Chapter 9

"There are reasons for my secretiveness. I've tried to protect you by shielding you from forces that would tear you apart. But you've grown enough to see what is happening. There is a war raging in Alagaèsia between the Varden and the Empire. Their conflict, however, reaches far beyond any incidental armed clashes. They are locked in a titanic power struggle. It as you said, you are the first of the next generation of riders. As whoever controls the next generation of riders becomes the undisputed master of Alagaësia. In simpler terms this war is centered around you.

Eragon nodded. He'd already figured as much. It just showed how much sway the riders and their dragons had over the power in the land. But that posed another question. He mentioned the next generation of riders, meaning multiple. If there were no more dragons how would this generation come about.

"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 Alagaèsia." He said trying to vie for more information.

"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

"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?"

"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 and they arranged to have the eggs stolen."

"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 by human standards. He guessed it went to show how much dragons affected their riders, easily extending their lifetimes into generations.

"So?" asked Brom, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, he was old, but strong and cruel. He was one of the king's first followers and by far his most loyal. As there had been blood between us before, the hunt for the egg turned into a personal battle. When it was located in Gil'ead, I rushed there and fought Morzan for possession. It was a terrible contest, but in the end I slew him. During the conflict I was separated from Jeod. There was no time to search for him, so I took the egg and bore it to the Varden, who asked me to train whomever became the new Rider. I agreed and decided to hide in Carvahall—which I had been to several times before until the Varden contacted me. I was never summoned."

"Then how did Saphira's egg appear in the Spine? Was another one stolen from the king?" asked Eragon.

Brom grunted." Small chance of that. He has the remaining two guarded so thoroughly that it would be suicide to try and steal them. No, Saphira was taken from the Varden, and I think I know-how. To protect the egg, its guardian must have tried to send it to me with magic. The Varden haven't contacted me to explain how they lost the egg, so I suspect that their runners were intercepted by the Empire and the Ra'zac were sent in their place. I'm sure they were quite eager to find me, as I've managed to foil many of their plans."

"Then the Ra'zac didn't know about me when they arrived in Carvahall," said Eragon with wonder.

"That's right," replied Brom. "If that ass Sloan had kept his mouth shut, they might not have found out about you. Events could have turned out quite differently. In a way, I have you to thank for my life. If the Ra'zac hadn't become so preoccupied with you, they might have caught me unawares, and that would have been the end of Brom the storyteller. The only reason they ran was because I'm stronger than the two of them, especially during the day. They must have planned to drug me during the night, then question me about the egg."

"You sent a message to the Varden, telling them about me?"

"Yes. I'm sure they'll want me to bring you to them as soon as possible."

"But you're not going to, are you?"

Brom shook his head. "No, I'm not."

"Your quite the caring old man. Letting me go on this epic adventure helping me." Eragon said while raising an eyebrow. "Even though you could've just led me straight to the Varden and let me get wrapped up in all of their politics and internal struggles." He then shrugged his shoulders. "But I've already decided to join the Varden after killing the Ra'zac. I refuse to serve under Galbatorix. Plus I feel that I'm ready for the Varden."

Brom sighed. "Such bold words seem strange coming from you feels strange. But we will see what the future holds when the time comes."

As Cadoc plodded along, Eragon tried to recall when he had thought that Brom was a special man after seeing him possessing such an assortment of skills. And he was correct. The man's life seemed to be pretty damn hardcore. Even managing to kill not only the most powerful of the foresworn but also his dragon. All by himself, which by the standards of this world was quite astounding.

He told Saphira what he had learned. She was intrigued by Brom's revelations, but recoiled from the thought of being one of Galbatorix's possessions. At last she said,{Aren't you glad that you didn't stay in Carvahall? Think of all the interesting experiences you would have missed!}

Eragon rolled his eyes. 'Ah yes, I would've missed the clanking of iron boots as the king sent a literal army looking for me, yippee.'

-x-x-x-x-x-

When they stopped for the day, Eragon searched for water while Brom made dinner. He walked in a large circle, listening for a creek or spring. It was gloomy and damp between the trees. He found a stream a ways from the camp, then crouched on the bank and watched the water splash over the rocks, dipping in his fingertips. The icy mountain water swirled around his skin. But he ignored as an unusual print on the opposing stream bank caught his attention. It was oddly shaped and very large. Curious, he jumped across the stream and onto a rock shelf.

The print was pressed deeply into the ground a few feet away. It was the mark of a heavy, nail studded boot. Eragon instantly remembered the tracks that had surrounded the pile of bodies in Yazuac. "Urgal," he spat, focusing his his haki for a moment.

'It's at least a dozen of them, and their all fresh. Hmm… they'll be good nutrients, but first let me tell the others to be on alert.' He opening his mind to Saphira relaying his findings telling her to relay it to Brom, while made his way back.

By the time he had made it back, Brom had already packed up everything and was on Snowfire ready to take off at moments notice. He quickly hopped on Cadoc's back. The light was disappearing quickly, and the horses were tired, but they spurred them on without respite.

A mile from the camp, Brom halted." Listen," he said.

Eragon heard the faint call of a hunting horn behind them. As it fell silent, anticipation gripped him. "They must have found where we were," said Brom, "and probably Saphira's tracks. They will chase us now. It's not in their nature to let prey escape."

Then two horns winded. They were closer. "Our only chance is to run," said Brom. He raised his head to the sky, and his face blanked as he called Saphira. She rushed out of the night sky and landed. "Leave Cadoc. Go with her. You'll be safer," commanded Brom.

"What about you?" Eragon asked, while in his head planning what to do next.

"I'll be fine. Now go!" Eragon climbed onto Saphira while Brom lashed Snowfire and rode away with Cadoc. Saphira flew after him, flapping above the galloping horses. Eragon clung to Saphira. The horns blared nearby, as Brom crashed through the underbrush, forcing the horses to their limits.

The horns trumpeted in unison close behind him, then were quiet. Minutes passed. Where are the Urgals? wondered Eragon. A horn sounded, this time in the distance. He spread his haki while resting against Saphira's neck, while on the ground Brom slowed his head long rush. 'They are close, said Eragon.'

As if to prove his point a horn blasted directly underneath them. Eragon looked on passively, as Brom resumed his frenzied retreat. Horned Urgals, shouting with coarse voices, barreled along the trail on horses, swiftly gaining ground. They were almost in sight of Brom; the old man could not outrun them.

'Saphira they're going to overtake Brom soon. Stay hidden up here I'll cut them off.'

{What! They'll kill you-}

He spoke to her again, but his voice seemed to be more colder making the dragon shiver slightly. "Stay up here until I call you down. They haven't confirmed your existence. Stay with Brom, I'll be fine" And with that he leaned out the saddle and began free falling down.

His mind working overtime as he began using haki to survey everything around him. He smiled slightly it had been awhile since he could actually stretch his body with an actually fight. He positioned his feet towards the earth, coating them with haki, as he came crashing down into the leading urgals head.

A sickening crush reverberated into the surroundings as his feet crushed the urgals skull, sending brain matter everywhere. But this was only the beginning as using the body as a foothold, he tapped off the urgals shoulder shooting forward, brandishing Zar'roc.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Head were being detached from bodies as he flew past three urgals. He only stopped his forward charge by twisting and kicking another urgal in the chest, denting its armor, and sending it flying into the underbrush, while flipping backwards on his feet.

'That's five out of twelve down.'

As he landed the urgals finally could see what happened, as cries of surprise rang out in their rough language. Finally one of the urgals faced him and began speaking. "Our master wishes to speak with you human!" The muscle bound being spoke in deep, rolling guttural. Completely ignoring the five allies he just lost.

"Oh, your master wants to speak with me? What does a shade want to do with me? Oh, well it doesn't really matter I'll find out soon enough." As he finished his sentence he appeared beside the urgal that had spoke to him punching out with a hardened fist. Just like the first urgal to die, its head exploded.

Then he spun on his heels sending black blades of air to the remaining urgals. Bisecting them before they had a chance to react. He looked around making sure that they all died and that non got away.

He went from body to body, devouring each one. The more he consumed, the stronger he felt his body get. Even his magic capacity was growing. His muscles grew even more firmer. After finishing off the last one, he clenched his fist, feeling how much stronger he'd got.

"Eh, still very weak, but in the context of this world it will do." He looked around one more time before and decided to go ahead and create an alibi for himself. "Brisingr" A wall of blue flames shot out, burning the surrounding greenery, scorching the scene.

He sheathed his blood red sword, and began absent mindedly walking towards where Brom and Saphira were at. He walked at a slow pace as he had a few lifetimes worth of memories to go through and organize.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Eragon! What you did was extremely dangerous and reckless. I would've been fine." Brom yelled as he saw Eragon come into site.

Eragon shook his head. "No you wouldn't. They were almost onto of you, and just like you said they aren't ones to usually let prey go. I was able to take them all out as they were holding back trying to take me to meet their master. I tried asking them who it is but they refused to tell me. I used this moment to attack and was able to kill them all."

Brom was silent for a moment before releasing a sigh. "While it is good your unharmed, what they said is somewhat alarming. Whoever is leading the urgals knows of you somewhat."

Eragon nodded. "Enough to send a dozen urgals to bring me to them. Even though they didn't see Saphira, they were still able to recognize me, which is quite worrisome if they know what I look like or even somewhat know what I look like."

"Indeed it is," Brom said while nodding gravely. "Whenever we get to Dras-Leona, you'll have to wear a disguise." Eragon nodded.

"Let's set up camp for the night. We're both tired from the day and the horses are going to drop if they don't get any rest soon."

-x-x-x-x-x-

The next day was easier on both of them. With Eragon mentioned the his dreams of the woman.

"Did you see her face?" asked Brom intently.

"Not very clearly. The lighting was bad, yet I could tell that she was beautiful. It's strange; I didn't have any problem seeing her eyes. And she did look at me."

Brom shook his head. "As far as I know, it's impossible for anyone to know if they're being scryed upon."

[Author Note: Scrying is using magic to see someone. But you must know how they look and you can't see their surroundings unless you've been there before. That's why Eragon and Brom refer to it to Scying. While Eragon knows someone is showing him these images, Brom doesn't.]

"I've noticed as of late how many strange things happen around me," He said shaking his head in exasperation. "I guess I can add it to the list."

Brom chuckled, finding humor in his young companion misfortune. This dream of yours is peculiar. Somehow you managed to scry in your sleep something that you'd never seen before—without saying the words of power. Dreams do occasionally touch the spirit realm, but this is different."

Brom strict training filled nearly every hour as the days slowly blended into weeks. By the time they crossed the Spine and came to the plains, spring had crept over Alagaèsia, summoning a multitude of flowers. The bare deciduous trees were russet with buds, while new blades of grass began to push up between last year's dead stalks. Birds returned from their winter absence to mate and build nests.

The travelers followed the Toark River southeast, along the edge of the Spine. It grew steadily as tributaries flowed into it from every side, feeding its bulging girth. When the river was over a league wide, Brom pointed at the silt islands that dotted the water.

"We're close to Leona Lake now," he said. "It's only about two leagues away."

"Do you think we can get there before nightfall?" asked Eragon.

"We can try."

Dusk soon made the trail hard to follow, but the sound of the river at their side guided them. When the moon rose, the bright disk provided enough light to see what lay ahead. Leona Lake looked like a thin sheet of silver beaten over the land. The water was so calm and smooth it did not even seem to be liquid. Aside from a bright strip of moonlight reflecting off the surface, it was indistinguishable from the ground. Saphira was on the rocky shore, fanning her wings to dry them. Eragon greeted her and she said, {The water is lovely- deep, cool, and clear.}

'Maybe I'll go swimming tomorrow', he responded.

They set up camp under a stand of trees and were soon asleep. At dawn, Eragon took off in a jog to see the lake in daylight. A white-capped expanse of water rippled with fan-shaped patterns where wind brushed it. He felt the size was on the smaller end, but would be a good swim.

Saphira was already there waiting for him. And with a powerful leap he was on her back. She took to the skies circling above the lake, but even at that height, he couldn't see the other side of the lake.

'Would you like to take a bath?' Eragon casually asked Saphira.

She grinned wolfishly. {Hold on!} She locked her wings and sank to the waves, clipping the crests with her claws. The water sparkled in the sunlight as they sailed over it. Eragon whooped again. Then Saphira folded her wings and dived into the lake, her head and neck entering it like a lance.

The water hit Eragon like an icy wall, knocking out his breath and almost tearing him off Saphira. He held on tightly as she swam to the surface. With three strokes of her feet, she breached it and sent a burst of shimmering water toward the sky. Eragon began regulating his breathing and shook his hair as Saphira slithered across the lake, using her tail as a rudder. {Ready?}

Eragon nodded and took a deep breath, tightening his arms. This time they slid gently under the water. They could see for yards through the unclouded liquid. Saphira twisted and turned in fantastic shapes, slipping through the water like an eel. Eragon felt as if he were riding a sea serpent.

Just as his lungs started to cry for air, Saphira arched her back and pointed her head upward. An explosion of droplets haloed them as she leapt into the air, wings snapping open. With two powerful flaps she gained altitude.

'That was fun, exclaimed Eragon.

{Yes}, said Saphira happily. {Though it's a pity you can't hold your breath longer.}

'I wonder If I can do something about that,' he said, pressing water out of his hair. His clothes were drenched. Once Eragon was dry, he and Brom saddled the horses and started around Leona Lake in high spirits while Saphira playfully dived in and out of the water.

Before dinner, Eragon and Brom did their usually routine of blocking their swords edges in preparation of their nightly spare. But today was different as Eragon was going to hold back slightly less, which on context was more than enough.

