Would you stop that infernal noise?! Mellary demanded.

What noise? Embrald asked mildly.

That flapping!

If I do that, we'll fall out of the sky. He sounded terribly reasonable. If we have to walk, it will take thrice as long to return.

Mellary grumbled under her breath.

Are you able to use magic to stop the pain? Though their bond was muted, her hurt was still echoing down it.

No. That spell only heals physical wounds. This is not a physical wound, it's the result of clashing powers.

…you are going to have to explain.

Mellary sighed. Right now?

No. The wingbeats stilled, and they glided smoothly down. Embrald settled gracefully on the balcony and moved inside before she had a chance to get down.

She dropped, stumbling as she landed, and collapsed on her unused bed.

Mellary? Embrald asked in concern as she curled up in a ball, cradling her head.

Give me a minute, she said. Everyone had their moments of weakness. This happened to be hers.

Pain throbbed like a scarlet heartbeat behind her eyes.

Let me…

No! Mellary snapped when he tested her shields. This isn't your magic. In the most literal sense of the words, this is not your magic.

He didn't understand. She barely understood it herself, running on half a paragraph in a crumbling scroll and pure instinct.

Then again, her instinct rarely failed her.

Sorcery is… a fundamentally different magic than the magic that dragons use. Like fire and water, the two can't coexist.

I would say you are a living contradiction to that statement, Miss Half-Elf Rider.

Fine, I take it back. They don't NORMALLY coexist. For instance, elves and dragons cannot use sorcery. Only humans who have the magic passed down through their bloodline can.

Do you know why?

No. No one does. Some say it goes back to when magic was bound by the Grey People. Some say it was a strain they did not bind. Obviously, there's sparse information on it in Elven Archives.

That is why you visited as many human libraries as you could, Embrald said in sudden realization.

One reason, yes. I have never been able to do much of that magic, I believe it clashes too much with my mother's blood. But I had a little skill with illusions. She was silent for a moment. It never hurt like this before though.

The headache is unusual?

I would get headaches, yes, but a small illusion like that would not make me feel like my skull was splitting open from the inside out. She stared into his green eyes. What…happened to me?

You grew in power when we bonded, yes? Perhaps more of your magic is as mine. Something in his tone made her pause. For a questioning statement, he sounded very certain.

Perhaps?

Perhaps. Mellary studied her dragon's impassive green eyes.

What do you know?

He didn't say anything, and she knew, without a single doubt, that she would never know unless he decided to tell her.

They stayed silent for a while as the sun sank, painting the forest in crimson and gold. Mellary was going over the incident in her head. Something wasn't right. There was something she had forgotten.

Why the look of censure? Embrald asked. Her memory of the glare Oromis had given her flashed through his mind, clarifying his statement.

There are two ways, using 'regular' magic, to make someone see something that is untrue. One is to physically change the thing. I could have altered the shapes of my ears, but that takes time and a considerable amount of power. It was not something I could have done in a heartbeat after an afternoon of practicing magic, even if it was only small magics. The second is to break into someone's mind and convince them that they are seeing something else. Obviously, very unethical. I believe, for a moment, he thought that I broke into the minds of all four people there.

Could you have done it? Embrald asked, amused.

Not even in my nightmares, she responded with a small smile.

Her headache faded away as the day did. She finally sat up with a sigh, swinging her legs down to rest her booted feet on the floor.

She stretched out a hand, murmured. Magic flooded her mind as light flooded the room, flames blossoming in every lamp.

It soothed down the feathers the sorcery had ruffled, making her shiver.

Mellary came to a sudden decision. She stood gracefully, rolling off the bed and onto her feet. Her sheathed swords were lying where she had discarded them before collapsing onto the bed. She scooped them up, dropping on in its customary place next to the nest. The other she belted around her waist.

Embrald watched her from his coiled place in his nest.

Where are you going? He asked.

I need more information, Mellary replied. I am going to the library. She stared towards the door, dreading the long flights of steps down.

I'll fly you there.

Embrald, your wings are so tired my shoulders ache. Were you flying all day? The lack of an answer was all the conformation she needed. The dragon's path had carried him out of their range, so she had no idea what he had been up to. They hadn't gotten around to sharing in all the confusion.

I'll go to the library.

You need to rest.

I'm not very tired. It wasn't quite a lie, containing just enough truth that she could say the words in the ancient language. I'll read for a few hours, then come back.

