ERAGON

"THIS BLOOD OF MINE"

Chapter One

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Beads of sweat rolled down Brom's cheek, clinging to his skin as he moved swiftly across the mountainside, running along its mighty slopes beneath the grudging sunlight that glared down upon him from overhead.

The desert earth was hot and dry beneath his feet, and there was a scarcity of plant life that harshly exposed the mountain to the radiant heat from above, spreading arid warmth between his toes.

Brom loved the mountains, though he had never tempted himself to wander beyond it's borders, or venture into their midst. The sheer freedom he felt simply sitting there, high above the rest of the world, with cool air rushing against his face, was enough for him. He could wander up here on any given day and just sit, thinking, enjoying the peaceful silence and company afforded by the mountains.

Breathing deeply, Brom stopped to rest. His chest rose and fell with deep gasps of inhaled oxygen, and he sat down, looking out over the plains that spread from the base of the mountain to his home in the small town of Kuasta in the distance, its perimeters only covering a small portion of the landscape surrounding it.

Kuasta was a confined village on the west coast of Alagaësia, bordered by the jagged mountain range known as the Spine. Only the western side of the town was not bound by mountain, which faced out towards the sea; a vast expanse of open water stretching as far as the eye could see, out to the horizon and beyond to lands unknown.

Though he was only nine years of age, Brom loved to wander the open land, and he had grown accustom to the ocean view from high on the slopes of the Spine. The view was magnificent, as the ocean's translucent waters reflected the sunlight from above, casting a strong warmth over the calm sea as waves lapped against its shores, rising up across the low sand-banks before disintegrating and falling beneath its sedimentary grains and back into the earth to continue its cycle forevermore.

Brom was, in a sense, different from the other children. He had a sense of maturity and intelligence that many of the elders thought was far-too developed to be healthy. It amused Brom to often sit and watch the other children play among themselves from upon the Spine – but for now he had to begin the arduous journey down the Spine and back to Kuasta before the sun sank below the horizon and the world was impaled in the darkness implored by the arrival of dusk.

As he left the base of the mountain, Brom began a slow jog, feeling the air rush by him as the sun set and the coolness of night began to settle upon the wide plains that separated him from his hometown, which stood as a growing speck of light in the distance.

Brom slowed as he reached the outskirts of the town, nodding to the gatekeeper Lothvr, who glared at him sullenly and waved him past. Brom was greeted by a familiar face almost the second he stepped onto the towns threshold.

'Cutting the day a bit fine, aren't you?'

Brom laughed, 'Savanh – were you waiting for me?'

Savanh was one of the only children of Kuasta that Brom truly respected and called a friend. They lived next door to one another, and had known each other for as long as either could remember. Savanh was only eight months his senior, and, having grown up together, had adopted a lot of Brom's maturity.

'I saw you coming.'

'You could have just come with me, you know.'

Savanh shrugged awkwardly. 'You know how my folks are.'

'Yeah, I do. But come on, they can't hold you back like this forever!'

'Sure they can. And they will. I'm going to die a wrinkly old man, still living with his parents.'

Brom shook his head sadly and they began to walk, winding their way through the cobbled streets that stretched through Kuasta.

'How was the smith today?' Brom asked conversationally. Savanh's father was a blacksmith. To Brom it seemed as if he were training Savanh to eventually take over his work – a prospect that Savanh didn't seem too pleased about.

'Horrible, as always.'

'Oh, come on. It can't be that bad. I thought it sounded quite interesting.' The sarcasm was evident.

'Not nearly as interesting as old man Crandy going berserk at Walter in the bar this afternoon.'

Brom stopped. 'No way.'

Savanh smiled, 'Yeah! There was no motive, really. He just walked in there and started pushing things off tables and yelling – I didn't see it, but father told me all about it. I think he was drunk.'

'So what happened?'

'They called Rowan and told him to come and settle his grandfather down. He was at the bar within minutes and took the old man home.'

