A bit of advice for those who can't even spell properly in their reviews. Instead of embarrassing yourself to say no to my story, better shut up. This is one of those cases where silence is golden. Of course, it's up to you. I, for one, have a hard time understanding people who read something they don't like.
For the second time, Arya dozed during danger. Her unprepared mind failed to tackle the sudden magic. Despite Oromis' training, a small error left her vulnerable. And again, her enemy took advantage of her lack of readiness. Their enemy.
Arya scrambled on her legs, lurching from one side to another. Using long, curt, unsteady strides, she moved towards a tree. Standing up would clear her dizziness quicker, but for that, she needed firm help to counter her vertigo.
The ragged bark barely pinched her numb hand. Distorted senses were an extra reason to wait for the spell to fade completely. Whoever the caster was, she wanted to be no extra burden to Eragon.
Arya sat clumsily, leaning her back against the tree. Right now, she would be alarmed, tense with fear and anger should her knotted wits return to alertness. That orange light in the sky, the ruddy edges of the clouds somewhere far away, gave her a vague clue. Whatever happened, Arya knew that prominent colors had not painted the sky when her vision faded.
"That scraggy boy snapped worse than a vial of snake juice when kept in hot water," Angela murmured, pacing back and forth around the fallen dragon. "I hope he is still reliable."
She did not particularly needed Solembum to heal them. Angela's Primal Color flared—a blaze that dwarfed the smoldering remnants of the Rider and dragon.
Angela stopped. "He looks so delicate and ugly."
The Rider moaned, sluggishly moving his limbs. The dragon hurt more, but certain spells made him unaware of it. With its membrane limbs shattered, he required Angela's attention. But still, the human groaned, calling its kind in a most unusual way.
Why were humans so fragile and weak? Usurpers of nature; Bane of life. They had many names—appropriate ones— but none that could describe their weakness. By flaunting their talents, humans dared forget their status. A disgusting façade that brought wars upon them.
Angela laughed—a repeated sequence of squeals. She rounded the dragon again, strangely excited.
Solembum perked up, eyeing her with interest from atop the branch he stood on.
Both wings are shattered. Destroyed, Angela said, kicking one of the slumps that jutted out of the dragon's body. Life Water, similar to its hide, coated the earth beneath.
A dragon's magic is capable of more, Solembum yawned, scratching the bark with his front paws eagerly. Angela might need his help.
Half of it was, Angela pondered, staring at the wing narrowly. Her upper limbs moved. Solembum learned that she was confused when that happened.
Two Primal Colors, Solembum said, leaping from his towering position lithely. Barely a thud disturbed the earth.
Curious, Angela added. I wonder if the other oozed willingly.
Angela looked around, then wrapped her paws around the dragon's exposed limb bones, pulling herself up. She lacked the agility that once came natural to her, and Solembum needed no more than a few steady leaps to reach the saddle, where the Rider lay belly up. His limbs hung awkwardly on the sloping sides of the saddle. The deformed, oversized head rested on some furs that covered the dragon's back.
Angela swatted her paw against his face.
He groaned, face twisting awkwardly, but no words came out of his mouth. Solembum was perplexed by the human's unwillingness to talk without mouth. Angela said it's natural to them. How primitive. With so much knowledge gathered over the ages, they now refused to evolve.
Kill him, Solembum hissed, his pristine teeth bared in a snarl. He had to die.
We already interfered, Angela said.
Hissing turned to soft purr the moment Angela's oversized paws clenched tenderly around his sleek, dustless fur. Cradled against her breast, Solembum felt the radiating warmness engulfing him. Cleaning his paws by brushing them on the cloth was also pleasing.
Very soon, Angela said, meeting his nose with her cheek. Solembum licked her, almost reassuringly. He wanted it to happen badly. Maybe even before the Lifegiving Cycle.
He always craved for its arrival, now more than usual. It used to bring nothing but the promise of a distant fulfillment. However, the ever changing nature was likely to work in their favor. This time, they may just see it happen.
He is still afflicted by the spell, Solembum said, arching her head under her caressing large paw. Blood invaded the human's cheek, turning the area Angela hit a sickly red.
I know, she giggled—the squeal that meant happiness. Wanted to see the spell's potency.
Solembum did not understand Angela. The way she acted was necessary, but downright confusing. Soon, that was going to cease.
This sight demoralizes me, Angela said, without the squeals this time. Knowing what she meant, Solembum bit her fragile neck softly, placing his front paws on her chest.
Let me do it, he pleaded. You never let me.
Angela cooped his head in her hand, moving her chin to the sides. That meant she did not agree.
They are not worthy.
