Hello. This is my first attempt at writing a story set in the Inheritance universe, this is set a hundred years after the fall of King Galbatorix, with new heroes and villains.
The Character Veor is not named after me, he is not a self-insert. My account is named after an old norse word meaning storm, one of the letters was not an english letter, I used the wrong letter to replace it. It should actually be Vedr. However I think Veor sounds better so I am keeping it.
Unnecessary Disclaimer: I do not own Inheritance, huge surprise there, I am not Christopher Paolini. Again huge surprise. This is already a Fanfiction site why do we put these disclaimers? We shall never know.
Chapter 1: Beginnings
Steel slipped through the man's body, his bearded face frozen in a look of shock, his dark hair, hanging long and wildly, his dark eyes shining with surprise, he felt death before it hit him, his mind was so cold and numb from shock of the cold metal he didn't even have time to pull out his own blade. The bearded man coughed, blood came out of his throat, his hand was still upon his own sword when he fell. Veor looked down at the man with a look of cold disgust.
"You shouldn't have threatened me. I understand that you don't like Elves, but calling me a 'Demon-bastard whose skin should be peeled off his smug face' and then forcing me into a lonely hallway to draw a sword was unwise. Really, we could have settled it over drinks, but you decided to end it this way, and so it is ended." Veor said with a sigh, his golden-brown eyes flashing with cold reason, darkness flaring in them for a second, "I suppose I'll have to hide your body now."
In truth he did not really have to hide the body, he was in a small tavern, the walls were encrusted with dirt and a the room, despite the best attempts of a small hearth was cold, snow was piled up outside, one of the only thing Veor could see through the small windows scattered throughout the tavern. He wasn't in the main room of the tavern, he and the body, were in a smaller antechamber. The room was hidden from the main room, despite this it was the main entrance and exit, the room existed at a ninety degree angle with both the doors, which were on either side of the corridor, when entering one would not instantaneously see the other door not until one turned towards the other end of the corridor. The building had a bad reputation, in all fairness the reputation was due to the fact that the town, and surrounding area was filled with villains, thieves, and cutthroats. Veor fit in perfectly, despite the fact he was an elf. In other words most of the guests wouldn't care enough to move the body themselves, let alone report it.
Veor began cleaning his blade on his dark blue tunic. The crimson red blood seemed to make strange patterns on the beautiful silver steel blade, due to angular patterns engraved upon the blade. The blade itself was reasonably long and thin, each side was razor sharp, the handle was a hand and a half in length, and lacked a pommel, the crossguard was split into two parts on either side of the blade, the upper part went straight across making a ninety-degree angle with the blade, while the lower part made a forty five degree angle with the upper part and the handle. Veor sheathed the thin blade in a decorated scabbard, iron curled around the upper scabbard in thin lines, the line grew further and further apart until they all met together at the tip of the scabbard. With an annoyed sigh, Veor leaned down, grabbing the dead man's wrists, he began to drag the man outside, the cold air bit against his skin like small needles. He would have to clear away the splotches of red blood across the ground. Trouble would be worse for him were he found, he was a magic user, were that to be noticed one of the Varda-Gramarye or worse a Shur'tugal would be sent to hunt him. Veor had always hated the Dragon Riders, but if they were after him he would not hesitate to fight them.
The Varda-Gramarye were a group of magic rulers formed by the Varden after they had taken over the Brodding Empire, they consisted originally of members of the Du Vangr Gata, however despite their ties to the Varden at one time Du Vangr Gata had split path's with the Varden. Thus were the Varda-Gramarye formed, despite the grammatically incorrect name they were still an interesting group. They name's literal translation was 'To Watch Magic' or 'Guard Magic' thus their name was actually a verb. The name's origin lay in the oaths taken by those who joined it, the first oath was 'to watch magic, and prevent its' misuse in any form'. As all oaths were taken in the ancient language, the organization became known as the 'Varda-Gramarye' some say the reason behind this was because they had been required to act long before they could figure out a real name, other's say that they didn't want to be called the Varden-Gramarye, since they were now the Broddring empire, as it would seem like they were declaring a rebellion, yet again.
The silver mark on Myrker's hand was well displayed, so that all could see it, it seemed Myrker was trying to make it obvious. The young man's muddy-brown eyes sparkled with the light of youth, his long blond hair was swept to one side of his head. Myrker's clothes were tailored and well made, his skin was pale, his teeth and nails well groomed. The man or in more honest terms boy, was clearly an aristocrat, the state of his dark clothing, and own physical features made that clear, beyond that a decorated blade hung at his belt. His clothes beyond being well tailored were designed to make clear his rank of aristocracy, his tunic was made of fine black silk, a belt of darkly colored leather was at his waist, below that were darkly colored trousers, and black leather boots that gleamed with polish. Over his tunic Myrker's wore a dark garment of a vest like nature, it too was made of expensive leather.
The sword was long and curved, it had a single handed grip, and a pommel designed like the talon of a bird, set in the center were two small diamonds, another such diamond was set at the base of the blade, above the handle which was wrapped in dark grey cloth, the crossguard was strange unsymmetrical, curving in two different directions on each side, one part curved upwards, the other downwards. The blade itself, though hidden beneath a scabbard, was made of a cold dark metal, which had been strengthened by magic.
