Brom was born in the city of Kuasta, which was separated from the rest of the Broddring Kingdom by the Spine, an impressive range of mountains that ran the length of Alagaesia. Because of its isolation, Kuasta was a peculiar place, full of strange customs and superstitions. Its citizens knock on a door frame three times before leaving or entering a room, carve strange runes into their walls to keep away mischievous spirits, and once a year gather a collection of food and other materials, which they cast into the sea. In the 500th year of the House of Langfield, two illuminators, Holcomb and Nelda, begot a son and named him Brom, after Nelda's grandfather. Though Holcomb and Nelda were average artists by the standards of the time, the artisans of Kuasta were famed throughout the kingdom, and many people sent their manuscripts and decorative pieces to be illustrated and engraved, and Brom's parents received enough work to occupy large amounts of their time. Though there was always food on the table and Brom's clothes were always cleaned and stored away for him, he grew independent of the rest of his family at a very young age. By six years, he was walking through the streets himself, and by age nine, he had memorized much of the city and prided himself on his vast knowledge.
Brom also strove to keep himself healthy and fit. By eight years, he ran three miles through the gentle hills surrounding the city every other day, and after a neighbor who had served in the army mentioned that fighting could tone his entire body, he began his apprenticeship in martial arts, training with the man every day he wasn't running. The man's words soon proved to be true, and Brom threw himself into the exercises enthusiastically. Though he didn't know it at the time, the discipline and endurance he gained by running and the skills he acquired through martial training would serve him throughout his entire life.
In the second month of his ninth year, Brom was walking through the streets of Kuasta, in the southwestern quadrant. As he strode quickly through a dark alley to another, more brightly-lit street on the other side, a boy stepped out of the shadows, a blade flashing in his hand. Quick reflexes saved Brom from injury. He twisted and fell back, narrowly avoiding the knife. Brom quickly rolled to his feet and analyzed the situation. The boy who had tried to cut him was only a few years older than Brom, maybe twelve. From behind him, two other boys appeared, a little younger than the first. A quick glance behind him confirmed Brom's suspicions that he was indeed surrounded; two more boys stood blocking the way he had come. Brom studied their faces and recognized them from one of Kuasta's two gangs. The two gangs fought each other viscously over control of the city, though neither truly could affect the real governing of the city, for if they challenged the rulers of the city openly, a Dragon Rider would be summoned and the rebellion would be crushed in an instant. However, the two gangs fought for their turf, where they could cut purses and cut throats without interference or competition. Deaths were uncommon, or else the leaders of the city would never allow the organizations to remain for long. However, the gangs were still very dangerous.
"What do you want from me?" asked Brom of the boy with the knife. He slid forward slightly, talking to distract the older boy from his movements. "If you want my money, here, take it." Brom pulled a small pouch inside his robe and tossed onto the ground in front of the gang-member. The few copper coins inside clinked pitifully. "I have nothing else." The entire time Brom talked, he moved slowly but steadily forward, making eye contact with the knife-wielder so that he could not see the concentrate on the motion of Brom's body. The boy glanced at the pouch and gestured at one of the boys behind him. The younger boy swiftly obeyed, kneeling beside the boy and reaching for the pouch. It was then that Brom made his move.
Brom leapt forward and kicked the kneeling boy in the head. Before the knife-wielder could react, Brom had grabbed the wrist holding the knife and stepped back, locking the boys arm. With all the force he could muster, Brom slammed his open palm into the boy's locked elbow. With a soft cry of pain, the knife clattered out of the boy's hand. Brom closed his hand around the boy's elbow, grabbing it firmly, and pushed down on it just as he pulled the hand holding the boy's wrist up. The boy instinctively bent over to relieve the pressure on his arm, and from there Brom swung his knee up and slammed it right into the boy's face, dropping him to the ground.
