Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Inheritance Cycle, this is merely a fanfiction.

A/N: The riders never fell; it's a world where peace and prosperity reigns, except for those who seek to do harm to those who rule….

Part 1

His target this time was an elf woman, Arya, and her dragon, a green beast named Firnen. Not that he cared to know their names. They were just his latest job, nothing less, nothing more. Eragon took a deep breath as he surveyed the two, and ran through the checklist in his head. Not that a checklist was supposed to help. When one was in the art of cloak and dagger, one knew to allow for anything to happen. He knew that the woman was quite a capable magician, both from his sources and from what he had seen himself. The dragon, however, was young, and inexperienced, an easy target. Eragon was only paid to eliminate the beast, anyways.

And it wouldn't be the first dragon he killed. As a hired dragonslayer, the sixteen year old had seen the demise of many dragons, killing both for money, and for revenge. He had trained for six years, which was considered experienced in his field. But this time, it would be his first solo mission, after his mentor's untimely demise. It was about a week ago, when a young noble man from Dras Leona had approached him, the famed Phantom, Bane of the Riders, paying for the death of a dragon, the elf's head, and all the things in their possession. 200 crowns, if he succeeded, 300 if he could get the items and proof of their demise before the week ended.

Smirking to himself, he grabbed at the flask at waist, and took a swig of cranberry mead, before peering past the hawthorn bush that was his shelter at the clearing where the unsuspecting elf sat. She had been walking for the last half mile, her dragon behind her, largely due to the injury at the beast's leg, until ten minutes ago, when she had set up camp. Eragon knew he had to act now, before she healed her dragon.

He took a deep breath, and crept closer, gripping Niernen, his Dauthdaert, the only weapon that could kill a dragon. The green spear-like instrument almost had a glow to it, green and sickly. Composing himself, he quickly made sure his mental barriers were up, before he stepped silently into the clearing. Neither Arya nor her dragon noticed him, the elf muttering under her breath spells in the ancient language while the dragon hummed, eyes closed. Eragon grinned. He'd deal with her first. Checking that Niernen was strapped tightly onto his back, he drew his dagger, and ran towards the elf, pulling his arm back to strike what would be a fatal blow-CLANG!

Steel met steel as his blade collided with hers, and he found himself staring into deep, emerald orbs that seemed to pulse with emotion. The eyes narrowed, and she spoke, in the ancient tongue, a lilting, melody of a voice. Eragon was shocked. How had she sensed him? He was Shadow walker, Phantom, and Bane of the Riders, so how had he failed to kill someone as young as her when he had slain those thrice her age?

"Who are you!" She demanded, this time in the human tongue. Eragon regained a bit of his composure as he stepped back, her sword pointed at his throat. It was a Rider's Blade. He had heard and seen many of those, but he would love to have one like hers in his collection. It was green, like Niernen, but of an emerald shade. It seemed to glitter, and at the hilt was a teardrop shaped emerald easily the size of his palm. Eragon licked his lips in anticipation, before looking back up at the elf, slowly he spread his arms out, and let the dagger drop to the ground.

"Who are you!" She asked again, this time, she was almost curious. She probably thought he was a vagabond, a thief who merely picked the wrong target. She let him go, unless, she did a mental scan. But hopefully, this elf would be like the rest-too arrogant and confident of their own abilities that such a thing would never occur to them.

"I-I'm Thors-" Eragon stammered, putting on a rough accent akin to those seen in sailors and taverns. "Thors the tanner..." He watched as she relaxed, and sneered, inwardly.

"Oh, really? I've never seen a tanner with such smooth hands." She replied calmly. Before Eragon could reply, he felt a sharp, mental probe drive in his shield. He watched as her face crumpled in pain for a moment, before gazing up at him.

"Who-" Eragon twisted out of her reach, and pulled another dagger hidden inside his sleeve. Turning, he threw it at Arya, knowing that her wards would deflect it, but just enough to give him time to reach the dragon. She deflected the weapon, as Eragon pulled Niernen from its sheath, and ran towards Firnen, who was desperately trying to move, despite his injured foreleg.

The dragon roared at him, shuffling away awkwardly.

"Firnen!" He heard Arya shout, as he drew his arm back, sending Niernen flying as the dragon stretched out an arm as if to bat him away. Suddenly, a weight landed on top of him, sending him sprawling, Niernen rolling out of his grasp. He felt long hair brush his face, and realized that, apparently, Arya had tackled him. Groaning, he lashed out, feeling the sharp dig of his elbow sink into the soft flesh of her stomach. He heard a gasp, but nevertheless, she didn't get off of him.

Eragon kicked, as the elf knelt on his back, surprisingly heavy, and surprisingly immune to his punches and kicks. He heard her whisper something under her breath, before an invisible force caused his legs to stiffen, unable to move.

"Get off!" He muttered.

"You are clearly not a tanner." She declared.

"At least you figured that bit out." He snapped.

"Why are you trying to harm us? What a strange spear?" She leaned closer to Niernen.

