As he opened the door, he saw a flicker of movement and froze. Was someone…or something in there? He heard a deep sigh and saw more movement towards a golden alter he'd seen once before. That did not shock him. What did was who came out of the shadows and into the unearthly light which hung around alter.
What he saw was a young woman. She looked fifteen, maybe sixteen. Slung on her shoulder was a large pack. She was fairly short for her age; but it was obvious by the look in her eyes that she wasn't too young. A bronze curtain crashed down her shoulders. Her ears were pointed. She was fair; but not as he expected of that of her race. She was nothing special. But one thing that was was her eyes. They pieced through him like emerald arrows; breaking his very soul. He knew he had seen them before, but he could put his finger on it.
He moved to her; knowing an elf would not rat him out. On the contrary, she'd be glad he was there. His only hope was that she hadn't given the location of Ellesmera, or any other Elven cities for that matter, to Galbatorix yet.
But as he approached her, her expression dramatically changed. Where as before she had a fearless expression on her face, like she was ready to face whatever came through the doors, now her expression shifted. First, she looked rather shocked, then she set in to a rather cold, cruel glare; her fists clenched so tightly, he thought for sure she'd start to bleed. He silently cursed to himself, realizing she thought he was Murtagh, come to torture information out of her or something. He quickly prepared his magic to change him back.
But then, the strangest thing happened. She unclenched her fists, tears shedding as she did, and fell into his arms. He wondered if he had let go of the spell unknowingly and made her realize who he was.
"You came for me." She said softly as she sobbed in his arms. He held her for a moment, knowing now that this trip would not be in vain. They had now saved an elf and perhaps stopped Galbatorix from learning the location of the Elven cites.
"Please, can you tell me where it is?" He asked, looking her in her puffy, lazar eyes. She gave him a quizzical look and he swore violently in his head. It wasn't in here! He couldn't just simply look in every gods' damn room in the whole black palace for it. He did not have the time. He grabbed the elf's hand and promptly exited the room.
Looking down the corridor, he searched for a room that looked of some significance. And one, in particular, caught his eye. It had a coat of arms made of Elven blades above the door. He knew it won't have the main reason he was there, but he did need a new sword, and this looked like the most promising place to go.
As he opened the door to the room, a grin obscured his face. In this room lie mountain upon mountain of evenly stacked Elven blades. Every color in the rainbow was there; from pure whites, to shimmering golds, to rich browns, to fiery oranges, powerful yellows and vengeful reds. Strong purples, beautiful blues, lively greens, midnight blacks, lunar silvers and calm greys were also present. It awed him to think of what all the different dragons looked like.
Every style of blade as well; from elegant long swords, to dangerous hefty cleavers, to sharp short stabbers, to heavy broad swords. One, a radiant silvery white one engraved Wyrda, seemed to even be able to switch styles. All seemed like the god version of whatever the blade was; able to move swifter, stay sharper, and amaze more.
And while he felt it wrong to steal such a blade that was not his but a rider of old's, he knew the rider would much rather have him wield it then Galbatorix. And he had no sword of his own…It was just too tempting.
In the center of the room, on a similar array as Thorn's egg had been so long ago, lay two swords; a deep blue long sword that would match Saphira's scales almost flawlessly though it was a shade lighter and a strange shorter green sword which was built for speed he supposed was a close match to that of the third egg.
He let go of the girl in awe, whom simply stood their, shocked at all the colors and awe-stuck at their build. Even she could see it was near perfect. Dangerously near. He moved to the alter and observed the sword with his eyes. But he felt they were unworthy of such a sight. They were perfect, unscratched, sharp as a dragon tooth, untarnished, even by time. They seemed so holy, despite all the dust around them, not even a speck rested on the blade, handle, or sheath. The blue one was called Adurna, or water, and the green one, Dre'gui, or broke heart. The blue one seemed to glow as he leaned over it.
Slowly his hand fell upon it, savoring its cool touch as he lifted its hilt. He could almost feel a jolt, like it was right. Like he was meant to forever hold that sword. He found it fit perfectly in his hand. A golden sapphire rested in its handle. He saw his reflection in it, clear as he saw the sky. But he also saw something else. A sort of green shimmer.
He turned and smiled at the elf, who stood less then a foot away. She too could not resist the call of the blade. He suddenly had an alarming thought. He observed her hands and found his thought had no grounds. He once again returned to smiling at her.
Like an impulse or some strange destiny, Aiedail found her hands on the green blade. He didn't stop her; for it looked only too natural for her to hold it. It alarmed her to not even have realized what she had been doing until it was rolling around in her hands. It fit like a dream, as if she had had it custom made for her and her alone. With a flick of her fist, she found it going faster then her unaware hand.
This mistake resulted in a cut across her palm. He looked at her with concern, but said nothing. She sucked on it to stop the bleeding. It amazed her that she hadn't felt it till then as a terrible wave of stinging pain ensnared her senses.
But before they did too much more, the unexpected shattered the night. The roar of a dragon and the coarse, raw-throated war cry of his cousin. They'd obviously been discovered! He swore aloud as the sword fell to the ground. He checked himself for injury; upon finding none, he quickly picked up Adurna and sheathed it, motioning for the same to be done with Dre'gui as he began to take off. She complied and soon followed. She tied Dre'gui to her belt, completely forgetting about her open cut as she ran.
He heard a shout from behind and saw that same group of people from earlier. He knew they'd be after them in a heart beat, but he couldn't just leave her and she could not run as fast as him for a strange reason. She slowly began slipping behind. With his concentration sapped, without even realizing it, he dropped the spell again. But it didn't matter any more…
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As they raced along, she began to wonder why they were running; till she heard another hoarse shout and saw behind them a flicker of tourch light illuminating a mob of people obviously after her! They held a terrible glee in their eys as they pursed them in the bloody light their torches gave off.
