Hey guys! Like it said in the summary, this is just a little something I cooked up when I was bored. I'm not really sure where it's going to go from here. I replaced some of the content from the original, and I think it's a little better.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle, or any of the characters.
"Wait!" Eragon turned around. Behind him was a young woman, running after him, her skirts dragging behind her.
The girl locked eyes with him, and Eragon's heart thumped in his chest. It was the same girls that he had blessed not a few months ago, the one that had been with the older woman, the one that Angela had thrown the knuckle bones for. Though, she hadn't looked quite so weary and sick before.
The girl stared too, and then blinked, apparently remembering her manners.
When she spoke, she stuttered on her words. "Good afternoon, Slade Shayer- I mean Shade Slayer!" She curtsied and bowed her head low, but Eragon still saw the blood rush to his cheeks.
He laughed softly and the girl blushed an even deeper red.
"You may rise," Eragon said, willing himself to see her pretty face again. She had dark curly hair that was crudely chopped off just above her shoulders, though it did nothing to detract from her beauty. It makes her look even more enviable, Eragon thought to himself.
The girl lifted her head. "Thank you, Rider." She looked faint.
Before Eragon could stop himself, the words came out. "Please call me Eragon."
Eragon! Saphira's voice came into his mind like a mental thunderstorm. You've just met her! She could be a spy from the Empire, or worse, the Black Hand of Galbatorix!
You're overreacting! Eragon said. Then he added a little sheepishly, I couldn't help it.
Well next time, Saphira said, do help it!
"Your name is Eragon?" The young woman asked, and Eragon noticed that he had taken a relatively long pause with Saphira, who he now sensed swooping above them.
"Yes. Why do you ask?"
"Half the Empire is not even aware you have a name. It's lovely."
Eragon blushed. "We've met before, have we not?" He asked quickly.
The girl blushed again. "Yes. My aunt and I. We were traveling and we decided to.." The girl hesitated. "To, how shall I put it? Aid in the battle of Feinster."
"How did you 'aid'?" Eragon Had expected the answer to be something like, "Tended to the injured, or, "Helped evacuate families."
The girl smiled. "We fought like mad dogs." She suddenly swayed tediously to the left, and Eragon had to dart to catch her.
Eragon raised his eyebrows. "Did you?" Eragon but a hand on her forehead. It burned with fever. "You're ill?"
The girl nodded, and pulled at the cuff on her slightly tattered beige dress and began to unlace it up to her shoulder. Under it was a bandage that she quickly unraveled. What Eragon next saw made him have to stifle a gasp.
All the way up the girl's arm, just above her wrist to right under her shoulder, was the most horrifying cut Eragon ever seen.
"A townsman had at my arm with a sword. Slashed me well." She said ruefully, glancing down at the wound, which was green around the edges oozed sickly liquid.
"How are you still alive?" Eragon asked slowly as he examined the young woman's arm. It was obviously atrociously infected and there were signs of blood poisoning.
"My aunt has been making poultices for it. It's what I came to about, Eragon," The girl's voice was raising in hysteria, but Eragon liked the way she said his name. "Please, Eragon, where I come from, it's not custom ask for help with a battle wound and my aunt ordered me to tell no one of it. But I cannot survive like this. My aunt is on an errand, please, please help me Shade Slayer!" She cried, reverting to his public name.
"Of course," Eragon said soothingly. He continued to asses the severity before realizing that Wiese Heil was not going to repair it. There was far too much flesh rotting to succeed with that spell.
Finally he settled on a spelling and put a hand on the girls' upper arm and muttered the words.
The young woman hardly flinched as the decaying skin righted itself, and the wound healed over without even a scab. When it was done, she threw her arms around Eragon.
"Thank you, thank you!" she said tears welling in her eyes.
Eragon, surprised by the gesture, did not try to pull away.
Not another love interest, Saphira groaned in Eragon's mind.
Oh, be quiet!
May I speak to her?
You may scare her.
She is well aware that you are a dragon rider, as well as everyone else in Feinster! Besides, with a wound like that, she couldn't be especially easy to scare.
Alright, but make yourself seen first.
The girl's eyes widened when Saphira landed next to Eragon, but she quickly pulled away from Eragon, curtsied and said, "Good afternoon, Brightscales."
At least she has good manners, Saphira conceded to Eragon, and then spoke to the girl. Good afternoon.
The girl looked astonished that Saphira was speaking to her.