"Don't touch that!" He shouted. She looked shocked at his tone.

"Why?"

"You might get hurt?"

"How dare you talk to me-" She paused, before looking self conscious. "Let me ask again, who are you?"

"Nobody." Eragon couldn't believe how immature he was being

"Why were you trying to kill me?"

"Your purse." Hopefully, he could convince her to think that he was mere highwayman. Suddenly, a growl emanated from his left, and he turned his head, only to stare right at a row of gleaming white teeth that drew closer and closer….

"Firnen!" The teeth stopped, and an emerald green eye was lowered to his level, glaringly suspicious.

"I know! But he has to be...Contact Faolin…..Or they'll question him…." Clearly the elf was conversing with her dragon, judging by the glazed look in both of their eyes. Eragon gathered himself, knowing this was his time to act. He could still move his arms, as he slipped a small dart dipped in poison from his sleeve. Shifting his torso ever so slightly, he took aim at Firnen, and threw the dart as best he could. The spike whipped through the air, metal gleaming wickedly, before burying itself into Firnen's hide. Eragon sighed. He knew it would, it was made by Hega, the Kingdom's best, and most feared weapon's smithy.

Firnen roared in pain as the poison spread through his system, and Arya snapped her head up, as she ran to her dragon, inspecting the piercing his scale.

"What have you done!" She growled, when she noticed that the little device had actually pierced Firnen's hide.

"What is this?" Eragon glared up at her.

"Let me free, and I'll tell you." The elf ignored him, whispering desperately in the magic tongue. The dragon moaned weakly, and Eragon knew that soon, it would eventually become paralysed, and die.

"Let me go, and I'll give you the antidote." He said. Although the beast was at his mercy, he himself was at the elf's. He had to get out. She looked at him, tears threatening to flow onto her face, before muttering a few words. Eragon felt the force lift, and struggled up, staggering over to the elf. Arya glared at him.

Reaching into his tunic, he pulled out a small bottle, filled with what appeared to be a pungent, yellow liquid. He stretched it out to her.

"This has to be mixed with the blood of a dying deer, and then applied to the wound." She gasped, but took the bottle, never the less, looking suspiciously at him.

"If you leave now, and find that deer, I'll be gone before you return." He prompted.

"What if you harm Firnen?" She demanded.

"Put a ward around him. You know I can't do magic." She did as he suggested, and turned, striding to the edge of the clearing, before patting Firnen on the head. Just as she was about to leave, she turned to him, one last time.

"Can I at least have the name of the one who has bested me?" Her voice was dignified. Perhapes she was curious. Eragon hesitated, before speaking up.

"I am Eragon."

…..FIRESEEKER…..

He stole her bags and a strange looking bow as he left, when the dragon wasn't looking. It was a heavy pack, probably filled with all sort of gold and riches. Well, he deserved it. That was 200 crowns he wouldn't be able to receive. Not to mention a nice looking sword for his collection. But Eragon had to admit, the elf was quite a fair opponent, a good swordsman, and a competent magician.

He had settled down in his inn, the Eastern Rays, in the city of Dras Leona, about 6 hours away from the clearing, and the fateful encounter with Arya. He was to meet his employer in 3 hours, and his employer would not be pleased. Perhapes there would be something in the bag that would appeal to him. An elven treasure? More money? Rolling out of the small cot, Eragon approached the dusty window where a small table stood, the saddlebags slumped there messily. He took a swig of his Cranberry mead.

Undoing the tight leather bindings that wrapped around the bags, he opened it to reveal at first several days rations of food. His excitement turned to annoyance however, when he realized that the 'food' consisted of fruits, bread and cheese. Not a hint of meat. He decided that the elf must have ate it all. Below that were some coin. Ten crowns and a few coppers, enough for the modest traveller. Groaning, he dug deeper until he felt his hand brush something cold, smooth, and heavy.

His heart raced. A jewel that big? Incredible. Eagerly, he reached both hands in, grasping the oval shaped object, and lifted it gently out the bag, revealing a large, blue stone. He gaped. Completely smooth, the stone had no scratches what so ever, and pinged when he tapped it. Setting it down gently, he stared at it, mesmerized, until suddenly, a crack reverberated through the room. Snapping up, he felt for his knife at his waist, and scanned the room. Another crack, and he looked around. Whoever this was, spy, or assassin, they were not doing a very good job of being obscure.

Looking down, Eragon caught sight of a large crack forming on the stone. What was happening? Why was the stone breaking? Was it possible that it wasn't a stone? He thought, as another crack formed. No, he prayed, as another crack formed, and another. Finally, with a last CRACK! The stone split open, completely in two, revealing a garish blue creature, tumbling out onto the table. Eragon stared in horror as it looked up at him, before stretching two large, translucent blue wings.

A dragon! He thought, fumbling for the flask at his waist before black coloured his vision, and the Bane of the Riders fell, with an undignified thump, at the foot of his cot.