If these alone were not enough to convince a man of his nobility, one needed simply to observe him, his stride was quick, purposeful, he moved in a way that shone with nobility. His posture was perfect, his hands clasped behind his back, his strides long and purposeful, his back held perfectly straight. The man had an air of arrogance, but still most nobles did.
If his mannerisms were not enough to convince someone, well the person could just notice the obvious fact that everyone was bowing to the man as he passed them by.
Myrker looked like mythical heroes would, well-built, perfect teeth, and intelligent eyes, a charming smile, hair that hung just over his eyes well groomed and brushed to one side.
The silver mark upon his hand was a mark of the Dragon Riders, a mark indicating the magic that was now in his blood. Of course, he had magic usage before the bonding with the dragon. He had been trained in it for many years, and was almost an expert in its usage. Myrker's steps were light on the stone floors of the fortress, the fortress was old, built by a distant descendant of his, it had stood strong for at least a hundred and fifty years, the corridors had arches rising out of the wall every couple feet, the windows two were designed with the arches, arrow slits appeared in the tower, and in any of the area's facing outwards, the fortress itself was built on a hill, the hill was rocky, erosion had torn away most of the rounded parts, turning it into a craggy spire of rock, the only attack was to head up from the bottom of the hill, on a curling path upwards, along this path it was likely you would be pummelled with arrows, and stones, without a dragon supporting your army your chances of successfully laying siege to the fortress were slim.
The fortress itself was average, it had a large at the back of the castle, the tall rounded tower had a strange sloping roof, and two large wooden oak doors, that could be locked with another just as sturdy piece of wood, two other towers were at the walls of the castle, the gatehouse was rounded, and had a portcullis forged of hardened steel, behind this was another set of sturdy oak doors. The Gatehouse was roofed by a set of teeth like battlements, as were the other towers and the walls. Each tower was armed with a ballista, and was at least two stories tall. The inside of the fortress was a stone courtyard, surrounded by a small garden.
Myrker strode into this garden, his slightly tanned skin being caught in the golden sunlight. He smiled as he entered the courtyard, a childhood dream of his had been answered. A dragon of his own, with scales of silvery-white and extremely sharp teeth. Of course the dragon was only a few days old, but at some point it would grow into a powerful fire-breathing creature. Myker had always wanted to be a rider, ever since he was a child he had admired the riders of the new world.
Soha swung her sword up, blocking a strike from her opponent's blade, she shoved back with all the force she could muster, tightening her grip on her own blade. Her dark skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat, her dark brown hair was tied back, and her grey eyes were sharp with determination.
"You can do better than that Torr." She said in jest, a smug grin on her face.
Torr, her opponent, was pale with red hair, and green eyes. His clothing was similar to hers though, she wore a dark red tunic, with golden embroidery on it's sleeves, his tunic was black with silver embroidery, both wore trousers that were black in color. Beyond that Torr and Soha were around the same age, both were at least eighteen years old, and seemed to share a deep friendship.
Torr swung his blade again at Soha, who once again blocked the attack, this time however Soha used his movement to launch an attack of her own, sending Torr's legs out from under him.
Torr's back ached, he let the sword fall from his grip. He was sprawled on his back looking up at the stone ceiling, the cold stones beneath him just as dull as those above, he sat in a world of grey, then above him Soha moved back into his line of vision, he put on a grin.
"Was that really the least painful way you could come up with to defeat me?" He said, as he pushed himself off the ground.
"No, but I wasn't really aiming not to harm you." Soha said still with a smug grin on her face.
"The worst part is I can't yell at you, because you're a princess." He said with a slight smile.
"I would think the worst part is that I defeated you so easily." Soha replied, as she sheathed her sword, "How do you ever expect to join the Varda-Gramarye at this rate?"
"I was hoping my best friend would give me a free pass. Anyway, I'm better with magic than a sword." He said with a grin.
"Are you asking me to show favoritism among those recruited to the Varda-Gramarye?" Soha responded, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I could never betray the trust of my people in such a way."
The two burst out into laughter, joy filled the cold stone room of the royal place at Illirea. The tall room was lined with arches, and a large stain glass window sat in the center of one wall, depicting a battle between dragons, a blue dragon, Saphira, and a red dragon, Thorn, fought a dragon that was a dark grey color, while obviously the beast was supposed to be the dragon Shuriken, it was the wrong color due to the desire to allow sunlight to come through the window. The red dragon appeared often throughout the castle, in portraits, and windows, some scenes were heroic, some villainous, people often questioned its appearance being more frequent than the Blue Dragon's. Eragon knew why of course, but no one had heard from him in years.
The first chapter is a bit underwhelming I know. I wanted to introduce all the characters, but wasn't sure yet what to do with them. I develop them better as time goes along. Well... I think I develop them Better as time goes along... Whatever. Enjoy, REVIEW? Please...? I for some reason am really tired right now. I'm not putting much energy into this end bit... Ok then? Great?
Oh also this entire story has been written out already, I will add in end bits as time progresses.
