Chapter Twelve

Saphira’s Shame

Three days later the black eggs hatched into five black hatchlings, and for Skade and Galbatorix it was like witnessing the birth of their children all over again. They crouched side-by-side, watching the small dragons emerge, both feeling a curious pride.

There were three males and two females, and all were strong and healthy. Galbatorix helped them stand, and Skade growled to reassure them. The hatchlings made high, piping calls as they hatched, calling to each other and to their surrogate parents, and once they had recovered some strength they instinctively waddled over to Skade and curled up between her forepaws, against the warm wall of her chest. There they seemed content, and most of them slept there for a while, watched over by the silver dragon and the man.

‘What should we name them?’ said Galbatorix.

‘I’ll look into their minds,’ said Skade. ‘Perhaps their mother named them.’ She did so, as gently as she could, and finally said; ‘She did. They have names. But not ones I like.’

‘What are they?’

‘The gold-eyed male is called Valdyr,’ said Skade. ‘The silver-eyed female is Mykr. The red-eyed female is Dreyri. That male, there, with the black wings, is Hrafn. And the last male, the small one, is Skömm.’

‘“Shame”?’ said Galbatorix. ‘Who would name their child “shame”?’

‘Someone ashamed of having laid him,’ said Skade, her expression darkening. ‘We could try and rename him, but I doubt he would accept a different name. Once a name has been whispered to an egg, it buries itself in the hatchling’s mind. When I hatched, I knew my name was Skade. I wouldn’t have changed it, even if it meant “evil”.’

‘What does it mean?’ asked Galbatorix unexpectedly.

‘My father told me it’s an old word meaning “goddess of the mountains”,’ said Skade.

‘It’s a good name, and a good meaning,’ said Galbatorix. ‘Better than “shame”, definitely. How could a mother hate her own young that much?’

Skade watched the sleeping hatchlings with a tender look, and said nothing, but he could feel her rage. It was a feeling he shared, mingled with pity and dismay. At least, though, they could have a home and parents of a kind at Urû’baen. And though his uppermost feeling toward them was compassion, he couldn’t help but speculate on whether the work he and Skade had done would help resolve a few more issues. If there were five powerful dragons on his side with a grudge against intolerant people…

*

Midday, and a cold wind ruffled the surface of the sea. In the light of the silvery sun the water was a dark, icy blue. It perfectly matched the scales of the dragon now flying steadily over it. The dragon was female and had a slim, elegant build. Just like Vidar, Skirnir and Skade before her, she saw the coast near Teirm approaching and headed straight for it, finally hitting land a little further North than they had done. But there was something else about the dark-blue dragon’s journey that made it different from those of the first three. She was carrying someone on her back. The someone was tall and slim, clad all in white, and her long hair was also white, though she did not look old.

The dragon did not land immediately, but flew on over land, conversing telepathically with her rider.

‘Which way do I go?’

‘North-East,’ the white-clad rider answered. ‘You’ll see the forest soon enough.’

The blue dragon obligingly turned in that direction. ‘So what do plan to do there?’ she asked.

‘Seek revenge, of course,’ said the rider. ‘I’ve waited long enough.’

‘Of course you’ll seek revenge,’ said the dragon. ‘I knew that. I just wondered what exactly you were going to do in order to have that revenge. I assumed you had made some plan, so what is it?’

‘I’ll kill her, of course,’ said the rider. ‘And otherwise… perhaps something else will present itself.’

‘Will you need my help?’ the dragon asked.

‘Not to kill her,’ said the rider. ‘I can do that alone. But I may need your help later. Don’t leave until we’re certain of that.’

‘Very well,’ said the dragon.

The rider chuckled. ‘Always helpful, aren’t you, Lifrasir? Something I always liked about you.’

‘Thankyou, Rangda,’  the dragon said solemnly.

The rider laughed again, and they flew on, heading toward Ellesméra.

*

Where Eragon was getting rather agitated. It had been several days since he had presented Saphira’s egg to the council, and during that time the thing had been handled by what felt like the entire population of Ellesméra, and every human or elvish member of the Varden as well. After it didn’t hatch for any of them, even the dwarves had been allowed to try it out, although most of them weren’t interested. And still the egg refused to hatch. It was making Eragon rather twitchy, not to mention aggravated. He’d been jubilant, of course, when he’d first known Saphira would lay eggs. But now it felt like the unborn dragon was taunting him, rejecting all the candidates that came forward just to spite him. Saphira was willing to wait for as long as it took, but patience had never been one of Eragon’s strong points. He spent most days skulking in Islanzadí’s audience chamber, where the egg had been placed on a pedestal, watching over it and keeping an eye on anyone who came to see it. They were taking no chances with the egg, of course – four strong elvish guards stayed with it at all times and the door was kept sealed at night with a powerful spell that would kill anyone who tried to force entry – but even so Eragon didn’t dare leave it alone for one second. He only left it in order to sleep at night. He even ate his meals in there. Even Saphira felt he was being a bit too obsessive, but she and Eragon weren’t spending much time together at the moment. She’d become solitary and morose, and untalkative even around him. Eragon wasn’t sure why, but he’d decided to leave her to her own devices and hope she snapped out of it on her own.

