Disclaimer: I don't own the owned! All rights belong to CP and this plot has probably been used before.
Author's Note: Wow! You guys continue to amaze me with your response and I really appreciate the fantastic reviews, advice and feedback. After some deliberation, I decided to write the chapter and see where it went and this is what I wound up with. Basically, it's not really just a chapter devoted to his training but a flashback as some suggested. Also, this chapter starts when he's fifteen but you learn that at the end. Just thought to clarify that to avoid confusion. Also, there's some wolfish hunting violence in this chapter so let me know if you guys think I should up the rating.
Speaking of which, the next chapter will most likely contain an "M" rating due to real violence so I'm not sure if I should change it since Eragon's werewolf-form propels him into actions he would not have taken in his naive farm-boy self in the books. Well, that's about it. Don't want to bore you to tears since you guys are awesome readers but I want to warn you that this chapter is pretty long. The other chapters probably won't be as long though. I just couldn't end the chapter until how it ended now so this is what I wound up with.
I hope you like it!
P.S. A character of the Inheritance Cycle is revealed here in this chapter although he is slightly different than in the books, I think. Also, sorry about the chapter number confusion with the previous episode. My mistake and I'll try not to let it happen again, but that was supposed to be Chapter 3 and this Chapter 4. Hope that clears things up a bit.
CHAPTER 4: Magic and Malice
The mountainous forest was quiet and largely empty save for a few brave chirping birds and a lone doe nibbling meekly on dry crusty grass that sprouted between the rocks and pebbles of the Spine. It was late in the afternoon and the Spine was drenched in a golden glow, looking almost supernatural.
But not everything was so peaceful and tranquil. No indeed! Unlike the blissfully ignorant deer alone in the clearing, a large snowy-white wolf crouched low on all fours. The beast of prey was giant, the size of a small horse, and its massive jaw was hanging open slightly, a low growl escaping from it.
The growl was low enough so that it did not startle the animal several paces from it but loud enough for the predator to hear it, the growl gave the creature a sense of power and dominance as it always did when on the hunt. But such thoughts vanished from his mind which were focussed solely on stalking its prey.
Hunting was not always so easy as the wolf had discovered while growing up, and it had to feed on small animals such as rabbits and quail most of the time. The wolf hadn't eaten deer in many months and so it was feeling more excited then ever.
The animal wasn't as proud and noble as the first stag that it slew but it would suffice and the wolf could even save some for later in one of its many food holes buried throughout the rocky crags of the Spine.
Suddenly, a twig snapped as the wolf, distracted slightly with thoughts of victory and triumph, stepped on a fallen branch. The deer's ears perked up and her head shot up in sync as its fine hearing caught wind of the approaching presence of a threat.
Instantly, the doe bounded off, its pointed tail up revealing the soft white underside. The doe bleated in fear and warning any other animals unlucky enough to be around while on a Hunt. The doe darted swiftly through the woods, dodging this way and that, kicking its back legs sometimes to ward off an attack.
But the wolf was fast, faster than most of its kin and caught up with the flighty animal in no time at all. The methodical thumping of the doe's heart-beat pounded in the wolf's sensitive ears and his nose was assaulted by the smell of freshly-crushed pinecones...and the smell of fresh meat.
In no time at all, the wolf's baser instincts kicked in and it launched into an attack. The wolf used a different tactic than his first hunt this time, one he learned was more useful and a lot easier too. Unlocking years of honed experience, the wolf soared into the air aiming for the doe's rump. Its aim was true and its paws gripped fast.
In seconds, the doe went down with a strangled cry cut short as its body froze in shock. The wolf had clawed at the doe's rump and hastily reached over, snapping its neck. The former act was done so that the doe's nervous system would cease disabling any form of resistance and escape.
The wolf had found this to be the easiest form of attack since most of the time, deer would run around in circles or zig-zag. If the wolf was in a pack, he or the Alpha wolf would have chased the deer in a circle while the pack stood around it. The deer would have fallen into their trap, its primal instincts betraying it to death.
Such was the way of the wolves, survival of the fittest. Sadly, the lone wolf was not in a pack for no other beasts of prey lived in the forested mountains of the Spine. In addition, the wolf was not even a normal predator: It was a werewolf. But all thoughts of angst vanished as the wolf sank its jaws into the juicy meat, gorging himself on his fresh kill.
Once he was satisfied, he picked the carcass clean and carried the meat he couldn't eat to one of his food holes. He dug it open slightly and tossed the meat inside. Job done, he used his muzzle to burry the meat again with the loose dirt and, so that he could recall where it was and warn off any potential scavengers, sprayed his scent on the small pantry.
