Chapter 1

A/N: My first story. Please read. A bit short. I hope to update every week or so.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this but parts of the plot and Alan. I won't re-write this every time; too lazy.

Swish! An arrow flew by Alan's head. He dove behind a book, pivoting to face the direction from which it had come. Nothing. He saw no movement in the warm, green forest. But where had the arrow come from?

Whoosh! Another impaled itself in his robe, trapping it to the ground. Alan swore, ripping his clothing in an attempt to get to a more defendable position. The cheap fabric broke easily; something seemed wrong about that.

Suddenly, an Urgal charged out of no where with a bloodcurdling war. Alan's hand instinctively moved to his belt, but his sword was gone. When the Urgal was almost upon him, he rolled to his right, running into a tree trunk. His vision became black momentarily; by the time it recovered all he could see was the Urgal's club.

"Ahh!" he yelled, trying to sit up. Strong metal bonds prevented any movement. He was strapped to a slab of cold stone in one of Galbatorix's many prison cells.

Gasping, he tried to recall how he had gotten there. He knew that he had been captured by Galbatorix while attempting to reach the Varden, but when it came to recent events his memory was fuzzy. He was certain he hadn't been having a nightmare; it was more likely that the usurper had been messing with his senses. Galbatorix paid him special attention; he claimed there was a certain quality in Alan that few of his men had: leadership. For this reason Alan was tortured by none other than Galbatorix himself, who wanted Alan to swear loyalty to him in the Ancient Language.

Alan spent some time reminding himself what he thought was real and what wasn't. He knew for certain he had been born in the small village of Yazuac, raised as a trader who brought goods from Dras-Leona in the winter and farmed his family's small fields in the summer. Being one of the only healthy males around the age of 20, he had been selected to join the army. However, he did not want to fight for Galbatorix. Galbatorix had done nothing for him. He made Alan's family pay a nearly impossible amount of tax, and because of him the legendary golden age of the Dragon Riders had ended. Now, Urgals terrorized the countryside, and there were rumors of a Shade—although of course those weren't to be believed.

Alan had been caught deserting the army to join the Varden. After spending half a year training, he had sneaked off out of the camp. He had not been caught because he had been noticed; a fellow soldier who he had told his plans to had betrayed him for money. Now he was in the Galbatorix's dungeons, and the king himself had seen fit to torment Alan. At first, Galbatorix had given him a long speech about the glory of the Empire and the stupidity of the Varden. When Alan refused to submit, he had a servant bring in a magically heated iron to cause him pain. After nearly a month of this, Alan managed to escape his cell when the man who was sent to feed him came, but he was captured outside the doors by none other than Galbatorix, on his way to another prisoner. Once the madman subdued him with magic, he added a new torture session to Alan's schedule, in addition to the iron: the king would, at random times throughout the day, manipulate Alan's mind to deceive or terrify him. At first, the king was focused on trying to trick him into swearing fealty, or just trying to make him despair, but Alan saw through the deception in one of the earlier sessions, when one of the Varden's spies was rescuing him; the man had no nose! Then the king spent most of the sessions on terrifying Alan and trying to weaken his resolve, with a few attempted trickeries (?). The pain Alan had felt was worse than anything he could imagine. Even after the sessions he couldn't remember how bad it was. It had been like this for many months, more than Alan could keep track of. He didn't even know the state of affairs in his homeland.

Footsteps came from the corridor outside. Alan didn't think much of it: there were many cells in the castle, and the unknown person could be going to any one of them. But then he heard brief snatches of conversation with a guard near his cell, and the rattle of keys in the lock on his door. The door opened and a brown leather boot appeared in his field of vision.

A/N: I like cliffhangers when I'm the author. I should update by Sunday, though. Please review and leave suggestions!