Eragon Rewritten

Chapter 5

Eragon knew that he would not be able to speak directly with his mother through the use of scrying due to the wards that protect his home of Du Weldenvarden. They prevented anything or anyone from entering the forest by magical means, so he set about compiling a report that would be sent to the Elven Queen. The report would be entrusted to a messenger hand-picked by Ajihad and Eragon himself, who would carry the message to the edge of the lush green forest where it would be delivered to one of the Elves guarding the perimeter of Du weldenvarden, who would then report to the Queen.

As Eragon was writing the report, he heard a soft growl from behind him. He turned to look at the dragon who was still curled up asleep on his bed. Curious as to why she was growling in her sleep, he reached out to touch her mind with his. As soon as he made contact with the hatchling’s mind, a series of images that he couldn’t make heads or tails of, whirled through his mind. She must be dreaming, Eragon thought fondly. As he withdrew into his own head, a feeling of emptiness settled around him. Being connected to her felt right, but he decided to leave the bonding until later as he turned to finish his report.

When it was complete, he reread it to make sure he had not left anything out. He had made the decision to exclude the hatching of the egg so that if the message fell into the wrong hands, Galbatorix would not know that one of the eggs had hatched. After he was satisfied with the report, he removed his sword belt, bow and quiver, and his travel worn tunic and boots before climbing underneath the blanket on his bed, the dragon moving to curl up next to him, and drifting into his waking dreams.

Evil laughter filled his ears, as his body seared with pain. Every part of him was bursting in agony from the shade’s tortures. His back was ripped to shreds from being whipped over and over again. Sometimes Durza used a special whip for his time in the dungeon. It was one of Durza’s favorite ways to hurt Eragon. It was a leather whip that split into multiple pieces at the end, and each piece had been coated in some kind of glue, and then rolled in crushed glass. Nasty, blackened burns covered areas of his skin, in the shape of claws. One of his legs had been snapped by the shade’s very own hands, as had all five fingers on his right hand. A cut had been opened above his left eye, and the blood dripped into his eye, making it nearly impossible to see from it. Every part of him that wasn’t whipped, cut, or burned, was black and blue with bruises from being pummeled by Durza’s fists.

“You could save yourself all of this pain if you would just relinquish your secrets to me.” Durza snarled as he drew the whip forward onto Eragon’s back once again. The shade had not of course given the elf anything to bite down on, so he clenched his jaw tightly, refusing to give Durza the pleasure of hearing him cry out in pain. He had not made a sound throughout any of the torture the shade had put him through in his time in the prison.

“We both know that as soon as I relinquish my secrets as you say, that I will become useless to the king, and he will order you to kill me. Do you think I am stupid, shade?” Eragon spat, unable to keep his emotions in check for the moment. His outburst earned him another lash from the shade, showing his anger at what he believed to be an insolent elf.

Eragon woke with a start from his nightmare, the dragon sleepily gazing at him since she had been awoken when he jostled her sitting up. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, his bare feet hitting the cool stone floor. Standing he made his way to the mirror above the water basin in the corner of his room. Staring at his reflection, Eragon could still see the images and feel the pain of the dream he had just awoken from. He splashed some of the cool water on his face, grabbing the small cloth next to the basin to dry his face before deciding to perform the Rimgar to calm his frayed nerves. He had to work through the first two levels before he felt as if he was calm enough to finally fall back into the Elves version of sleep. He laid down, and drifted into a dreamless sleep this time.