Laughing, Brom started into a jog, and Savanh followed suit. Often they would run through the streets on the way home – the cool air associated with sundown would whip against their faces, and a cold sweat would envelop them. The feeling was healthy, and Brom loved it.

They slowed to a walk as they came close to Walter's pub. Peering in through the doors, everything seemed to be settled. Walter was behind the bar, polishing mugs; regulars sat at tables around the room, smoking, writing, or simply drinking the day away.

But it was two more peculiar characters that caught Brom's eye. At the corner table, cloaked in black and drinking ale from their glasses, were three rough looking men – clearly outsiders.

It wasn't often that men from beyond the Spine ventured into their town, but Brom had noticed these men coming through every few months for close to a year. They simply came, stayed a week or so and then were on their way again.

It had been close to four months since Brom had seen them last, but his curiosity had never wavered. In that moment, the men turned sharply and looked towards the door where Brom and Savanh were standing, as if sensing Brom's gaze, and their eyes locked together.

Deep grey eyes pieced Brom's skull, boring into this mind, enthralling him. A shiver ran down Brom's spine, and he was suddenly aware of himself staring. In an awkward moment, Brom shifted his gaze; the stranger tilted his head. Turning, Brom walked away promptly with Savanh, who hadn't noticed anything strange.

They were now the only people left on the streets. The town was steadily becoming shrouded in the slowly approaching darkness, and they began to jog again, for fear they would miss their curfew. A dim glow emitted from the dozens of hung lamps that now illuminated the way into the town centre.

Panting, Brom and Savanh reached the town centre, and looked up at the statue of the founder, standing high and mighty above the town, as if he were surveying them with his deep, watchful eyes. Brávv Kuasta was the name imprinted upon the plaque below, and Brom stopped with Sevan and respectfully nodded their head towards him in a salute, as was custom, before returning home.

Brom waved goodbye to Savanh as they reached their houses, and approached his own front door, knocking three times before he entered to make his presence known. It was simply a general notification to whomever may be inside; a sign of respect to another person.

'Brom? Brom is that you?'

His mother Nelda appeared before the kitchen doorway, walking forward with a stern expression etched into her face. 'You know I don't like you out this late.'

'Mother! It's barely dark!'

She glared, placing her hands on her hips; 'It's not safe, especially up on those accursed mountains so late in the day. Anything could've happened.'

Brom groaned, but said no more. He knew it would be utterly pointless to try and argue, so he simply sat down and buttered some bread. He hadn't eaten properly since morning.

'Why can't you just be like the other children?' she pleaded, though the question was rhetorical. 'You and Savanh, roaming the streets on your own, spending entire days away from the town – we only ever see you at night! And even that's brief, because you sleep and then you're gone again before we wake.'

Brom opened his mouth to reply, but he didn't know what to say.

'I feel as if we don't know you anymore.'

'Mother,' Brom sighed, 'I'm fine – don't you worry.' He searched for a change of topic. 'Where's father – 's he home yet?'

Nelda shook her head. 'He left for the docks three hours ago. They were expecting another shipment from Teirm before sundown, and asked for his assistance.'

Teirm: the famous ocean-side city further up the western shore of Alagaesia, from which the town obtained their weekly supplies in return for the townspeople's light farming services and freshly caught fish - for which Kuasta was very famous for. They received proper shipments of meat and vegetable foods, as well as fruits, and crafts for the woodworking men on the southern half of town. Occasionally they would apply for new clothing and extra stocks for rationing, but Teirm had other more important responsibilities, and often the people of Kuasta just had to make do with what they had already been given, or had created themselves.

Brom nodded silently and left her in peace, dawdling down through the wooden halls and into his own bedroom, which consisted of naught but a slightly uncomfortable bed, clothing strewn across the floor in untidy piles and one small set of roughly forged drawers, which were old, worn and had clearly never been put to much use.

The town was simply dependant on each of the trades their people owned. They relied upon each other to supply them with the necessities, as most people of the town ordered their own separate shipments, for they know Teirm would not allow a larger deal to be wrought. It worked out in the end; the town got by with very little dispute, and they were content with that.

Sprawling himself upon the bed, Brom sighed with relaxation as he rested from his long day up on the slopes, settling into deep thought.

Brom rarely gave anything much thought at all, deciding to simply take life as it came, one dreary day at a time. But the prospect of his tenth birthday loomed before him, and he knew that he was getting to an age where he would have to begin deciding on the direction he would take for the rest of his life. But he was different – and he knew that. He was different from any other nine-year-old boy, in Kuasta at least, so he did not fancy the idea of working as a merchant by the sea, or as a blacksmith in the workshop, or as a construction architect, or manuscript illumination like his parents.

Being illuminators, Brom considered his parents something of artists. The illustration of important manuscripts is considered a very fine custom in Kuasta, and his parents held control over the storage library beneath the general store in the town's centre.

Two days, Brom thought, two days and I'll be ten years of age. Ten years since my presence dawned upon the people here. I'm not welcome – I never have been. I just don't know where to go from here…

Brom had no idea how long he lay there for, staring up at the wooden rafters above his room, his mind becoming shielded by a complete void of darkness, and he closed his eyes, resting in the peaceful silence that inhibited the space around him.

It didn't take much to wake him. Three taps on the door signified his father's return, and he leaped straight out of his bed as if he were suddenly electrocuted.

Three more distinguished taps, and his father entered the kitchen. Brom made his presence acknowledged as he followed suit, watching as his father, Holcomb, embraced Nelda.

Holcomb was a roughly built man. His hair – deep blonde, like his wife – sat untidily upon his head, shining brightly in the light and reflecting the sweat that swept through it. His eyes were a light hazel, and his muscular limbs were held gently at his side. His face bore harsh lines from the tedious slave work at the docks. It was necessary, but brutal. Nelda was also built quite rough, and not your typical house-wife, but she was the major 'artist' of the family – Holcomb rarely had the time for it anymore. He was always being called on for something, and manuscript illumination isn't the most rewarding job when it comes to money.

'Evening, father.'

Holcomb turned, delighted, and hugged his son affectionately. 'Good to see you, Brom – get up to anything interesting while I was gone?'

One of the things Brom liked best about his father was that he wasn't constantly pressuring him to be somebody else. In fact, he often supported his curiosity with the outside world.

Brom would never forget the conversation they shared – it was only a few months ago, but he'd carved it into the rim of his brain and forged it into his memory.
"At your age, I wished that I could travel as far as this land could take me, and beyond. I wished for nothing more or less than that privilege. But I never got that chance, and honestly, I don't think I ever will. But perhaps you can live out the dream I was too afraid to pursue."

Those words were his driving force – his father's unwavering support meant the world to him.

'The usual, really,' Brom replied, 'going for a jog up the mountains and such.'

Nelda broke the conversation up suddenly, looking out the windows. 'The sun has gone to rest,' she explained. 'It's time – hurry. We'll go hungry for a week if we miss it.'

****

Each night, after the sun sinks out of reach below the horizon, it's ghostly reflection upon the oceans surface diminishes and the entire town would gather in its centre beneath the statue of their founder, Brávv Kuasta. It was old tradition that they stand there as one after the sun has set and honour the man who had brought them all together with a formal salute.

To the townsfolk, Brávv was something of a God, keeping watch and guiding their lives in peace and harmony. They respected him as if he'd created them from stone and chisel, forging the Kuasta they know today. His image was perfect in its replica, and the detail to which his stone face had been subjected to was simply extraordinary. It was truly a magnificent piece of art, and the town kneeled before its structure after sunset each night to pay their gratitude to his memory.

The entire town became deadly quiet, and every single person dragged themselves to their knees, closing their eyes and raising their arms up embracingly, simultaneously chanting: Atra agheti esterní ono thelduin mor'ranr atra gulíä un ilian tauthr ono un blódhren atra ono waíse skölir fra rauthr."

It was an oath that every member of the town had learned to memorise since the first moment they were each able to speak. Some of the youngest children who could not fulfil this requirement simply kneeled with their heads down and listened. Some attempted to mumble the words along with the rest of the town, but with little luck.

The oath was an expression of fealty – an obligation stating that they would conserve the town's pride and spirit by worshipping the founder who had brought their community to life, and forever to protect the people with their goodness. Nobody knew the exact meaning of the words, as nobody in the town was skilled enough in the Ancient Language. It was, in fact, Brom's mother and father who had first attempted to decipher the words, having had much experience in their time as illuminators. From what they managed to decipher, it was an oath that swore loyalty from one person to every other member of their community.

The ancient words had been engraved onto the plaque below the name Brávv Kuasta, too, as words he had once spoken, and the townsfolk considered it a great tribute and honour to the founder when the words were recited before him.

When the service ended, the town trundled back into their homes to rest for the night.

****

Brom's days went by very slowly, often partaking the same routine as the previous. Savanh often accompanied him as he wandered through the town, but would simply go and join his father in the workshop when Brom decided he would do some running along the mountains.

After his tenth birthday, Brom became extremely focused on his physicality, often pushing his strength to painful limits as he ran up and down the mountainside, often with heavy objects in his clutches as he strained to climb the steep hills.

He came to realise that it was very little about strength, and more about the mind-power he put into it. He would keep his mind focused on everything and anything in front of him, determination driving him towards the finish. He could keep himself distracted from pain using sheer will, and his fitness began to improve immensely quick, and he could feel his body shaping into a more muscular build.

Many nights, when Brom returned, he would run back through the town home with Savanh, and often they would stop by the bar to see if the hooded men were around, but nobody had seen them for days. As far as anybody knew, they went back to their camp in the mountains and simply didn't return.

The next morning, Brom told Savanh to tell his parents they were going to go into the hayfield that morning to find an interesting way to spend the day.

'What do you have in mind?' Savanh asked curiously. 'I mean, hayfields? Really?'

Brom laughed. 'Come on, do you seriously think I wanted to go to the hayfields? I'm taking you up onto the mountain.'

Savanh looked at him blankly, 'But my parents-'

'-think you're going to be rolling in hay all day,' Brom cut in, smirking. 'Oh, come on… You said yourself you'd like to.'

Savanh paused for a moment in thought, and nodded. 'If I get caught, this wasn't my idea.'

Brom grinned, and they worked their way to the gates. Lothvr hadn't returned to his post that morning, as it was still very early, and so the two of them simply slipped out unnoticed.

****

'Wow.'

Savanh turned around and opened his eyes, after a tediously long climb during which Brom made him swear not to look. The view enthralled Savanh, having never stood this high above civilisation before.

Brom smiled. He knew exactly what it felt like to stand there, feeling so dominant over everything – as if they were immortal, standing upon their godly thrones above their universe.

They sat down on a small boulder and Savanh simply couldn't take his eyes off the landscape that stretched before his eyes.

It was a wondrous moment, and Brom dared not break it. He sat there and enjoyed the silence of company until Savanh sat back and looked at Brom in astonishment.

'Why haven't you shown me this before!?'

'You never wanted to come,' Brom shot, smirking at Savanh's sudden regret.

'Well, it wasn't my fault, you know. My-'

'-parents,' Brom nodded, 'yes, I know.'

Savanh sighed, 'This is amazing.'

'I've had this all to myself for so long – it's good to share it with somebody else who appreciates it.'

'Wow,' Savanh repeated.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, using their senses to absorb the environment around them. Brom broke the quiet that surrounded them, sighing. 'Someday I want to leave this place.' Savanh looked at him. 'Someday I want to go beyond these mountains, and see the outside world.'

