Mockingbirds: :) I couldn't do that because then I would be like a broken record.

Alice Prince: Deeply sorry, although by the time the general public reads this, May 13, 2011 at 8:15 PM I would have already sent you an email explaining it and you would have already set to work betaing the prologue. :)

Valkyrie-chick: :) A lot of people have commented on that. It will be addressed. It isn't as harsh as it sounds.

Antclift: No, the silver egg that hatched for Katelyn was the one Saphira's mother gave to Oromis. And it isn't so much a year as it is however long it takes for the Rider to understand what it is like to live in that sort of situation.

Rathon's heart quickened as he awoke. He opened his eyes only to clench them shut as the lowering sun shone freely upon them. A shadow moved in the way of the sunlight and he reopened his eyes to see his elder brother, Brom, standing over him. Brom stood a full head higher than Rathon. Thick stubble crossed his chin, for he was in the height of his youth. Well defined muscles lined his arms, for their master Aesire had spent nearly the full scope of his time with Brom. Dark hair, not raven like Arya's but darker than Eragon's, ran down the sides of his face, framing it like an outline of raven feathers. He was five years older than Rathon and thus far had excelled in magic faster than Rathon could understand.

Beside Brom stood Katelyn, like a batch of flowers beside a funeral garment. Bright, exuberant eyes spaced perfectly apart were placed under delicate eyebrows. Her brown hair tumbled down her back, unrestricted by a tie or bun. The only sign that she was more than an average human was the faint glow from her left palm and the tips of her ears that tapered up to points, hardly visible with her hair. While Brom stood with his arms crossed, looking down at him disapprovingly, Katelyn smiled down at him warmly.

"Rathon," she said cheerfully. "You should not sleep during a lesson. How do you ever except to become stronger if all you do is sleep?"

Brom scowled. "You're constantly treating him like an injured puppy hardly helps the situation, Katelyn."

"To the contrary," she said to Brom, tilting her head to look up at him with the same smile. "A man with honey will attract many more bees than a man with vinegar."

"This is not acceptable, Rathon," Brom said, ignoring Katelyn. Katelyn said nothing, but shrugged and returned her attention to Rathon. "The younger Riders look up to you for an example. If they follow in your lead, the Riders will be nothing but a pack of lazy louts before the year is done."

"That's why you're here," Rathon said. "I've never had a skill for much magic. That's why we're different. Grasping magic is like grasping a wet bar of soap to me and like griping a sword handle made for your hand for you."

"How will your magic improve if you're not even conscious?"

"Cease with your disputing," said a clear, vibrant voice from behind them. Brom did not turn, but kept his gaze locked with Rathon's. Katelyn turned and bowed.

"Master Aesire," she said formally.

Aesire, the man Eragon had trusted to teach the three of them, stopped a few yards away. "Brom," he said calmly.

"Yes, Master," Brom said in an equally calm voice.

"You will not make a plant more resistant to drought by depriving it of water."

"Your analogy is appreciated, yet little understood."

"Let your brother's abilities tend to themselves and in time, perhaps they will grow stronger. Step back, and let me speak with Rathon."

Brom continued to stare at Rathon for a moment, and then turned his back on his brother.

Aesire turned his attention on Rathon, his expression stern. "Rise," he said. Rathon rose and stood with his back straight.

"I left you four hours ago with the assignment to mold something out of clay with magic. What have you wrought in those hours?"

Rathon extended his hand and held out the latent orb that flashed with glowing lights every few seconds.

"And what purpose does this serve?" Rathon was silent. Aesire sighed and said, "Katelyn." Like a trained bird flitting to the hand of its master, Katelyn snapped to attention at Aesire's side.

"Yes, Master?"

"What have you made?"

Katelyn licked her lips and whistled three times. From around the roof of the courtyard came four chattering birds made from hardened clay.

"And show us the purpose in these creations."

Katelyn dipped her head and said, "Do not allow these birds' song to enter your heart." She clucked her tongue at them and they began to sing an elven song. Rathon felt his eyes begin to droop before Brom shoved him in the shoulder, bringing him back to alertness. Katelyn held out her hands and the birds ceased their singing and return to the roof. "Unless you take care to guard your heart, the birds' song will put you to sleep in less than a minute."

"And Brom, what have you made?"

Brom turned and pointed at the wall of the palace and they all stepped up to the side of it. Running along the edge of the palace wall were dragon heads, of exquisite detail, set five feet apart. The dragons reared up, their right paws held up as if to strike an unseen enemy. Twenty five in total lined the wall.

"And what is their purpose, other than being aesthetically pleasing?"

Brom composed himself for a moment before raising his arm out to the rolling sea and intoning, "Kveykva." At his command, the dragons on the wall simultaneously stirred, opened their mouths and all together twenty five bolts of lightning shot onto the rolling ocean below. A flash of light preceded the lightning before it collided with the ocean. Lines of electricity shot from one matter of debris to the next, evaporating every blemish on the sea until the ocean appeared as perfect as glass.

A flare of indignation ignited in Rathon as Aesire clapped his hands and Katelyn chirped with delight. "Well done," Aesire said proudly. "That you could do so much with only 'lightning' is expected for being a Rider for a decade. But to use only that word to compose a spell meant equally for war as it is for a display of knowledge is a feat!"

"Please Master," Brom said, lowering his arm. "They are hardly worthy of such praise. I simply used a basic spell to gather the filaments of electricity composed by the molecules in the air rubbing against each other, gathered that motive force and then released it at once, creating lightning." He rubbed his left arm with the knuckles of his right. "Indeed the spell did not work as I had intended. The flash preceding each of the collisions with water and lightning was caused by the lightning dropping several hundred degrees in the span of less than a second due to the ocean reseeding." He turned and bowed. "It was a failed spell and I will strive to predict the after effects of my spell when next I attempt it."