Eragon ignored it. "Tell me, young maid, what is your name?"
The hesitated for a long while, and Eragon half expected her to turn on her heel and leave.
The girl finally replied, "Annalisa."
"A wonderful name," said Eragon. "Now, you said we have met before. Was it when Angela threw her knuckle bones for you?" He knew perfectly well, though he wished to prolong the conversation with the girl for as long as possible.
"Angela?"
"The witch," Eragon explained.
"You give up her name very easily, Eragon Shade Slayer," said the girl—Annalisa. "Names have great power. But yes, that is when we met. You and you dragon blessed my aunt and myself. Now that I have given up the secret of my name, I wish to know one of yours. Who is your father?"
How did she even know I had any relation to Murtagh in the first place? Eragon wondered.
Eragon, Saphira cautioned, she is trying to retrieve information from you! You cannot tell her this. She already knows too much. You may even have to turn her in to Nasuada if she has this kind of information about you!
Stop worrying so much. If she was an enemy, then why did she reveal her name to me? It obviously wasn't something she usually does. And why would she even have been fighting in the siege of Feinster if she wasn't on out side?
She could have easily made up that story and got the cut from somewhere else, Saphira insisted. She could've made up that name!
If she was our enemy, why would her and her aunt have passed right through the Varden's camp a few weeks ago? They could have attacked us with such ease the matter is not even amusing!
"Why do you wish to know this?"
"My aunt and I can help you. We have information about the Empire you never could have even dreamed of, Eragon! As a matter of fact, as soon as my aunt returns, she intends to speak to your leader."
"That does not answer my question."
The girl sighed. "I suppose it is a mystery I have been trying to solve ever since you became a Rider."
That answer satisfied Eragon. After all, what did it matter that anyone knew Brom was his father? Brom had been a great man, and Eragon was not ashamed to be his son.
"I am Eragon, son of Brom."
"You closely resemble him," Annalisa commented.
Eragon raised an eyebrow. "Do I?" He had never thought he really looked like either of his parents.
"Oh yes," She assured him, "My aunt and I, we study the parentage of
Dragon Riders. We have thus deducted that some people become Riders by
chance, but if your one of your parents was a Rider—mainly the father—if there
is a dragon egg brought before you, it will hatch for you."
"For sure?" Eragon wondered aloud. Ideas where quickly forming in his mind. If
he had a son, would a dragon hatch for his son of daughter?
"From what we've seen in our research, the son of a Rider, if presented an egg, will become one himself."
"How very interesting," Eragon mused. "Now this only with sons?"
"There are no records of it happening with any daughters."
"That explains some things," Eragon said absently. Him and Murtagh both being the sons of Riders.
"Explains what, Eragon?"
Eragon told her of his theory.
You have just revealed another secret to her, said Saphira, Eragon, you must realize, telling anyone anything, Nasuada, Arya, Orik, could be our down fall. Even if she is a harmless girl, she could be abducted by the Empire and have the information pried out of her. The less people who know these things, the better.
I'm just helping her with her research, Eragon said innocently.
You're acting like a love struck fool, that's what you're doing.
"Murtagh is your half brother?" Annalisa asked.
Eragon coughed. "Yes, he is my half brother, but I do not consider him my family. We have no similarities."
"Besides the fact that you are both Riders."
"Yes, I suppose." Then a question occurred to him that he had never wondered about anyone before. "Can you use magic?"
The girl cocked her head. "A bit." Was all she said.
"Eragon!" came a shout from one of the run down buildings of Feinster, the one that Nasuada was staying in. "How long are you going to linger about my… dwelling?"
Eragon had recently been speaking about the next leg of the Varden's journey.
He grinned broadly. "As long as you see fit, my lady."
Annalisa stared at Nasuada in awe.
"Who is your friend, Eragon?" Nasuada asked.
"I am not sure if she sees fit to reveal her name, but she claims to be a friend of the Varden. She is here with her aunt."
And Eragon has revealed half of his secrets to her in the course of five minutes, Saphira told Nasuada.
"What have you gotten into this time?" Nasuada said, soft and venomous.
It's nothing, really. Eragon sent to Nasuada.
"May I invite you in, young maid? Eragon, I also wish to speak with you."
"I wish to retrieve my aunt before we meet with you, Lady," said Annalisa, "She should be back from her errand now."
"Well, make haste, for I have free time today."
The girl nodded and ran almost as fast as Eragon could himself
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