As the kid dropped to the ground, Brom went with him, crouching down as another blade passed over his head, right where he had been a second earlier. While he was on the ground, Brom grabbed the knife the first boy had dropped. He pivoted, slashed at the other knife-wielder's legs. The boy went down, and as he fell, Brom rose, his knife sticking up. They met in the middle; the knife penetrating the boy's mid-section. The boy cried out with the pain, and continued to fall. The knife jerked out of Brom's hand, and Brom reached full height, weaponless. He turned so his back was to the wall, and faced off against his other two opponents.
One stepped forward and swung his fist at Brom's head. Brom raised his arm and blocked the blow. He stepped in toward the boy, arms still raised, and punched the boy right in the face as hard as he could. As his fist made contact, he felt cartilage give under his hand as the boy's nose broke. The kid went reeling backward, and Brom turned his attention to the last boy. This one looked uncertain; Brom could see it in his eyes. He glanced around at the other bodies around him and tried to retreat. Brom never gave him the chance. As soon as the boy looked away, Brom had leapt forward, and by the time the boy looked back, Brom was upon him. He thrust out powerfully with his right leg and hit the last gang-member squarely in the chest, sending him flying backward.
Brom looked around him at the five bodies arrayed around him, some groaning, some moving weakly, one completely still. The tension gradually leaked out of Brom's muscles, and he decided it was time to run. He bent down, scooped up his coin-pouch, and ran down the alley into the more brightly lit streets. He hurried toward his house, and once he reached it, he went straight inside, locked all the doors, and closed the shutters of all the windows. He had just made a number of enemies, and he knew he would have to lay low for a long while.
Despite the danger, Brom was still able to sneak out of the city three or four days a week in order to run, and to see his martial arts instructor on the rest of the days. The skills had served him well, and he wasn't going to abandon them now. He told no one what had happened, and late at night he struggled with his conscience, knowing that he had killed one of the boys with the knife.
Brom lived this way for several months. Instead of walking through the streets and exploring, as he usually did, Brom read. His parents had taught him how several years earlier, but it wasn't until now that he put the skill to use. Every book that entered the house for his parents to illustrate would be consumed by Brom before it left. He read all he could and lost himself in the seas of knowledge for hours and hours.
His favorite things to read were histories that involved great battles and he relished tales of dragons and their Riders. He knew those tales must be true, for he saw the proof everyday: colorful dragons flying through the sky, statues and markers throughout the city, and many other confirming accounts of the events. He enjoyed an account of Du Fyrn Skulblaka (the elven war with the dragons) so much he read it twice more before letting his parents send it back, even though it was many hundreds of pages in length.
Brom's life passed in this way for some months until the day he turned ten years old.
The night before his birthday, Brom's mother, Nelda, urged him to retire to bed early. Brom was lost in an epic battle between elves and Urgals and wasn't paying attention. Nelda repeated herself. This time the words broke through and Brom looked up. "What? No! Please, Mom, can't I—".
"I agree with your mother," Holcomb said from across the room, where he sat at a well-lit worktable covered in tiny tools, colorings, and objects needing illumination. "You have a big day tomorrow."
Brom began a litany of well-rehearsed complaints, excuses, and compromises. Before he could get too far, however, his mother interrupted. She said, "You need to be at your best for the Riders tomorrow."
Brom broke off mid-word. He looked at his mother questioningly, but his father was the one who answered instead. "Ah, yes. We forgot to tell you earlier Brom; the summons came a couple of days ago. Just like all other human children, you will go through the Dragon Rider examination on your tenth birthday. Most likely they will just speak to you for awhile before sending you on your way and life will continue as normal. That's what happened for your mother and me. However, if the Riders deem you worthy, you will join their ranks with a dragon of your own."
After hearing this, Brom went to bed without any more arguments. However, he lay in bed without sleep for two more hours, thrumming with excitement and nervousness, before he finally fell into a deep slumber.
