Eragon

dUfU

(are we all going to be riders, or just one?I think we should all be dragon riders, because the story is from the point of view of eragon, not brom or arya, and oromis doesen’t come in until the third book. also, we don’t know much about Roran. Btw, you can choose your names from the ones I wrote. Oh, also here’s a link to an ancient language dictionary:

https://www.paolini.net/fans/invented-languages-inheritance-cycle/ancient-language/english-ancient-language-dictionary/)

Alagaësia. Once the majestic land of dragons, now what remained had befallen Galbatorix’s tyranny. I sighed. I saw Eragon and Elemasti, my twin brothers looking behind me. I sighed. Nocking an arrow, I drew back my bowstring. My target was a young buck loping at the edge of the herd. I aimed and… BANG! The sound shattered the night. I looked behind me, hoping to see my twin brothers. They were shaken but otherwise unharmed. I looked before me. A trio of shiny rocks, each about the size of my head. My brothers stalked up, drawn to the rocks. There was green, golden and blue. I didn’t care for the others, but I had a strange… connection to the green one.

We took the stones home, hoping to get a good trade from Sloan. We hadn’t had fresh meat in ages, except for the game that my brothers and I brought home. But, we had to camp out here for the night as the sun was already setting. So, we roasted the rabbit that Elemasti had caught and ate. So we settled in a bed of pine and slept until morning.

We set off the next day, gazing at the sky. A fiery conflagration of pink and gold illuminated the sky. I looked at the swathed stones. They were probably worth a small fortune. I knew that my brothers felt the same way about their rocks. I woke up last night to Eragon murmuring to his blue one. We trailed home. At least we were out of danger in the Spine, the one place Galbatorix could not claim as his territory. I murmured a word: eldunarí. I shook myself, confused. It was only a dream. I walked home, bemused.

#Bai

The mysterious stones we had found in the Spine were incredibly strange – and it was only after a while since dragons hatched out of them. What was going on? We were simply children, whose uncle was a plain farmer in Carvahall. Surely this could only bring trouble. Together, we conspired a plan to hide the dragons, as the thought of dragons had been lost generation after generation. We would keep them in the forest until they grew too big. 

It seemed that Brom, a storyteller, had come to tell the story of what had happened, and why this terrible fate had come to us. “Before your grandfather’s fathers were born, and yea, even before their fathers, the Dragon Riders were formed. To protect and guard was their mission, and for thousands of years, they succeeded. Their prowess in battle was unmatched, for each had the strength of ten men. They were immortal unless blade or poison took them, For good only were their powers used, and under their tutelage tall cities and towers were built out of the living stone. While they kept peace, the land flourished. It was a golden time. The elves were our allies, the dwarves our friends. Weather flowed into our cities, and men prospered. But weep… for it could not last.

Though no enemy could destroy them, they could not guard against themselves. And it came to pass at the height of their power that a boy, Galbatorix by name, was born in the orvucne of Inzilabeth, which is no more. At ten he was tested, as was the custom, and it was found that great power resided in him. The riders accepted him as their own. 

Through their training he passed, exceeding all others in skill. Gifted with a sharp mind and strong body, he quickly took his place among the Riders’ ranks. Some saw his abrupt rise as dangerous and warned the others, but the Riders had grown arrogant in their power and ignored caution. Alas, sorrow was conceived that day.

“So it was that soon after his training was finished, Galbatorix took a reckless trip with two friends. Far north they flew, night and day, and passed into the Urgals’ remaining territory, foolishly thinking their new powers would protect them. There on a thick sheet of ice, unmelted even in summer, they were ambushed in their sleep. Though his friends and their dragons were butchered and he suffered great wounds, Galbatorix slew his attackers. Tragically, during the fight a stray arrow pierced his dragon’s heart. Without the arts to save her, she died in his arms. Then were the seeds of madness planted.”

The storyteller clasped his hands and looked around slowly, shadows flickering across his worn face. The next words came like the mournful toll of a requiem.

“Alone, bereft of much of his strength and half mad with loss, Galbatorix wandered without hope in that desolate land, seeking death. It did not come to him, though he threw himself without fear against any living thing. Urgals and other monsters soon fled from his haunted form. During this time he came to realize that the Riders might grant him another dragon. Driven by this thought, he began the arduous journey, on foot, back through the Spine. Territory he had soared over effortlessly on a dragon’s back now took him months to traverse. He could hunt with magic, but oftentimes he walked in places where animals did not travel. Thus when his feet finally left the mountains, he was close to death. A farmer found him collapsed in the mud and summoned the Riders.

“Unconscious, he was taken to their holdings, and his body healed. He slept for four days. Upon awakening he gave no sign of his fevered mind. When he was brought before a council convened to judge him, Galbatorix demanded another dragon. The desperation of the request revealed his dementia, and the council saw him for what he truly was. Denied his hope, Galbatorix, through the twisted mirror of his madness, came to believe it was the Riders’ fault his dragon had died. Night after night he brooded on that and formulated a plan to exact revenge.”

Brom’s words dropped to a mesmerizing whisper.

“He found a sympathetic Rider, and there his insidious words took root. By persistent reasoning and the use of dark secrets learned from a Shade, he inflamed the Rider against their elders. Together they treacherously lured and killed an elder. When the foul deed was done, Galbatorix turned on his ally and slaughtered him without warning. The Riders found him, then, with blood dripping from his hands. A scream tore from his lips, and he fled into the night. As he was cunning in his madness, they could not find him.

“For years he hid in wastelands like a hunted animal, always watching for pursuers. His atrocity was not forgotten, but over time searches ceased. Then through some ill fortune he met a young Rider, Morzan—strong of body, but weak of mind. Galbatorix convinced Morzan to leave a gate unbolted in the citadel Ilirea, which is now called Urû’baen. Through this gate Galbatorix entered and stole a dragon hatchling.

“He and his new disciple hid themselves in an evil place where the Riders dared not venture. There Morzan entered into a dark apprenticeship, learning secrets and forbidden magic that should never have been revealed. When his instruction was finished and Galbatorix’s black dragon, Shruikan, was fully grown, Galbatorix revealed himself to the world, with Morzan at his side. Together they fought any Rider they met. With each kill their strength grew. Twelve of the Riders joined Galbatorix out of desire for power and revenge against perceived wrongs. Those twelve, with Morzan, became the Thirteen Forsworn. The Riders were unprepared and fell beneath the onslaught. The elves, too, fought bitterly against Galbatorix, but they were overthrown and forced to flee to their secret places, from whence they come no more.

“Only Vrael, leader of the Riders, could resist Galbatorix and the Forsworn. Ancient and wise, he struggled to save what he could and keep the remaining dragons from falling to his enemies. In the last battle, before the gates of Dorú Areaba, Vrael defeated Galbatorix, but hesitated with the final blow. Galbatorix seized the moment and smote him in the side. Grievously wounded, Vrael fled to Utgard Mountain, where he hoped to gather strength. But it was not to be, for Galbatorix found him. As they fought, Galbatorix kicked Vrael in the fork of his legs. With that underhanded blow, he gained dominance over Vrael and removed his head with a blazing sword.

“Then as power rushed through his veins, Galbatorix anointed himself king over all Alagaësia.

“And from that day, he has ruled us.”

#Yao

It was a misty day, and I didn’t feel very secure. First of all, the sky wasn’t the beautiful azure it had usually taken the form of a few days ago. I could tell a storm was coming, but when? My dragon, whom I had named Brethera, was coming along just fine. He still couldn’t fly, but he was growing at the speed of a bamboo shoot, and had even started taking long walks with me through the forest. My brother, Eragon, had named his dragon Saphira, because it was a she, and my sister, well, she had decided to call her beast Topasira, even though there was no reason to. She just thought it sounded very reverberating and acute to the point.

Of course, our dragons were very voracious, and our uncle, Garrow, started noticing it.

“Say, where’s that big ol’ strip of smoked ham I left out on the shelf? I was planning to cook it for dinner, with a couple of potatoes and onions and bacon. You seen it, Eragon? Elesmati? How about you Roberta?” he asked, searching around for the meat.

We all denied we had seen it, but secretly, last night, when Garrow had been sleeping peacefully, we had snuck out, and pilfered the ham, splitting it into three chunks for our hungry pets. I admit, when I had taken the meat, I had undoubtedly felt a bit morose. Uncle Garrow had talked about a big feast for weeks, and he had planned to cook up the ham and many other dishes to celebrate a big harvest this year. He had even agreed to let me have my first mug of beer, even though I was only fourteen. Unfortunately, the big dinner would now be postponed to just a regular meal of bread and cheese and vegetables.

Every day, after me and Eragon had done our farm duties, we would go to visit our dragons, petting them, and then recoiling from the rough scales, giving them some meat, and generally giving them our affections and love. Of course, I noticed very soon that a few drifts of snow or tiny bits of hail would clink onto our scalps, and so, we decided to build shelters the protect our creatures.

This was easier said than done.

Building a shelter requires lots of work, especially if you want a sturdy one, and big enough to house a dragon that grew about two inches every hour. We needed metal, especially if we wanted it to endure a hailstorm. Metal was hard to scavenge, and we had to beg the local blacksmith to let us get the pieces and scraps of iron that we so dearly required. At last, we agreed to pay him three crowns, and then we were off to build our shelters, which, of course, would be very hard to construct. We didn’t even know how to begin!

Soon, we managed to squeeze a few details of a proper shelter by spying on a doghouse, and we used some sturdy bark and wood to create the structure for our houses. Then, we tied some rope and laced together the metal onto the bark, and finally, lay some dark foliage over so that it would blend in with the surroundings, and then, we carved out openings, with a thick blanket at the bottom to ensure that our dragons would be as comfortable as possible. Then, we decided that it would do no harm to add a bowl of water, place some meat, and then leave the dragon in there.

We predicted accurately, and a heavy snowstorm and hailstorm prevented us from even attempting to make towards our dragons and see how they were faring. So, we waited another two days, painstakingly holding in our urge to run outside and hug our beasts. Indeed, Garrow noticed our suspicious behavior, and he asked us what was wrong. We all didn’t say anything.

When at last, the constant drifting of snowflakes onto our windows, and the familiar crack as those tiny hailstones found their targets stopped, we finally had a chance to visit our dragons. Of course, we all felt somewhat scared. Our dragons were only two months old. Say they weren’t very smart, and wanted to go hunt. After all, they had no idea what snow was or hail. They just knew that if they wanted to survive, they’d need to hunt something. But then, out of nowhere, a hailstone hit their heads or an avalanche buried them. Who would rescue the dragons?

