Chapter Text
The years between six and ten were a repetitive blur. I saw little to nothing of my father, which I suppose is more of a blessing than a hardship. My memories have a distinctly unclear edge of youth to them, barring any major upsets. I remember the feelings though, the sense of listless unwantedness and endless anxiety. I remember feeling attached to these frightening people who did not want me. I remember always feeling a sense of unrighteous betrayal when the inevitable outbursts would drag me in. I would limp away from the scene and hide under my covers until Xanist could return to me. In particular, I remember the night that I reached the end of my limited fortitude and decided to do something very dangerous.
Coals glowed ominously, casting the drawing room in a sickly orange light. Several of the forsworn were passed out in various friezes all around the fireplace; a grisly tableau of their previous celebrations. Shadows clung heavily to every wall, leaving that tiny patch alone in an endless night, centered around my resting place near the hearth. I sat up slowly. My newest set of bruises protested the motion. I almost cried… almost. It would only make things worse if I woke the slumbering monsters surrounding me. I choked down the sounds and hobbled through darkness to the kitchen.
I groped up on a high shelf. My fingers curled around a round loaf of bread with relief. They didn’t always bother to make sure something remained, and if I had to wait for them to wake to get a meal it could yet be many hours. I took tiny bites at a time to not aggravate my swollen lip, but even then the loaf didn’t last long. I dusted off the crumbs and looked out the window in the east wall. Pale spots of grey between the tops of the pines showed the oncoming dawn. Otherwise, the world lay in the soft hush of winter darkness.
Just then, an absolutely mad plan struck me with such force that I was moving before the thought even fully formed. My hand was on the door handle with a long, heavy cloak draped on my shoulders. My racing thoughts forced me to freeze in that position. This may be my only chance. Xanist, Siyamak, and Galbatorix are busy, and the others are too drunk and exhausted to follow me. More importantly, why should I stay? I don’t have to get very far, just to a road maybe… and then I’m bound to run into someone… anyone.
I yanked the door open. A rush of cold air sliced into me, and I breathed it in. It stabbed into my lungs, but it also numbed some of the pain just enough to add strength to my resolve. I ran. A tiny crystal pendant from Papa Xanist was my only light against the impenetrable darkness all around.
-:- -:- -:-
The myriad of flaws in this hair-brained scheme became evident within the first few steps. It may have been the end of winter, but in the Spine, it may as well have been the solstice itself. I was shivering before I reached the treeline, and shaking before it had even been an hour. Even then I kept walking because I knew that the very moment my foot touched snow there could be no turning back (unless I wanted the beating of a lifetime). The darkness slowly lifted, grey light filtering down through the clouds and snow-covered boughs. Now and again a patch of bare branches allowed a larger share of sunlight through, little pockets of dazzling white amid the semi-darkness. It was eerie; trudging alone through virgin snow, with endless quiet all around. Not even the birds bothered to be out in such cold. ( I would have done well to heed their wisdom.)
At ten years old, I hardly had the knowledge to recognize the true peril of my situation; all I could do was commit to my path. I walked on until my shivers turned to shakes, then became tremors, then stopped altogether, and then even on until my numb feet simply fell out from under me. I face-planted gracefully and lay there, burning with cold and disappointment and something more, something strange and wholly new to me… rage .
Get up .
My legs twitched, but my feet barely moved.
Get. up.
My fingers dug into the icy ground, scrabbling at its unflinching surface.
Get up!
I forced an elbow under me and leveraged up to my knees. If I can’t walk, then I’ll crawl. I braced a hand on the nearest tree, expecting to drag myself forward. Instead, my hand sank immediately into fragile, half-rotted bark. I fell forward, which of course knocked an even larger chunk of debris off the poor tree. Inside there was a hollow; the former den of some creature long since departed. I pulled myself into the burrow head first, tucking my legs up to my chest. It was a tight fit, but not as much as one would expect. The scent was unpleasant, but also strangely familiar: animal musk, rotting leaves, and acidic dirt. I tightened the cloak around myself until the sensation came back to my legs. I regretted that action though since the feeling came back first as stabbing agony. (Looking back now, it’s a miracle I didn’t lose my legs from this foolishness.)
I slept. It was a shallow, uneventful rest. I realized the mistake when I poked my head out, stomach growling, only to see the sinking sun. If wandering in direct sunlight had done that much harm, then surely trudging through the night would kill me all the faster. I knew I couldn’t make any more progress so I tried to build up more of a wind-block in front of my shelter and fill in any gaps with snow before darkness fell. In the process of circling the tree, my foot slipped against something hard.
