Prologue

"Oromis and Glaedr are dead," Eragon said to himself for the hundredth time that day. Yet he still couldn't get his head around that fact. They had given him hope, they were meant to bring down Galbatorix. But they were dead.

No little one. You know as well as I do that it was not their wyrda kill that oath breaker, it is ours. It was never their job, Saphira said, eyeing him as they glided above the clouds.

"We can't do it though. We aren't ready!" Eragon replied with his mind. "Oromis and Glaedr hadn't finished teaching us, we can't..."

Of course we're not ready, Saphira snorted, but it's still our destiny. Not now, maybe not for years to come it is our destiny. Alagaësia will see Galbatorix fall before our. Alagaësia will be free, we will be free.

She was right and Eragon knew it. Alagaësia needed them, and they would not fail. They could not fail. They were Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Bjartskular. They were the first of the new generation of riders. And Galbatorix for all of his might and magic would not stand in the way of their freedom.

-x-

Uru'baen was a safe haven. Those within it's walls knew nothing of the desperate struggle for power beyond it's borders. The king was happy, so the people were happy.

The citadel rose above the ordinary houses, casting a shadow over half the city in the late afternoon sun. Somewhere in the crowded streets a fight broke out and a small crowd was beginning to gather. The two men in the middle of the of the circle were shouting, but nobody knew what of.

"It's happening!" The taller of the two men roared at his opponent, "The time has come, I've seen it myself!"

His adversary didn't back down. "It isn't. He died years ago, with him went all hope!"

The taller man spat at the ground. "Have you forgotten what he said? Have you lost all memory of our heritage?"

A look of indignation flashed across the shorter man's face. "I have not!" he bellowed.

"Then act upon the signs! They are obvious. Do not pretend you haven't seen them!" The two men were now close to each other. Breathing hard, their faces only inches apart, the two of them stared each other down. Eventually the shorter of the two turned to face away, his head low.

Almost too low for anyone to hear, he said, "When do we start?" His opponent smiled.

"Two days."

-x-

"Oromis and Glaedr are dead'" he said, "there is no hope for the Varden."

"I know that they are dead," Galbatorix snapped, "they fell because of me." Galbatorix sighed contentedly, glancing at the man beside him before returning his gaze to the window. His citadel was magnificent. He was Galbatorix, ruler of Alagaësia, "and the riders will not rise."

The king knew what would happen next. It was almost too obvious. All he had to do was sit and wait for it. Beside him, the man smiled. He too knew what was to come, and his gedway ignasia glowed faintly as it had for the entire conversation. The king turned and walked up the corridor to his private quarters, leaving the man facing the window alone. He gazed out past Uru'baen's walls, towards where he knew the Varden were preparing.