I was scared that a grisly fate had befell the dragon whom I had taken care of and loved since before he was even a hatchling. But when we came upon them, they were busy sharing a meal of an owl who had been chewed on for hours. Even though it was disgusting, we were still proud our dragons had managed to cooperate and catch something big to eat. We could see the dragons had developed a way to keep themselves warm by hanging leaves across their entrance hole, and then pushing them open when they took a peek at us with their heads. They had each grown bigger since we had last seen them, and we could find that they hade already began to fly around, but were not big enough to carry us. I longed to soar along the clouds one day with my dragon, but currently, that was impossible. So, I decided it would be best if I just waited patiently for my dragon to mature, then ride him.

We went back to the cabin, and ate some hasty dinner before deciding to go to bed. We each said our collective good nights, then found our bedrooms.

I slept in the most tiny of the rooms, one that was situated at the corner of the farmhouse. Because Garrow hadn’t had enough money to build too much wood along this side of the house, my room was always the coldest. Even the fire burning in the fireplace would be quickly subdued with a gust of sharp, cold wind. I could feel myself shivering, even though I had on four layers of blanket. I slowly drew myself up into a sitting position, and pulled out a thick pad. It was a sketchbook, and I used a piece of charcoal to slowly and elegantly draw my mind away.

By the time I had fallen asleep, I didn’t realize I had drawn a picture of a valiant boy riding a dragon, raising a great sword high above his head, and destroying all evil.

dUfU

(umm… why topasira? i thought the green dragon was Fírnen)

The cobwebs on the roof make a delicate masterpiece… I thought to myself as I watched the sun make its way through the sky. I had hidden a deer carcass outside my room yesterday, dragged into a pile of leaf mulch. Topasira had acquired quite a taste for venison. It tasted richer than beef and sweeter than lamb. I crept out of our wooden shack. My feet crunched on the blanket of frost, reminding me that it was early February. I crept over to my dragon. He was shivering, despite the fact that there was a wooden roof over his head. I had brought a torch of fire from Garrow’s room, and we began to warm up. 

At midday, I went to town to find Brom. He was the most experienced of all the townsfolk in dragonlore. I entered his log cabin. A fire was crackling, and a rudimentary table was next to it. I saw Brom sitting at the table, smoking his battered clay pipe. 

“What do you want?” he growled, not looking up from his lighter. I raised my eyebrows and sighed dramatically. 

“So, Brom, you don’t want to talk to your friend?” I asked. When I had touched Topasira, a small, shimmering swirl of the purest silver had appeared on my palm. So, I had to hide that from Brom. 

After drinking a cup of scalding tea, the questions flowed from my mouth. 

After answering all of my questions, I turned to leave, but Brom stopped me. 

“Who told you all of this?” I hesitated and then replied,

” A trader,” Luckily for me, I had a quick mind, like in the stories of my mother that Garrow had told me, whereas my brothers were not as fast. Also, my answer was credible, as traders came to Pancalar Valley with stories of dragons. He nodded.

“Name?” I pretended to think.

“Forgot.”

“Very well.”

#Bai

It was so that when asked about the dragons, Brom grew incredibly suspicious of where the information on dragons had come from, and so it was that two very strange people had come to the small town of Carvahall. This was downright suspicious. Why would they come? It must be that it was related to the dragon eggs that had come to us. If someone sent them, why? And so it was that we had been sent them, somehow or other, into the Spine. However, we did not know who, nor why. However, it was until the strange men came into town, with Galbatorix’s soldiers, that Brom ran to us. “You must be very careful. I know what it is in your hand, I know you have a dragon. Now, the people here, I don’t know who they are, but they’re called the Ra-zac. Simply deadly. Now, if you want to live, you must come with me. Saphira’s voice entered my mind. You can trust Brom.

How do you know?
I know of his past, but I cannot reveal it to you. You can trust me in this. 

All right. 

First of all, you must go home and check that all your relatives are safe. Go now! Fly on your dragons, you must do so!”

Rising into the air, we flew towards the house. But as soon as we grew close, we knew that something must have gone wrong, for the house was a good old wreck. Full of messy objects, it seemed scratched, and part of it was black like the charcoal, which could only mean one thing – the Ra-zac had come and destroyed our house. Leaping off Saphira, I, with my siblings, rushed towards our uncle’s house. Inside was messy. Instead of the clean oak floorboards, they had been scratched, and marks grew everywhere, filling the floor with beautiful yet messy drawings. 

 We continued to search for what had happened here, until with a cry, Garrow’s body had been found. It had been coated with burns, which seemed unlike those burnt but not by fire, like another thing. In our desperation, it was agreed that I bring the body, on Saphira, to Gertrude, the healer, while the other two go and consult Brom on this matter. So, I grabbed the body and with great effort climbed on, but after feeling the breeze for a while, I leapt off Saphira, but a sharp pain erupted in my legs and I found that there were two deep cuts in my leg – from Saphira’s scales, and there was nothing I could do. I entered the house, and all grew black.  

*** Some time later ***

 

I could feel myself slowly waking from the pain, and there was still a throbbing sensation in my legs, to which extent I could barely move a few steps before falling to the ground in pain. Gertrude was there for me, and she gave me something to drink, and told me that I had been out for four days. It turned out that Garrow was not dead, but he was dying. “It is that none of my medicines are working. I tried the medicine of the toadstool, the Ballow herb, the extremely rare hateo plant, the Aeglos herb, the Athelas herb, the Elanor herb, the Mallorn herb, the Nimloth herb, the Niphredil herb, Pipe-weed  herb, the Oiolairë  herb, the Simbelmynë herb and the Valinor herb. However, they all seem not to work, for the burns are of those of which I have never seen before. This means I cannot cure it, but it seems like the wounds are improving. You need to rest also. Stay here, and I shall bring you things.”

It was not long after, however, my siblings came with news. “We are going to leave Carvahall as soon as possible to chase down the Ra-zac, who left while you were unconscious. Clearly they did not find the dragon eggs, and so we will hunt them down for their crimes to us. Don’t worry, we will hunt them down eventually.”

It was then that night I slept peacefully for once, with feelings of revenge for the damage caused to my life, and not for the first time I wondered who had sent that dragon egg. But I had strange dreams. 

 

There was a strange man, who looked ordinary but had maroon hair, and was commanding a group of twelve beasts, who I recognised as Urgals. The maroon-haired man was in fact a Shade, who sniffed the air and commanded the Urgals to immediately get ready. Soon, there were three people, who looked like people but could not be, their pointed ears proved they were elves, rode in, and there were two elvish men, carrying rapiers and bows, clearing guarding an elvish lady, checking in her pouch for something, as if to check it was still hear. As the elves came near, I could hear the whisper, “Get ready.” as the Urgals pulled out their weapons. However, the smell or the noise must have given them away, for the elves leapt off their horses and began to search for the danger. Two arrows pierced the men immediately and they fell to the floor. Crying for her companions, she ran off, faster than any regular human. While the Urgals crashed through the trees, the Shade climbed a piece of granite that jutted above them. From his perch he could see all of the surrounding forest. He raised his hand and uttered, “Böetq istalri!” and a quarter-mile section of the forest exploded into flames. Grimly he burned one section after another until there was a ring of fire, a half-league across, around the ambush site. The flames looked like a molten crown resting on the forest. Satisfied, he watched the ring carefully, in case it should falter.

The band of fire thickened, contracting the area the Urgals had to search. Suddenly, the Shade heard shouts and a coarse scream. Through the trees he saw three of his charges fall in a pile, mortally wounded. He caught a glimpse of the elf running from the remaining Urgals.

She fled toward the craggy piece of granite at a tremendous speed. The Shade examined the ground twenty feet below, then jumped and landed nimbly in front of her. She skidded around and sped back to the trail. Black Urgal blood dripped from her sword, staining the pouch in her hand.

The horned monsters came out of the forest and hemmed her in, blocking the only escape routes. Her head whipped around as she tried to find a way out. Seeing none, she drew herself up with regal disdain. The Shade approached her with a raised hand, allowing himself to enjoy her helplessness.

“Get her.”

As the Urgals surged forward, the elf pulled open the pouch, reached into it, and then let it drop to the ground. In her hands was a large sapphire stone that reflected the angry light of the fires. She raised it over her head, lips forming frantic words. Desperate, the Shade barked, “Garjzla!” A ball of red flame sprang from his hand and flew toward the elf, fast as an arrow. But he was too late. A flash of emerald light briefly illuminated the forest, and the stone vanished. Then the red fire smote her and she collapsed. The Shade howled in rage and stalked forward, flinging his sword at a tree. It passed halfway through the trunk, where it stuck, quivering. He shot nine bolts of energy from his palm—which killed the Urgals instantly—then ripped his sword free and strode to the elf. Checking the eggs were gone, he strode away. 

 

Who or what was that?

#Yao

It was a very strange dream, as Eragon recounted it to me and Roberta the next day. We couldn’t help but wonder, did those stones have any connection with our dragon eggs. But no matter. We had to avenge our beloved uncle, and make sure no one noticed us. No such luck.

First, my siblings told me to go “shopping” or in other terms, steal meat, skins, and other supplies like arrows for all of us, we had bows for our weapons of choice, and leather if we needed to sell it for coins or other forms of currency. It was just when I was pilfering six quivers of projectiles from an armory that I was suddenly shaken to my very core by a strong grasp on my shoulder, and I punched with all my might at the person behind me, but a firm hand held my fist in place, I lashed out, but before I knew it, the voice of a very familiar man was calming me down.

“Whoa! Stop it, lad. Elesmati, it’s me, Brom!” Brom cried out, protecting himself from the blows. I stopped mid-air from kicking his jugular vein and knocking him clean to the ground. Brom angrily brushed himself, and gave me a clean smack off the head. I muttered something along the lines of “sorry”. Then, I braced myself for the barrage of questions of why I was stealing, what the hell I was thinking, and if1 I was going mental. But what he said next surprised me that quite a bit.

“I want to come along,” was all the old man emitted from his mouth. I gaped at him, wondering what in the world he meant by those five words. He stared back.

“What do you mean?” I inquired, crossing my arms.

“I know you and your sister and brother have dragons, and I also know that you are going on a long journey for what purpose, I don’t know, but I do understand it has something to do with the fact that apparently, you uncle has been burned quite horribly, and you are probably going to kill the people who did this. Am I correct?” he asked, looking into my eyes. I muttered a slow and deliberating word of approval, and Brom then decided he would take his pack and a small dagger, and set off with us.

Eragon and Roberta didn’t particularly like the presence of the old man, but they didn’t exactly loathe his presence. After all, it was comforting to be able to know that there was a wise man guiding us other than a foolish teenage boy. We set off on foot, for we didn’t want to attract much attention. Our dragons flew high above us, so that they might be mistaken for birds if anyone were to look up into the sky. One day, while we were watching the sun set, and eating salted meat, Brom told us we should make saddles for our dragons, so as to make sure that our legs would no longer be scarred to a pulp when we attempted to ride our great beasts. Of course, Brom told us we didn’t have many materials.

“There are two types of saddles. One is the normal one that most Riders use in battle, but it is made with metal, which we do not have. The other is made by softer materials, like leather, which I have noted you do have in your possession, but, I must warn you, the leather one will not fare well for a very long time. It will, however hold out for at least until you can get metal in your hands.”

And so, our mighty building project began. It wasn’t very hard, actually, there was just the trouble of shaping the leather the way we wanted it to be, but with the sharp edge of Brom’s dagger, we quickly managed to cut the rough material and began making it into a leather saddle with straps and holders and other things, along with a tight thing that could possibly hold a quiver of arrows.

Additionally, that night, Brom surprised us with three long, shiny, and sharp swords, with each handle containing a shiny gem, and the guards of each sword had tiny jewels that glinted a golden color in the light, along with beautiful sheaths. Brom told us they had used to be the old weapons of former Riders. We were all in awe and simply stared at the swords in our hands. They were heavy, but not cumbersome, for the sheath was easily attached to my belt. However, my bow was still my go-to, for unlike my siblings, I was quick and fast with one, able to quickly take down targets, unlike Eragon, who liked to just release three arrows into the directions of enemies and hope they died. Or in other words, a spray and pray situation.

Of course, Brom had other plans in mind, that is, he planned to teach us how to use our new weapons. This wasn’t such a good idea, as the fact that none of us had ever learned how to properly use anything longer than a pocketknife didn’t help. In fact, whenever Brom took one of us to the fire to practice our skills, to spar with sticks, I would always make sure I was far from the range of a flying stick. But when it was my turn, I understood why my siblings both came back from their sessions moody, rubbing their back and shoulders, and groaning. Brom, despite looking he had been born two centuries ago, managed to dangle me right out of my skin. The sticks clashed, but I was too wild, and thrashed about, charging at him, but he just hit me and deflected the blows quite easily with his own terrific sword-fighting skills.

Bruises covered my body, while Brom escaped unscathed.

And so, it was like this for a month, with us walking slowly while our dragons flew above our scalps, while the inevitable bruising session was awaiting us every evening, and the bland taste of boiled meats. One day, we came to a small town that was very remote, but it had a tavern, and the four of us hungrily attacked our roasts of fine and tender beef, which I had missed dearly, and vegetables and fruits and fresh, cold water.

After the barkeeper happily accepted the many coins our bill was, we decided to go and buy some horses, and we stumbled into a stable, where a jolly man welcomed us. He told us we could buy three work-horses for one hundred crowns. Brom accepted, and I mounted my horse, but Eragon didn’t have one. It was then that Brom followed my big brother’s gaze to the beautiful horse that was currently standing quietly, and asked for that one.

“Oh, Snowfire. She’s me prize, she is. Wouldn’t give her up!” the man asserted, crossing his arms.

“We’ll pay anything,” Brom answered.

“Two hundred crowns, and no less for the price of my most prized horse,” the stableman told us, and Brom handed over the coins. Astonished, the man reluctantly let her go, but was cheered up again when Brom promised to take care of her like a grand horse of the king.

And then, we were off.

 

dUfU

The boys got swords. And me, because I’m a girl, nothing. But Brom did craft me a dozen goose-feather trimmed arrows. And a new bow. The bow, it was amazing! It was made of hard black wood, carved with the most delicate designs I had ever seen. The arrow shelf was encrusted with the finest jewels. The grip was leather and moulded to my hands immediately. 

“The elves sang it out of a tree for me. It’s the finest bow in Alagaësia. Keep it safe.” I nodded fervently and stole to a corner. My brothers were better at swordplay anyways. I was the better archer. I nocked an arrow. Time to see how good it was. Brom had told me I could shoot up to twelve feet away and not miss. I saw a knotted root of a hawthorn tree. I aimed and shot. It struck right in the eye of the root. I muttered a few gramarye words. It came straight back. 

After Eragon had foolishly used a great portion of his strength ‘without meaning to’, we could only resort to simple forms of magic. But, if Brom caught us doing out-of-bounds magic, he would suddenly materialize out of thin air and chastise us like little children. He did that then, walking out of the fern fronds. When he gave us our first magic lesson, I realized he had mentioned something about detecting magic. Topasira then realized he had also started a fire out of only words on the first part of our journey. He could use magic too! 

Choose your words wisely. I nodded at Topasira. I stalked over to Brom, careful to keep an impassive face. 

“I know we both don’t like loquacious talk, so I’m going to get down to the point. Why didn’t you tell us you can use magic too?”

#Bai

It was so that Brom knew about magic, and so he could do nothing but sit down and tell us a story. “It was so that when Galbatorix rebelled, I and Saphira, my dragon, joined my teachers, whose names I shall not speak. We brazenly left for the defense of Vroengard, against my masters’ wishes. In the fighting, Morzan murdered Saphira in Doru Araeba. I also lost his sword during this time.  I was devastated by grief and swore to take revenge on Morzan for his dragon’s death and the destruction of his world. I began to pursue Morzan even more intensely than I had idolized him in the first place. I joined the elves at the Battle of the Planes, only for them to lose to Galbatorix and The Forsworn. I knew of some more eggs. 

 

However, the thief, Babal, who was supposed to leave it in a special place, fled with the egg instead of bringing it to me. I raced against the Forsworn and Ra’zac for the egg, eventually coming to another place. The egg was eventually recovered by me.However, before that, Morzan and I hunted the thief, but Morzan was faster and murdered Babal, recovering the egg for Galbatorix. I, however, personally killed Morzan, taking the eggs and Morzan’s sword, Zar’roc, into my keeping. This is why I did not tell you about it, for I needed to keep my identity a secret, or otherwise Galbatorix would have killed me. That is why I have hidden in Carvahall the whole time and definitely not revealed myself, for it would have meant your death and my death. That is why, for it would have meant the destruction of the whole village. Now I come to think about it, I should have killed Morzan, I could have saved Saphira, and I could have done a lot more things which help this accursed world. I just hope that I will live to the day when we destroy Galbatorix, because that day will be a happy day. It will be a happy day indeed, because on that day the new set of Riders will be trained and kept into line, perhaps even by you, because you will be the Riders now. Yes, check your hands, you have the mark of one who has touched a dragon. That is how I knew at once who you were and what you were.”

#Yao

“Well?” Brom asked staring at us, his hands at the pommel of his dagger. just standing there rather stupidly, staring at us, as if something was wrong. He had been expecting a bombardment of questions, like the several little pellets of dew that always dropped whenever it was the morning after a long night of rain. But we all sat there, spooning bland broth with scanty spicing and little adornment, just boiled water with lettuce, celery, and meat, plus some pepper and salt. Secretly, I had a whole arsenal of inquiries about my past and what in the world was happening, but secretly, that could wait. I knew Brom was already a bit edgy with everything, and if we asked him anything, he might explode.

So, after dinner, me and Eragon began to spar with sticks again, while Eragon contemplated the fact that his sword had once been used by Morzan, first and last of the Forsworn, and that the blade must have killed quite a lot of Riders and dragons back when it was being wielded in evil hands. But that didn’t stop Eragon from using his most special moves on me, almost wiping me out with his blows. But while Brom watched, disappointed at me, I decided to play my own card, and with incredible agility, I jumped off from a boulder, my stick plunged in front of me at a straight angle, and then when Eragon prepared to clash with his own sword and knock me off balance mid-way through the air, I executed a magnificent show, twisting my body in the shape of a dive, and showing up behind Eragon, who had been expecting me to land short, and didn’t have enough time to turn around before I whapped him in the back, and he completely flailed to the ground. It didn’t take me long to turn that short moment of unbalance to aim at his shins, and then he landed with a thud on the soft grass.

To avoid a fist-fight, I decided to go over to my sister, after all, our dragons were out hunting, so we couldn’t ride them yet. Me and Roberta decided to hold an archery competition. Using my sword, we carved five lines into a truck, with the bulls-eye at the center. To ensure we didn’t waste our long crafted arrows, we would use some slender twigs that had been whittled, some brush, and sharpened rock. To make sure that all was fair and equal, Roberta would use her old bow. Now, we were ready. We each had three arrows, and we took alternating shots. First Roberta went, aiming at the target on her tree, aiming carefully, determined not to let me win. With a shot that went so straight despite the fact it was a crude twig with a rock at the tip, she looked sure to win.

But it went awry because the bushes supposed to be arching her trajectory and keeping her arrow straight flew off the arrow when the flimsy string broke, and it only managed the outside of the target, but just barely. Roberta groaned, and I grinned. Aiming back my string, I prepared a swift fly, but suddenly, I could hear grunts and shouts, and a band of six Urgals came crashing through the branches, and one of them hurled an axe towards us, but he missed, and I shot him using my arrow instead. I grabbed my two arrows and hurled them like spears at the incoming Urgals, hacking one to pieces. Roberta used her fists and her arrows as swords, slicing and dicing the advancing Urgals. I knew it wasn’t long before an Urgal would chop her arrows with his giant war-axe and then chop her. So I selected one in single combat, and easily sliced him. Another came up to me, and tried to club me, but I chopped his wooden weapon and then proceeded to slice his throat.

However, while I had been combating that Urgal, the last two Urgals had managed to team up on Roberta, and one of them thrust the pole of his war-spear into her, and she crumpled to the ground in pain. And suddenly, I was very angry. I couldn’t control it, and beads of sweat began to cover my face. The perspiration made me want to yell, and my eyes went cloudy. With a final heave, I lashed out at the Urgals, uttering so many cursed words they didn’t even have time to look at me. Suddenly, their was a sharp crack as their shins suddenly broke, and before they could even cry out, they slowly dissipated into a puddle that resembled swamp water, and also two skulls, with the horns perfectly intact. I picked up one skull, examining the smooth outline of the thing, with its very shiny and sharp horns. Just when I had put it on my head as a trophy, I felt the world spin, my legs being slowly deprived of all their strength, and my shoulder losing their muscles. I wasn’t thinking of much, but at the last moment, I could just make out one more thought: Brom and Eragon and our dragons, where are they? 

