Yes I know! Another chapter!
However, I have an announcement. I have my finals this week, so I can't update as quickly as I have with the others. If I do update before next Friday, please yell at me because I really should have been studying...
Anyway, I was editing and retyping much of this chapter. I actually have chapter three finished; I'll be revising that as I write chapter four.
Please tell me what you think. I feel as if I've made Garrow's and Roran's characters OOC and all that I can guarantee is that Roran will go through a major character development so that he'll be more like he is in the books. I know where I'm going with this, and I can only hope that there won't be too many curve-balls and plot twists. Hey, at the end, I wrote a little spoiler (sort of). I'm not sure if I'll have that scene in the book yet, but we'll see when I get there.
Read, Review, and most of all enjoy!
Chapter Two:
Snow softly crunched beneath his feet. Gertrude got down from her horse, and, rather timidly, walked up to them. She held two fingers up to her mouth, "Atra esterní ono thelduin, Shur'tugalar."
Eragon and Murtagh repeated the action "Mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr." They said together, amused.
"Un du evarinya ono varda," Gertrude finished.
"I'm surprised to find that our sister's descendents have quite the knowledge about elvin gestures," Murtagh commented; a twitch of his lips showing his amusement.
"We are proud of our traditions," Gertrude replied in the Ancient Language. Her pronunciation had a slight human accent to it, but otherwise it was well-spoken "For they are all that remain of a life before Galbatorix."
"Indeed; I'm impressed with your articulation. You speak better than most of the human magicians from even before the Dragon War," Eragon smiled.
"I'm honored," She curtsied, her form dipping low, her head bowed, but her back straight; exactly like a proper lady.
"There is no need to bow to family," Eragon told her, though he and Murtagh had given her a short bow in return "After all, we are ultimately your uncles."
Gertrude raised an eyebrow, and for a moment Eragon could see his sister in her "In that case, uncles, follow me. Rest tonight in my home, and then tomorrow we can discuss your purpose."
"Sounds like a plan," he followed her to the horses. As he mounted his horse, his hood fell down.
Gertrude gasped. "You look like elves!" She exclaimed.
Eragon shared a glance with his brother. "Yes, we do, don't we?" He said. He fingered the tip of his ear. "I suppose we should alter our appearance for the time being during our stay. If anyone calls us elves…well, we'll be in trouble."
Gertrude nodded. "Yes, but for now, let's go and rest. I've already told Byrd, the village watchman, two members of the family are visiting me in Carvahall. He'll let us pass through without any questions."
The three started on their way. Eragon throw his hood up, and both he and his brother muttered a spell that would allow them to slip through without the watchman Byrd looking too closely at their faces.
The watchman rounded the corner, holding up a lantern. A short greeting passed between Gertrude and the watchman, Byrd, who chastised her for not taking someone with her so late at night.
"It'll take a lot more than the darkness to scare away a member of our family, especially a woman," Eragon told the watchman "I'd say that we were the ones who started the phrase 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.'"
The watchman laughed good-naturally while Gertrude hummed in annoyance. Byrd let them through. As Eragon passed what he guessed the watchman's house was, he caught sight of a pale face looking through the window. He glanced over; the face looked young, around thirteen years, and it looked too skinny to be healthy. Both Gertrude and Byrd seemed well-fed.
'I wonder,' he thought to himself. He could feel Saphira growl between their link.
'A dangerous pastime for you,' she said. 'Do not stick your nose into things that do not concern you right now, little one.'
'I'll try not to,' he smiled to himself. He could almost feel Saphira sigh in exasperation, but felt a small thrill of excitement. Over the centuries, his dragon managed to make whatever messes he landed himself in…interesting. Both of them came to enjoy their misadventures.
(Page Break)
Adrian watched as the snowflakes slowly fluttered down onto the steps of the porch. Icicles glistened from the morning sun, hanging precariously from the ceiling of the porch. When the winter wind blew, he shivered and wrapped his cloak tightly around himself. He wasn't one for the cold, but he appreciated the beauty that winter brought. He snuck an arm out of his tightly bound cloak and watched delightfully as the snowflakes landed on it. He smiled as he felt the tiny pinpricks of cold and ice land on his palm, and melt away.
"What are you doing?" A quiet voice asked. Adrian turned to face his twin, Adrianna. Though they were identical with their brown eyes, black hair, their thin faces, and their cat-like eyes, Adrianna, much to Adrian's displeasure, was taller than him "You're going to get a cold, and then where will we be?"