She walked out, closing the door behind her.

The moon had long since set when she returned, almost crawling up the last few steps. The door opened under her hand, the room dark. Two emerald green eyes glowed at her from the shadows.

Mellary walked over and dropped next to her dragon, curling up against his warm side. A massive wing unfurled, stretching out over her like a warm blanket.

Learn anything?

Some. Nothing about sorcery, but I did find that word from my dream.

What is it?

It's old, very, very old. Roughly translated, it means 'perfect silence'. The words were drowsy, her mental voice soft as she slipped into sleep.

Embrald landed on the training grounds early the next morning. The sun had just crested the horizon. They weren't expected for practice for some time, but both Rider and dragon had woken early.

Mellary jumped to the ground, looking around. The clearing was deserted. Shadows still covered most of it, the sun not yet strong enough to banish them. A few of the brilliant rays sliced through the wide leaves, dappling the soft grass with rosy light.

On the other side of the training ground, something flashed. Mellary started forward, her dagger continuing to throw sun back into her eyes as she moved around it.

She rested her hand on the hilt at the same height as her eyes. The entire length of the blade was sunk into the tree trunk, right up to the cross-guard. Mellary wrapped her fingers around the hilt and pulled.

The blade didn't give in the slightest. She frowned, trying to wiggle the blade. It didn't budge.

Mellary let it go and planted her hands on her hips, scowling at the obstinate weapon.

That was quite a throw.

I may have been a little…. Overenthusiastic, she admitted.

Just a little?

She ignored the comment. I… may know a way to get the blade out, she said slowly.

Embrald had picked up on her thoughts. You're going to sing to the tree, like the elves?

…..in a way. I… uh… I can't… She rubbed the back of her neck, embarrassed. I can't sing.

You are half elven. And you can not sing?

No.

Not even a refrain?

No.

A few words?

No. No no no no NO, alright? Not a word, not a note. She turned her biting steel glare to him. Embrald flashed his long fangs a he grinned, a trickle of smoke rolling up into the dawn.

If you can't sing, then how are you going to get the blade out of the tree?

Like this. Mellary placed her hands on either side of the dagger. The bark pressed against her palms, rough and alive. She could feel the subtle, strange magic of life pulsing just outside her skin. She cleared her throat, opened her lips, and spoke.

Her voice rose and fell like ocean waves, lulling, sooth, enchanting. It seemed smoother, settling into a smooth cadence that was just shy of a song. Her words wound through the air, serpentine. They curled above the grass and moved as an errant breeze, making the very air vibrate with unspoken power. Magic spilled form her, rushing down her arms and branching out through her fingers, sinking deep roots into the tree.

The dagger slid free and fell to the ground with a soft thump. The tree twisted beneath her hands, the gap sealing itself. In seconds, the only sign that anything had happened was a barely visible scar in the bark.

"Well done," said a summer voice behind her. Mellary whirled, her hand dropping to her swords.

"I am Aerwyn," the elf said, her eyes tracking Mellary's hand on her sword.

Mellary studied her. Aerwyn was a wisp of an elf, a few inches below Mellary herself which made her short by elven standards. Everything about her was fine-boned and delicate, from the soft midnight of her eyes to her straight locks, so white they were almost transparent, glass-like.

She looked like a stray glance would shatter her, the sturdy sword strapped across her back notwithstanding

"Call me Mellary," she said easily, wondering if the elf would notice the deliberate wording. "And this is Embrald." She gestured over her shoulder, knowing her dragon was watching the elf with interest.

"I was requested to train with you," Aerwyn said, her voice a soft touch of air on a summer's night.

"You're here early," Mellary commented, deliberately looking over Aerwyn's shoulder to the rising sun.

Aerwyn mimicked her raised eyebrow. "As are you."

Hot air blasted her hair forward as Embrald snorted. A puff of smoke rolled past her before curling up towards the trees.

You two will get long perfectly, he chuckled. The dragon turned away, settling into place around the edge of the training ground.

Mellary crouched and swept up the knife, tucking it into its sheath on her belt. There was nothing that she could say to explain that particular talent away. Singing to trees was something only elves did.

Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask, she chanted her in head as the knife slid home.

Aerwyn met her gaze, then turned away. She stalked to the middle of the clearing, drawing her sword as she did. The blade came free, scattering dawn light.