Brom dreamt of dragons. Flying, fighting, resting, eating, and mating. Big and small, bright and dull, male and female. Partway through his dream, a blue female dragon he was watching turned and roared at him, startling him awake. He sat up in bed and looked around. The sound seemed so real. And then he realized it was real. The sound of a real roar from a real dragon could be heard echoing over the city. It could be heard clearly, but he didn't think it was loud enough for it to have woken him up. Puzzled, Brom looked through his window at the sky and the stars, drawing on knowledge he had gained from a book of constellations and their corresponding legends to determine the time. It was exactly midnight. He was ten years old.
Brom rose with the sun. His mother woke up a little later and then made him a large breakfast. Even though it was some of his favorite foods, Brom was only able to eat a little of it because he was so nervous. He paced around the house for a little while until, at the urging of his mother, he sat down at the worktable and set ink to paper and colored the drawn image. The process cleared his mind and calmed him down. He sketched and colored until it was time to go. As he stood to leave, he looked at the image. It was one of the best he had ever drawn. It was a portrait of the blue female dragon from his dream.
His parents offered to walk him to the Rider's Compound, but Brom respectfully declined their offer. He felt this was something he had to do on his own, and he knew the way to the Rider's compound well enough. He made his way cautiously out into the streets of Kuasta, keeping watch for any members of the gang he had fought. Even though it would be quicker to take side roads and back alleys, Brom stuck to the wide, well-lit main streets that crisscrossed across the city. He stayed in the middle of the road, two busy lanes on either side of him, hoping to deter the gangs. It wasn't enough.
He glanced at boy leaning against the side of one of the many buildings lining the avenue. Brom recognized him instantly. He was one of the boys who had been in the alley. The boy also seemed to recognize Brom. He eyes lit up and he ran to the nearest alleyway, ducking down it, most probably to contact the rest of his cronies. Brom quickened his pace, hurrying toward the Rider's compound. He hoped to get there before the gang could gather itself and pursue him. However, they were waiting for him half a mile from the entrance of the compound. There were seven of them this time. Some he recognized, some he did not. They started toward him, intent on murder. Brom didn't give them the chance to reach him. He quickened his pace into an all-out run, dashing toward his destination as fast as he could. The other boys pursued him. They slowly gained on him until they were less than ten feet behind.
Brom considered turning and fighting. He knew that the unexpected turn of events would allow him to eliminate at least two of the boys before they could react. Unfortunately, the other five would be especially dangerous since they knew what he was capable of. Brom also knew that thanks to his semi-daily runs outside of the city, his endurance was greater than any of theirs. If he could keep out of their reach for another minute, they would never catch him.
Brom proved to be correct. After a minute, the boys dropped back slightly, but they were still in full pursuit. As Brom neared the compound, he groaned in dismay. The street was crowded and slow-moving. He would never be able to move among the people quickly enough to avoid these boys who were skilled at moving effortlessly through crowds, snatching purses and evading owners. Brom made a split-second decision and turned right down an alley. The boys, perhaps sensing victory, drew closer. Brom turned left into a much narrower alley and ran for all he was worth to the other end. However, as he came closer to the end, he cursed his luck. A solid wall blocked off the end of the alley. Brom knew that he couldn't slow down though. He tensed and hurled himself as high as he could. His body slammed against the wall, knocking the breath out of him. However, his hands had reached the top and were holding on tight. With a burst of adrenaline, Brom pulled himself over and dropped to the other side just as the gang-members reached the wall. Brom backed up, facing the wall, gathering himself for what was about to come. He would make his stand here.
Three boys clambered over the wall and rushed at him. Before they had gone ten steps though, they faltered and stopped. They stared at Brom with horror and panic. Brom was confused. Hadn't they just been bent on killing him? And then he realized that the boys were not looking at him, but behind him. Brom heard a rustling from behind and felt a wave of hot air sweep upon him from the back. The gang boys screamed and ran back to the wall, hauling themselves over. The sounds of their retreat could be heard for several seconds more as they raced away through the alley. Brom steeled himself and slowly turned around to confront whatever being lay behind him.
He turned to behold an enormous green dragon curled up on the ground, its head raised and looking at him with intelligent green eyes.