Before soul merging with Eragon, Bradley had been trained in various sword styles from across various worlds. And due to being constantly mixed up in warfare, he had plenty of chances to test, train, in hone them in battle against actual people. Helping him reach a high standard in swordsmanship. High enough to beat some of the people who made them with their own techniques.

So even when holding back hit it was still a bit overkill. He stood still holding his sword in almost a lackluster manner, leaving many openings in his stance. And even though Brom felt something was off about the situation, he decided to try to test the waters with a simple slash.

But what happened next he couldn't understand. Because as Eragon began countering him, he felt as if he'd lost control of his sword. It felt as if Eragon was controlling it with his mind. Within five blows his sword flew from his hands, flying out of his grip as if someone had yanked it away from him.

He looked at Brom who now had a sword press against his throat. Eragon slowly lowered his arm and backed away. Brom picked up his sword and sheathed it. Still breathing hard, he said,

"We're done for today."

"But we just started," said Eragon, raising an eyebrow

Brom shook his head. "I can teach you nothing more of the sword. Of all the fighters I've met, only three of them could have defeated me like that." He smiled ruefully. "I may not be as young as I used to be, but I can tell that you're a talented and rare swordsman,"

"Does that mean we're not going to spare every night?" Eragon asked.

"Oh, you're not getting out of it," laughed Brom. "But we'll go easier now. It's not as important if we miss a night here or there." He wiped his brow. "Just remember, if you ever have the misfortune to fight an elf—trained or not, female or male expect to lose. They, along with dragons and other creatures of magic, are many times stronger than nature intended. Even the weakest elf could easily overpower you. The same goes for the Ra'zac-they are not

human and tire much more slowly than we do."

"Is that so?" asked Eragon. He was even more interested in finding the ra'zac to see just how strong they were.

cross-legged by Saphira.

{You fought well,} she said. He smiled.

Brom seated himself with a shrug. "There are a few ways to become their equal, but none are available to you now. Magic will let you defeat all but the strongest enemies. For those you'll need Saphira's help, plus a great deal of luck. Remember, when creatures of magic actually use magic, they can accomplish things that could kill a human, because of their enhanced abilities."

"How do you fight with magic?" asked Eragon.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he said, leaning on an elbow. "Suppose I was attacked by a Shade. How could I block his magic? Most spells take place instantaneously, which makes it impossible to react in time. And even if I could, how would I nullify an enemy's magic? It seems I would have to know my opponent's intention before he acted." He paused. "I just don't see how it can be done. Whoever attacked first would win."

Brom sighed. "What you are talking about—a 'wizards' duel,' if you will—is extremely dangerous. Haven't you ever wondered how Galbatorix was able to defeat all of the Riders with the help of only a dozen or so traitors?"

"I never thought about it," acknowledged Eragon.

"There are several ways. Some you'll learn about later, but the main one is that Galbatorix was, and still is, a master of breaking into people's minds. You see, in a wizards' duel, there are strict rules that each side must observe or else both contestants will die. To begin with, no one uses magic until one of the participants gains access to the other's mind."

Saphira curled her tail comfortably around Eragon and asked, {Why wait? By the time an enemy realizes that you've attacked, it will be too late for him to act.} Eragon repeated the question out loud.

Brom shook his head. "No, it won't. If I were to suddenly use my power against you, Eragon, you would surely die, but in the brief moment before you were destroyed, there would be time for a counterattack. Therefore, unless one combatant has a death wish, neither side attacks until one of them has breached the other's defenses."

"Then what happens?" Eragon inquired.

Brom shrugged and said, "Once you're inside your enemy's mind, it's easy enough to anticipate what he will do and prevent it. Even with that advantage, it's still possible to lose if you don't know how to counteract spells." He filled and lit his pipe. "And that requires extraordinarily quick thinking. Before you can defend yourself, you have to understand the exact nature of the forces directed at you. If you're being attacked with heat, you have to know whether it is being conveyed to you through air, fire, light, or some other medium. Only once that's known can you combat the magic by, for instance, chilling the heated material."

"It sounds difficult."

"Extremely," confirmed Brom. A plume of smoke rose from his pipe. "Seldom can people survive such a duel for more than a few seconds. The enormous amount of effort and skill required condemns anyone without the proper training to a quick death. Once you've progressed, I'll start teaching you the necessary methods. In the meantime, if you ever find yourself facing a wizards' duel, I suggest you run away as fast as you can."

Eragon nodded his head in agreement, but was really trying to figure out it was some way to counter this. He felt confident he could overwhelm anybodies mind, but they might cast a spell he didn't know.