When I awoke, two figures materialized in front of me. But it didn’t take me long before I knew who they were. Urgals, big and strong ones, who held large swords, and in one instance, a giant lance. Roberta was right along with me. I cursed myself again and again for making our situation like this with my overly exciting spells. I focused on using a spell that wouldn’t tire me at all.

“Hvass brakka,” I murmured, and my ropes sliced like a dagger had been drawn on them. Roberta, who was awake, was delighted to see I was still awake and doing well, repeated the same words, and her rope too zig-zagged open. The Urgals in front of us weren’t exactly guarding us, they were just standing there and sleeping. It was then that I noticed it was already nighttime, and the moon was illuminating the black sky that was now infused with stars, even though they didn’t seem quite as bright as before.

Oh dear. Brethera, can you hear me? Are you alive? Are the other dragons well? What about Brom and Eragon?

An eerie silence crept over his mind, engulfing everything. Brethera was either dead or just too far away too hear, and I prayed it was the latter. But worse thoughts filled my mind. If any of our companions were alive, would they think we were being held captives, or had they assumed we had perished?

It was easily to just slit the throats of the Urgals, because they were fast asleep, but it dawned on me after we had left the two dead that there was only two Urgals in what seemed like a pretty massive camp. And then the answer exploded in my brain, numbing my nerves and my brain. The rest were off in a search-and-destroy mission, trying to find and kill Brom and Eragon. Within an instant, I had drawn my bow, and prepared to join battle. It wasn’t very hard to locate the area. There were torches nearby. But while I had been busy looking far away, I collided heavily into a brute body, that I couldn’t make out in the dark, but I could feel it was an Urgal, and before it could reach its dagger, I had kicked it and then used magic to snap his neck. But the question was, why was there only one monster? Perhaps a straggler? No, if he were a straggler, he wouldn’t be running towards the camp. He’d be trying to make it to the faraway fields. Roberta spoke up, a quiver of fear in her voice

“He was a messenger, and he was delivering a message to the Ra’zac. We have to escape…and quickly.”

dUfU

My first instinct was to run.

Hem hem, Topasira said in the back of my head. Oh, right. I mean, our first instinct was to fly away as fast as we could. So we did, Brom hot on our heels. But the question was, where to? Farthen Dûr was an obvious choice, but Du Weldenvarden was another. We decided to wander around until we found something interesting. After what seemed like ages, we set up camp. Brom had set up a competition: Who could find the most prey? We set out in different directions. Anyways, he hadn’t said anything about dragons hunting. Judging by the amount of prey my brothers brought back, it was clear they hadn’t thought of that. 

We ended up having a feast, cramming meat and roots into our mouths with a not-so-delicate gusto. We left the dragons ta a huge deer and a fairly sized goat that we had found near the craggy peaks of Farthen Dûr. We set out again into the sunset. Well, until we stopped shortly after to sleep. And then, in the morning, we polished off the leftovers from last night’s feast. It wasn’t long until we found trouble again.

A… flock of Ra’zac? I didn’t know the collective noun for a bunch of Ra’zac, but that was the last thing on my mind then. They attacked us viciously, their beaks clicking with delight. Their savagery seemed to make the Urgals’ fighting like playfighting. We ran. My brothers (and their dragons) or I would occasionally lash out, causing the death or near-death to the Ra’zac. I turned around and was horrified to face a Ra’zac. Its glassy eyes were expressionless, making them all the more terrifying. I was glad to put an end to him. I kept on fighting, but there were too many. We were losing. And then, before I faced certain death, Brom leapt at us, and the knife went sliding through his ribs. 

#Bai

@dudu I am very confused as to how you/Roberta is going to know about Du Weldenvarden or Farthen Dur? How? Brom never told you about it, so perhaps you summoned some kind of servant who found it out for you?

 

My instincts had not reacted fast enough. The knife through the heart, the Ra’zac’s beady eyes, its ridiculously pointed mouth, the strange sounds that came out of its mouth, the exaggerated s’s that kept on leaping on us, and I wondered how long it would take to say, “Sssssssnakessssss ssssssslither on sssssalix [a type of tree] sss slowly.” But Brom was dead, and we knew it. The way he had fallen to the ground gracefully, gliding peacefully to the ground underneath, savouring the last precious seconds of life. It came naturally of how dead people died, and there was no doubt. Suddenly however, I felt a presence in my mind: Saphira. Hello Eragon. I see you’re in a bit of trouble right now. I’ll just kindle some fire. She did so, spreading the flame onto the Ra’zac at once, and the shrieks ended rather quickly.

But then it had come the time for Brom to have his funeral, because it had been all he deserved. Sometimes it seemed he was a familiar fellow to us, although now that I come to think about it, there seemed little we knew about him. The place of birth, when he was born, how he became a Rider, all unknown to us. Suddenly, a sound behind us shrieked,  “Wow! It’s so amazing! How did I do that? Wow! It’s so amazing! Very Interesting. How did I do that? Wow! It’s so amazing! How did I do that? Wow! It’s so amazing! How did I do that? Wow! It’s so amazing! How did I do that? Wow!  Very Interesting. It’s so amazing! How did I do that? Wow! It’s so amazing! How did I do that?”

I turned around and I saw, well, I saw a huge diamond that lay there, obviously summoned by Saphira. 

How did you do that?
I don’t know. I was just walking about and suddenly there was the huge diamond in front of me. To this day I don’t know what I did at all. 

At least now we can create a tomb for Brom, inside the diamond. Although now I come to think of it, I need to use my knowledge of the Ancient Language to craft one.

#Yao

Eragon began to use magic to dig, dig, and dig. Of course, I was thinking silently to myself that it would be much more easy to simply enunciate the words of “evaporate”, and the dirt would probably be gone like that. But no. Eragon stupidly decided to take the time to use his mind to dig into the dirt and heave about four shovelfuls of dirt onto the pile that was steadily growing. By the time Eragon had dug a five foot deep and eight food wide hole, I knew there were Urgals coming. I could practically hear a hunting party just nearby, hooting and hollering. But yet when Brom was lowered into his beautifully engraved tomb, thanks to Saphira, I still lowered my head, and offered a prayer towards Brom’s eternal peace in the afterlife. It was much easier for Eragon to just dump the soil back, as he used magic and his boots to shove the soil back. Then, using his knife, he whittled on a log:

“Brom the Storyteller, who traveled far and wide, and was like a father to us

May he rest in forever peace.”

Just as the log was stuffed into the dirt, we heard boots crumpling. Twenty five Urgals came into sight, not to mention seven giant Kull supporting them. We were vastly outnumbered, and also surrounded. No thinking could get us out of this. No matter where we ran, we would either be ripped apart by a Kull or stabbed by an Urgal. I slid out my sword, and I steadied up. Brom was no longer here, but he would be watching us as a spirit. Roberta drew her beautiful bow. Eragon took out Zar’oc. Our dragons made the first move, blowing fire everywhere. The Urgals, however, took out their shields and managed to deflect the flames. The Kull seemed to be impenetrable to any sort of fire. We would have to fight the old way, as Saphira was doing now, and Topasira and Brethera joined in. They were tearing Urgals apart, and bit off a Kull’s head. I aimed for the biggest Kull, while my sister provided extremely well aimed bows to cover my brother, who had began to chop and bash Urgals into their own bodies. This method of attack was well suitable, as it lured the Kulls towards my siblings. The Kull I had in mind lunged towards Brethera, and I charged forward with rage, thrusting my sword down upon his neck. With a mighty yelp, the Kull tried to fight, but I was on his neck, and he could not see nor reach me. I used a variety of spells. His foot twisted, his hands began to lose fingers, he was overcome by strange fatigue, and then at last, I used my sword to light him on fire with a few magical words. I didn’t know it, but my magic was growing in strength and variety. I leapt from Kull to Kull, either killing them with a clean sweep of the head with my sword, or using magic to choke them until they fell. I leapt down, and saw a group of ten Urgals coming towards me as reinforcements.

“Kveykva!” I shouted, and I picked up three arrows. Suddenly, the arrows danced a new light, and when I released them from my bow, they hit Urgals and then exploded into shards of lightning that crackled and went on fire, and the entire group was wiped out. My sword danced with blood, and soon, after moments and moments of ferocious battle, Urgals finally stopped coming. An entire company of around sixty Urgals was dead, and twenty Kull lay around the wreckage, most had been clawed and scratched until they succumbed to their wounds. I had suffered a minor cut on my arm, while our dragons had several bruises and cuts that weren’t very major.

After that battle, none of us had very much to say. But as we were wearily walking up the path, two Ra’zac and three Urgals ambushed us suddenly, without any hint whatsoever. I managed to slay an Urgal, but one of the Ra’zac punched me square in the head, knocking me out. Before I blacked out, all I saw was two Urgals clubbing and hitting Roberta and Eragon, before dragging their limp bodies towards a cave.

I awoke with an abrupt start, and dazed to an extent that far exceeded norm, I lazily looked towards my hands. My sword had been stripped, my bow was gone, and neither was my money-bag. The Ra’zac were staring at the three of us, who were all tied to one end of the cave. Both of my siblings were awake, and when the monsters noticed we were all conscious, they began to talk.

“Assss you probably already know, you are wanted by our great king. You have a choice. Either join our king and fight on hissss side with your dragonsss, or suffer!” The Ra’zac said, cackling.

Fight for the king who had killed our uncle? No way, no how.

“Definitely not!” uttered Eragon valiantly, and we all agreed. The Ra’zac stared at us with hardened faces. Both grabbed their swords, and approached us, taking slow and deliberating steps. Just as they raised their swords to smote us, two arrows rang out, followed by three, and the Ra’zac stepped back, wounded with arrows sticking out of their bodies.

“Who daresss attack usss?” the Ra’zac hissed, advancing into the dark. A shout rang out, and the two monsters sprinted back, hastily dodging the barrage of arrows flying at them. Not even bothering to take their bows, they grabbed their swords and ran out of the cave, blood trickling down from several wounds. Out of the dark, a man appeared, slightly taller than me, a very strong build, a beautiful horse by his side. A bow dangled from his hand, with a half-full quiver by his side. His sword was well-made, but not too decorative, and he had some blood splattered on his clothing.

“Thank you for saving us,” I said, as I used magic to cut my ropes.

