Dawnbreaker [Inheritance Cycle]

9. Fate's Chosen

The evening after their return from Carvahall, with everyone else either sleeping or busy with their own things, Serafyna decided to test the stone as Merlock had.

Alone in her room, she set it on her bed and laid three tools next to it.

She started with a wooden mallet and lightly tapped the stone. It produced a subtle ringing. Satisfied, she picked up the next tool, a heavy leather hammer. A mournful peal reverberated when it struck. Lastly, she pounded a small chisel against it. The metal did not chip or scratch the stone but produced the clearest sound yet.

As the final note died away, she thought she heard a faint squeak.

Drawn in by the sounds of her test, Eragon appeared in the doorway, curious. "What are you up to?"

"Testing." Serafyna didn't look up, continuing to inspect the stone for damage. "I can't seem to figure this out and it's beginning to drive me crazy."

Eragon crossed his arms. "Yeah, you kind of seem obsessed with it."

She rolled her eyes at him and he smiled, saying, "Oh, lighten up, Sera. We just had a good day. Don't let a weird rock take it away from you."

Serafyna sighed in resignation. Confirming that the stone was indeed unmarred by her efforts, she looked up at her brother and nodded. "You're right. Maybe I just need to take a step back."

"And hey, you never know. Answers might come to you when you least expect them to."

At that, Serafyna laughed softly. "Thank you for your wisdom, wise sage."

"Of course," Eragon grinned back, "I should write a book."

"If you could write, that is." Living a simple–if hard–life, the need for literacy wasn't great, hence most of the people in Carvahall, them included, were illiterate.

Despite that, Serafyna did manage to pick up a few letters and such from people like Brom.

"If only," Eragon nodded, then yawned widely. "I think I'm going to get some sleep now."

"Good idea. I probably should too, soon." She muttered, rubbing an eye.

Eragon murmured goodnight, then left. Serafyna leaned back on her bed, looking down at the pristine stone surrounded by tools, pondering.

Merlock said the stone was hollow; so there could be something of value inside. I don't know how to open it, though. There must have been a good reason for someone to go through the trouble of shaping it.

But so far, whoever sent the stone into the Spine hadn't taken the trouble to retrieve it or didn't know where it was. But she didn't believe that a magician with enough power to transport the stone wouldn't be able to find it again.

So, again she asked herself, Was I meant to have it? She could not answer the question.

Resigned to an unsolvable mystery, Serafyna picked up the tools, returning them to where she'd gotten them, and then placed the stone on the shelf in front of her bed.

-

That night she was abruptly roused from sleep.

Serafyna blinked blearily in near-complete darkness, listening carefully. All was quiet.

She felt uneasy and tense for reasons she couldn't explain. Instinctively, she slid her hand under the mattress and grasped her bone handle knife. She waited a few minutes, then eventually, when nothing happened, slowly sank back to sleep.

A squeak pierced the silence, tearing her back to wakefulness.

She rolled out of bed and yanked the knife from its sheath. Fumbling with a tinderbox, she lit a candle on her bedside table.

The door to her room was closed. Though the squeak was too loud for a mouse or rat, she still checked under the bed. Nothing.

Serafyna sat on the edge of the mattress and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Another squeak filled the air, and she started violently.

Where is the noise coming from? Nothing could be in the floor or walls; they were solid wood. The same went for her bed, and she would have noticed if anything had crawled into her straw mattress during the night.

Her eyes settled on the stone. On a whim, she got up and took it off the shelf, absently cradling it as she studied the room.

A squeak rang in her ears and reverberated through her fingers; it came from the stone.

The stone had given her nothing but frustration and anger, and now it would not even let her sleep. It ignored her furious glare and sat solidly, occasionally peeping.

Then it gave one very loud squeak and fell silent.

Serafyna made a face, more than a little concerned. Warily putting it away, she got back under the sheets, determined to finish her sleep. Whatever secret the stone held, it would have to wait until morning.

The moon was shining through her window when she woke again.

The stone was rocking rapidly on the shelf, knocking against the wall. It was bathed in cool moonlight that bleached its surface. Serafyna jumped out of bed, alarmed, knife in hand.

The motion stopped, but she remained tense.

Then the stone started squeaking and rocking faster than ever. Swearing furiously under her breath, she began dressing for the cold, preparing to take it outside and see what was wrong with it.

She did not care how valuable the stone might be; if it proved to be dangerous, she'd bury it far away.

The rocking stopped; the stone became quiet. It quivered, then rolled forward and dropped onto the floor with a loud thump.

Serafyna paused, then stifled a yelp and jumped back as the stone wobbled toward her.

She was debating on whether she should raise an alarm in the house when, suddenly, a crack appeared on the stone. Then another and another.

Transfixed, Serafyna pushed a lock of red hair out of her face and inched forward against her better judgment, still holding the knife.

At the top of the stone, where all the cracks met, a small piece wobbled, as if it were balanced on something, then rose and toppled to the floor.

After another series of squeaks, a small dark head poked out of the hole, followed by a weirdly angled body.

Serafyna gripped the knife tighter and held very still.

Soon, the creature was all the way out of the stone. It stayed in place for a moment, then skittered into the moonlight in the middle of her room.

Serafyna recoiled in shock, eyes widening as the light illuminated the creature.

Standing in front of her, licking off the membrane that encased it, was a dragon.