"As Nialzari wrought: 'To know the circumstances of a supernatural happening beyond mortal comprehension only moments after its conclusion betrays wisdom of a world weary adult.' Give yourself credit where it is due." Then his eyes fell onto Rathon, as did those of the rest of the people present. Rathon's arms were rigid and he stared down at the marble floor with humiliation. In the same amount of time, as Rathon had been able to make a useless lighter, Brom had been able to think of, design, mold and create not one, but twenty five powerful weapons of war that shot projectiles no earthly shield could stop.

"I will do better next time," Rathon finally managed to say.

"See that you do," Aesire said. "Tomorrow is your day off," he said to Rathon. "I suggest you use it redoing this assignment. In the future, you may not have four hours to craft an item of use."

Rathon slammed the doors to his chambers closed, climbed the ladder that led past the first three levels to his chambers and up to his small window that he spent a good part of his time in. The window was circular with six layers of padding so he could lay there for hours in comfort. He sat down in his usual spot and breathed heavily through his nose. What do they expect of me? he thought. I've been a Rider for only five years, yet they treat me like I've been in training for a decade. After nearly a half hour, there came a tapping from his door. Since it would take him nearly a minute to traverse the room he growled, "Who is it?"

"Your friend since childhood," came Katelyn's response. He sighed.

"Enter," he said with weary submission. Katelyn pulled the door open just enough to slip in and then ascended to his level and sat down opposite to him in the window. For an interminable time they sat together, silent. The Katelyn said, "Are you upset with Master Aesire?"

"No, not him."

"Me?"

"No, of course not."

"We are left with Brom then."

Rathon scowled. "Why does he have to act so imperious and noble? 'Indeed the spell did not go as I had intended.' Bah! Why was I born with such a bastard?"

A long moment passed before Katelyn replied. "I will agree that what he said was rather high minded. However, he has a high position to fill. When Eragon steps down from the throne, he will take his place."

"And when he is enthroned, then he can act like a self righteous zealot. I am a Prince, and will always remain as such. Why do I not have these rights? I am as much royalty as he."

"Yet as you just testified you will never be a higher level than he, unless he should die."

"Whose side are you on?"

"I am on neither of your sides; and at the same time I am on both."

"You sound more like Master every day," Rathon said, irritated.

A gentle smile spread on Katelyn's lips. "Do you believe that to be an improvement?"

Rathon's anger melted away and he met her gaze. Only she could take his anger at his brother, which usually burned with the intensity of a forest fire, and melt it away as if it had never existed. "How is it you can take my most heated anger and turn it off as if it was nonexistent?"

"I know you, Rathon," she said, taking his left hand. "And I know Brom. The three of us will always be the eldest of the new Riders, until the day we die. I will go to the grave before I allow mere resentment to tarnish that."

Rathon held her gaze for a moment longer before looking out at the sunset again. "I wonder how the dragons' day went."

"They are being taught just as rigorously as we."

"Yet their training they can enjoy. What greater freedom is there than flying? When you soar among the clouds, with nothing holding you down or fighting against you, then you know ultimate freedom. Humans cannot understand what that is like. To be able to live without restraint or opposition, to go wherever you will and to be able to look down onto all things as if you were the Ruler of the World."

"You've been reading more tales and epics than studying magic, haven't you?"

"Indeed. For my curiosity, what gave that detail away?"

"You always look out at the skies reflectively and recite the words you are remembering from some story. I don't even think you know you are doing it," she said with a small smile. Rathon remained somber, however.

"I wish I knew how to fly. I wish I could sore in the clouds with Leonis, the freest of beings in the entire world."

For a long pause they sat in silence, hands still clasped together. Then Katelyn said, "Forgive Brom for his short comings. I will speak to him of it, if it will please you."

"It would," he said, not acknowledging that she had let his hand go and was standing. He kept his eyes fixed on the distant seas.

Katelyn paused. "Does it bother you?"

"I can hardly answer that question without knowing what you are referring to."

"Never having seen the land of your forefathers? The actual world where your father fought and slew? Alagaesia?"

"Does it bother you?"

"I have been there."

Rathon's head snapped to her with an impudent expression. "When?"

Confusion crossed Katelyn's face. "Master didn't…" Her eyes widened with comprehension and she bowed and said, "I am not permitted to speak of it." And then she left before Rathon had a chance to confront her further.

So, two things on a personal update. I'M 17! So that's awesome. What's not so awesome about that is my seventeenth birthday is on a Friday the 13th. Scary, huh? Ready for some more absolutely useless bits of knowledge?

Did you know that a man by the name of Charlie Chaplin entered a look alike contest for himself? He got third place. Did you know that Laser is actually an acronym for "Light Amplification by Stimulated Emissions of Radiation?" Did you know that Walt Disney had a morbid fear of mice? (Think about it)

What comes after your standard gigabyte? Well it goes like this. You start with a byte; so small in space it is almost useless. After that comes kilobyte, megabyte, gigabyte, terabyte, petabyte, exabyte, zettabyte, and then comes the last one and it is appropriately named. The yottabyte. To help you comprehend how much space is in a yottabyte. It is theorized that every word, spoken by every human since the dawn of time, would maybe fill 1.032% of a yottabyte. As of this year no storage system has even come close to even a zettabyte. The entire scope of the internet; ever site, forum, blog, social network, etc. and everything in them would come close to 500 exabytes. So, we've got a way's to go.