He spent the day pacing in the audience chamber, and retired to his own quarters at sunset, though his sleep was uneasy; punctuated by bad dreams. The figure of a twisted, ogreish creature stalked through his sleeping mind, and made the young rider toss and turn.

*

The moon coasted on the clouds over Du Weldenvarden like a silver eye, and on the outskirts of Ellesméra a dragon stirred restlessly, her blue scales glittering. Her own eyes were fixed on the white-clad figure that stood in front of her.

‘Wait for me here,’ the figure said. ‘I won’t be long.’

The dragon, Lifrasir, nodded. ‘Good luck, Rangda.’

Rangda touched the hilt of the sword she was wearing. It was a beautiful thing, with a long blade chased with swirls of white and buttery yellow and a hilt crafted of gold and set with a chunk of amber. A rider’s sword. She patted Lifrasir on the snout, and walked silently away into the trees.

Left alone, Lifrasir sighed and scratched her face with her claws, then settled down to wait. The minutes went by and the blue dragon began to fidget. It was no good. She’d brought Rangda this far, but she wasn’t her slave. She decided to wander a little to pass the time, and walked off into the forest, carefully going in the opposite direction to the one Rangda had taken. She wasn’t stupid enough to think she could get away with straying into Ellesméra.

So she went up toward the mountains that surrounded the valley, eventually taking to the air again in order to see them better. Circling overhead, she spotted something she hadn’t expected – another dragon. It was much smaller than her, and was curled up on a stone plateau overlooking the elvish settlement, probably asleep. Lifrasir, her curiosity piqued, flew down toward it. She landed at a respectable distance from the other dragon, and was surprised to see it was blue and female like herself, although she herself was a much darker shade. The other dragon woke up at her arrival, immediately leaping upright in readiness to fight.

‘Be calm!’ said Lifrasir, speaking the dragon language. ‘I’m a friend.’

‘Who are you?’ the other dragon demanded, not retracting her claws.

‘My name’s Lifrasir,’ said Lifrasir, in as friendly a tone as she could manage. ‘I’m a stranger to these parts and I thought you might tell me about them. What’s your name?’

‘I am Saphira,’ said Saphira, relaxing. She didn’t want to look overly hostile, since the other dragon was much bigger than she was.

‘A wild dragon?’ asked Lifrasir.

‘No, I have a rider,’ said Saphira.

Lifrasir was immediately interested. ‘I’ve never met a dragon with a rider,’ she said.

‘There aren’t many left,’ Saphira admitted sadly.

‘What’s your rider like?’ asked Lifrasir. ‘What’s his name? Is he an elf?’

‘Human,’ said Saphira. ‘His name is Eragon Shadeslayer.’

‘Shadeslayer?’ said Lifrasir. ‘Does that mean he killed a Shade?’

‘Yes,’ said Saphira. ‘He’s famous for it.’

‘Shades are hard to kill, I heard,’ said Lifrasir. ‘He must be strong.’

‘He was lucky,’ said Saphira. ‘But yes, he is strong.’

‘What was the Shade’s name?’

‘Durza,’ said Saphira.

Lifrasir’s silver eyes widened at this, and she kneaded the ground with her claws. ‘Was he red-haired?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ said Saphira. ‘You’ve heard of him?’

‘I have,’ said Lifrasir. ‘I heard he was powerful. And you helped your rider kill Durza, did you?’

‘Yes,’ said Saphira. ‘I distracted him, and gave Eragon time to strike.’

‘They should call you Saphira Shadedistractor, then,’ said Lifrasir.

Saphira laughed. ‘Not so impressive as Shadeslayer.’

‘No, I suppose not,’ said Lifrasir, not really listening.

Saphira’s laughter died away, and all of a sudden the smaller dragon’s face was suffused with misery. Lifrasir looked at her, confused, and then Saphira said; ‘It’s good to have someone to talk to.’

‘Doesn’t your rider do that?’ asked Lifrasir.

‘No, not… not now,’ said Saphira, lowering her head onto her foreclaws. ‘He’s a bit distracted at the moment. But I’m… well, I’m lonely,’ she said in a rush.

Lifrasir nudged Saphira with her snout in a friendly way. ‘There, there,’ she said. ‘I’m sure things will get better for you. If you’re lonely you ought to seek out company.’

‘Well, I do have company, really,’ said Saphira, indicting the settlement below. ‘There are always other people near me.’

‘I mean proper company,’ said Lifrasir. ‘Other dragons. If you want someone to talk to, then look to your own kind. They understand better.’

‘Yes…’ said Saphira. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. I shouldn’t keep expecting people to come to me. I should look after it myself.’

‘Yes, you should,’ said Lifrasir. ‘My mother always taught me that you should do things for yourself because other people are always too busy doing things for themselves.’

‘I never knew my mother,’ Saphira said quietly.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Lifrasir.

‘Not your fault,’ said Saphira.

Lifrasir sighed. ‘I should probably go,’ she said. ‘I have things to do.’