Adrian smiled as his sister grabbed his hand and rubbed, bringing heat to it. "W-well, I-I'll h-h-have m-my h-healer sister f-fix me up."
Adrianna rolled her eyes. "Come on," She tugged his hand "We need to get back inside before mother and father yell at us again." At the mention of his parents, particularly his mother, Adrian sobered and followed his sister inside. Their older brother greeted them in the living room, as he was lacing up his boots.
Roran was a large, bulky man at only eighteen years of age, seven years older than the twins. He spent the last two winters working at a mill in Theinsford, as well as doing most of the farm work alongside their father. "Are the two of you ready yet?" He asked, looking up at his siblings. They nodded.
"Good," he stood up and motioned them to come inside the kitchen. All the food that they would be selling lay in crates and baskets on the table though this year there were only two crates and three baskets. Their father Garrow, a stern man with a mean look but a kinder heart, had picked up a crate. Despite his fragile frame, and the fact that he didn't eat as much as the rest of the family, Garrow was one of the strongest men in the village.
"Grab a crate, Roran," Garrow said. Quickly, the family each went about their respective tasks. Roran and Garrow would load the larger crates into the wagon. The twins went about helping their mother with the baskets, which carried the pickled food. But after the wagon was loaded, Garrow called the entire family backside the house.
"The twins are staying home." He declared, once everyone was gathered.
"No!" Adrianna protested "The traders won't come again until spring! You promised that we'd be able to go today!"
Adrian stayed silent, and his stomach churned. He knew why Father didn't want them to come. "N-Norfavrell," He muttered into his sister's ear, tugging on her dress sleeve.
Adrianna quickly turned somber "C-can we at least spend some time with him before," she paused, then started again "Before they…they…"
"Maybe they should," Roran added carefully. Adrian looked up hopefully at his older brother. Garrow usually listened to Roran, when he listened to anyone at all.
"That boy is getting what he deserved," his mother, Marian, interjected. She didn't say anything else, but Adrian could hear her thoughts 'Though those twins are just as queer as well…'
He and his sister Adrian were the odd ones of the village, the misfits. He'd stuttered and often collapse into fits at random intervals. Adrianna was too bold for a girl. Their skins were always tanner than the others as if they'd spend all year out in the summer sun (though nowhere near as dark as the traitors), and they both looked a little more than flesh and bone, small in height as well even though Adrianna was taller than him. Unlike the rest of the broad-faced villagers, their faces were thin, with a large mop of hair on top of their heads.
There were others things about him in particular as well, strange things that happened. He could listen to the thoughts of animals, well, not really thoughts, but more like sense their emotions. He could sometimes hear other people's thoughts, but not always, and not everyone's. It wasn't exactly a good thing. He could never know what his father was thinking, and knew too much about what his mother, brother, and the rest of the villagers thought of them. Only Adrianna knew of this talent, and her defensiveness of him only made them sticks out all the more.
Their only true friend was their cousin Norfavrell, a boy they would be 'purifying' today with the help of some of the traders, who specialized in dealing with people of unnatural qualities. Nori, as they called him, was the only one other who knew about Adrian's strange ability, but urged him to keep quiet. After all, Nori told his parents about his feelings, who in turn told the rest of their large family, who then spread it, unintentionally they said, to the rest of the village. And that got them to where they were today.
"We haven't seen him in a long time," Adrianna continued. Adrian grabbed her hand for support "Father, please."
Everyone seemed to hold their breath. "No," Garrow said firmly. "Go to your room. There will be food for lunch and dinner in the cellar. If I see either of you there, I'll skin and tan your hides."
Adrian grabbed his sister and the two dashed up the stairs, neither one of them eager to find out if Garrow would keep true to his threat.
(Norfavrell's POV)
He knew when the traders arrived, having heard their loud, rumpus noises and the front door slam shut when his uncle, Byrd the village watchman, went out to greet them. He didn't bother to check and see if he would be let out yet. He hadn't been let out in months, so he doubts anything would be new.
He had confessed to his parents, who were approachable and friendly. They would listen and help with anyone's problems. He hoped that they would help about his attraction to boys over girls. That only resulted in his parents locking him away, and then telling their entire family about it, in hopes that they would help. Unfortunately, Birgit, his mother, had chosen a wrong time tell his Aunt Marian as one of his younger siblings heard about it, and the news spread like wildfire in the village.
