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Chapter one: The Rogue Rider
Am I really the next rider?
Could I be the one who stops Galbatorix?
"Eragon?"
What was it exactly the dragon did to my hand?
"Eragon!"
Was Brom right abou-
"ERAGON!"
Eragon was jolted from his thoughts by the beautiful barmaid.
"Come on Eragon, you can't keep spacing out like that!" Her British accent was thick with worry. She rubbed her overly large belly.
"Ooh, Baby's acting up again…" She whispered. Eragon gave her a warm smile.
"Sorry Ellie, I've got a lot on my mind. I'll have a pint of ale please." Ellie nodded her head and walked to another table.
Eragon let his eyes wander, until he spotted a woman at a lone table in the far corner of the room. She was shrouded in black, a hood obscuring her face. Her legs were crossed, and the hilt of a dagger protruded from her right boot. Her body seemed to have been carved by angels. Perfect curves beneath a black leather corset made her look even more stunning. Even though Eragon could not see her face, he felt as if she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
When Ellie returned with Eragon's Ale, he gently pulled her arm, beckoning her closer. "Ellie, who is that woman in the far corner?" Ellie looked to where Eragon had indicated.
"That's the Rogue that's staying in the Inn. She showed up last night around midnight." Eragon looked at her again, she watched him diligently while sipping her ale.
"That's when the egg hatched!" Eragon still stared at her
"Her name is Rogue?" Ellie shook her head
"No, she didn't say her name; she just said she was a Rogue Rider. I guess she must have an important horse or something…I mean for her to be a rider and all. It looks like she's taken a fancy to you Eragon…and Brom as well." Eragon looked up at Ellie again.
"Why Brom?" Ellie put her tray under her arm.
"As soon as I gave her the key to her room she asked if a man named Brom lived here. I told her his just a poor story teller with nothing to live for. She just gave a strange grin and went to her room. Almost as if she was happy to hear that Brom was nothing more than an old man with nothing to do with his life than to tell silly stories." Ellie shrugged her shoulders and left. After Eragon finished his drink, he threw a few coins on the table and left. The woman in the corner following him with her eyes all the way out.
She was sure it was him. She felt the presence of the egg last night and knew it was here. After the boy left, she stood and followed him out of the pub. Sticking to the shadows, she watched him go down the road and out of town. She noted the road, and then entered the Inn.
Days turned into weeks…weeks into months…then finally, two and a half months later…the traders had come. Eragon's dragon, Saphira was almost full grown and flying, although it was getting harder and harder to hide her. And for some reason, he always felt as if someone was following him. Everywhere he went he could feel a strange presence.
The town gathered at the fields of the traders, men who came once a year to trade their wares. A ring of poles topped with candles had been stuck into the ground around a large clearing. Bonfires blazed in the background. The villagers slowly gathered around the circle and waited expectantly.
The woman Eragon had met two and a half months ago leaned against a pole, hood drawn, waiting for a certain person to show up. He instantly felt her eyes on him when he took a seat around the circle.
The old story teller Brom entered the middle of the large circle. He was an older man, looked almost in his forties, and had a handsome look to him. He had short salt and pepper hair, and goatee. His eyes showed a look of great despair, a look any man of war would have. His cloths were tattered, his face haggard. A long black cloak, exactly the same as the Rogue's was wrapped about his shoulders. He spread his arms with hands that reached out like talons and began to recite the tale of the dragon Riders. His voice was harsh, rugged with years of use.
"Our beautiful lands have been ravaged by a ruthless king. And our people live under the shadow of tyranny. It wasn't always like that. There was a time when the fierce and beautiful land of Alagaësia was ruled by men astride mighty dragons. To protect and serve was their mission, and for thousands of years, the people prospered. But the riders grew arrogant, and began to fight among themselves for power. Sensing their weakness, a young rider named Galbatorix betrayed them, and in a single bloody battle, believed he had killed them all, riders and dragons alike. Since then, our land has been ruled by Galbatorix. They are nothing but stories now. All we have is hope that a dragon will be born again…and one will rise to bring us to freedom again." Brom seemed to be staring at someone in particular. The Rogue noticed it was the boy she suspected to be the next rider. Sensing that Brom knew it too she began to put her plan in motion.
Eragon and Brom were staring at each other for what felt like forever, until a loud clap echoed through out the clearing, breaking the awkward silence. Brom looked to the hooded figure that slowly made her way through the crowd.
"Is that how the story goes Brom, or are you sugar coating the gruesome details for these poor farm folk. PEOPLE, DO NOT BELIEVE WHAT THIS MAN TELLS YOU! He himself is not all that he appears." She pointed an accusing finger at him.
Brom's eyes narrowed. "Who are you? Show your face!" The hooded figure chuckled menacingly.
"Now…I go by The Rogue Rider, but as a child some called me Sophie...surely Brom after seventeen years, you have not forgotten that name!" Brom's face showed a brief moment of fear and denial, but soon turned back into anger.
"SHOW YOURSELF!" The figures hands slowly went up to her hood. Slowly she removed it, showing the most beautiful face Carvahall has ever seen. She had high cheek bones, and slanted eyes. Her stride was graceful and elongated, giving her a sense of floating. She had snow white hair, Strange for her young age of seventeen, that obscuring the left side of her face, and falling in layers to her shoulders. Peaking out from under her glistening white hair, were pointed ears. Brom felt tears well up in his eyes.
"No!" He whispered. The crowd whispered at his reaction. The male teens in the audience still stared at the Rogue's beauty.
"Brom?" Brom stared at the ground, tears falling from his eyes. The Rogue shook her head.
"Brom!" He lifted his head and glared at her. She pulled a shiny silver object out of her corset. Throwing it at Brom she turned to leave.
"The time has come Brom; you will know where to find me…and the boy." The crowd whispered immensely. The woman replaced her hood, and walked away from the encampment. Eragon, still confused and bewildered at her beauty, wondered what she meant when she said 'the boy'. Brom's eyes lingered at the shiny metal object in his hand. A chain dangled down from it, reflecting the dancing flames of the fire.
The crowd began to disperse, murmurs of the Rogue hung in the crisp night air. No one except for Eragon and Brom were left. Eragon began to stand.
"Brom…are you…" Brom fisted the object and closed his eyes tight.
"Eragon…leave me be! Just go! I believe there are more important matters for you to deal with besides my past. GO!" Eragon jumped at Brom's scream. Doing as he was told, Eragon left the encampment, and walked back to the village.
As he passed the Inn, Someone stepped out of the shadows. It was the Rogue.
"Sophie? That is your name, is it not?" The Rogue chuckled, removing her hood. She leaned against the wall and looked Eragon up and down.
"My name is of no importance…what about you…do you know your true name? I thought not. Poor Eragon, cast under Brom's silly spell. You think the tales about the riders went over as easily as the old man put it?"
Eragon swallowed hard and nodded his head. "Hmm. Listen to me Eragon…there is a war brewing, far off in our distant future, you will have to make a great decision. You will ask yourself, will I choose between family…or freedom." Eragon stepped back.
"What do you know?" He asked accusingly, fear in his eyes. The Rogue smiled as she reached down and pulled the dagger out of her boot. Eragon's eyes flashed with fear. He felt a twinge of pain in his hand, the one the dragon touched. The Rogue stepped closer to him, backing him up against the wall. Although Eragon was taller, she instilled fear within every fiber of his being.
"Don't move…" was all she said.