‘Come and see me again, will you?’ said Saphira. ‘I like talking to you.’

Lifrasir paused, and then nodded. ‘I’ll try to.’

The dark blue dragon left, rather more quickly than was usual, but Saphira was too lost in thought to notice it. It was odd, she thought, that a dragon would be up and about at this hour. Still, it had been good to talk to someone, even if they were a stranger. And Lifrasir’s advice had been good. Saphira couldn’t help but wonder why she’d never thought of it herself. Perhaps it was because she was used to there being no other dragons to turn to. Even her old teacher, Glaedr, had been too distant and haughty to be a real friend to her. She lay still for a time, a hunched shape in the moonlight, and resolved to do just as Lifrasir had suggested. As soon as it was daylight again, she would leave Ellesméra and look for other dragons. If Eragon had no time for her, then she would have no time for him.

Feeling much better, she went back to sleep.

*

Down in the valley, Rangda was moving among the houses like a ghost. Her sword was in her hand, the blade now stained. The deed was done, and she was ready to leave. Rangda was a Shade, and Shades cannot feel fear, but she did not want to be seen. If her presence was discovered, she had no doubt that every elf in Ellesméra would set out to kill her. They hated Shades, and they would hate her a great deal more.

‘Lifrasir,’ she called mentally. ‘I’m done. Are you still there?’

After a while, the reply came back. ‘I am. Rangda, I have terrible news.’

‘What?’

‘There is another dragon here; I spoke to her,’ said Lifrasir’s voice.

‘I told you not to wander.’

‘Even so.’

‘Well?’

‘The dragon has a rider,’ said Lifrasir. ‘A human called Eragon Shadeslayer.’

‘Shadeslayer?’ said Rangda, stiffening.

‘Yes. I asked why, and she told me he did indeed kill a Shade.’

‘Which Shade?’

‘Rangda, he killed Durza. They both did.’

Rangda was silent for a long time, and then she let out a horrible, silent howl. She swung the golden rider’s sword, striking the trunk of a nearby tree and cutting it clean in half. The tree toppled over with a muffled crashing sound. ‘Durza!’

Lifrasir shared her own feeling of sympathy, but said nothing until Rangda had calmed down slightly. Sensing this, the dragon said; ‘They must be punished for this.’

Rangda said nothing. She was deep in thought. Lifrasir was right, of course. For the killing of Durza, the young rider and his dragon must suffer. But not with death. Death would be too quick. The Shade’s mind was not clouded by emotion – after all, she was not human. Like all her kind, she thought clearly and logically no matter what the circumstances. Eventually she said; ‘What do you know about these two?’

‘Very little,’ said Lifrasir. ‘I only know that the dragon is lonely. Her rider is distracted, she said.’

‘Distracted by what, I wonder?’

Both of them were quiet for a while, thinking. Then Lifrasir said; ‘Oh! I remembered something else.’

‘Yes?’

‘The dragon had laid eggs recently. I could smell it on her.’

‘Eggs…’ Rangda’s mental voice trailed off. Then she smiled coldly. ‘I know why the rider is distracted.’

‘Why?’ asked Lifrasir.

‘There is an egg,’ said Rangda. ‘I saw one in the audience chamber on my way through. Silver. And heavily guarded.’

‘So they’re hoping it will hatch for one of them,’ said Rangda. ‘The rider must be busy because of that. Seeking a new rider is important to these people.’

‘What will you do?’ said Lifrasir.

Rangda ran her long fingers over the blade of her sword, ignoring the blood. ‘I know now,’ she said, and her mental tones were low and cruel. ‘Oh, I know. Wait for me, Lifrasir. I won’t be long.’

She turned and stalked elegantly away, back the way she had come. Into the audience chamber she went, delicately stepping over the bodies of the guards, which still lay where they had fallen. Killing them had been laughably easy. The Shade made her way to the plinth, which stood in a shaft of silvery moonlight. The egg lay on a cushion, looking as if it had been carved from a star. Rangda stood over it, her expression one of controlled malice. She could feel her magic thrumming through her veins, carried by the dark spirits which had conquered her human body centuries before and made her into what she was. But though she was still in body she was not still in mind. Durza. Durza, my love. Durza. Lost forever. My Durza.

Rangda spread her long-fingered hands over the egg, and paused a moment, thinking deeply. That part of her mind that was cold and clinical, which worked quite separately from her emotions, was working fast and efficiently, formulating ideas and making decisions. It all took mere seconds, and when it was over there was only one thing left in her mind. She knew exactly what to do.

Rangda touched the egg’s shell with her fingertips, and intoned the following words in the ancient language: ‘Bíl náttúra tith minn líkami, feiknstafi sási skulblaka til bict óvœttr eđa skömm hir módir allr hir œvi.’

The magic responded at once. Bound and directed by the words, it flowed out of her in a stream of white light and entered into the egg. Rangda stayed still, letting her internal energies flow out of her, fuelled by malice and rage. And when it was over she turned away and left as quietly as she had come. It was done; she had had her revenge. For now.

*