Being familiar with defeat, Solembum ran his tongue along the area marked by his fangs. He did not hurt her, despite her fragile constitution. No Life Liquid meant no wound. Adjusting to it felt hard and daunting at first, when each bite, each stroke of paw called blood out of Angela's body.
She had not complained. His intentions mattered, and Angela accepted them instinctively, before Solembum even learned not to hurt her. What was a flesh wound to her? Solembum couldn't know. Pain was almost unfamiliar to him. Like Saphira the dragon, he was alone. The times when he used to tackle another werecat were long gone.
Stop it, Angela chuckled. Your tongue distracts me.
You can't be distracted, Solembum said, respecting her wish.
I'm good at pretending.
Suddenly, her Primal Color swirled and shrank. The blaze surrendered a part of its fury, becoming a wan fire.
Solembum hissed, his fur bristling. The spell was demanding, even to Angela. While her Primal Color was capable of far more than just the spell she used, Solembum grudgingly accepted that she was past her prime.
He did not panic, like humans do. Instead, he felt the urge to lick her, to share her burden. But that meant ignoring her work. Insulting her by not acknowledging her skills.
Solembum turned his head, watching the effects of the spell.
Angela's Primal Color permeated the air around Thorn, swirling in a majestic, organized vortex. Angela—who possessed human eyes—could not see Primal Color. For her, the bones snapped into place, the wounds closed, and blood flooded the dragon's body.
For Solembum, the Primal Color revealed its work. He saw the Primal Color turning into particles of bone, flesh, and even Life Liquid. Small, nebulous masses of Primal color—a swarm in number—hovered above the wounds, each with its own task.
It was a grand sight for a human, and a dull one for a werecat. Angela could do more than just mending wounds, but he did not want to disrespect her abilities. After all, none of the Riders—not even the most powerful, not even Galbatorix—, no dragon, save for a rare amount, were even able to heal that wound perfectly.
The spell took its toll on Angela, but she did not crash like that Eragon Rider.
Cease being bristly, she said, carrying Solembum back to the saddle. That fur tickles me, and I have a sensitive nose.
Solembum raised his tail, brushing his side against her flank. You were stubborn before. It only became worse.
Angela chuckled, pointing at the tree Solembum rested on earlier. He did not argue against her. The dragon's scales felt rough under his paws. Unpleasant.
Swiftly, with an agility only he out of the two possessed, Solembum clambered down the dragon's back and resumed his vigilant watch from atop the branch.
Angela shuffled towards Murtagh, swiping her paw across his face. A muffled scream, joined by several coughs was his response to Angela's attack.
"Sprout vigorously," she said, using her mouth to speak. Her words were harsher, more guttural, lacking the softness, the smooth touch only her mind voice held.
The human pushed his torso upwards, looking around. He appeared to be thoroughly confused. Angela grabbed his squirming head.
"Look below, smile, then unhinge your tongue."
The human did as Angela said. A part of his stiffness dissipated, but he was not fully relaxed. Even after he saw a predicament abolished for good, he did not seem convinced. Humans were thoroughly confusing. Stupid, Angela called them.
"We cannot afford to be lazy." There was urgency in her voice. A lack of patience uncommon for Angela.
The human said nothing.
Angela's paws ran through her hair. When she did that, Solembum learned that it meant irritation.
"We healed your wounds. We returned the gift of flight to your dragon," Angela said. "But instead of smiling, you look as dumb and uninteresting as a sack of potatoes."
"Filthy, too," she added when the human had yet to reply.
Solembum licked his paws leisurely, cleaning the remnants of the Life Liquid that stained them. Humans were stupid, but this one ashamed his kin.
"Grat—titude," he managed to stutter, finally regaining his wits. His callous voice did not distract Solembum from his activity. To him, only Angela's words mattered. She was the only human worthy of him.
"Not words," Angela cut sharply. "I need certain herbs, and you will gather them later."
The human drew his head back.
"Instead of being polite, tell me how Dumby defeated you."
"Who?"
"You call him Eragon, but he is dumb, like you." Angela began rubbing her hands. She was trying to calm herself, but the human's words pleased her. It was a confusing gesture belonging to humans. Solembum had yet to understand what it really meant.
"Is he important to you?" Murtagh raised his voice.
"You were important to me," Angela said. "Eragon is a different matter."
"My oath to you, that—
"Hush," Angela rushed him.
"But—"
Murtagh yelped, Angela's paw too fast to dodge. The force swayed his head to the side, but the human appeared to be less confused.
"Can he shatter the dragon's wings alone?" Angela appeared fiercer. More convincing, better at persuading.
The human waned before her, acknowledging her superiority with a bowed head.
"I cannot, and he is my brother—"
"Off you go," Angela demanded.
Murtagh looked at her.
"SHOO!"