Mellary drew her own, moving forward. Embrald's voice sound in her head as she guarded her blades.

Don't break her.

They crossed their blades, her white sparks colliding with a wash of brilliant topaz magic. Aerwyn stuck, snake-like, and Mellary twisted wildly to avoid a strike that, with an unguarded blade, would have been lethal.

I don't think that's going to be a problem, she said wryly as the dull edge of the blade slid along her ribs. She slapped the sword down with one of hers and lunged in the same movement, but Aerwyn danced out of the way.

They clashed, coming together to exchange a flurry of strikes before breaking off and circling, two predators that had scented blood in the air. Someone twitched, and they flew together, swords making the air sing.

Others began to arrive as they fought, their battle space becoming smaller and smaller. They clashed faster, until every gasp of air was dragging knives down her throat.

Aerwyn was lightning. Dangerous, rigid, and astonishingly quick.

She struck in a quick, overhanded blow. Mellary caught it with her blade on the inside, though her arms screamed from the exertion. She heaved, throwing the entangled swords wide out to the side. Her second blade flashed in.

Aerwyn brought her arm up, an instinctive block. It was a common mistake, but a potentially lethal one. Her unguarded blade could cut through solid bone. Mellary flourished her blade, twisting it to pass below the upraised arm to press against the elf's sternum, right below her heart.

So fast she couldn't even catch the move, Aerwyn contorted out of her way. Something hit her in the gut, her feet lifted off the ground, and she flew. Mellary twisted in the air, landing in a crouch. Her feet dug in to the ground as she tensed to spring.

Someone called the hour just as Mellary lunged. Aerwyn immediately lowered her blade, but Mellary was already moving. Twisting, she turned her blades-out lunge into a guarded tumble, rolling to her feet. It would have been gorgeous, if exhaustion hadn't made her stagger into a tree.

She leaned unapologetically against the tree, her chest heaving as she slid her swords back into their sheaths. The sun told her that she and Aerwyn had been fighting for a full two hours without stop.

Neither of them would walk away unscathed, but neither had either landed a killing blow. If anything, they probably would have both bled out from the sheer number of small cuts.

Aerwyn stepped up, breathing as hard as Mellary was. "Until tomorrow, Rider," she said cordially, nodded to Embrald, and walked away.

The elf was overly enthusiastic, incapable of adapting, and fast enough to make up for it. The last move hadn't been the first time that Mellary had seen that mistake, and she had been poised to take full advantage of it. A truly skilled opponent wouldn't have made the lethal mistake more than once. Anyone else wouldn't have gotten the chance to.

A green head the size of her torso came around, mischief in the wide emerald eye.

So? Embrald asked.

I'm not sure if she's supposed to train me, or I'm supposed to train her, Mellary answered honestly. Her heart was finally slowing its rapid tattoo, her breathing evening out.

Embrald uncoiled from his place as Saphira swooped down. Mellary snuck a glance over at her fellow Rider. Eragon looked tense, anger in every stiff line of his body.

She climbed up on Embrald's back. The dragon crouched and launched into the air, wings sweeping down hard. They climbed quickly, shooting out of the canopy and into the clear sky.

Saphira and Eragon were deep in conversation, but Embrald's eyes had a wicked glint.

Don't, Mellary warned.

Don't what? Embrald asked innocently.

She wasn't fooled. If you start something, I will jump off and force you to catch me, she threatened calmly.

Embrald snorted. You don't have the energy for that right now. When did two hours of dueling wipe you out?

When I only slept for three hours the night before, Mellary snapped back.

Embrald's wings stilled. Bad dreams again.

No, Mellary answered honestly. I just couldn't sleep. Her mind had been moving too fast once she had returned, and it had taken hours to settle back down.

She had also been considering what she was going to say to Oromis. She had always hidden her talent, afraid that it would simply remind the elves of her father, remind them that she was not their kind. Most would not have cared.

Some would have taken exception.

Out in the human world, it had been a matter of survival. Flaunting any kind of strong magic would have made her a target faster than she could blink. Hiding was a reflex.

Besides, he already knew too much about her. Mellary twitched.

Embrald sighed in her head. Oromis is not our enemy, he said softly.

I know, Mellary growled.

Embrald was silent for a moment. Did you figure out what to say?

Mellary snorted derisively. Of course not.