In a barren room, Cedric sat at a desk. Above his head, a magical light floated, glowing dimly orange. It was similar to a tongue of flame, but possessing no heat. Experimenting with the word 'garjzla' - meaning light - he created a safe means of illumination around his valuable transcripts.
'As much as I enjoy our conversations, I doubt you contacted me for a chat.'
Paging from one sheaf to the next, he spoke with Saphira. She wanted something from him—that much wasn't hard to deduce.
Her response was the mental equivalent of a snort.
'We've spoken precious little the past week, yet you do not even greet me. How impolite.'
Cedric smiled, lifting a piece of compacted, sharpened charcoal. It didn't measure up to modern pencils, but beated working with ink.
'Neither did you greet me. Besides, I doubt Brom taught you much since our arrival in Teirm. He's been busy with Eragon, I suspect.'
Saphira was displeased with his answer.
'You all but admit our relationship is purely transactional. To treat a dragon so—as nothing more than a means to an end. It's beyond irreverent.'
Cedric didn't reply, but let his amusement seep through. Saphira may be a dragon, but her behavior wasn't dissimilar from a human woman's. It was rather funny.
Saphira would've growled if she could. As things stood, she settled for projecting irritation.
'Where have you been? Eragon tells me you are not with them, and haven't been since arriving. Have you forgotten our deal? If something happens to him, our co-operation comes to an end!'
Cedric huffed, his makeshift pencil flying across the page. Already, a vaguely human shape took form, constituting a network of lines.
'He is in no danger. I may not be present, but I've kept an eye on him.'
'How so? And do not ignore my question.'
'…goodness, you're a real mother-hen, aren't you? Your rider isn't as helpless as you assume, and might not appreciate being thought of as such. As for my 'activities', I suspect you'd rather not know.'
Saphira considered his words.
'It's not a question of helplessness. Our foe is beyond any single person. Certainly, Eragon isn't ready to face him, nor his forces. But enough of your deflections, tell me outright: what are you up to? You better not be causing trouble!'
Cedric chuckled to himself.
'What trouble could I possibly be causing? I'm the picture of innocence.'
Saphira's response was incredulous.
''The picture of innocence'? Mischief, more like. If it weren't targeted elsewhere, I might've dealt with you already.'
'Oh, how would you have dealt with me, I wonder?'
'Are you questioning a dragon's prowess…?'
They bickered for a short while before Saphira's patience predictably ran out. Cedric's arguments all lacked sincerity, and she suspected their main purpose was just to tick her off.
'Desist and let me state my purpose! Though, I suspect you already know it, but are simply unwilling to negotiate.'
'…'
Cedric's hand stopped, gazing at what he'd drawn. It was the human nervous system, or as close as he could come to it. Sighing, he picked up a different paper, this one imaging the musculoskeletal structure and overlaying them.
The light above him moved, hovering behind the two papers, creating an X-ray like effect. He still needed to do the cardiovascular system and organs…
'I can guess why you're contacting me, yes, but you might as well state it to avoid confusion.'
Saphira did so, conveying her exasperation at how round-about he'd been.
'That woman from Eragon's dreams… how much do you know about her?'
'What do you mean?'
'Grrr… you are being purposefully obtuse. Tell me, is there anything strange about her?'
'You're trying to find out if I was lying about knowing her situation—which you assumed in the first place. Not very subtle, but that's what makes it cute.'
He sensed she was about ready to blow her top and leave, incensed at his lack of respected. However, before she could, Cedric continued.
'Now now, don't throw a tantrum. I can imagine why you'd want to double-check. You're curious if I know her identity. In particular… her race. Indeed, I'm aware she's not human, but a member of the fair-folk.'
Saphira's shock was palpable.
'…how do you know this?'
'Hehe~, I'm sure you're curious. However, that information is rather valuable, and I don't think you have anything to exchange for.'
There was a period of silence as Saphira mulled things over.
'You scried her.'
'…you may think that, if you wish.'
'If not, then what?'
'I'll never tell.'
They quarreled for a while, Saphira's temper flaring until her patience snapped, throwing herself at Cedric.
Having half-suspected this, he wasn't caught entirely off-guard. A short skirmish followed, him defending as Saphira tried to slip past his mental barriers and drag the information out of him.
Cedric relished the exercise, knowing the importance of mental battling. However, he was surprised to discover Saphira's competency. He'd not been idle, pushing his limits by splitting his mind, draining the energies of Teirm's inhabitants over the past week-and-a-half. Yet, the dragon was putting up a decent fight.
Eventually, she separated from him, exhausted and licking her wounds. It was her loss—an unsurprising result.
Cedric wasn't the least bit mad about what just happened. Saphira's outburst was just that: an outburst. Realistically, there was no chance of victory for her. To assault his defenses, she'd needed to project her mind toward Teirm, expending energy and putting her at a disadvantage.
Cedric simply had to hunker behind his mental barriers and wait for her to tire herself out. She likely knew this, but did it just to vent.
'That wasn't half bad. Been sparring with Eragon, have you?'
It was a while before Saphira regained her composure, communicating her thoughts grumpily. She ignored his question.
'Do you know where the elven woman is being kept?'
'Didn't I already tell you? Rescuing her is a bad idea. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't even be able to help! Are you willing to send Eragon and Brom to their deaths? I'm certainly not setting foot in that hornet's nest!'
''Hornet's nest'… I see, then she's jailed somewhere with a strong military presence.'
'Yes yes, very clever of you to pick up on that. Not that an elf would be kept anywhere else, though.'