“You’re welcome. Name’s Murtagh,” the man said, hands on his hips. After we had gone out of the cave and had a nice cup of soup, we asked him why he was also chasing the Ra’zac. We still wanted to be careful. Who was he? What were his motives.

“I can’t tell you much, but let’s just say I have some history with them, history that is pretty unappealing. But, rest assured, if I wanted to cause danger to you, I would have slashed you while you were still bound. No worries, I’m not here to harm you,” he reassured us.

After a good night’s sleep, Roberta, Eragon, and me had come up with a decision.

“We’d like to make you our new traveling partner,” we announced to Murtagh at breakfast. Murtagh instantly agreed, and from that day onward, we had a new companion, and a new horse to play with our two horses. Despite the fact the horse refused to go near Saphira, who eyed the work horse with a hungry gleam in her eyes.

dUfU

i’m pretty sure roberta would have known about du weldenvarden, the home of elves, in brom’s stories and maybe farthen dur would be in brom’s stories too./and i think that the ra’zac are fireproof. they don’t like water.

Murtagh. An exotic… yet familiar name. I shrugged it off. Anyways, whoever he was was accustomed to money—and lots of it. His bow and sword were of the finest make, and his horn gleamed with an expensive gloss. I studied him. He seemed like the average Empire citizen, but his demeanour told me differently. He seemed… royal, almost. Well, we kept walking. And walking. And walking. And that was when we met our first setback. I talk as if it were a story, but we thought we were cursed at that moment. A huge river. One may think, oh, a river, couldn’t you just swim across it? No. For numerous reasons:

1. There were wickedly jagged rocks at the bottom that would tear us to ribbons if we tried.
2. The river was made from hundreds of powerful currents which would spin us to sea before we could say ‘Jack Robinson’.
3. It was too wide. Topasira, Brethera and Saphira could fit across the breadth holding each other wing-to-wing. 

So, it was flying we chose. Tornac, Murtagh’s horse, was scared of the dragons and thrashed out whilst midair, despite his normal calm air. After we were all transported to the other side, you guessed it. We carried on. 

We were just about nine leagues from the Varden when we changed course. And, what was even more ridiculous was that it was for a woman. After much debating and mercy, we changed course to Gil’ead. We were about five leagues from Gil’ead, and we set off on another painstakingly long journey. 

It took us nearly a week to get to Gil’ead, and there we faced more violence. Eragon got drugged, taken to some sort of confinement and got locked up. So, naturally, we saved him. We slunk up to the roof and broke in through the asphalt shingles, and in the corridor, where we found Eragon on the wall, Za’roc a few feet away, and cornered by none other than Durza. So Murtagh shot an arrow, hit him between the eyes, and we followed Eragon to the woman’s cage. We lifted her, and her head lolled back to reveal pointed ears.

#Bai

So we continued walking as usual, as we had to cross the whole Hadrac Desert. Meanwhile Saphira and I had a chat. 

How do you think we shall slay Galbatorix?

Well, he probably has tons of experience, he’s much larger than us, and has a few hundred years to perfect his skills. So, you must train better and improve, and thus defeat him in battle, for with your mind you have no choice, as he is too powerful. Think of the amount of time he has trained, compared to you. But, you could do with some other Riders on your side, because didn’t Brom mention some kind of other dragons? Apparently there were two more, apart from yours and your siblings. This means that we could defeat him, if we take over all the other towns first. If we look at the map, we could taken over Gil-lead, and then Aroughs, and then Belatona, and then Dras-Leona, and then Uru-baen, to defeat Galbatorix. If we could have all these men on our side, then we could possibly, mind you, possibly, defeat Galbatorix. 

In that case, we must find the Varden, for they have already a large army, as prepared by Brom. In that case, we must locate the area and enter the Varden. Then, we could possibly defeat Galbatorix. We must also first slay the Ra-zac, as they are an annoyance. They have been alive for too long, which mean their turn will soon come, hopefully by me. So, we must continue and find the Varden. Anyway, do you have any idea where the Varden is?

Well, given it is past the Hadrac Desert, it must therefore be behind the land we know, and so must be the land of the dwarves. Tarnag or Farthern Dur would be very likely. This is because it is hard to find, yet there is much possibility of a surprise attack. And so we must keep on marching, at least towards the mountain. Then, we can at least try to defeat Galbatorix, for it would be useless to attack now, when you have little hope of defeating him. Therefore, we must find the Varden, or at least gain some kind of reinforcement before attacking. I would think that the journey could take up to a week, for we either cross the mountain or climb it, both taking a long time. I could fly you there, but that would not be beneficial for me.

#Yao

We were all quite unsure of what to do. Our magic skills were sharp, we had weapons that had been through combat, and a new companion, even if she was knocked out, drugged, and couldn’t help us with much. We cleaned her clothing, which were full of blood, and washed her wounds, which were extensive to a point that even moderate could not be used to describe such horrific sights.

One night, Eragon began to mutter, thrashing and yelling, and crying out in his sleep. I, being the loyal and brave brother I was, rushed out of my shelter, and began yelling and killing imaginary Urgals with my sword. After having killed off approximately fifty living beings in a single month, I was quite paranoid about my surroundings, so I pulled out my sword, and cut and slashed and diced the Urgals that were hiding in the trees, which weren’t hiding in the trees, but in my imagination. With a cursed shout that had been laced with angry rants, I began to cut down tree after tree, imagining there were Urgals hiding in them. However, after a few minutes, my sword felt heavy, and I dropped to the ground, the rush of adrenaline drowning out the wave of tiredness that had befallen my tired and drowsy body.

When I woke up, I headed for the fireplace for breakfast, only to hear a rustle in the bushes, and then got mugged in the jaw by four deserting Urgals, one of them who still had his axe. I had thought this would be easy, until I realized my sword was stuck in a tree, about fifty meters away. Evidently, I had chopped a significant portion of the forest down, and then sleep walked back to the place where I had started chopping, before falling asleep. But no time for thinking, I had to act. I ran for my life, through foliage and undergrowth, until at last, I was safe, hiding behind the tree that held my sword. I jumped, and grabbed onto a branch, hoisting myself up, and then pulled at my weapon until it let go from the trunk of the tree.

Jumping down and beginning to duel, I noticed another Urgal, this time with a bow. He had an arrow drawn, and ready to be shot instantly at me. Using my sword, I deflected the shots, and then, after killing off the unarmed Urgals, I grabbed the short, plump one with the axe, chopped off his arm, and then hurled the battle-axe with the bloody arm still holding on tight towards the sniper, killing him instantly. I rushed back to the campsite, quite dazed, but awake.

After a rushed breakfast of porridge, my sister began to tease me about my lumberjack promenade session last night, to which I blushed heavily, but Eragon reminded us about more important matters at hand, including the fact that he had been communicating mentally with the female elf last night, who said she was named Arya, and that we had to go to the Varden’s headquarters, a long journey away, in the Boer Mountains, for a remedy for her poisoned body.

dUfU

Greetings, Roberta.

I jumped. Who was this? I shielded my mind, but the mental walls did have a few cracks in them. That just shows that my brothers and I haven’t been taking the best care of ourselves. The trespasser wriggled through and danced around in my mind, flitting to one thought and then another. I was already tired enough; why bring this upon me? 

Who are you?

Of names, I have many, but you may refer to me as “Arya”.

Arya… Do I know you from somewhere?

Even though I could not see Arya, I felt her mind smile.

Maybe, maybe not. In a way, you do.

I carried on talking to Arya until the crack of dawn. It was at that moment, the moment we finished speaking, that I realised who she was. Arya. Elf. The woman who was tied to the underside of Saphira at that exact moment. Well, whatever. We carried on the perilous journey to the Beor Mountains. But, we were still five leagues from the Varden. Cross five leagues in five days, or the elf dies. In Alagaësia, it is sacrilegious to let an elf die. So, technically there was only one choice. We were going to have to cross the Hadarac Desert in five days.

So try, we did. Success… you can decide. We were… choiceless. We could only cross the Hadarac Desert, but true to its name, there was no water. Only sand. And more sand. And more sand. There would be the odd dune and the frequent cacti but no water. I was pacing around on the dry mulch when my foot sank. Like a mini sinkhole, the land had given away. But what interested me the most was the water. Muttering a few gramarye words, water pooled at my hands. It was a small pool of underground water, fresh and perfect for drinking.

#Bai

So, we began walking, walking five leagues in five days. Every single moment of the day was torture, torture from the hot sun, torture from the lack of water, and just torture in general. Every single moment of the day I was talking to Saphira, trying to work out what to do.

What if we are attacked by Urgals?

If we are attacked by Urgals, the plan will be for Roberta and her dragon to guide the horse on and guarantee safety for the elf. Meanwhile, Elsamati and his dragon, and of course you and I will rather obviously attack the Urgals. Given we have the power of magic in our fingertips, and that we have Zar-roc, we should manage to defeat the Urgals, and continue. We have only three leagues left, in two and a half days. You are going to have to run faster than you have ever ran, fight faster than you have ever fought and speed yourself up in ways that you did not know you did not know. 

 

Roberta, meanwhile, had familiarised herself with the elf, and was therefore trying to ask her of where the Varden was. After swearing in the ancient language (which binds you to your oath, thus one cannot lie), she told us that the Varden was indeed at Farthen Dur, and indeed, we had to take the front entrance forward, just in front of the mountainside. Then, we had to knock upon the rock, and state our names in the Ancient Language. If we had stated the elf’s name, Arya, then the rock would open, and so we would be revealed to the cave. 

 

After some more conversation was Saphira:

So we have to do all that was said, and so –                      wait a moment: What is that?

Oh lord, oh no, oh god, oh no.

I had turned around to see something which I had not expected to see – Urgals, and a whole pack of them. Nearly seven foot tall each, their horns were the size of Saphira’s tail. Each were running just a little faster than us, which meant in due time that they would catch up with us. I shouted to Roberta, “Take the horse and Topsira, and run for your life!”

Apparently understanding, she sprinted forward with the horse. I turned, and stood to a stop. 

Saphira, fly up high. We’re going to swoop down and stab some with my sword.

Too slow! Get up on my back, and I’m going to ram into them.
Ramming a ram. Sure, if you say so. 

I turned, and they were increasingly close already…

#Yao

(Dufu, there’s water in cacti, just so you know. LOL)

We were all at our capacity, Saphira’s wings almost drying off and crackling in the hot sun, the elf Arya’s condition worsening every turn. We were all tired, and every day, our rations dwindled. Normally, porridge was the universal meal, and once, when I killed a jackrabbit and fried it with cacti on a rock in the sun. Once we had all taken a bite, there had been a duel for the leftover meat, and Eragon had nearly killed Murtagh with a dogged series of attacks. I had to divide the meat and threaten to unleash my ultimate sword skills on them if they fought any longer.

