A/N ;;; Okay. I've finally got my butt back in gear and started to write again. Sorry for the absence, people. So this is Chapter Eight of A Silver Hope. Enjoy!
Lyroxia leaned against the bars of her cell door, trying to see past them into a cell on the opposite wall, about five metres to her left. She could make out a thin, emaciated figure chained to wall inside it. It was almost impossible to see. The torch brackets on the dreary black walls held only a few small flames, which threw most of the corridor into shadow, and gave everything a distorted look.
Sighing, she gave up trying to peer into the cell and slumped backwards onto her knees. The drugs had worn of now; she remembered everything, and wasn't about to sit and wait for Murtagh to drag her off to Galbatorix.
She quickly scanned the floor around her and spotted a worn, sharp stone a few feet away from the bars of her cell door. It looked like an old spearhead. Reaching out an arm between the bars, she tried to get hold of it, but her hand fell inches short. So she pushed her torso against the bars again and stretched. Her fingers brushed the spearhead, then the stone's razor edge scraped roughly against her hand, deeply cutting her palm and her fingers. Lyroxia gritted her teeth as she tightened her grip and brought the spearhead onto the other side of the bars. Then she dropped the stone and examined her shaking hand.
It was her right hand that was injured, the hand that bore the Gedway Ignasia, and the silvery, ovular scar was rent down the middle by a bloody slash, which was quickly leaking blood; as were three of her fingers. She had had no idea by looking at it in the half-light that the spearhead was sharp enough or hard enough to cause that much damage.
She kneeled up, trying to ignore the pain shooting up her right arm like icy daggers, and used the point of the spearhead to pick the lock on her cell with her left hand. It was difficult, as she was right handed, but she had picked locks more difficult than this before, and had the door open in a matter of minutes.
She stumbled out of her prison, gingerly clutching the spearhead, and made her unsteady way up the dark corridor, not knowing where she was, or how she could escape. Her mind was dominated by one instinct only; find her dragon.
After what felt to Lyroxia like an hour of staggering up damp dark tunnels, but could hardly have been more than twenty minutes wandering; screeching sounds filled her ears. The high-pitched, wailing scream of a powerful beast suddenly filled the chamber she stood in, shortly followed by a majestic bellow that clearly came from a more natural, yet still deadly creature.
She froze in mid-step. More sounds of violence flooded the chamber, the shriek of strong talons on unforgiving rock, the echoing clang of metal striking metal, and the distant yells of men.
The commotion seemed to be above her, and to the left. She continued on in the tunnel she was facing, as that led her to the noise. She knew that it probably wasn't very wise to head in that direction, but frankly, she didn't have a choice. Once she knew what was going on up there, she'd most likely discover more about where she was and how to get out.
A/N. There. it's short, i know. But I like short chapters. :T
I actually just have some real bad writer's block. It's all in my mind, I know. Sorry people.