Chapter Text
In the depths of the empire, Eragon sat drawing patterns on the ground. He had just tried to transform a stone into water, with no luck. Their situation was dire. Without a way to source water, they could not cross the Hadarc desert. As he gouged the earth to make the river for the valley from his home, he became frustrated and wiped it away. A moment later, however, his eyes flicked back to gouge he had made. Straightening in surprise, he noticed that the furrow he had made was lined with moisture. Curiously, he scraped away more dirt and found a damp layer a few inches under the surface.
“Look at this!” he said excitedly. A brilliantly sapphire dragon dipped her nose to look at the discovery. Eragon deepened the hole before summoning the water that was in the soil. With a faint trickle, the water rushed into the hole. Eragon smiled in triumph, but before he could cup the water in his hands to drink it, the smile turned into a frown. The water wasn’t stopping. He had released the magic, but it continued. He stumbled back, falling on his behind.
Eragon! Saphira exclaimed in alarm.
It’s not me. He was just as confused. The water was behaving strangely, against all the laws of nature. It was building into a large ball rapidly. It stopped growing, then changed shape into something Eragon couldn’t quite figure out. Before he could even get up to distance himself… pop.
Kneeling in front of him, her face mere inches from his, was a mesmerising woman. Her skin, impossibly pale, seemed to emit a gentle luminescence all its own, casting a soft light on her features. Her face was framed by a cascade of flowing long wavy hair that shimmered like the night sky. Her aqua eyes were striking, piercing through him with an intensity that left him immobilised, as if they held some kind of unspoken power.
Suddenly, a low warning growl rumbled from Saphira, snapping him out of his trance. Startled, he scrambled to his feet, taking several hurried steps back from the woman. Saphira quickly moved to his side, her sharp fangs bared in a protective stance. She stood poised, her unfamiliar robes billowing with her swift movements, revealing a stunning array of blue hues that danced like ocean waves as she shifted her weight.
“Who are you?” Eragon finally asked.
Be careful, she isn’t what she appears. Saphira’s concern traversed their link. Impressions travelled across. Female with magic, power and something otherworldly.
The woman tilted her head at the question. “I am Kilf. You called me, did you not?”
Eragon could only look dumbfounded. Called her? Before he could say anything else, Murtagh strode into the clearing, sword in hand. Eyes locked on the woman.
“Who’s your new friend?” A hard edge to his jab at humour.
“Friend?” Her voice trembled on the word, as though it were foreign. She tilted her head, scanning Eragon and Murtagh with cool, liquid eyes. Around them the forest held its breath.
Eragon’s brow furrowed. “I did not intend to summon you. I only wished to draw water from the soil.”
The woman’s gaze drifted to his dirt-caked boots. She lifted her hands and flexed long, graceful fingers as if rediscovering them. “I am water, at least in a sense.”
Murtagh’s grip tightened on his sword hilt. “Are you a magician or sorcerer? Or are you simply mad?”
She laughed softly, a sound like raindrops on stone. “None of those. I am, what used to be called, an Elemental. Water is my element. It has been a long time since I’ve been in physical form, in human years anyway. Your kind probably has long forgotten us.”
Eragon’s mouth went dry. “Us?”
“Yes.” She straightened, the pool at her feet settling into stillness. “Few remain, but we dwelt here long before dragons flew the skies.”
Murtagh exchanged a wary look with Eragon that said plainly: She’s lost her mind. Saphira’s snort rattled the leaves, and she lowered her head until her cobalt gaze met the woman’s without flinching. The Elemental’s lips curved in an unreadable smile. At last the dragon drew back, trembling.
Eragon swallowed. He felt Saphira’s thoughts skim his mind: She is what she claims—or believes herself so. Her mind is a deep well, brimming with magic older than any I have known.
The woman inclined her head and spoke in the Ancient Tongue. The syllables echoed with quiet power, binding her words to truth. “I mean you no harm.”
Eragon gave a nod to Murtagh to gesture that it was safe, but he did not fully sheath his sword.
Murtagh’s voice was as sharp as a flint.“What do you want?”
She paused, fingertips brushing a fern frond, droplets trembling. “To be. That is all.” Then, as though on impulse, she added, “You look as if you travel. May I join you?”
Eragon exchanged a glance with Murtagh. The wind stirred, and the forest seemed to lean in. In a low voice Murtagh murmured, “We need to talk,” and led Eragon twenty paces away.
Murtagh’s whisper was rough. “What happened? How did she get here and why do you seem to trust her all the sudden?” His eyes never leaving Kilf.
Eragon folded his arms and explained how she came to be from water and what transpired when Saphira contacted her by mind. “Should we let her travel with us?” he finally asked.
Murtagh seemed deep in consideration. Kilf was swaying slightly, humming an unfamiliar tune. “If we don’t take her, the soldiers will find her. She could tell them anything.”
If she is telling the truth, she can use magic and we don’t need another magic user on Galbatorix side. It feels as though she is important; I think it is wise to keep her close by. Saphira interjected. Eragon relayed the message to Murtagh.
“Well, that’s settled then. She comes, but if she tries to use magic, it will be up to you and Saphira.” Murtagh said with finality.
Eragon gave a hard nod. He had no idea what he should do if he had to face another magic user.
Don’t worry, little one, I will swallow her whole if she tries. Saphira reassured. Eragon touched her side in appreciation. They returned to the clearing.
Eragon squared his shoulders. “You will travel with us. We are fugitives of the Empire—do not think to turn on us.” The woman inclined her head. “We head for the Ramr River, then into the Hadarc desert, and finally the Beor Mountains. We must reach the Varden.”
The elemental’s nose wrinkled. “Hadarc desert? That land belongs to Morgothal. I may not be of much help to you, my form will weaken there.”
Murtagh stiffened. “Morgothal territory?”
She nodded. “Yes, another Elemental, of fire.”
Eragon bit back his questions. Every moment in this clearing was another chance for soldiers to descend. He turned to Murtagh. “We need to go. The soldiers will be on our heels if we stay any longer.”
Murtagh fetched two horses. “You can ride with me on Tornac,” he told the woman as they trotted out their horses. Before Murtagh could even get on the horse to help her up, she swung up effortlessly and settled into the saddle facing forward, her posture dignified and strange.
Murtagh scowled at her, then at Eragon. Eragon just shrugged his shoulders. She was a strange woman and didn’t seem to understand normal customs. Murtagh sigh in exasperation as he got on the horse, his arms wrapped around her to reach the reigns. This was going to be an interesting journey, to say the least.