10. Awakening
The dragon was no longer than her forearm, yet it was dignified and noble. Its scales were deep ruby red, the same color as the stone.
But not a stone, she realized. An egg.
The dragon fanned its wings; they were what had made it appear so contorted. The wings were several times longer than its body and ribbed with thin fingers of bone that extended from the wing's front edge, forming a line of widely spaced talons.
The dragon's head was roughly triangular. Two diminutive white fangs curved down out of its upper jaw. They looked very sharp. Its claws were also white, like polished ivory, and slightly serrated on the inside curve. A line of small spikes ran down the creature's spine from the base of its head to the tip of its tail. A hollow where its neck and shoulders joined created a larger-than-normal gap between the spikes.
Serafyna shifted slightly, and the dragon's head snapped around.
Hard, crimson eyes fixed on her. She kept very still. It might be a formidable enemy if it decided to attack.
The dragon lost interest in Serafyna and awkwardly explored the room, squealing as it bumped into a wall or furniture. With a flutter of wings, it leaped onto the bed and crawled to her pillow, squeaking. Its mouth was open, like a young bird's, displaying rows of pointed teeth.
Serafyna pushed aside her doubts and slowly approached, sitting cautiously on the end of the bed. Hesitantly, she extended a hand towards it.
The dragon smelled her hand, then nibbled on her sleeve. She pulled her arm back.
Despite her caution, she found the creature rather cute. A smile tugged at Serafyna's lips as she looked at the small dragon. Deciding to be a bit bolder, she tentatively reached out with her left hand and touched its flank.
A blast of icy energy surged into her hand and raced up her arm, burning in her veins like liquid fire.
Serafyna recoiled and fell down onto the floor with a wild cry. An iron clang filled her ears, and she heard a soundless scream of rage.
Every part of her body seared with pain. She struggled to move but was unable to, as if her limbs had seized up, entirely unresponsive to her commands.
After what seemed like hours, warmth seeped back into her limbs, leaving them tingling. Shivering uncontrollably, she pushed herself upright with an effort of will.
Slowly and carefully, her breathing fast and shallow, heart pounding frantically, she looked herself over. Her left hand was numb, fingers paralyzed.
Alarmed, she held up her arm and turned her palm upwards. Her eyes widened, watching as the middle of her palm shimmered and formed a diffused white oval. The skin itched and burned like a spider bite.
Serafyna blinked, trying to understand what had occurred.
Something brushed against her consciousness, like a finger trailing over her skin.
Being on edge, she instinctively jumped and looked around, but saw nothing. A moment later, she felt it again, but this time it solidified into a tendril of thought through which she could feel a growing curiosity.
It was a peculiar sensation, as if an invisible wall surrounding her thoughts had fallen away, and now she was free to reach out with her mind. It was a sudden, innate understanding that she couldn't put into words.
She was afraid that without anything to hold her back, she would float out of her body and be unable to return, becoming a spirit of the ether. It sounded irrational but at that moment, it seemed very plausible.
Scared and confused, she mentally pulled away from the contact. The new sense vanished as if she had closed her eyes.
She glared suspiciously–even accusingly–at the motionless dragon that stood at the edge of her bed, a mere few inches away from her. She figured it was responsible for the sensation, just like everything else in the past… she frowned. How long was I down for? It felt like she had been lying on the floor for hours, unable to move.
Serafyna glanced towards the bedside table where the lit candle was. The amount of melted wax told her that, at most, only a couple of minutes had passed.
A scaly leg scraped against her side, and she jerked back, biting back a curse. But that strange energy did not shock her again. Puzzled, she once again reached out and rubbed the dragon's head with her affected left hand.
A light tingling ran up her arm. The dragon stepped forward and nuzzled her arm, arching its back like a cat. She curiously slid a finger over its thin wing membranes. They felt like old parchment, velvety and warm, but still slightly damp. Hundreds of slender veins pulsed through them.
Again the tendril touched her mind, but this time, instead of curiosity, she sensed an overpowering, ravenous hunger. That confirmed that the dragon was indeed the source of the mental sensations.
It was a dangerous animal, of that she was sure. Yet it seemed so helpless crawling on her bed, she couldn't help but wonder if there was any harm in keeping it. The dragon wailed in a reedy tone as it looked for food. She quickly scratched its head to keep it quiet.
Making up her mind, Serafyna got up with a sigh. This is a bad idea. Resolving to think about this later, she left the room, carefully closing the door behind her.
Returning a few minutes later with two strips of dried meat, she found the dragon sitting on the windowsill, watching the moon.
She cut the meat into small squares with her knife and offered one to the dragon. It smelled the square cautiously, then jabbed its head forward like a snake and snatched the meat from her fingers, swallowing it whole with a peculiar jerk.
The dragon prodded Serafyna's hand for more food. She fed it, careful to keep her fingers out of the way. By the time there was only one square left, the dragon's belly was bulging. She proffered the last piece; the dragon considered it for a moment, then lazily snapped it up.
Done eating, it crawled onto her arms and curled against her chest. It snorted, a puff of dark smoke rising from its nostrils. Serafyna looked at it with wonder. Just when she thought the dragon was asleep, a low humming came from its vibrating throat. Gently, she carried it to the bed and set it by her pillow.
The dragon, eyes closed, wrapped its tail around the bedpost contentedly. Serafyna lay next to it, flexing her hand in the near darkness. The feeling had returned to it, hand tingling.
She was faced with a painful dilemma: By raising a dragon, she could become a Rider. Whenever there was storytelling, she had always listened for anything regarding dragons and their Riders with rapt attention, and her questions were ceaseless.
Myths and stories about Riders were treasured, and being one would automatically place her among those legends; but she knew that was just wistful thinking, a fantasy.
If the Empire discovered the dragon, she and her family would be put to death unless she joined the king. No one could—or would—help them.
The simplest solution was to just kill the dragon, but the idea was repugnant, and she rejected it immediately. Dragons were too revered for her even to consider that. That aside–she glanced at the sleeping dragon–she suddenly felt protective of it.
Besides, what could betray us? She reasoned. We live in a remote area, in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing here to draw the Empire's attention.
The problem was convincing Garrow and the boys to let her keep the dragon. Eragon would probably be on board with the idea of dragon raising but neither of the other two would care to have a dragon around.
I could raise it in secret. In a month or two, it will be too large for Garrow to get rid of, but will he accept it? Even if he does, can I get enough food for the dragon while it's hiding? It's no larger than a small cat, but it ate an entire handful of meat! I suppose it'll be able to hunt for itself eventually, but how long until then? Will it be able to survive the cold outside? All valid questions and concerns, and yet, all the same, she wanted to keep the dragon.
The more she thought about it, the more resolute she grew. However things might work out with Garrow, Serafyna would do everything she could to protect it.
Determined, she eventually fell asleep with the dragon cradled against her.