Chapter 3

Why do you think those two urgals were still in Yazuac?" Asked Eragon after they had been on the trail for a while. "There doesn't seem to be any reason for them to

have stayed behind."

"I suspect they deserted the main group to loot the town. What makes it odd is that, as far as I know, Urgals have gathered in force only two or three times in history. It's unsettling that they are doing it now."

"Do you think the Ra'zac caused the attack?"

"I don't know. The best thing we can do is continue away from Yazuac at the fastest pace we can muster. Besides, this is the direction the Ra'zac went: south."

Eragon agreed. "We still need provisions, however. Is there another town nearby?"

Brom shook his head. "No, but Saphira can hunt for us if we must survive on meat alone. This swath of trees may look small to you, but there are plenty of animals in it. Also, the river is the only

source of water for many miles around, so most of the plains animals come here to drink. So we won't starve."

Eragon remained quiet, satisfied with Brom's answer. As they rode, loud birds darted around them, and the river rushed by peacefully. It was a noisy place, full of life and energy. Finally, Eragon

asked, "How did that Urgal get you? Things were happening so

fast, I didn't see."

"Bad luck, really," grumbled Brom. "I was more than a match for

Him so he kicked Snowfire. And The idiot of a horse reared. That was all the Urgal needed to give me this gash.".

Brom scratched his chin before continuing. "I suppose you're ready to start your magic lessons. The fact that you've discovered it presents a thorny problem. Few know it, but every Rider could use magic, though with different strengths. Even at the height of their power, they kept the ability secret because it gave them an advantage over their enemies. Had everyone known about it, dealing with common people would have been difficult. Many think the king's magical powers come from the fact that he is a wizard or sorcerer. That's not true; it is

because he's a Rider."

"What's the difference? Doesn't the fact that I used magic to make me a sorcerer?"

"Not at all! A sorcerer, like a Shade, uses spirits to accomplish his will. That is totally different from your power. Nor does that make you an ordinary, run-of-the-mill magician, whose powers come without the aid of spirits or a dragon. And you're certainly not a witch or wizard who gets their powers from various potions and spells."

"Which brings me back to my original point: the problem you've presented. Young Riders like yourself were put through a strict regimen designed to strengthen their bodies and increase their mental control. This regimen continued for many months, occasionally years, until the Riders were deemed responsible enough to handle magic. Up until then, not one student was told of his potential powers. If one of them discovered magic by accident, they were

immediately taken away for private tutoring. It was rare for anyone to discover magic on his own," he inclined his head toward Eragon, "though they were never put under the same pressure you were."

"So then, how will you teach me then?"

"Since you seem to already have a good idea how magic works, we can skip a few steps and quite a few words. Ah, before it slips my mind while speaking the ancient language, it's impossible to practice deceit."

This caught Eragon's attention." So you're saying you can't lie while speaking the ancient language?"

"But don't take it for just that, the elves, for example, maintain they don't lie, which in a way is true. But they've perfected saying one thing and meaning something else. As a result, they often reveal only a part of the truth and keep the rest hidden. It takes a subtle mind to deal with their culture."

"Another thing, you never know how much energy a spell will cost until you cast a spell. And while you can heal yourself using magic, it takes up as much energy to do it on your own, tiring you for a few days."

"Still, if it's possible to heal myself or your arm using magic, is bringing someone back from the dead possible?"

Brom shook his head." This is one of the projects that riders were forbidden from trying. There is an abyss beyond life where magic means nothing. If you reach into it, your strength will flee you, and your soul will fade into darkness. Wizards, sorcerers, and riders have all failed and died on that threshold. So stick with what's possible-cut, bruises, maybe some broken bones-but definitely not dead people."

"It has a lot more rules than I originally thought."

"Exactly!" Said, Brom. "And if you don't understand what you're doing, you'll try something too big and die." He twisted in his saddle and swooped down, grabbing a handful of pebbles from the ground. With effort, he righted himself, the discarded all but one of the rocks." See this pebble?"

"Yes."

"Take it. "Eragon did and stared at the unremarkable lump. It was dull black, smooth, and as large as the end of his thumb. There were countless stones like it on the trail. "This is your training." Eragon looked back at him, confused. "I don't understand."

"Of course, you don't," said Brom impatiently: "That's why I'm teaching you and not the other way around. Now stop talking, or we'll never get anywhere. What I want you to do is lift the rock off your palm and hold it in the air for as long as you can. The words you're going to use are stenr reisa. Say them."

"Stenr reisa."

"Good. Go ahead and try."

Eragon focused on the pebble, effortlessly reaching into his power, allowing energy to flow out." Stern reisa." Not a moment later did the stone raise off his shining palm floating.

Brom nodded, not even remotely surprised after what he'd seen Eragon do so far." Now see how long you can hold it in the air."

It was only after ten minutes or so had passed did the pebble fall back into Eragon's hand. Which even surprised him.' So I guess my soul power isn't just benefiting my physical body it's also helping grow my innate magic power.'

"Well, that took a lot longer than expected. So do it again, but this time I'll begin teaching more words of the ancient language, along with their meanings.

He pointed at a small plant. "This is called delois." From there on, he instructed Eragon in the ancient language, giving him words to memorize, from vöndr, a thin, straight stick, to the morning star Aiedail.

They prepared for their usual spare that evening, with Brom using his left hand. Eragon stood to the opposite of him. Both of his hands loosely gripped the hilt of the crude wooden sword.

Not to be one who was defensive, Eragon started the battle by stomping the ground, propelling himself forward, canceling the distance between them. Then, he slashed at Brom's chest, who in return easily stave off the blow.

But as he wasn't expecting the amount of force behind the sword to be what it was, he was forced to step back to keep balance.

Eragon took this single moment to strike down townwards towards the old croon's head, who sidestepped out the way of the sword and, stepping inside Eragon's guard, finally put forward his first attack, a thrust towards his sternum. But Eragon was quick to jump back, only letting the sword hit the air in front of him.

Eragon nodded to himself.' So I guess only using the skills of the previous Eragon won't really do. Well, let's just up the ante a little. I guess his swords' gotta go since I don't want to injure the old man.'

And that he did; he waited for Brom to step forward swinging his sword only to cross swords with his student. And in the next moment, Brom thought his eyes deceive them. Eragon's sword seemed to split into three! He didn't even have time to react before all three blades but his own.

Crack!

His wooden sword snapped in half, nearly hitting him in the head.

"Enough! These sticks have reached the end of their use. Tomorrow we'll continue sparring but with our actual swords?"

"Won't we risk cutting each other apart by accident?"

"No, I have a spell that can dull our blades. But I will warn you ahead of time, while the swords won't cut us, they can still break bones. I would prefer to avoid that, so don't flail around like you normally do. A blow to the neck could prove fatal."

The days followed the same pattern. Eragon was absorbing everything about the ancient language. He quickly mastered the magic exercises Brom gave him, progressing on too much harder ones. In their sparring, they used actual swords, with Eragon showing more and more of his true skill, till their battles ended in ties as they would be too exhausted. Well, Brom would be, Eragon would pretend to be.

Saphira was also still growing well, but more slowly than before. Her extended flights, along with periodic hunts, kept her fit and healthy. She was taller than the horses now and much more longer. But, because of her size and the way her scales sparkled, she was altogether too visible. Brom and Eragon worried about it, but they could now convince her to allow dirt to obscure her scintillating hide.

They continued south, tracking the Ra'zac. They always seemed to stay a few steps ahead of them. With them finding some mark or print they left behind every few days or so.

There were also no signs of habitation along with the Minor or in the plains, leaving the three companions undisturbed as the days slipped by. This strange peace only seemed to confirm in his head that the shade controlling the urgals and the king were in cahoots.

Finally, they neared Daret, the first village since Yazuac. That night before they reached the village, Eragon's as Eragon was sleeping, he felt a strange presence brush against his mind. He didn't feel any ill will and allowed it to continue as it sent strange images to his mind.

He saw a young woman, bent over by sorrow, chained in a cold, hard cell. A beam of moonlight shone through a barred window set high in the wall and fell on her face. A single tear rolled down her cheek like a liquid diamond.

When he rose in the morning, he felt strange about the situation. The peculiar presence was one thing, but the images it sent were another. Maybe it wanted Eragon to find the woman and save her? Or perhaps it was the woman herself sending a cry for help? But she didn't seem conscious enough to do anything. And why did the images get sent to him?

"Who the fuck did I fuse with?" He muttered under his breath." This bastard is mixed up in so much shit and hasn't even done anything yet."