Disclaimer: Anything that you recognize from the book Eragon is not mine. Anything you do not recognize is mine.
A/N: Here is the newest story from me. I hope you like it. Let me know what you think so I know if I should continue it. Thanks!
Prologue
For as long as she could remember she had heard stories of legendary men and women who came from a far who had powers like no one had ever seen. They were known as the Dragon Riders and, as their names implies, flew over the countryside on dragons of their very own. Her father would stay up late with her, telling her stories of how they fought bravely against the king but failed and those that were left went into hiding. She was enthralled by the stories and would lie awake in bed and think of how wonderful that would be. How she would give anything to see a real rider and the mount that carried him. She could imagine a handsome man with a beautiful gold dragon who flew over the seas to help the ones that called for aid. How if she needed help that a rider would appear and help her. Just the thought of them existing sent chills through her body and she'd let sleep take her as her dreams filled with the Dragon Riders. Allowing herself to fly with them, the wind in her hair as she looked at the riders around her. For years her father filled her head with the Dragon Riders stories and it was all she could talk about. Her mother disapproved of her father telling her the stories but she would hear none of it. Her father was her hero and she used to draw pictures of him on his very own dragon saving her village from the latest installment of terror her imagination put on it. It was a sweet childhood obsession.
"Tell me more!" She demanded. Being an only child it didn't help that she was doted on by her father. She was used to getting her way.
"My dear, it is past your bed time and if I continue your mother will have my head." Her father grinned at her.
"Papa please? Just finish telling me how they talk to each other." She told him.
"You've heard that a thousand times. I don't need to say it again." He smiled. "Tomorrow you can pick my brain about it all over again. You could probably write a book about them. You've heard the stories enough."
"I don't think so. Perhaps you should." She grinned.
"I don't think so." He smiled.
"Just a little bit longer papa? I'll do my chores really good tomorrow, I promise." She told him trying to get one more story out of him. "A short story."
"It is time for bed." He told her.
"How about the one about the magic they had. The dragons and the riders. Or –"
"To bed." He said cutting her off. He kissed her forehead before closing the door behind him as he left.
But all the stories, the images she had in her head about the riders failed her. They failed her on a cold winter's night when strangers passed through the village. She woke to the screaming out in the road and the rushing through the house. At only seven years old she did not suspect the danger that she could be in. She warily went to the window and looked outside at the street below. People were running everywhere, screaming as men on horseback galloped through the village. There was an explosion and she looked at a nearby house blow apart. She frowned as the fear started to sink in. She heard footsteps outside of her room.
"Anika!" Her father said bursting through the door.
"Papa!" She yelled but before she could take a step toward him the ground shook and the last thing she remembered was the feeling of cold underneath her and looking up at the remains of her home.