Book Two: Prophecy (Erys: An Eragon Fanfiction - Slow Updates)

Chapter Two

Into the Unknown

Erys ignored the ghoulish spectre who resided by her bed.  Her mother now watched her with unbearable scrutiny.  She stood like she still had an arrow embedded in her back and stomach. Macabre red stained her front.

When she spoke, her words were garbled, like she spoke through a throat full of blood. Erys could not understand what she said, but the words chilled her nonetheless. She shivered, the blade quivering a hairsbreadth from her wrist.

The world shifted and her mother stood before her as she had the day before the slave raid. Her hair fluttered as an unnatural breeze shifted through the room.

"You cannot reside in the land of the dead."

The world shifted back to reality, and her mother disappeared. Erys sat, blade in hand for several minutes before leaning back in defeat.  She dropped the razor. It skidded beyond reach underneath the bed.  Pain tore at her heart but she'd long since stopped crying. She had nothing more to give.

What awaited her was a fate worse than death, a fate so vile, fear of it consumed Erys. She was watched nearly every hour of the day to ensure she wouldn't bring harm to herself. She could only lose herself in mindless work, so she devoted all her time to furthering her knowledge of Riders and magic to distract from the fate she knew awaited her.  Currently, she pored over an old scroll.

Roran threw open Erys' door and strode inside. She glanced up from her book, disdain written on her features.  She turned back to her work, ignoring Roran's presence.

"I'm sorry."

Erys straightened as best she could and looked away.  She tapped a finger impatiently against the page of her book.

"You're disturbing my studies," she said.

"It's time to go."

"No."

Roran ignored her protest and lifted her from bed. 

"No!  Put me down!"

She raised her hand.  The Gedwëy Ignasia on her palm began to shine, it's glow becoming so bright, Roran shielded his eyes.

"Jier—"

"Malthinae älfrinns kalvis un lams.  Waïse hljödhr."

Erys felt pressure squeeze her legs together as her hands were brought toward each other as if bound by invisible rope, and though she opened her mouth to utter a spell, she found herself unable to speak.

"Fight the spell and it will only exhaust you," Roran warned.

Erys glared.  She fought against Roran's spell; she knew truly he was no match for her strength.  If she were to exert herself but a little, she could destroy him.  But her newfound fear of herself—discovered the night of the betrayal—held her at bay as her eternally blackened veins peeked at her from beneath her sleeve.  She slumped against Roran's chest, rage building within her; it slowly began suffocating her fear and reservation.

The familiar itch returned as she reached for magic. She braced herself for the cold shock as magic flooded her being. Magic without use of speech posed such a danger, it required all her attention and will; she lost herself in trying to counter Roran's spell.