Savanh nodded. 'I knew you would. It's just like you. I've always known you could never be content with what Kuasta has to offer. I wish I could dream that big, but I have other shoes to fill. I'm expected to work for what I was born into. I can accept that.'

Brom stood up, staring at him. 'No." he shook his head, "No. That's not the way our lives are going to be decided. We can't let ourselves be controlled just because that's what expected.'

'We can't?'

'No.' Brom said firmly. 'We can't. Savanh,' he sat down again, 'someday, you and I are going to emerge from those mountains on the other side – taste the freedom in the winds… We're going to have an adventure, just you and I.'

Savanh nodded slowly. 'I know it's tempting… but how?' he asked. 'We don't know anything about survival in the wild – we have no knowledge of where to go, and have no hunting skills… and what about your family?'

'I've thought about that a lot,' Brom said solemnly. 'And as soon as I have an answer to that, I'll be sure to let you know. But I don't like it here, to be honest. I don't belong, and I know it. I'm just… too different.'

'I'd love to know what is outside of this place,' Savanh answered, 'but I feel like it's not my time to do it. I'm not that brave. Unfortunately, I am like the rest of the town – I'm scared of what I don't know,' he sighed. 'It's a foolish dream, anyway.'

Brom stood up again. 'We can't think like that, Savanh! We can't be consumed by expectations and false belief. "What if?" will haunt you forever, just knowing that you had the opportunity, but didn't take it.'

Savanh looked over the mountainside at their village, his eyes gleaming in the sunlight that blared down upon them. 'Someday.' He answered.

Brom smiled. 'Someday we'll make it,' he assured. 'We'll be a team, like we always have.'

****

And, for the next two months, life went on as usual.

Brom went for his daily runs, exercises and tedious physical training. Merchants collected the town's supplies for yet another week, Savanh was locked away in the smith from dawn 'til mid-afternoon most days, and the town bowed down before their founder each night. It never changed, and Brom assumed that it never would.

Until the travellers returned again.

Brom was intrigued at their pattern of movement. They were clearly intelligent folk, for they arrived in the morning before too many people woke, avoiding much eyeballing, and they left again when the town were gathered together in the towns centre beneath Brávv. They'd simply leave and then return again in the morning. A continuous cycle, but one that Brom could not investigate – it was considered the deepest disrespect - a crime even - to miss the nightly ceremony.

On one of these days, resting upon the slopes of the Spine, Brom caught an unwelcome shiver, and turned sharply as if acknowledging the presence of somebody. He saw nothing – no sign of life at all. But he had sensed something – or someone. For the moment, he put it from his mind and picked himself up to begin the trek home.

After two days, his curiosity about the travellers brewed to boiling point. Brom found them sitting outside, watching the children with deep interest. When he had asked Savanh for his opinion, all he had received in reply was: 'What do you expect us to do about it? You said yourself – they leave at the exact time that nobody could possibly follow.'

Brom looked up at the mountains, wondering what lay beyond those peaks, as he had never seen a map of Alagaësia before, and also wondering why the men chose to spend their nights up there rather than the accommodation available in Kuasta. The town was completely enclosed by the towering mountains that overshadowed them during morning hours, until, of course, the sun rose over their peeks, which was generally not until midday – and once again the men would be there.

But there was something else. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on about these men. They were secretive and suspicious looking, as if they had something to hide. But nobody else in Kuasta payed any attention – they tended to keep their distance from such people.

It was then that Brom made up his mind. That afternoon, close to dusk, he waited for Savanh outside the smith, and caught him as he exited.

'Brom, what-?'

Brom hushed him, and then pulled him along towards Walter's pub. 'I can't take it anymore. I just have to know.'

'Know what?'

Brom gestured towards the door to the pub, indicating the hooded men. 'We're following them.'

'Foll- are you insane?' Savanh whispered, pulling him back. 'You know what'll happen if the town finds out we missed a ceremony!'

'They won't realise – trust me. We'll be back before they suspect anything.'