Saphira went silent for a while.
'…the elven woman, is she in some way related to myself or my hatching?'
Cedric's emotions fluctuated, and by the time he sought to suppress them, it was already too late. Once again, he was reminded why he disliked mental communication. Giving information away was far too easy.
'How did you even think of asking that?'
If the situation were different, Saphira might've been smug. However, aside from some vague self-satisfaction, her attitude was mostly sober.
'I suspected the 'treachery', mentioned by Brom, might be related to my egg. I've already learned the 'object' he recovered to have been myself. I wasn't certain of the rest, but your reaction confirmed some of it...'
Cedric sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really didn't know what to say.
'If the elven woman was responsible for finally meeting my rider, then it is a debt I must be repay.'
"…"
That wasn't… exactly true. Arguably, it was a complete accident, what ended up happening. If luck hadn't played a role, Saphira's egg might've returned to Galbatorix's clutches. In fact, the logistics of the egg-ferrying plan was questionable at best.
'Then you will not assist me? If we succeed in retrieving her, I would provide you with the reward you seek.'
Cedric thought it over before shaking his head. This was simply too much of a risk.
'You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. Besides, what do you mean 'assist you'? That implies we'd be sharing the effort, but there's simply no way for that to happen. If you get within a mile of the city, and the Varden's efforts will have been for nothing.'
Saphira's emotions were roiling, a mix of frustration and impotent anger.
'I know this! DO NOT persist in agitating me!'
'Your anger won't solve anything. Look at it from my perspective—my 'partner' suggests I put myself in harm's way while she remains in the back, shouting her encouragement. Doesn't exactly seem appealing from my perspective, does it?'
'Then offer a SOLUTION!'
Cedric refused.
'You want to rescue that elf, not me. It's up to you to figure out how to do it. Besides, a vial or two of blood isn't nearly worth risking my life over.'
Before Saphira could reply, he continued.
'Even if I had Eragon and Brom's help, the odds are overwhelmingly not in our favor. Do you think Galbatorix has a handful of soldiers guarding her cell with pointy sticks? There's bound to be mages, and powerful ones too. Consider this—how did the elf get captured in the first place? She would've put up one hell of a fight, and probably hadn't been alone either.'
Cedric could sense his words getting through to her. None of this was beyond Saphira's deductive abilities, her emotions were just getting in the way.
'…if blood isn't enough, then what is? State your terms. I know you have them.'
Her words dumbfounded him.
'What are you even saying? Weren't you paying attention? It's can't be done!'
'That is a lie. You are capable of it. In fact, I suspect you already have a plan.'
'…'
Cedric felt a vein pulsing near his forehead. The dragon's ability to take shots in the dark while somehow hitting every time was starting to piss him off. He took a deep breath to calm himself.
'My answer is no. More than anything else, I'm unwilling to become your problem solver, and by extension, Eragon and Brom's. Keeping an eye on our loveable little village-boy requires very little sacrifice from me, but this is something else entirely. Besides, even if the problem is resolved, it's only a matter of time before you come to me again, suggesting the next hair-brained operation. I won't have this become a habit.'
Saphira simmered in her own thoughts, upset over his refusal, but unable to come up with a counter-argument.
'…it is truly vexing. I am a dragon, yet I frequently find myself helpless.'
There was silence between them as Saphira poured out her lamentations, angry at the world, their enemies and herself.
However, Cedric didn't share her feelings. Instead, he felt she was being overly dramatic. If she was anything but a dragon, she might've been helpless. As things stood, he thought she just needed to think outside the box.
'The only problem is your appearance, that you would be recognized as a dragon. If that can be resolved, well… you'd be free to act as you wished.'
Saphira was unimpressed by his advice.
'Yes, and Galbatorix is only a problem because he yet lives. Neither your nor my observation brings us closer to a solution, however.'
Cedric chuckled, his amusement seeping through.
'There is a solution. Think of the dragon-rider bond. You will learn this in time, so I might as well reveal it—the reason for the elves' long lives, magical prowess and enhanced physical abilities are the dragons themselves. The bond granted them certain attributes their dragon partners possessed…'
He could tell he had Saphira's attention, sensing her impatience turn to curiosity.
'…and the reverse might also have happened. Dragons were not always so sociable and well-spoken. When the elves first arrived on the continent, they had no language nor culture. They were intelligent, but no less savage because of it. These things were simply a side-effect of the rider-bond, not its main intention. Also, whatever power the elves gained was entirely the dragon's doing. I repeat myself, but their race's empowerment wasn't because of them, nor would they have been capable of it if they tried.'
Saphira's interest grew by the moment, wondering where Cedric was going with this.
'If dragons could shape an entire race as a side-effect, what could they do intentionally, and… when their, or her, target was a single individual?'
When Cedric didn't continue, Saphira quickly prodded him.
'What are you saying, red-hair? And how do you know these things? Do not attempt to tease understanding from me by leaving your intentions unspoken. You are no teacher of mine.'
Cedric ignored her second question, not replying with words, projecting an image at her instead. It was… something resembling a humanoid female. Even Saphira, who'd be hard pressed to compliment either human or elf, recognized her beauty.
However, most striking were her teeth, sharp and dangerous-looking, bony ridges pronounced on her face, and fine azure scales where soft skin should be. Most striking was a pair of wings, covering her like a cloak, barely exposing taloned fingers and feet.
For the first time in her life, the mouthy young dragon found herself staring speechlessly.
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