One shouted of a familiar voice, "Don't let her get away!" She realized with a jump that these were the exact same people who touched her room earlier. She pictured it, from the charred walls to her burnt bed with a shiver running down her spine. She shuttered to think if they were able to do that to her room, what were they capable of doing to her? This fearful thought plus the safety she felt with Murtagh beside her and the need to be with him filled her drive to run faster then she ever had in her whole life. The black tiles of Kurmoshkow fled beneath her, and she soon could only see the quickly moving shadows of their pursers. Suddenly she realized they were in the court yard.
What they saw was truly a sight to behold. Thorn's tail hit a mass of soldiers as they came, crushing them instantly. He bellowed deeply and blew out a long, steady torrent of flame from inside of him. As his flam subsided, more men threatened him from the back. He gave a puff of smoke, showing he was willing to do it again; but spotted Murtagh and thought differently. Instead, he simply growled and turned to fight the other soldiers, pretending he had not seen them. He lay in wait as the men approached. He gave an angry roar as a soldier attempted to spear him in the side and trashed his shadowy claws at him, impaling him on the lance. On his back, a strange man fought a soldier right above his head. His eyes were big and pale and gave him a haunted look. Brown hair swished as he fought the man. There was something a little off about Thorn, but she paid no heed to it.
Murtagh raced to his dragon's side, zealously guarding his flank. One soldier with a broad sword made a rush at him. He spied him and swung Adurna at him. The blades crashed together, sending sparks into the air as the pair clashed. Then Adurna found his enemies' neck and it was over only for another two to rush to his side under the cover of the spray of blood.
But she had no time to watch that second clash, for she had not until now seen the men circling her. She barely had the time to draw Dre'gui before they were upon her. Clumsy with her sword despite its lightness, she swung it as if it were a club; foolishly blundering around with the beautiful blade. The soldiers had no trouble dodging her and she found she self being toyed with; with the likeness of how a cat toys wit a mouse before swallowing it down whole. She gave another feeble attempt at defending herself as a blade came down upon her; the wielding soldier had a terrible gleam in his eyes. He smiled mechanically as he brushed her blade aside; as if it was no more them a stick wielded by a child. The blow sent her sprawling on the floor. The toying was over. She slammed her eyes shut, preparing for the sting of the first bite and wondering if there really was a place people went when they died.
But the blow never came. Instead a terrible cry pieced the night. She slowly opened her eyes to see the soldier with a red-tipped blue blade lodged in his gut. Slowly it slid out and the man toppled to the ground. But she paid no mind to the man making rivers of blood next to her; for still in front of her was that of an angel. The moonlight hit his creamy skin in such a way that it shone brighter then the thing itself. A breeze drifted through his bronze hair; drying the beads of sweat on his forehead and leaving it shinier then it had previously been. His ears were perfectly pointed; his face angled and clear as day. His molten bronze eyes melted her heart as he reached down to her; giving her a hand up. She could sparsely believe the hands which could kill that man could also be so gentle with her.
And like that, he left. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the sweat bead up on her forehead. When she opened her eyes again, she couldn't believe her eyes.
The other man had jumped out of the saddle and the angel shouted "Roran! Cover the left! You get in the saddle. We'll handle this!" The other man, Roran apparently, obeyed on a dime and unsheathed a brutal-looking hammer. She, not wanting to displease such a man, nodded and sheathed Dre'gui. But it was a task getting to Thorn, as he was still fighting and paid no head to the approaching elf. His tail was wild and it just barely missed her head.
"Get in the saddle now!" He yelled frantically he noticed the mob, glaring cruelty at them. From everywhere, suddenly, more guards appeared, most not the drunk guys they had expected but sober, keen-eyed men who took one look at the dragon and glared at the group.
"We can't win this." She heard him murmur. "We must leave." He added as a line of archers appeared on the roof.
"Uh-huh." Aiedail and Roran agreed. As they clambered on Thorn, Aiedail shrieked. "What about Bronco?" She gestured to the stables; knowing she probably would never see her childhood pet again if they left him here now. Thorn began to take off; hoping to get away from the arrows.
"There's no time!" He answered as a symphony of tangs filled the air. Two seconds later there came the first ping off Thorn's tough side scales. He roared loudly as the skin underneath bruised. His wings were next. Several arrows ripped holes in the thin membrane. She looked up and realized finally what was so different about him. His wing membranes were not red as usual, but a deep blue; much like the color of Adurna. Her final talk with Murtagh put the remaining pieces together.
"No, it won't. How can you even say that? You lied to me, about everything! Tell me the truth! Who are my parents!" She had shouted.
And part of his answer had been, "No, not everyone has dragon. There are only four left in fact: Thorn is mine, Shruikan is Galbatorix's, one is not hatched, and the final you've never seen. She is a sapphire blue and belongs to my brother." In that moment, she almost jumped off the dragon. This wasn't Thorn at all. This was… what was her name? Had he even said? And if this was her, then that meant one of these two men was Murtagh's brother. She looked back over their sweat-beaded brows. She was almost sure the one she was unsure of's name was him.
She knew now wasn't the best of times, so she held her tongue. At least she'd be safe from the mob…
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Once again, don't get to used to the whole, "Aiedail likes Eragon" thing cause it's only going to be a one sided love. And eventually her little crush on him will wear off, but not before he'll use her to try and make Arya jealous. They'll be a major twist you're going to love. Note: notice how many faults she had. That'll stop the curse of the Marry Sue, atleast for now…
