Eragon [en]

“I heard someone mention them in Teirm. They’re not real, are they?” said Eragon, pretending ignorance.

“They are quite real. During the Riders’ years of glory, they were as renowned as the dragons. Kings and elves kept them as companions — yet the werecats were free to do what they chose. Very little has ever been known about them. I’m afraid that their race has become rather scarce recently.”

“Could they use magic?” asked Eragon.

“No one’s sure, but they could certainly do unusual things. They always seemed to know what was going on and somehow or another manage to get themselves involved.” Brom pulled his hood up to block a chill wind.

“What’s Helgrind?” asked Eragon, after a moment’s thought.

“You’ll see when we get to Dras-Leona.”

When Teirm was out of sight, Eragon reached out with his mind and called, Saphira! The force of his mental shout was so strong that Cadoc flicked his ears in annoyance.

Saphira answered and sped toward them with all of her strength. Eragon and Brom watched as a dark blur rushed from a cloud, then heard a dull roar as Saphira’s wings flared open. The sun shone behind the thin membranes, turning them translucent and silhouetting the dark veins. She landed with a blast of air.

Eragon tossed Cadoc’s reins to Brom. “I’ll join you for lunch.”

Brom nodded, but seemed preoccupied. “Have a good time,” he said, then looked at Saphira and smiled. “It’s good to see you again.”

And you too.

Eragon hopped onto Saphira’s shoulders and held on tightly as she bounded upward. With the wind at her tail, Saphira sliced through the air. Hold on, she warned Eragon, and letting out a wild bugle, she soared in a great loop. Eragon yelled with excitement as he flung his arms in the air, holding on only with his legs.

I didn’t know I could stay on while you did that without being strapped into the saddle, he said, grinning fiercely.

Neither did I, admitted Saphira, laughing in her peculiar way. Eragon hugged her tightly, and they flew a level path, masters of the sky.

By noon his legs were sore from riding bareback, and his hands and face were numb from the cold air. Saphira’s scales were always warm to the touch, but she could not keep him from getting chilled. When they landed for lunch, he buried his hands in his clothes and found a warm, sunny place to sit. As he and Brom ate, Eragon asked Saphira, Do you mind if I ride Cadoc? He had decided to question Brom further about his past.

No, but tell me what he says. Eragon was not surprised that Saphira knew his plans. It was nearly impossible to hide anything from her when they were mentally linked. When they finished eating, she flew away as he joined Brom on the trail. After a time, Eragon slowed Cadoc and said, “I need to talk to you. I wanted to do it when we first arrived in Teirm, but I decided to wait until now.”

“About what?” asked Brom.

Eragon paused. “There’s a lot going on that I don’t understand. For instance, who are your ‘friends,’ and why were you hiding in Carvahall? I trust you with my life — which is why I’m still traveling with you — but I need to know more about who you are and what you are doing. What did you steal in Gil’ead, and what is the tuatha du orothrim that you’re taking me through? I think that after all that’s happened, I deserve an explanation.”

“You eavesdropped on us.”

“Only once,” said Eragon.

“I see that you have yet to learn proper manners,” said Brom grimly, tugging on his beard. “What makes you think that this concerns you?”

“Nothing, really,” said Eragon shrugging. “Just it’s an odd coincidence that you happened to be hiding in Carvahall when I found Saphira’s egg and that you also know so much dragonlore. The more I think about it, the less likely it seems. There were other clues that I mostly ignored, but they’re obvious now that I look back. Like how you knew of the Ra’zac in the first place and why they ran away when you approached. And I can’t help but wonder if you had something to do with the appearance of Saphira’s egg. There’s a lot you haven’t told us, and Saphira and I can’t afford to ignore anything that might be dangerous.”

Dark lines appeared on Brom’s forehead as he reined Snowfire to a halt. “You won’t wait?” he asked. Eragon shook his head mulishly. Brom sighed. “This wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t so suspicious, but I suppose that you wouldn’t be worth my time if you were otherwise.” Eragon was unsure if he should take that as a compliment. Brom lit his pipe and slowly blew a plume of smoke into the air. “I’ll tell you,” he said, “but you have to understand that I cannot reveal everything.” Eragon started to protest, but Brom cut him off. “It’s not out of a desire to withhold information, but because I won’t give away secrets that aren’t mine. There are other stories woven in with this narrative. You’ll have to talk with the others involved to find out the rest.”

“Very well. Explain what you can,” said Eragon.

“Are you sure?” asked Brom. “There are reasons for my secretiveness. I’ve tried to protect you by shielding you from forces that would tear you apart. Once you know of them and their purposes, you’ll never have the chance to live quietly. You will have to choose sides and make a stand. Do you really want to know?”

“I cannot live my life in ignorance,” said Eragon quietly.

“A worthy goal... Very well: there is a war raging in Alagaesia between the Varden and the Empire. Their conflict, however, reaches far beyond any incidental armed clashes. They are locked in a titanic power struggle... centered around you.”

“Me?” said Eragon, disbelieving. “That’s impossible. I don’t have anything to do with either of them.”

“Not yet,” said Brom, “but your very existence is the focus of their battles. The Varden and the Empire aren’t fighting to control this land or its people. Their goal is to control the next generation of Riders, of whom you are the first. Whoever controls these Riders will become the undisputed master of Alagaesia.”

Eragon tried to absorb Brom’s statements. It seemed incomprehensible that so many people would be interested in him and Saphira. No one besides Brom had thought he was that important. The whole concept of the Empire and Varden fighting over him was too abstract for him to grasp fully. Objections quickly formed in his mind. “But all the Riders were killed except for the Forsworn, who joined Galbatorix. As far as I know, even those are now dead. And you told me in Carvahall that no one knows if there are still dragons in Alagaesia.”

“I lied about the dragons,” said Brom flatly. “Even though the Riders are gone, there are still three dragon eggs left — all of them in Galbatorix’s possession. Actually there are only two now, since Saphira hatched. The king salvaged the three during his last great battle with the Riders.”

“So there may soon be two new Riders, both of them loyal to the king?” asked Eragon with a sinking feeling.

“Exactly,” said Brom. “There is a deadly race in progress. Galbatorix is desperately trying to find the people for whom his eggs will hatch, while the Varden are employing every means to kill his candidates or steal the eggs.”

“But where did Saphira’s egg come from? How could anyone have gotten it away from the king? And why do you know all of this?” asked Eragon, bewildered.

“So many questions,” laughed Brom bitterly. “There is another chapter to all this, one that took place long before you were born. Back then I was a bit younger, though perhaps not as wise. I hated the Empire — for reasons I’ll keep to myself — and wanted to damage it in any way I could. My fervor led me to a scholar, Jeod, who claimed to have discovered a book that showed a secret passageway into Galbatorix’s castle. I eagerly brought Jeod to the Varden — who are my ‘friends’—and they arranged to have the eggs stolen.”

The Varden!

“However, something went amiss, and our thief got only one egg. For some reason he fled with it and didn’t return to the Varden. When he wasn’t found, Jeod and I were sent to bring him and the egg back.” Brom’s eyes grew distant, and he spoke in a curious voice. “That was the start of one of the greatest searches in history. We raced against the Ra’zac and Morzan, last of the Forsworn and the king’s finest servant.”

“Morzan!” interrupted Eragon. “But he was the one who betrayed the Riders to Galbatorix!”And that happened so long ago! Morzan must have been ancient. It disturbed him to be reminded of how long Riders lived.

“So?” asked Brom, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, he was old, but strong and cruel. He was one of the king’s first