No one wanted to be near him. No one wanted to talk to him or touch him. He was treated like a fatal disease until his parents locked him in the spare room at his Uncle Byrd's house. They kept him separate from his siblings, feeding him twice a day and letting him use the privy once a day. Other times, they tried to get the Healer Gertrude to look at him and treat him. Each time she said that there was nothing she could do because it wasn't a disease. Norfavrell wondered if something was fatally wrong with him.
He also wondered if they would sell him to the traders for money. He doubted it, but a nagging feeling told him that something was wrong. His suspicions only proved to be true when the door to his room opened around mid-morning and he saw his mother's face.
His mother Birgit, tall strong and proud, stood in the doorway with a plate of cheese and bread-and chicken!-in one hand and water in another. Yet instead of seeing the blank façade she kept on whenever she was around him, there was a line of worry drawn all over her face.
He immediately swung his feet onto the floor "Mother?" he asked, alarmed. The day when the traders came was usually a day of great joy and happiness. Villagers and traders would exchange goods, troubadours and musicians would perform, and there would be so many foods to choose from! It was heaven on earth for everyone.
"Eat your food," she said stiffly. Hearing his mother's voice for the first time in months did wonders to his ears; he nearly cried. She held out the plate and cup for him, another first in months. Slowly, Norfavrell climbed off his bed, and walked towards her. The day felt like a dream; real yet he wondered how it was possible. Maybe people decided to forgive him?
"Thank-you," he whispered as he took them from her, trying to hold back his tears. He watched as her eyes glossed over but she quickly blinked and they were gone. Without another word, she left.
Norfavrell sat on his bed, his throat closed and openly, but silently, cried. It seemed like a huge relief as if a great weight had been lifted off his chest. He thought that he would never hear his mother's voice talking to him again.
Wuss! Only girls cry like that!
Only girls like boys!
You've got the devil in you.
Stay away from the poof, he'll make you into a devil!
Taunts of the other village boys echoed in his mind. He pushed them aside and decided to focus on his food.
As soon as he finished his plate the door opened again, and he looked up to find Uncle Byrd standing in the doorway.
"Come with me," his uncle didn't want for him to answer as he grabbed the boy with a gloved hand, and dragged him out. "It's time you were taught a lesson."
(The Twins)
They listened to their father, huddled up in their 'room', which was the attic of the house. While other farmer often had single floor homes, Garrow's had three; the first floor, the second floor with two bedrooms, and the third floor-the attic.
"Can you do that thing, again?" Adrianna asked; her eyes wide, "The one where you can speak into my mind?"
Adrian thought for a moment, biting his lip, and then he shook his head.
"Please, Ri?" She used her brother's nickname, the one only she uses, and poked him in the side, "I think it's really amazing!"
Again, he said no. He didn't want to invade his sister's privacy like that, as he often told her.
"Fine," She huffed and crossed her arms. "I won't talk to you until you do. In fact, the only way that you can hear me is if you read my mind."
Adrian stuck his tongue out at her. "I-I guess I-I'll f-finally have s-some quiet."
Adrianna whacked him in the head.
A loud crash downstairs made them both jump. "Their room's in the attic," a gruff voice said; they realized that it belonged to Sloan, the butcher.
The twins looked at each other, before scrambling under the bed. Loud footsteps thundered up the stairs, and their bedroom door flung open. They waited with baited breathed, until Adrianna was grabbed. "No!" Adrian cried, as he too was taken, "L-Let g-go!"
Burlap sacks covered their head, and their hands and feet were bound. "Get them in the wagon." Sloan's voice ordered. "We have to be quick before Garrow realizes that something was amiss." Neither twin could see where they were going, but they knew that they were heading downstairs. Both were tossed roughly into a cart, hitting their heads against each other. A few moments later, and the wagon they were thrown in started to move. They jostled against each other.
'Adrian?' Adrianna called out in her mind, nervous 'Can you hear me?'
'Yes?' Adrian responded, though his voice was faint.
'We're going to be okay. Father will find us and put a stop to this. People listen to him.'
'…I don't think he'll come.' It was just a theory that Adrian had, but sometimes he wondered if it was true; that Garrow didn't love them as much as he loved Roran.
They passed the rest of the time in silence, hearts thumping in their chests, fearful of what was to come. When they finally stopped moving, rough hands pulled them out. "You'll finally be getting what you deserve," Sloan's voice croaked. Both twins fought the tight grip, but to no avail.
(Eragon POV)
The plan was to stay inside all day, mostly because they didn't want to attract attention. Earlier that morning, Gertrude's apprentice, a young fourteen-year old boy named Baldor, met the two. He was only told that they would be taking away two boys, whose names were Norfavrell and Adrian. When Eragon heard what Garrow named his youngest son, he almost jerked back. Murtagh looked up from the book he was reading. 'I wonder if he named his eldest Roran,' Eragon thought bitterly 'He had no right to name either of his children as such.'
"You better take Adrianna as well," Baldor told them "Adrian would never leave his twin behind."
"His twin," Eragon wondered.
Gertrude quickly interceded "I plan to take her into my home. She too can become a healer. I plan to leave after you apprenticeship is finished, Baldor, and she will come with me."
He stayed silent on the subject. Adrian and Adrianna; just what was Garrow thinking? And what happened when he left twenty years ago? Did his True Name change? If so, what caused it to change? He wondered if it was love; it seemed that familial love for one's blood skipped a few generations in his family.
A frantic knocking at the door broke their conversation. Baldor went to answer it.
"Get Gertrude," A female's voice nearly shouted. Gertrude rushed over.
"Katrina? What's wrong?"
"Norfavrell, Adrian and Adrianna," Katrina wheezed out. "I-I only…managed…to get away….men…traders…father he's mad…"
Gertrude rushed off, not bothering to put her cloak on. Eragon shared a glance with Murtagh, who put his book down. They both donned their clothes, while Murtagh grabbed Gertrude's. Eragon made sure to grab his bow and arrow, and he was sure Murtagh had brought a long dagger with him. They rushed out, and Eragon took a quick glance at the newcomer; her rust-colored hair seemed to be sticking out in certain places. They followed Gertrude towards a crowd of people, both traders and villagers alike, and Eragon heard an idiot before he saw him.
"The devil's got into them!" A man, presumably Katrina's father, shouted "We need no such creatures in our village. Purge them I say; purge them!"
"Stop!" Gertrude's voice rang throughout the crowd. People parted easily for her, and Eragon and Murtagh fell into step behind her. "Sloan, you bastard, what are you doing?"
Easily taller than most of the people there, Eragon saw two children tied to a post, with flames licking their feet, and another with his arms stretched between two poles. Three, angry red whip marks stood out on the boy's pale back. One of the children on the pole, a boy it looked like, was throwing a fit, as if he couldn't control his limbs. Eragon could hear the girl mouth words of comfort to him, in between her own coughs. 'Don't talk!' he wanted to shout to her 'It'll only make it worse!'
The man near the boy between the poles, probably Sloan, held a whip he paused in midair when he heard Gertrude. Everyone else stilled, watching the scene unfold before them. Eragon's attention was caught by a man who had stood much closer to Sloan. His face was thinner, skin taut over bone. His frame was thin, and his clothes hung off him. He wore a thick cloak around himself, as well as five traders who seem to be holding him back. Eragon recognized him instantly.
Garrow caught his eyes, and his face paled. Eragon stared at the man he was once proud to call his brother of flesh and blood.
No one noticed.
Sloan faltered for a moment, and another man, a trader, spoke up "Silence woman! This doesn't concern you!"
Gertrude glared at the man "I must say that it doesn't concern you, trader. This is village business, and those are village children."
Eragon didn't think; his feet moved towards the children about to be burned. He heard someone shout to stop him, but the shouts grew into cries of steel as Murtagh stepped in. A dagger on his throat stopped Eragon.
"One step forward and I'll cut you, I swear."
The smoke was getting to them now; the boy fainted. The girl just stared at him with wide eyes. 'Protect them' his instincts told them 'Protect them, you promised.'
Eragon grabbed the man's arm, twisted it behind his back, and kick him on his behind, sending the man sprawling into the snow. He headed towards the flames, drew his dagger, and with one quick swift cut the ropes, not caring if the flames burnt him or not. Of course, magic had a part in it as well. The girl leapt towards him while he had to catch the boy, failing limbs and all. Both of them weren't spared from burns, and there was smoke was in their lungs. The girl looked up at him, her eyes wide, and her lips trembling.
"I-I can't…hear him…anymore," she whispered in between coughs "He's…going to…be alright?" She asked him, her eyes widening even further. They seemed familiar, but he couldn't see why. After all, there were many people with brown eyes. But…hers were different.
"Shhh, don't speak now. He'll be fine." The boy seemed to stop his fits, but was unconscious. Eragon gently laid the boy's head in her lap. "We can heal him…Adrianna."
Her girl inhaled sharply, and shivered. Eragon frowned before he placed his cloak around them. He stood up to face the others.
The man with the whip on his hands stood off to the side, his face showing a mixture of shock and helplessness. No one else, not even the traders dared to move. Gertrude, wearing her cloak, was kneeling by the other boy, looking at his wounds as the boy lay on top of his cloak. Murtagh had just knocked out the last of the men, and around him laid a circle of unconscious-hopefully-men, some traders, some of the villagers. "These will scar," she said. "Norfavrell will bear these for life."
There were several moments of silence. Eragon turned to Garrow. In an even tone, he inquired "Who are you to these children that you're trying to stop the men from hurting them."
"The boy whipped is my nephew." Garrow replied evenly, his face still pale. "The twins are my children."
There it was; that tell that seemed to still stay with him even after all of these years. It was a little twitch in his left one, unnoticed by those without the sharpest gaze, which told Eragon he was lying. "Lady Gertrude, we are in need of your services."
"Come with me," Gertrude stood up.
"Wrap your arms around my neck," Eragon told the girl, Adrianna. He picked up her brother, Adrian, and laid him over his shoulder. Adrianna wrapped her arms around his neck, whimpering from the pain of her burns. Eragon kept on hand on the boy's back, and passed an arm under Adrianna to support her. He stood up, causing the crowd to murmur around him. He heard whispers of surprised and suspicion as he followed Gertrude through the crowd. Their silence gave off a thick tension in the air, enough to choke someone.
'Little one!' Saphira cried, alarmed.
'I'm alright,' he told her, sending her images of what happened. Anger poured in from her, and Eragon had to pull away before it clouded his judgment.
(Adrianna POV)
Her hands and legs seared with pain, and she couldn't breathe properly. The man who carried her seemed to walk gently, yet quickly, hurrying after Gertrude. "I-I can't breathe," she rasped, tightening her grip around the man only to have her arms burn with pain.
"Almost there," the man comforted her gently. "Just a few more steps and Gertrude will tend to you. Lower your head if you're still having trouble. Take slow, deep breathes to clear the smoke from your lungs."
She did as he said, lowering her head, inhaling the man's scent. It smelled of the forest, of pines and maples, and of another smell that she couldn't identity. But for some reason, she felt safe around him, safer than around even her own father. Garrow had a temper that flared and could attack anyone. Only her brother seemed to be able to calm him, but that was rare. As she rested her head on his, she stared at his ear. It looked like any other ear, except it was pointed towards the end.
"Are you an elf?" she whispered before she could stop herself.
"…no…But the woman I love is."
The day was getting warmer, but it was chilly enough for her to shiver. "Almost there," the man who carried her repeated. "Just a little longer; don't fall asleep."
"I'm not tired," she informed him. "I'm cold." She closed her eyes, and pressed herself closer to the man. He was much, much warmer than anyone she had ever met.
Why was she so close with this man? What about him made her trust him more than her own family? Her mind flashed back to Roran and Marian's stoic faces as she and Adrian were tied to the pole. Only Garrow leaped forward to try and stop Sloan; but deep down, she wondered if he saved them because he loved them, or for some other reason.
A blast of warm air met her back, and she sighed in relief. Breathing deeply had helped her breathes, but her body still ached and seared with pain where there were burns. The man placed her gently on a stool, and put her brother next to her. Much to her surprise, Adrian was awake.
"I thought you were still unconscious," Adrianna whispered, hugging her brother while being mindful of their conditions. Adrian remained silent, not even talking to her in her mind. He just shrugged, and looked down at his burned hands.
"We'll wrap those burns of yours," the man who carried her and her brother knelt before them, holding salves and bandages in his hands. The other man came beside him. He looked slightly tanner than the first, with brown hair that reached just past his chin, and chilling grey eyes. The first man had shorter hair, just touching his eyebrows, with the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. They had specks of green, even red in them. What stood out to her the most was how old the eyes were. They seemed tired, worn, and stretched. They looked like the eyes of wild animals before they were provoked.
"My name is Eragon," the man with the blue eyes said, in the gentlest voice Adrianna had ever heard anyone use on her. "And this is my brother Murtagh. But outside of present company, or unless we say otherwise, call me Caleb and call Murtagh Tornac, alright?"
Adrianna nodded, and saw Adrian do the same out of the corner of her eye. The one called Eragon took her hands and started to apply a salve to it. She winced and whimpered when it burned.
"I'm sorry," He said, his fingers light and nimble as they worked on her wounds. "Do not hesitate to cry, either of you. It's not a weakness to shed tears when in pain."
Adrianna nodded, tears following freely from her face as the pain of both the burned hands and the memory of what happened. "Th-they j-just c-came f-for us," she felt a certain need to let them know, specifically Eragon, though she didn't understand why. Her voice cracked and she hiccupped, staring at her hands, now being wrapped in fresh bandages.
"O-our f-family h-had g-gone t-to see the carnival and s-sell th-the goods," Adrian cut in, but he couldn't finish. "W-we di-didn't g-go be-because N-nori…they…"
"I understand," Eragon gently laid her now-wrapped hands on her lap. He inspected her legs, washing them off and applying the same salve as before. "If the two of you, and Nori, would want to leave this village, would you?"
Adrianna looked up sharply at the sudden question, but thought about it honestly. To be whisked away into adventure and foreign lands by handsome strangers? It sounded like a tale Gertrude would tell the younger children. Both men glanced between her and Adrian, waiting for an answer.
"Y-yes," much to her surprise, Adrian was the one who answer. "I-I w-would l-like to, a-as long as N-Nori and Ria come w-with." Ria was the nickname he gave her, and he never used in front of anyone else, not even Nori. She nodded her agreement; after all, the only time she felt that it was close to home was with her brother, and if he was leaving, than she was leaving as well.
"I'd like to come too," was Nori's quiet reply. Adrianna looked up to find her cousin sitting up on the bed. His face looked pale, and he was too skinny from the lack of eating. He shrunk into the mattress, and he seemed to be smaller than he usually was "I-I have no home here."
Adrianna watched as Eragon and Murtagh shared a glance with each other, and then with Gertrude. "That settles it than," The healer concluded "No one would care if they left. I'll ask Marian and Gertrude for their clothes. When will you leave?"
"I suspect as soon as they're wounds are healed," Murtagh spoke for the first time. Adrianna found his voice rather curious; it was both calm, collected, and yet unusually emotional.
Gertrude furrowed her eyebrows, thinking "It will take quite a few days for them to heal, up to a week," she turned towards Adrianna and her brother "Until then, the two of you, and you as well Norfavrell, will best get some sleep. No doubt Eragon and Murtagh need to make adjustments to their plans."
"Yes," Eragon stood up, brushing off the dirt on his trousers. "We will be back before lunch. But only after dinner tonight will we start discussing our plans."
Adriana nudged Adrian, who only looked at her, and then back at Eragon, his eyes wide, and glazed over, as if he was deep in thought. She frowned; what happened to her brother?
"Very well," Gertrude's voice drew her attention. "If you'll help me take the children back to the house, they can rest better there."
Possible Spoiler:
Selena stopped her company right in front of the north bridge of Theinsford. Just a few miles off lay Carvahall, a village she thought-hoped even-to never set her eyes upon.
"Second thoughts?" Her brother's voice asked softly in her ear. He was slightly ill from the affects of the poison, and opted to stay on a horse where he knows for sure that the other rider would have quick enough reflexes to catch him. Whatever he decision now, he'll support her.
"We can turn back," Araum suggested. Her former commanding officer would have her back as well, but she knew that if she turned the company around, he'd be disappointed. He really wanted to meet her family, for some reason. And she wanted to impress him, for some reason.
Behind her was the the rest of her company, as well as two Riders (on the same horse as they were in a relationship only known to few) who had left their dragons in the eastern Mountains of Palancar Valley. Besides the Riders, the rest of them had fought with her, bled with her, and would die with her, all for a cause that they believed in. How could she disappoint them now?
"We'll go forth to Carvahall," She flicked her reins, setting her horse off at a steady trot. "Let me tell you about my childhood in one of the most beautiful places in all of Alagaesia."