After another drab meal of brown mop, my dragon connected with my mind, teasing me with the images of the roast venison he had every day, the meat juicy with blood, the tender flesh just waiting to melt on my tongue.

I told him I’d paralyze him with my magic and then slice his claws off, one by one if he didn’t shut up.

He didn’t :(.

Fidgeting with my arrows, I watched from afar as the giant Urgals lumbered closer and closer, their helmet shining red in the sunlight, their clubs and giant spears smacking against the side of their amazing shields made out of rough leather. I could sense their ferocity and determination to get our heads, and that made me keep going, through sun and rain, through sleep and travelling.

One night, after a full day of walking and riding, I was awakened by Saphira, who had grabbed Eragon, and now nabbed me. Confused, I looked around, expecting to see a reason, but she didn’t give me any explanation before she dived down straight into the Kull ranks, breathing fire and clawing at them. Eragon, apparently informed, began swinging at their heads with Za’roc and dicing their helmets in half. Before any defense was mounted, we swung away at attacked from a different direction. This time, I fired off arrow after arrow, concealing them with magic, and making them explode on impact. The Kull couldn’t see the missiles, they couldn’t put up their shields, and they thought a mysterious force was attacking them.

For the rest of the night, we caused misery to all of the Kull, crashing rocks onto their big fat heads that deserved it, making sure most of them never reached the battlefield, and causing as much mayhem as we could by creating chaos and disorder. Many of the Kull began preaching to “Ukma the Great”, and begging him to release the angels here to punish all of Urgal kind from the sky. When the sun arose, at least a whole regiment of Kull were either perishing to death from a sunburn to their open wounds, or were being pecked at by buzzards. Our work had been done to the best of our ability, and it had succeeded in helping our valiant cause in making sure Arya got to the Varden.

Just a day before we would reach the Varden, I got ambushed, along with Brethera, who told me to keep calm while a scouting troop of ten smaller Urgals were sent to find out the surroundings. I had stayed behind to get a potshot at one of the coyotes roaming around. Unfortunately, I was now in a tight situation with ten heavily armed, snarling, and salivating Urgals who all wore hunger on their faces.

The first attacked quickly, trying to knock me out with a quick hack and then an elbow to the face. But I chopped off his hand, then quickly pulled off a hacker with my sword, completely obliterating his entire shoulder. Now, of course, this certainly made him very angry, but since he only had one arm, he couldn’t hold his heavy battle-axe, and when he tried to, it ripped his arm off. The rest of the Urgals quickly teamed up on me, and knowing I couldn’t handle all of them in hand-to-hand combat, I ran up into a tree, and shot four arrows, leaving five still standing. I blessed five arrows with the ability to seek Urgals, and then shot them all into the air one-by-one, each one finding their targets no matter where the Urgals decided to run.

Unfortunately, the Urgals apparently put up their shields, and I was left with five angry monsters holding ferocious weapons and looking to inflict as much pain and torture on me as possible.

I ran for my life.

Then decided to go back and show them what a true warrior I was.

Paralyzing two of them with my magic, I quickly diced off their heads, and then snapped the arms of the remaining Urgals, rendering them useless to use their weapons. I kicked them into a line, and then beheaded them one by one, chopping off their face and then kicking them over. The brutes deserved it, after what a massacre they had left at most of the villages they pillaged.

After going back to the campsite, my sword bloody and tried, we continued on, until we arrived right at the doorstep of the Varden.

dufu

A waterfall. Really? We travelled the Hadarac Desert in five days to talk to none other than a… waterfall. Really? I thought my brothers were better than this. They evidently seemed as confused as I was. The sun was beating down on my back, making it hard to think straight. The whispering waterfall seemed so… delicious. I plunged in, showering my brothers. They glanced at each other, and after a moment’s hesitation, jumped in. They didn’t land with neat little plops like me but huge splashes that sent the world cartwheeling. I span around in the water, letting the currents pull my body around like a rag doll. I swirled for a bit and landed in an air pocket.

I staggered into a stone wall, Topasira close behind. My head throbbed from my nasty collision. I rubbed it reproachfully. That was going to leave a bruise. Humph. Well, at least I wasn’t a cut-up carcass slumped on a dune, baking in the sun. I rapped sharply on the door. Rat-a-tat-a-tat. No answer. I knocked again, slightly louder. I was knocking for about ten minutes. Then the others popped out from the bottom of the water pool. I kept knocking, and it was then that they answered. They could have just come ten minutes ago and saved themselves the trouble. 

A little man answered us. Like not, 5’4 small, but dwarf small. Up to my elbow small. He had a braided beard, which he kept wringing to squeeze out the moisture. 

“Akh Guntéra dorzâda! What were you thinking? You could have drowned!”

He wore a chainmail jacket cut short at the end. He led us through a narrow, dimly lit passage, with water dripping through the ceiling. It was not the best of places. Suddenly, the doors behind us, our only escape, slammed shut. Were we safe or doomed?

#Bai

First of all, we had to be sure they weren’t trying to kill us. They weren’t, but they were certainly unfriendly towards us. First of all, they acted very angrily towards us, and so they were angry. They took Arya away after we told them about the antidote. The other days, however, we were stuck indoors with nothing to do. First of all, I tried talking to Saphira and trying to guess what was going on in Carvahall while we were gone. Well, first of all, the Ra-zac were still there, which meant that the people were still trying to resist them, which could be very difficult, as the Ra-zac were very good fighters. They would try and find us, and we all knew that they were all very brave and resourceful, but many brave and resourceful people have often come to terrible ends. This could end terribly for all of the people.

On the second day, we were allowed to talk to the leader of the Varden, a podgy man named Ajihad. He was a brave and resourceful man, with many ideas and tricks up his sleeve. Now he had three dragon riders, well, three new and inexperienced dragon riders, but three nonetheless, he certainly had much opportunity to succeed. He began by interrogating us. “Well, well, well. We had heard from Brom about you three, and you certainly have the potential indeed to defeat Galbatorix. After all, you are three against one, right? Anyway, we are here to discuss important matters, such as that of the world itself. This could be very damaging, but we need you three to try and take down many towns and cities, starting with that of Gilead, and to conquer it and vanquish anyone inside. This is extremely important and you must do so immediately. However, many things must be sorted out beforehand, you must go and visit some towns, such as in the elven world or the dwarven world. I must say, you travelled 130 leagues in 8 days, certainly an impressive achievement.

So yes, I would say that you are the key to the success of the Varden. You are the key to the whole world, and I urge you to perform well.”

#Yao

I slowly began to understand what Ajihad wanted. He knew everything about the Varden’s strengths and weaknesses, but for some strange reason I just didn’t understand, he couldn’t figure us out. Even though his strong, elegant, and confident demeanor told otherwise, I knew deep inside he was quite scared of us. He didn’t know who we were, he didn’t know what we did, but he could see potential in all of us.

So, he made us do a test. And with captive Urgals, too.

The first test was all about magic. He told us we had to each fight ten Urgals with no weapons, usually the amount of magical capability a Dragon Rider possessed. Murtagh was given a converted prison cell to sleep in while we were challenged.

It was difficult, but Eragon managed to do it in a few swift moves, Roberta simply turned her boots into footwear that had the damage as a battering ram, sparkled it with an extra damage spell, and rammed every Urgal she could find straight in the head. I was speechless.

As for me, I utilized the wonderous magical curse Brom had taught only me. I yelled out a series of ancient curses, sparking each of the Urgals with a straight line of chemicals that made them into a sort of trance and then start trying to eat each other. It was rather entertaining to watch them all get torn apart by their kin. The last one standing then succumbed to all of his bleeding wounds.

The next test was all about interrogation. While Eragon managed to force out answers through threatening statements, Roberta simply punched them till they told her their names, I decided to use another approach. I simply began talking about my knife, describing it as “sharp” many times throughout the entire process. Soon, I had my target sweating and quickly admitting his name to me. I then threw my knife right into his right eye, slowly letting him perish silently.

The final test was all about speed, stealth, and fighting skill, along with teamwork. All of the remaining prisoners, 349, in fact, were taken out of the dungeon, placed in the training field, and then armed. Of course, they all decided to try and fight their way out, but then we arrived, riding on top of our magnificent beasts.

Saphira and Topasira and Brethera teamed up and began to blow fire everywhere, while I began to fight a clear line through all of the Urgals, deafeating them through any means possible. One, I even twisted an Urgals wrist till he cried out, lost his balance, and fell on his own sword. I competed with Eragon, bragging I could slay more than him. Of course, Roberta ended up getting angry she hadn’t been included, and blamed it on me, accusing me of being sexist. Then, she generated that rage into fighting skill, unleashing arrow after arrow. After she had shot all of them, she torn her bow in two, ripped the string off, threw the quiver and knocked out an Urgal, and then used her two pieces of bow as spears, with sharp, wooden pieces sticking out.

I quickly stabbed an Urgal with my sword, and then used a spell to multiply that sword’s length by ten, spearing Urgal after Urgal like a shish kabob, slowly letting their blood drip onto my sword. I undoed the spell, now unswording everyone I had just stabbed, and watching as my blood’s blade turned crimson, showing the first true badge of honor. The Urgals on the floor slowly became more and more numerous. I could see a pile of mutilated and charred corpses, obviously from all of our dragons. Meanwhile, Eragon sliced and diced, Roberta stabbed and punched, and I had started skewering people with my new spear, which I could extend to as much as eighty feet long, allowing me to kill as much as twenty Urgals all at once.

This wasn’t a very hard battle, and evidently, Ajihad knew it. So, he placed fifty captive Kull into the arena, and then the match became serious. The Kull couldn’t really use a normal Urgal weapon without curshing it, so they used their bare hands, and to my horror, flung their dead Urgal comrades at us. However, I managed to kill four of them without getting injured, while our dragons quickly eliminated much more.

Now came the teamwork.

I distracted the Kull with annoying spells like cracking their teeth or making their tongue bleed profusely. Then Roberta would shoot arrows at them, mainly to support Eragon, who would secretly jump down from Saphira and plunge his sword deep into the Kull’s neck.