I glanced down to see a sort of…orb? It looked black in the poor light, but with marbled lines of white and light blue. I had never been permitted to see such a thing, or I may have known it at once. As it was, something tugged at me to take the object along into my new shelter. By the time I pried it free, the sky was rapidly fading to near-total blackness. I tugged it into my hovel after me and used it as a sort of door to keep the entrance sealed.
All in all, it was a miserable night we passed together, my treasure and I. The darkness was total, the cold almost unbearable, and hunger grew steadily by the hour. Despite all of that, it was the safest I’d felt in a long time. Dying alone in a tree would at least be more peaceful than being beaten to death back at the estate. I found myself petting the object’s smooth surface, more to reassure myself that I wasn’t totally alone. Somehow, I managed to once more fall into an uneasy sleep.
When I woke up again, it was to a sharp, icy, blinding pain in my left hand. I panicked, assuming that it was the cold finally coming back for me in force. I yanked the limb back, smacking something small but hard in the process. The shriek of protest that followed rang in my ears. Finally, the pain faded enough for me to get my bearings, and I almost passed out again.
The glow of my little crystal pendant was just enough to illuminate my burrow’s new occupant. Crouched in the dirt, pawing at the ground with tiny claws and chirping in indignation was… was…
A dragon.
I couldn’t believe it. What I was seeing should have been impossible. No dragon would leave an egg in the middle of nowhere, buried under snow, and all alone. Let alone an egg enspelled to bond with a rider! Then again, no sane person would ever wander into the woods on their own either…
“Hello. It’s nice to meet you?” I had only ever met the grown and bonded dragons of the thirteen. The hatchling clearly did not have much use for my words, though it did cock its head at the sound of my voice. I realized that it was still sticky from its recent emergence. Apparently, it realized this too as it dropped to the ground and rolled on the den floor, getting chunks of dirt and leaves stuck all over its glimmering body. I laughed, drawing a little huff of smoke from the creature.
“Well don’t be angry at me . I didn’t do it,” I reached over and started to pick crumbs off of the poor thing. They seemed to appreciate the grooming, even offering the underside of their chin for more thorough pets. I gladly obliged my new companion, marveling at every exquisite detail. Their underbelly was a charming purplish blue that faded into the richest and most glorious indigo on their back and limbs. Its wings were still tucked tight to its scaly body, with no real room to do otherwise, but they seemed to lean somewhere between the two extremes. The creature’s eyes were stunning, vibrant blue, and strangely piercing.
I sat petting the hatchling. It tucked its scaly body on my chest, sharing its warmth with me and purring until morning broke.
I had just started to kick away some of the drifted snow when I became aware of a person making their way toward my location. I wanted so badly to flee… but I knew as I saw that peppery gray streak that I didn’t need to.
“Papa?”
Xanist spun around, a look of pure relief plain on his drawn face. He scooped me up and tucked me into his chest. He didn’t say a thing for a while. I thought he was angry until I felt the tears. A wave of guilt crashed through me; he’s probably been so worried .
“I’m sorry.” he managed to speak clearly, if only just, “I shouldn’t have gone with Siyamak. Those damnable-” He muttered oaths as he stroked my dark hair.
“It’s fine, Papa. I’m okay.” True enough, all memories of my hurts had long faded in light of recent developments. I wasn’t exactly sure how to begin, or what his reaction could be. Luckily, someone else had a very good idea of how to broach the subject.
The dragon gave a tinny shriek as it vaulted into the air. It glided rather than flew over to us, claws hooking in my hanging cloak as it climbed up my back to rest its glimmering head on my shoulder.
Xanist stared in naked amazement.
“I… made a friend?”
I am beyond lucky to have survived this madness, let alone acquire the one and only thing that could spare me from the forsworn’s wrath. (I may have used up my life’s allotment of luck in this very venture, as it happens). The introduction of a dragon into my life marks the end of my listlessness and absence of purpose. I learned how to fight for myself in that journey; the power a reserve of raw, unadulterated spite can provide. I gained a companion I would treasure always, and who could understand me at a glance. However, to my young mind, the most important development was simply this: I now had a place in the group. It was one of servitude and endless learning, but no longer was I an impulsive decoration a madman had insisted on salvaging; I was the first rider made outside of the order, and the first student of the forsworn.
It took a few weeks, but Galbatorix and the others worked out how the dragon (Hereafter referred to as Katana, the noblest and most elegant of companions~) could have come to be in that place. Two months before, the forsworn had ambushed a pair of elder riders, a pair that were responsible for ferrying eggs around the known kingdoms in pursuit of their riders. They were both killed in the attack, but no egg was recovered. Here we have only conjecture, but it seems likely that one of them hid her precious cargo before she was caught. I know not exactly how events contrived to put Katana and I in line with each other… Unraveling the mysteries of skulblakan would take a much more thorough dissertation than this journal. And besides, I had more than enough on my hands just trying to understand one dragon.