'But what if we're seen by… them?'

'You worry too much. So are you with me or not?'

'I just don't want to be punished,' he answered grimly, but sighed and agreed reluctantly. 'But we are a team, after all.'

'Exactly.'

****

They hid on the eastern border behind a small, unoccupied hut. Lothvr left his post as dusk, walking off into the town for the ceremony, leaving their way out relatively clear.

It took little more than two minutes for the hooded figures to appear. They walked right past the shadowy hiding place that Brom and Savanh stood crouched, and Brom could feel Savanh shivering in fear behind him. Brom half-expected to be caught out, but the travellers didn't alter their course.

Once the outsiders were far enough ahead, Brom gestured towards Savanh, moving slowly out of their hiding place.

'Brom,' he whispered uneasily, 'I… What if they see us?'

Brom put his hand on Savanh's shoulder. 'There's no need to be afraid. They think everybody's worshipping that statue, remember? As long as we stick far enough behind, there's no reason for them to see us.

'Now come, we don't want to lose them.'

They trailed behind cautiously, keeping a fair distance from the three hooded figures. The darkness was their only hiding place, and they relied upon it to keep them safe. Brom and Savanh didn't speak a word to each other the entire time. In fact, they barely looked at each other – not that it would have been an entirely successful gesture, as the darkness was so complete.

Once they had moved far enough to the east, the moon became visible over the lower mountaintops to the south, and the travellers were enveloped in a faint silhouette. Brom began to unconsciously doubt himself, but he kept his spirits up. I wonder how far into the mountains they camp, he thought.

As they reached the crease in the earth where the plains met the slope of the Spine, the travellers were approaching a small crevice at the top of the hill, and disappeared behind it. Brom began to move more hastily; they had fallen further behind that he'd thought, and he wasn't going to risk getting caught missing a ceremony only to lose his targets at the last moment.

He could hear Savanh breathing harshly as exhaustion coursed through him – Brom's fitness far exceeded Savanh's, and yet his muscles still burned as they walked up towards the narrow ridge between two peaks that the hooded men had disappeared into.

Stopping at the ridge, the two of them crouched down – Brom lay flat on his stomach and watched as the three men descend into a large valley, speaking a few inaudible words, which echoed faintly from the vast mountaintops that grazed the night sky above.

Savanh simply obeyed Brom's movements, but Brom had no idea what he was even waiting for. The frost began to bite at his skin as he lay there, waiting and watching for a suitable moment to act – he just didn't know when that moment would come, if at all.

But they were soon distracted by the sudden eruption in the sky above the furthest mountaintop. The air and silence was broken as three extraordinarily large figures darted down into the clearing, but Brom was too far away, and the dark was too thick, for him to make out precisely what they were. The clarity of his vision was faulty, but even from the shadowy form they undertook in the darkness, he could see that the beasts were magnificent in their grace, and he longed for the revelation of their identity.

Picking himself up and gesturing firmly to Savanh, Brom slowly moved down the slope in an attempt to get him closer to the clearing; and yet still far enough away to avoid detection. Savanh hesitated for a moment before following at Brom's heels, sighing and surrendering his fate.

The closer they came, the larger the beastly shapes appeared to grow. Brom's curiosity mingled with senses of fear and apprehension as they came within fifty metres of the shadowed forms. One of the travellers then bent down above what seemed to be a collection of dead wood and broken tree branches. They could not see what he was doing, but when the man stepped away, a blazing fire stood in his stead.

Brom held back a gasp. The flames had risen above their waists within seconds. In such a cold, damp night, it was truly an amazing skill.

How did he do that? Brom simply assumed travelling brought upon skills not generally taught in a town such as Kuasta.

But his gaze soon averted from the flames as the surroundings were illuminated in a fierce light, spreading from the campfire and at last revealing the creatures that stood high and mighty, sending a cold chill sweeping across the plain in which Brom and Savanh stood, and they gasped.

They were dragons.


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