It was quite hard though, as I was always the one in danger. As Roberta could move swiftly because her weapon was long-range, she could stay out of a dead body’s way, but since using magic on such giant creatures required me to be no less than ten meters away, I had to run around, casting spells as I went, usually weaving between a Kull’s feet. Now this, as you might imagine, was rather risky, because I could get stomped on whenever a Kull fancied it. But the brutes were so clumsy and big they didn’t notice a small human being going through their legs, so they mainly ignore it.

Fifteen minutes later, we had completed all the tests.

dudu

After we finished the tests, We were sent upstairs to wash off the masses of congealed blood accumulated on our clothes and skin. I was sent to a room with a porcelain shower, basin and bathtub. There were even lavender and rose petal sachets in the cupboards, for heaven’s sake. I ran the water, checking intermittently to see if it was getting hotter. I slid the door to the side and walked in, sliding the door shut behind me. Oh, it was like summer rain. After a quick shower to scrub off some of the blood, I got out and filled the bathtub. I added a few drops of lavender oil into the bath and slipped in.

The water caressed my skin and slowly dissolved the layers of blood and grime built up on my body. After finishing, I dabbed off most of the moisture from my hair and hurried down. Judging by their surprise when I smelled like lavender, they had not found out about the lavender oil. We hurried down to meet Ajihad. By this time, my hair had mostly dried, so we looked… partially presentable. We waited behind gilded doors. The doors opened, and we were presented to Ajihad.

His smooth, rich voice echoed around the hall.
“Well done. You have completed the tests, and you can now hike to the Dwarven and Elven lands. We bade everybody a goodbye, But then Eragon remembered Arya. They were to keep Arya here until she healed. We filled our bags. The boys took their swords (being a girl, I didn’t have one) and a compass, a map, food, waterskins, iodine, matches and weapons. I filled mine the same, just adding a dozen arrows. And a penknife. We set out, going to Du Weldenvarden via Farthen Dûr. We walked, and walked, and walked.

#Bai

Just wanted to say, dudu, that ‘we’ are already in the Dwarven lands and therefore it is impossible to go to the dwarven lands.

 

We now had to begin traversing into the elven lands, across the forest of Du Weldenvarden. However, a couple of days before we had planned to leave, there was a terrible incident. First of all, the fact was that Murtagh had disappeared during the night, for he had been in his cell when the people last checked, but had gone afterwards. According to the systems which had allowed us to know where he had gone, there was still no clue where. Roberta and I had even tried scrying him, but he was nowhere to be found – the screen just showed empty blackness, which was not usual at all. 

In the end, we had decided not to leave, at least no now, for Ajihad had predicted an attack come very soon, for if they could best the Varden’s best magicians’ security, they could probably best our army too, which would be devastating, so we had to remain alert and on the ready. Now, this was easier said than done, but other defences might as well be put in. That day, all three of us split up, with methods of communication if necessary, and we had to patch up defences for the Varden. Firstly, the dwarven holes were actually very valid targets for Urgals, if many of them came in. So, I placed down a spell that would alert me if any enemies entered. I then linked up another valid target: the roof. This was much more difficult, for there were many accessing points that could be utilised, and I was just pondering upon what would be the most common and used attacking method. I knew the Urgals weren’t very clever at all, but they would be deposited in a great position to attack people, and so I had to work out roughly where they were, would it be the roof or below. 

Another question lingered: how was Murtagh taken out of his place? Apparently he was in his cell the whole time, except for times when he was permitted to go out, albeit a short time. This would mean that he could only be taken from two places, and so that would be a very likely place to check. When I entered his cell, my first thoughts were of the room itself, it was clean and relatively clear, except for Murtagh’s food bowl and his bed. This would mean that if his room was kind of empty, he must have been taken in the middle of the night without a struggle. Now, this was beginning to get extremely suspicious. The Ra’zac could have done this, but how would they have gotten in? I said a spell: kodthr vandr kynn (in other words the saying of catch bad people according to the dictionary), but it revealed nothing. I suspected something about dark magic, but I had no explanation of how it was possible that Murtagh disappeared.

#Yao

This was all rather suspicious. For one, we knew that dark magic had to be involved, as Eragon clearly explained to us. But what type of dark magic? The Twins that Ajihad had working for him, those sly, pathetic twins with magic prowess that was on a completely different scale than us (they were bad), they definitely couldn’t have done it. So who? I knew for certain I didn’t have the magical ability to actually transport someone from their bed in the middle of the night so somewhere else, probably far from the castle grounds. For this scenario, teleportation wouldn’t work, as Murtagh was simply too big to be able to be headed off to a completely other destination. Additionally, Murtagh would have placed up a good fight, and I could tell that hadn’t happened. In fact, the windows were all closed, and locked securely, which signified no intruder had come in. And Murtagh’s sword belt was lying on the bed table, which meant he hadn’t put up a fray.

This was more confusing than the time I had to calculate how many gold coins were worth ten bags of wool.

“URGALS!” came the deafening cry, startling us all. We quickly donned the armor that had been left for us, grabbed our weapons, and fled to the castle stables. We had been warned about an instant attack by the Urgals and Kull, but we had never noticed it would come tonight.

With a flash, I ripped my sword out, quickly climbing onto Brethera, who had already gotten his armor fitted onto him, took off into the night, eager to get raw Urgal heads as dinner. Circling over a squad of Urgals, he blasted fire at a line of Urgals, and then used the special attack only he could master. Unlike any other dragon, Brethera could breathe lightning bolts, just like the old Creece god Zeuseo. I waved my weapon around my head, whooping as lightning crashed down on the giant, lumbering Kull who yelped and yipped as they were fried to a black lump. Meanwhile, one single Kull was spared, and he crouched down for a moment, thinking I was about to shoot him with an arrow, but realizing he was being spared, he quickly sprinted off. However, Brethera knew what he was doing, and he quickly chased after the Kull, happily playing the ol’ hunt game. Meanwhile, I slashed my sword wildly, at my sides, letting Brethera’s pure flying speed be my sword’s swinging power.

Urgals stumbled to get out of the Kull’s rampage as he tried to get away. Realizing this, I stalled Brethera, trying to make her go slower in order to have the Kull stomp more Urgals while I gleefully swung at the many Urgals’ heads I encountered.

Soon, the Kull got a taste of his own nasty habit of tearing men’s limbs apart. Brethera latched her jaws onto his arm, and pulled, slowly in order to enlongate the pain. Then, when the Kull was at the point of nearly bursting with his yelps, Brethera quickly ripped apart his shoulder from his arm, leaving a thick gap between his limb and his feeling tool, with a thick four-inch stump of skin left.

A thick trail of blood gushed out soon after.

As the battle fought on, it got increasingly harder. Apparently, the Urgals were reinforced with the Empire’st troops, amounting to an attack force of 50,000 men against our measly 20,000 mean+dwarf army. Our men fought bravely though, and each had drank a mug of beer before the battle, vowing to take out an enemy soldier if they were stabbed. I saw a soldier from our side shoot down four enemy Urgals with arrows, and when he had his arm chopped off by a pike, he charged forward with his sword and slashed five enemies, all while bleeding profusely, and then using his two knives, hacked his assailant to death. Without a doubt, this warrior was going to heaven. When he finally succumbed to a blunt broadsword hack to the neck, he had killed seventeen soldiers, all of them lying in a heap near his fallen spot.

I myself had killed a great number, with only minor bruises and scratches, and Brethera had only some tears from spear points near her soft wing, which lay unprotected.

Many Urgals, men, and dwarves lost their lives on that fateful day.

I was traumatized after the battle, and even then, I was forced to dismount my dragon, and go into a tunnel to fight a group of Urgals that were believed to be hiding down there. I grabbed my sword and shield, and slid down the steep burrow, quickly regaining my stance. With only a torch to guide me, I soon saw the silhouttes of about nine Urgal shadows just across the corner, and I blew my torch away. First, I released a series of magical flares that flew up into the sky and shone brightly, revealing where the Urgals were. Then, I fired off ten zaps of fatal energy orbs that bounced off the way, striking everything in their path.

Within minutes, I relit my torch and calmly walked towards the massacre sight, with Urgals piled on Urgals from the many times they had been hit by the powerful orbs. There was one Urgal who was still moving, and I quickly subdued him by hacking at his head.

I searched for more monsters to hunt, and discovered a tiny, measly goblin that was probably a mercenary, but I could tell he was sick just from the many red dots on his face and body. He had only a short sword, but I knew that approaching a goblin was dangerous, as just like elves, even one that was sick and ill could still overpower a fit and grown man. So, I decided to quickly zap it with a curse that would make it kill itself, and glanced every now and then to observe. First, he’d bang his head against the hard rock, trying to bash his skull in. Then, he’d start biting himself, and then using his dagger, cut his own throat.

He did all of the following.

Leaving the dead bodies behind, I climbed up towards the dawning day, careful not to fall down the slope as I was ascending it.

And then, I found out about Ajihad’s death.

dudu

(oh yeah. oops.)

I turned around, wiping the blood off my dagger, spitting blood on the ground. I never liked the taste. Eragon was collecting his arrows, counting and sharpening them. Only Elesmati was still. Oh, well. I began to remove the hide from a Kull. It was hard and good for training with. And I sometimes cut armour for Topasira with it. Sometimes Ajihad would ask me to spare some for the soldiers-in-training. When I finished with it, I moved on to another, and Brethera started playing with it. When I had collected enough Kull-hide, I walked over to Elesmati. It was at that moment I knew. Ajihad was dead.

We trudged back to the Varden, triumphant but heavy-hearted. Suddenly, luxury had no meaning. Showers were merely there, and baths were a privilege at finest. I stepped into a bathtub, filling the tub with hot water. Almost at soon as I got in, the water turned a red-pinkish colour. I stepped out, drained the water, and decided to have a nice long shower instead. I scrubbed off all the dirt and congealed blood and stepped out. After drying my hair, I tied it in its trademark ponytail and ran down the flight of stairs leading to my brothers’ rooms.

I turned the handle and stepped in. Elesmati’s room was… not the tidiest, yet not chaotic. Eragon’s room was better organized. I scribbled a note saying I was in the dining hall and left it on their pillows. I went to the dining room, where there was a snack bar. I seated myself and took a rabbit haunch. I took out a box and filled it with beef, venison, lamb, pork, rabbit, everything. If we were to go to Du Weldenvarden, we should probably stock up on food, seeing as we were to go to the place where nobody ate meat.

