Erys: An Eragon Fanfiction - (Under Editing)

Chapter Fifty-Five

Realised

Though as one, Du Thirr reeled at the request, they hid their disquiet.

"How long?"

"Two days time."  Erys set her jaw and raised her head.  "I will not lose my mother."

They bowed, and acquiesced. Erys could sense their hesitant compliance, but did not question them so long as she knew she had their loyalty.  Across their link, she could sense their reluctant obedience.  Satisfied, Erys lay down to rest, but relief would not come.  Sleep brought no respite; it brought only hauntings by the spectres of those Erys'd failed or lost—among them her father, Thalia, and Keilith.  Her father held his head, blood oozing between his fingers.  Blood ran from his stump neck as he stood before her.  A gaping hole was rent in Thalia's chest.  Blood soaked Keilith's close.  They remained in shadow, only staring.  Though they did not approach her, their gaze stirred horror within her.  She closed her eyes, turned her back to them, and slowed her breathing.  

As she began to feel peace, a gurgling assaulted her ears, like someone trying to speak while choking.  Erys opened her eyes and saw Anderr, his neck and stomach cut open, burns covering his once smooth skin.  Blood bubbled at his lips and dripped from his neck onto her pillow as he forced words from his mutilated throat and mouth.  His sunken in eyes bored through her soul so fiercely it pained her. 

Erys threw herself to the ground, scrambling away from the bed.  Anderr crawled after her, leaving a trail of blood.  As he fell from the bed, his innards spilled, trailing behind him as he crawled closer.  He painted the ground in his blood.

"Get away."

He continued his disjointed rattling jabber, continuing to approach Erys.  She scrambled back until her back pressed against the wall.  Anderr continued ever forward.  He stopped just inches from touching her and cocked his head.  He scooped up his intestines, holding them in his body with one hand while he pulled himself forward with the other.  Though he did not touch Erys, he came close, straddling her.  He brought his face so close to hers, he would have smeared blood over her mouth were he to purse his lips.  Erys turned away.  She could feel his breath hot in her ear.

"Why did you leave me?  Erys?  Erys, Why did you leave me?  Why?  Erys!"

He reached for her with bloodlust in his eyes, releasing his intestines and spewing blood in the air.

"No!"

Erys jolted awake in a cold sweat, trembling on the floor, a hand raised before her face.  The spectres vanished, and though the gore left the room with them, Erys felt as if it clung to her skin.  Her chemise—smelling heavily of sweat—stuck to her skin.  Images of she and her mother reuniting pervaded the remnants of the nightmare, banishing it from her mind.  She set a hand against Vanilor's snout and nodded.  She breathed heavily and ran a hand through her hair.

"Just a bad dream," she muttered aloud, more to herself than any of her dragons.  "Just a bad dream."

"The dead still haunt you?"

Concern emanated through their link.  Erys shied from the contact.

"I'm fine."

She rose and paced restlessly until  Vrolen came for her in the early hours of the morning, too bothered by her nightmare to risk sleep again. She seated herself on the edge of her bed as he entered. She did not address him, even as he waited for her to speak. She nodded for him to begin.