Hey all! Thank you for giving my story a shot:)
This is placed after Inheritance. I am keeping this story as realistic as possible to the Inheritance Cycle. That means I am NOT modernizing it or relocating the story line (no guns, still in Alageasia, etc.). I simply wish to continue the world of Eragon that we all fell in love with.
I hope you enjoy. Have fun!
Disclaimer: I do not own the inheritance cycle, only the new story I have created
A man sat staring in a mirror, examining himself. He looked to be in his early twenties, not a day older. His disheveled hair only added to his youthful appearance. Dark brown hair hung over his forehead and would cover his eyes at times causing him to push it out of the way. The beige tunic he wore highlighted the deeply tanned skin attained from countless hours outside. His cheek was smudged with dirt. His smile was warm. The man chuckled. I look like a foolish farm boy, he thought to his other half.
Gaze into the eyes, rumbled the recipient.
She was right. His eyes betrayed the youth. They held wisdom. The amount of wisdom that could only be attained through centuries of existence, through millions of lessons and experiences. Peering deeper into his eyes, he glimpsed the power he possessed. The power that was thrust upon at such a young age—with this power came responsibility. He had been forced to become a 'sin-eater' for others. His own hands had released thousands of souls to the void in great battles. He murdered individuals, conscious beings, for the greater good. He slaughtered enemies so that others did not have to. His power led to misery, his own and others'.
Preposterous! Do not feel in such ways Little One. That power did not lead to misery. It led to freedom. I alone have seen the deepest parts of your mind. I have seen your soul. The power you see is not from the men you have killed or the people you have injured, but exudes from the courageous heart that you possess. That power is good, not evil, in your hands. The voice rumbled through his skull.
Yet again, you are in the right. My mind simply wonders down dark paths when given idle time. The man produced a sense of gratitude which he directed to his consoler. Thank you.
He rose from the mirror. He retrieved his sword and sauntered over to his chamber's entrance. The door stretched from the floor to the ceiling. When it was first erected, the door had a plain word backside, smooth as silk. The man took his sword and whispered in the Ancient Language. "Brisingr." The sword responded by engulfing itself in a display of blue flames. The tool was magnificent enough to evoke a feeling of awe and wonder in all who laid eyes upon it, but brutal enough to slash through the strongest of armor. He raised the blazing sword and scratched yet another notch on the door. Now there were 254. One for every winter that passed.
254 years, has it truly been that long Saphira? It cannot be,the man said to his dragon who was currently training the hatchlings who had arrived on New Vongraed only last fortnight.
The clock will always keep turning, but you of all people have not wasted your time… you filled it with projects and deeds that bettered the whole of Alageasia and do not forget that it was you who brought back the Order of the Riders my Little One,Saphira's deep voice rumbled inside of Eragon's head.
That was true. Eragon turned from the door of which he had marked for the 254th time, sheathed his sword, and walked across his chambers to the window that overlooked New Vongraed. To his own embarrassment, his chambers were lavish. The architects had insisted upon it. It consisted of his own armory, bathing room, sleeping room, and his study. His study was where he spent most his time: meditating, composing fairths, and progressing through the Rigmar. Eragon glanced out the window and grinned.
When he left Alageasia 254 years ago, he and the twenty other elves who had accompanied him had sailed for over three weeks before they came to a fork in the river. One way led east and the other led west. After consulting with the elves and Saphira, Eragon chose to head west. He felt that they needed the New Order to start anew, not down the same path that had led the original order to their destruction. The old had chosen East, so Eragon chose West. The action was more symbolic than anything, Eragon new that a location did not define the success of the Riders. What would decide the success of the Riders was their leader, Eragon. He remembered the fear he had possessed during the time. He had feared of failure. What silly musings.
After turning west, the river curved in a direction leading south, back in the direction of Ellesmera. They traveled that way for around two days before they came across a cluster of seven mountains of equal height. The mountains were arranged in a circle. In the valley of the seven mountains, after a few days of expeditions to ensure there was an abundance of food, they decided to begin the construction of the new home of the Rider Order.
They began by building a wall that surrounded the valley. No man could ever overcome it without the aid of a dragon. They then built the two streets perpendicular to one another creating a perfect cross. In the center of the crossed-roads stood the Keep. The Keep was where Eragon's own chamber could be found, along with honorable guest accommodations. Eragon felt very lonely at times in this large castle. It was a majestic, castle-like building. It was far too ostentatious for Eragon's taste, but the architects had insisted that the Keep must be the symbol of the New Order's power. The other four main buildings were far simpler, blending into the forest like the elven cities. The Dormitory was on the northern tip of the cross. It held chambers for all other riders and dragons. Each rider and dragon pair was given private chambers. The beginning riders were located on the bottom most floor. As they progressed in their training they were elevated to a higher floor. The Hall was opposite of the Dormitory on the southern point. It was where Eragon addressed the entirety of New Vongraed inhabitants. The western tip held the training grounds while the eastern point was dedicated to the library, which contained thousands of scrolls (most of which Eragon had read). A single other building had been constructed at the beginning far from New Vongraed and deep within a mountainside. Only Eragon and Saphira knew of it—and of course the Eldunari that lived within its walls.
All the buildings were designed to complement each race's architectural styles. This was done to represent the fact that all races were welcomed and equal in the Riders eyes. Eragon's chambers were placed above everything else. Eragon had complained that is was entirely unnecessary, but the elves had stated that it was tradition and Eragon had no chance of changing their minds. He was still extremely embarrassed when he thought of it. Eragon never placed himself above others. He understood that everyone had a place in the grand scheme of things. From the simple farmer who paid taxes and grew food for a realm, to the nobles who ruled over them and guided them when hardships befell them. That was the lesson Eragon would teach his fellow riders and pupils today.
And with that thought, Eragon climbed out of the windowsill, and looked down. The riders who were on the street below looked the size of ants. Without a second thought, Eragon allowed his body to tip off the windowsill and into a free fall.
How was it?!
-Paige L.