As I put the last haunch into the box, Elesmati came down. He was also holding a box. But it was empty. He asked me to fill it up with meat, and I obeyed, filling it with fish and squirrel and anything that was left. So we left the following day, hiking North-East to Du Weldenvarden. We saved the raw meat to cook in Du Weldenvarden, seeing as we caught enough game on the way. We went through many landscapes, my favourite being the forest. There was lots of game so that we could save extra for biomes with not so much food. But the journey, in all, was quite fun.

#Bai

The journey was indeed very satisfying and invigorating, for it involved a lot of walking and meeting new cities, but there was one problem. The path we had chosen – around the Hadarac Desert and up through the towns past the place. The problem is, the path involved a lot of impediments which in turn resulted in danger, constant danger. In every town we had to remain vigilant of battles, fights, and many people were targeted at us, which meant that it was possible for us to be attacked, but the truth is it was also possible for the Varden to be attacked. The best spellcasters were on constant duty as we walked forward and therefore met our fates. The dragons flew forward to meet us in Du Weldenvarden

Our first dangers were in the matter of damage. When we entered the first city, there were five swordsmen, which were clearly unprepared for Riders with such skill and speed. They were all gone within an instant, leaving us nearly unscathed, except for a touch on Roberta’s arm. She hadn’t even had time to draw her bow before Elemasti and I had pulled out our swords and were slashing at them hard. That was the first and foremost danger, one of the simplest and easiest challenges, probably easier than it was to plow an entire field of wheat without magic. We had to get ready for more devious challenges that could and nearly would destroy us.

Our second danger was something more serious. The swordsmen had somehow told Galbatorix or Murtagh or whoever was involved about us, for the next time we began fighting it was more serious. We were three, but fighting deviously, but there were fifteen swordsmen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. It was terrible, for they could crush us. We were outnumbered five to one, and if they came at us at once, there was nothing we could do. They had armour, swords that were clearly matching their fighting style, and more importantly numbers. But what could we do. The answer came soon enough. Terrible tactics. Had they fought us all at once, we could have been defeated, but they came at us one by one, which gave us enough time that with a sword, we could spike them all at once, and soon they lay dead in front. This would be an incredibly damaging prospect, but as usual, they were unprepared for any form of attack.

Our third danger was even worse. We were nearly on our way to Du Weldenvarden, there were about two towns left, not including this one, when a huge danger came. There were thirty soldiers, armed and at the ready. There were also around ten archers, which would be incredibly difficult to stop. The man behind this was clearly prepared to take us down at any cost. These soldiers were strong and well, and were trained professionally, which meant that they could possibly destroy us almost immediately after we began fighting. This would be unfortunate. There were only five seconds left, five seconds to make a decision, whether it would be to fight or to run. I shared my thoughts with my peers and they all agreed it was certainly worth a try. I considered whether it would work. “Gath oro! (Summon Arrows!)”.

All of a sudden, all the arrows flew to me, meaning the archers were now useless. “Vergarí fjandi! (kill enemies)” Immediately, I felt my strength ebb. I was rooted to the spot, and for once I thought whether I had gone too far. But I had not. Soon, all the others had fallen dead on the ground, and so we were able to continue.

#Yao

A long time ago, when I was only four, I had been told a tale. Apparently, somewhere along the family line, there had been a great warrior that was my ancestor, and when he had just built our farm, which, back then, was in the middle of nowhere, a band of Urgals paired with wild animals decided to raid it and kill its inhabitants, but the great warrior, who had served under the King’s Army and was a decorated swordsmen, rode out on his horse and valiantly protected his wife and two children with his old sword and pike from the three wars he had participated in, along with his trained dogs.

I lay by the cackling fire, watching as my brother and sister fell asleep in a snap. For some reason, I wasn’t tired at all, and so I simply grabbed some of the burnt meat strips that was the main source of sustenance around here. The meat was dry, but good in some sort of weirded out way, and I ate the entire slab, letting the burnt flakes fall to the ground.

I knew it probably wasn’t the best decision, as we would need that food sooner or later. However, this was the first time I actually realized how grown I had become. No longer was I the youngster who enjoyed lavish foods like roast beef and potatoes, my standard had now become meat that was half overcooked and half raw. I had learned loads about how to survive in the wild, and I also realized that I was more hardened than before, and I had accepted my new life.

My eyes slowly closed, and I drifted into an unwanted sleep, full of dark dreams.

This time, I was the warrior, fighting the Urgals in my head, stabbing them with my pike, slashing them with my sword, and charging my dogs forward to attack the animals. I jumped off my horse, and landed with my spear impaling an Urgal’s body. I danced around, stabbing and dicing and thrusting, my tunic never even touching the ground.

Soon, I had captured four Urgals and executed them, and dumped their bodies next to the slain corpses of his comrades. My dogs rejoiced at the last wild animals falling to the ground, and I was standing triumphantly over my property…until I fell into a deep, dark pit, watching as my life slowly vanished.

I was crushed between two words: “Empire” and “Varden”.

I woke up, sweating and freaked out. I had pulled my sword out without knowing it, and my hand was still gripping the handle.

“Morning. How’d you sleep?” Eragon asked, spooning mush into my bowl.

“Not good,” I said, yawning.

“How could’ve when you were up making a fuss?” he teased. I threw my spoon at him, bonking him on the head.

Eragon responded by throwing handfuls of leftover squishy mold that Roberta had found and insisted we cook and eat. I chucked my bowl of mush at him, hitting him square in the face.

Before Roberta had arrived and lectured us both, we had covered each other head to toe in all sorts of disgusting things, ranging from what looked like bacteria infected bread porridge to random clumps of dirt mixed with insects and leaves. I wiped dirt from my mouth, revealing a grin, and Eragon let off a smile.

We hadn’t romped like that in a long, long time.

The next day, we set off for a town that would give us supplies. However, the moment we went through the gates, I could tell troops were planning an ambush. No one was helping us, no friendly pub owner was giving us hot plates of food. I took a look around, and found the signaling of a young plump man who was telling me to come over. Cautious and wary, I decided to have Eragon come with me and have Roberta cover, as she was the long-range arrow sniper.

Slowly, we descended towards a basement, carefully following the man’s every footsteps. He hadn’t said a word to us from the moment we greeted him, not about his name, who he was, not even what he was leading us to. However, the moment I smelled the welcoming scent of proper food, I rushed down, and seated myself at the only table there was to be found. A woman quietly handed me a plate of food, and set down a mug of beer for the man and another plate for Eragon. The man finally spoke.

“Hello, Rider. Hello, other Rider. You are in safe hands for now. I am Robert Williams, and you are currently in the basement under my house. The soldiers have been looking for you. They want your heads! I know you owe allegiance to the Varden, and even though I am indifferent to them, I despise the Empire. They killed my son four years ago because he was travelling to deliver a letter without a border pass. A dispute broke out, and the soldiers ganged up on him. I am a wealthy trader, and I will give you anything you need, along with warm beds to sleep in for as along as you need.”

As Eragon listed off everything we needed, I could see beef, mutton, vegetables, and gravy on my plate, alongside wild rice that had been seasoned with salt and pepper.

I almost slid the whole plate down my throat, then politely requested for seconds…and thirds…and fourths…and fifths. Eragon apologized, stating they hadn’t eaten a proper meal in years. After the wife heard what we had been surviving on, she invited Roberta in, and set about cooking us all a feast.

God bless those good people.

dufu

The food was good, the steak cooked, and the chicken properly roasted. We hadn’t had food like this in years. I tried to eat slowly, but I ended up eating faster than I had imagined. I speared a carrot on my fork. It was probably seven years since I had last eaten one, and considering the fact that I was thirteen, well… y’know. The horseradishes. I had never eaten horseradishes, and I had only recognised them because I had once seen a farmer trying to sell them. Apparently they were bitter as hell. That’s what Garrow said, at least. But they were delicious when they were caramelized (DISCLAIMER: I actually hate horseradishes).

Once we had finished eating, we were offered a room. We accepted, knowing that if we refused, we probably would not have any other shelter. So we went our different ways. In the morning, we went to the market, and traded off the few coins we had left for strips of dried meat, fruit and nuts. Then we made a few of our own dried meat strips, salted, of course, and set off into the wilderness once again.

I had just shot a rabbit when Eragon ran to me.
“ROBERTA! ROBERTA!” I turned around, slinging the rabbit on my shoulder.
“What?” I asked, a bit miffed that my shot hadn’t been my usual clean shot. Instead, it had caught the young buck through the neck, not the eye. Eragon was panting heavily.
“I can’t find Elesmati.”
“What! That’s all you disturbed me for?” I rolled my eyes. “He set off over there, I said, pointing to the right. I went back to shooting squirrels. That bastard had scared off all the rabbits in a five metre radius. Ugh. After I had shot two squirrels, I returned to camp.

#Bai

I had run off, feeling a little embarrassed in my way of going, but I searched and searched but still could not find Elesmati, who had maysteriously vanished, apparently into thin air. I tried to scry him, but all I could see was himself, and a few trees nearby. I could also just about glimpse the camp that we were in, which meant that he must have definitely not been far. ‘Finna’, I said, which would find him and track him down. He appeared not to be far, taken by ten soldiers, but his sword had been taken from him and he had been gagged, which meant that he could try any magic spells. That was a problem. Leaping up above the trees, I spotted him almost instantly, with a few soldiers around. But I could attack them directly with magic, which would be possibly hard, for they would certainly have wards if they were capturing him. From sudden inspiration, I grabbed a branch from a nearby tree and I threw it at one of the soldiers. It hovered just next to one person, who according to my mind, I brushed his mind and felt his energy wane, which meant I would soon be able to attack him. Soon, his wards fell off and I was able to kill him with magic. 

However, once the first was gone, the others would have noticed him, and when they crowded over him, I was able to pass Elesmati’s sword to him, which meant he could now attack the others. Soon, we were both gone and continued our journey. There were more ambushes along the way, mostly weak warriors who we could defeat. Despite this, when we were almost there, around a day’s more work, there was one final ambush. These were by ten strong fighters, who were also experienced with magic, and were therefore ready to fight us. They also had certain weapons, but I noticed one thing they did not have – wards. This would mean that if I could fight them with magic, I would be able to fight them with a weapon too, which would give us a chance. I attacked a person with my mind, and Roberta did too. Our combined forces began to push him away from his defences, and I forced him to kill himself. Meanwhile, Elesmati was busy swinging his sword about, with his strength he had already slain two, and with a jump I did too, which meant there were now six. Two were slain again with one arrow, a stunning attack, and soon later they were all dead. We did face many major incidents, such as a cut on the leg, but these were easily cured with magic. All in all, it was a good journey.