watching her as she cried pitifully at her hateful story. By the time she was done, her face was wet with tears, her solemn expression now a mixture of terror and misery. She had been treated to cruelly and unfairly, so brutally abused by the wretched townspeople. He glared at the townspeople with newfound hatred. How could they contain such evil in their hearts? Was it possible to loathe an innocent child—treat her so terribly she hates the world? And what of the child's mother? Why did they detest this lady so much? How cruel and unjust were they, to kill a newborn baby—to destroy precious life? Anger boiled in his veins, making him tremble with uncontrollable rage.

"WHY?!" he exploded, gasping to restrict foolish actions.

"I do not know," she said bluntly. "But I've learned to accept it. I spent 80 of my life indoors. That is where I belong. Please do not be angry, Shadeslayer. There are many life stories. I am just less fortunate."

"No!" he cried, muttering foul words under his breath. "No living being deserves such treatment! Why do you not rebel?"

"I am powerless," she replied simply, her eyes glazed. "Just as my mother was. She despised the townspeople as much as I did. But she could not leave—she was… bound to this town."

Eragon swore again and stomped angrily. He turned and glared at the townspeople, so absorbed in touching the egg they were not aware of Eragon's boiling anger and outburst. He growled in anger, blocking out Saphira with his entire mind. He heard protesting, but ignored it all together; forcing himself to focus on the matter he had on his hands.

Forcing his anger down, he offered a smile and said, "Your turn."

By then, the extensive line had been emptied, and people sat sullenly on the sides, their faces drooping. They had hoped that they would become Dragon Riders—oh, what an honor would that be! They watched Alena with a wary, hateful eye as she slowly approached the white dragon egg on Saphira's saddle. She stepped to it hesitantly—if she was indeed the next Dragon Rider, it meant she would decide the fate of the world. After being shunned and hated for so long, it was understandable she was hesitant to lay a single finger on the small object that would become Alagaësia's hope. She halted in front of Saphira, where Saphira eyed her fondly, and took a deep breath. Slowly—oh, ever so slowly!—she put a finger on the egg, and then her whole hand. Warmth emanated from the white egg.

She was so absorbed in the wonders of the white egg to notice that the egg was rocking. Not just rocking, shaking violently. The villagers all stood up in awe, stunned by the reaction. Alena kept her arm on the egg, amazed. A single crack appeared on the smooth surface, expanding until a series of cracks webbed across its surface. Eragon gasped as he arrived at the scene. Saphira shifted, startled, almost dropping the egg. At last, the egg exploded, revealing a small dragon. Alena gasped audibly as she saw a flash of icy blue in the Dragon's eyes. It turned into the color of a beautiful sapphire after it flashed. The flash had been the cold color she saw!

Eragon stepped forward and looked at the Dragon. Its eyes glittered like two sapphire jewels.

"Go ahead, touch it," he whispered, memories flooding into him.

With trembling hands, she slowly let the Dragon put its small head under her fingers. A jolt of pain rushed through her arm, and she cried out. When she opened her palm, there was a silvery mark on her hand.

"Welcome, Alena, new Dragon Rider," said Eragon with a smile. "What will you name this noble creature?"

Alena stood still for a moment, and whispered "Skyla."

"Beautiful name," commented Eragon. "Any reason?"

"My mother's name was Skyla," she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

Immediately, the villagers began to cry out in disappointment and new hatred for the girl.

"You lucky bastard!" yelled one man.

"My beautiful Gareth is destined to be a rider!" shrieked a mother, pointing frantically to a 13 year old boy with sandy hair and freckles.

"What of my beautiful daughter?!" screamed another.

"She is a woman! A despicable, pitiful creature!" yelled the village master.

"SILENCE!" roared Eragon, his furious voice accompanied by Saphira's angry roar. "HOW DARE YOU? HOW DARE YOU SHUN A RIDER! HOW DARE YOU BE SO CRUEL? YOUR HEARTS ARE NO MORE THAN THE HEARTS OF CHICKENS AND ROOSTERS! AS SMALL AS YOUR HEARTS MAY BE, THEY ARE BLACK WITH EVIL! YOU MAY NOT JUDGE RIDER ALENA! I HAVE HEARD THE FULL STORY!"

The villagers quieted at once, looking up in fear and astonishment at the angry Eragon. Saphira roared with Eragon, looking at the villagers with a powerful rage.

"Shadeslayer," cried the village master, scrambling up to him. "You have no reason to be angry at us! What wrong have we done you? We have treated you with honor and respect, and your Dragon. Why are you so furious?"

"Your black hearts cannot understand such complicated matters!" he yelled. "The cruelness in which you have shown Alena is unforgivable! And do not say that you do not know!"

"Shadeslayer, the despicable creature's mother was Selena, servant of the wretched Morzan!"

"MY MOTHER IS SELENA!" screamed Eragon in horror. "How dare you treat a woman as noble as her so cruelly?!"

"Shadeslayer! We were not aware that your mother was Selena!" cried the villagers desperately.

"No matter! You treated her foully!" he boomed. "I hope that Galbatorix's armies attack you for the rest of your miserable lives, and you live without any limbs or body parts! You shall die, rotting in cells and may all ill luck fall upon you!"

"Eragon, please, stop!" cried Alena, rushing to his side, the Dragon waddling next to her. "These people may be evil and heartless, but they are normal people. Please, let them be. I wish to leave here at once."

Alena speaks wisdom, said Saphira. I apologize, Alena. I let my rage overtake my sensibility and wisdom.

It is easy to be overcome with rage or grief. I can understand. Only a year ago, I was driven to madness after the death of my mother, she replied.

"Then let us leave," he spat.

Eragon jumped onto Saphira, helped her on and helped Alena get on, along with her Dragon Skyla.

"I'm sorry," said Eragon after they had departed.

"No harm done. I am just glad to leave the town," she replied contentedly.

"You are tired. Rest. Saphira and I will see to it that you or your Dragon does not fall off," said Eragon gently.

"Thank you, Shadeslayer."

"No reason to thank me. The Varden would be angered terribly if I let you fall from such a high altitude."

No, thank you, for taking me away from the town.

Saphira's contented humming and the gentle vibrations that echoed from her chest slowly drifted her off to sleep. She slept thinking of the life of misery and fear she had left behind, and into the new one of more fear and adventure. Better than home… she thought.

Thanks to those who took their precious time to review my fanfic!

dancinqween09: Yes, I just noticed that the lines did not show up. I'm positive I separated them, but I guess there was an error. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

spazzysassyangel: Thank you for your review! I will try to make it less confusing. Beginnings are always hard!

c.a.s.1404: Thank you very much(: