Chapter 3:

This is by far the worst chapter so far but I need to move past this writers block and this is the only way I know how. Do not fret, these chapters will greatly improve, it's just that school started up again and I need to get back into chemistry.

One Week Later:

I was sitting outside the house of the man who had brought me back to Belarus and taken me to the healer. I thought back to the conversation I had had with the old man not two days ago.

(FLASHBACK)

"Well it looks like your ready to go, I healed you up enough and if you keep taking that medicine you should stop having headaches by the end of the week." I thanked him for his help and care. "I'm sorry, but I don't have anything to pay you with. That's okay, the man who brought you here paid for you, he also left you a note." He rummaged in his pocket for a little before turning up a very crinkled and stained piece of paper that was tied up with some string.

He handed it to me along with a pouch of coins. "I can't take this!" The old man laughed at this. "That's not for you, that's the change for the man who paid for my services, he gave me too much and by the time I had counted it he had already left for Ceunon. Its east-north-east of here." I thanked him one more time and headed towards the town centre, thinking about what had happened.

After I had woken up, I'd discovered that I had no recollection of past events, the healer said it was due to the arrow which had pierced something called the hippcampus, he told me it was the thing in my brain that controlled my memories and because it was damaged I had something called amnesia He said that he had managed to heal my head just fine but in order to recover my memories I would have to find something to trigger a response in my head, causing me to remember.

Unable to remember anything I wondered what I'd do if someone asked for my name. I thought back to my nightmare and decided that I might as well go with Sten. I walked down the street and passed the memorial of Carvahall.

There was a trio of people worked out of iron. Out of curiosity I walked up to it and read the little plaque underneath it, it read:

This memorial is dedicated to the brave men and women of Carvahall who left their lives behind and set out to fight the tyrant king Galbatorix. They crossed through the spine, travelled by ship to Surda and joined the Varden,a rebellion that sought to rid the world of Galbatorix. They took the entire population of the villagers with them. After the Black King was slain they came back and founded the village of Belarus May they be remembered for all time. Front: Roran Garrowson. Left: Birgit Mardasdaughter. Right: Horst Ostrecsson.

(END FLASHBACK)

The man had not replied to my knocking on the door so I had taken a seat where I am now. While I was reminiscing a man walked down the street, a man with long dark hair. As soon as he saw me sitting in front of his house he walked up to me, holding a large package of cloth. "Who are you and why are you sitting in front of my house?" he said. He was very blunt. "I'm here to thank you for saving my life." That made his eyes fog over for a second before a light of recognition appeared. "Why hello then, the name's Keenan Casiusson."

He shook my hand and invited me in. As soon as we were seated at his table in his small room at the inn we started talking. "So, what's your name then? My name's... Sten...I think." At this he looked puzzled and I elaborated to him the the fact that I now had amnesia.

"Well that's pretty sad, not being able to remember anything, not even your own mother." That thought hadn't crossed my mind, what if I had family waiting for me, or a wife, or children... That's another reason why I came here, how did I come to be here, the healer said you didn't tell him. "I was in a hurry and frankly, I didn't care much." "If you didn't care, then why did you save me, take me to a healer, pay for my stay and all of it, which reminds me, here's your change for the help." I handed him the pouch of coins and watched as he counted them. As soon as he was satisfied with how much was there he put it away and said: "So you're wondering what happened, I don't know. When I found you bleeding from a wound in your head I took you to the healer in Belarus."

Well was there anything around that might be mine?" At this Keenan's eyes lit up and he leaned forward and started to unwrap the cloth package he had dumped on the table when they had come in and sat down. "I actually found this little prize when I went looking for some reason as to why you were injured. I tripped on a badly hidden stash of weapons." As he said this he pulled the last of the cloth away and showed a short sword, a long knife and a broken bow and arrows. The blades were shiny and smelt of oil. "Did you have these sharpened?" At this he looked rather excited. "Yes I did. I have enough money to sustain me for a while yet and I travel a lot. I was just passing through Belarus on the way to Ceunon so as to visit a friend and you were on the side of the road."

"Why did you help me then when you could have gone on and not have the hassle and cost of the healing me?" It was the right thing to do and I can afford it, so I did it." This didn't make sense to me but I just ignored it. Now that I was done talking to him I said goodbye and got up from the table. "What are you going to do now?" I stopped, what was I going to do now, I had no idea who I was, if I had any family or friends, I was like a baby just seeing the world for the first time and it was a very daunting prospect. Especially with no money. I replied: "I don't know, I guess I'll just keep walking until I find something to help me remember anything."

"If that's what your planning on doing do you want to do it with me, like I said I travel and if you want you could accompany me." I considered this for a moment and then nodded. Everything was happening so quickly and everything that had just occurred so far made no sense so I might as well go. "Great, who knows, on the way you might find something that triggers your memory like you told me about."

One Week Later

We were walking through Belarus again, a full month after I had gotten my injury and everything looked the same as it did then. The only difference though was the fact that the streets were bustling because it was market day. There were stalls selling just about everything lining the main street of the town. One in particular caught the attention of my companion, a stall with a bunch of young women around it admiring the jewellery. Before he left he gave me a coin purse and told me to find some decent items to wear. All I had on was what the doctor had given to me and they were starting to get ratty and torn.

After he left I went browsing for clothes. I stopped at a few stalls and bought some leather boots, some trousers and a short sleeved tunic. I still had some considerable money left over so I decided to find some protection in the shape of armour. There were many stalls that sold armour and nearly all of them were charging very high prices. There were a couple of stalls that sold used, dented and imperfect armour so I went to one of these. As I was browsing, a chest plate caught my eye.

It was heavily dented in the centre of it, there must have once been a symbol on it but no more. The strange thing about it was that the rest of it was perfect, not scratched at all. I let the thought slip away and ended up buying some bracers, greaves the chest plate and a chainmail shirt. The prices of each were very cheap because most of them had blood on them.

After that I decided to but a decent weapon. The little shortsword and long knife seemed inadequate and I was looking for something more intimidating. So I began the long and arduous search by diving through crowds of people to get to a stall only to find that they didn't have what you were looking for. Then repeating the process over again again. In the end I found a stall with a small number of shady looking people standing around it.

Nearly every weapon was scratched, dented, bent, bloodied, chipped or mangled in some way except one. A large claymore with a shiny black leather grip, a dented cross-guard and a long, perfect blade, not a single scratch or dent.

It was overpriced but I just couldn't take my eyes off it so in the end, after a lot of haggling, I bought it and as soon as I had done that my purse felt considerably lighter. Now that I had done my shopping, I went looking for my companion over at the stall where I had left him. He wasn't there but when I asked the owner for his whereabouts she told me that he had gone to the inn with two of the local girls who were admiring her items before he sweet talked them in to joining him.

Now knowing that I probably wouldn't see him for the rest of the night, the afternoon light was fast approaching. And the main street was starting to clear. I decided to find the inn and catch some sleep before they set out the next morning.

I made my way to the inn and walked in. I bought a room for the night and was about to go upstairs when a man sitting at a bench saw me and fell off his chair. I ran to help him up but when he saw me helping him up he pushed me and scrabbled away and onto his feet. He stared screaming at me: "Demon, you're a demon, you were dead and now here you are standing before me. He's come to take revenge on me for killing him!" At this he collapsed again face first onto the ground. When the inn-keeper ran to help him up he was unconscious. The man supporting him looked at me and asked me if I knew him, I replied that I didn't and he told the assembled crowd that he had just had to much to drink.

When I went to my room that night and slept I couldn't get the man's face out of my head. But the thing that sent chills to my spine was what he said, "He's come take revenge on me for killing him!" I would have to ask him some questions in the morning.

Okay, thanks for reading. Just bear with me for a while, I had to do most of this after homework and frankly I'm surprise I didn't put some of that in their by mistake. Also I needed filler to move on so the good chapters will be coming soon.

For Reviewing: Hideout Writer

For Story Alerting: Hideout Writer

For Moral and Writing support: Hideout Writer & Master of the Blood Wolves

Till next time...

No One-Liners!