When he was finished, he licked himself clean and trotted briskly through the woods until he reached a crystal clear pool. Due to him being in a mountain range, there were many fresh streams and ponds and fountains from melting glaciers at the summit. This allowed him easy access to water holes which he drank from greedily.
His wolf-form finally content, Eragon transformed back into human. Being a shape-shifter, he was fully naked when he transformed but had gotten used to it after six years of gruelling training in the art of changing into his second skin. It was embarrassing at first but now it was perfectly normal and natural to him.
In fact, he found this form more normal than when he was clothed since wolves wore no clothes and he preferred to spend time in his wolf-form as much as possible. He did so whenever he could but had to be careful so as to not arouse suspicion concerning his frequent trips to the forest.
So far, his excuse was to either take a break from his training in warfare with Brom or to practice the archery that Roran taught him where it would actually be useful. So far, it worked but now that he was older he also had to do his fair share of farm-work since he couldn't just get free room and board.
He did practice archery and his battle training but Eragon used whatever spare time he had to transform, although he found the best times where when everyone was asleep. Being a werewolf, he found that he was often restless and only needed a few hours of sleep to regain his strength. This was done in the Void which proved useful as well.
During the evening hours when the farm was silent, Eragon would use this time to escape the rigors of day-to-day living on the farm and escape to the freedom of the woods in the Spine. He would stalk prey for hours on end or simply run aimlessly wherever his feet would take him.
Being the only werewolf in all of Alagaƫsia, he could easily sniff out his own scent for a few miles which enabled him to backtrack quickly and not get lost. He could do this in his human form as well which earned him a slight reputation as a mountain guide. His services would be hired sometimes, when he was free, to track down lost sheep or missing cattle.
It was fun most times and earned Eragon some pretty coin but after a while it got repetitive and boring. He still did it though since he felt obligated to help his human pack who had watched over him while he was still a cub and raised him despite his oddities and weakness.
Heaving a sigh, Eragon relished the cool breeze that whipped through his hair and danced through the grass and across the water. Enjoying the peace and quiet, he cleaned himself of the blood from his hunt at the bank before plunging into the calm pool, disturbing the surface and causing ripples to spread out in all directions.
He splashed around a bit before reclining lazily with his back against the bank and arms across the surface of the bank. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of fresh air, revelling in the stillness and serenity. As he lay there, his mind wandered, drifting here and there. A sense of nostalgia overtook him and his mind flashed back to an important event that had changed his life and made him even stronger than he was already.
- FLASHBACK BEGINS -
Eragon was twelve-years old when it happened, when he first discovered magic. He had been on a long trip in the Spine. It was in the evening while everyone was asleep and late in the year. He had wandered far and wide when he decided to stop under a rocky precipice for shelter. Dark storm clouds had been brewing for it was late in the year and the world was frozen over with snow and ice.
As his luck would have it, it started to snow. Eragon was lucky he took shelter when he did for not even a werewolf could survive an all-out blizzard. Despite his super-human strength and resistance, the boy still felt cold as nature unleashed her frosty fury all around him. He didn't recall when he dropped off to sleep but it was cold and he was tired.
When he awoke, the snow had stopped but the damage had already been done: His tracks were gone and, thus, so was his scent. Having a vague idea where he should go due to his constant journeys in the Spine, Eragon struck out against his better judgement transforming into his wolf-form for warmth and speed.
He raced across the snow in his wolf-form but try as he might he could not pick up his scent and soon, horribly, embarrassingly soon, Eragon was lost. But being a proud and mighty werewolf, he refused to give up and limp away with his tail tucked beneath his legs. So instead of calling it quits, he continued wandering through the woods trying to find his scent and/or determine where he had come from.
Along the way, however, he eventually picked up another scent, a foreign one. It was tainted by human smells but mingled with a wolf scent in a way that was extremely similar to a werewolf but utterly distant and alien. Intrigued and hopeful, Eragon howled in triumph and surged through the Spine with a new target.
In no time at all, he found what he was looking for and skidded to a halt on the border of a large clearing. It was surrounded by a natural, but obviously human-built, wall of hedges that made for a hidden fence of sorts. This odd wall went surrounded a small wooden hut with a thatched roof, heavily laden with fresh snow. It was a wonder the straw hadn't caved in and buried the hut's owner alive but it still held fast and sparked Eragon's curiosity.
The sturdy little hut also suggested warmth and shelter against the cruel frigid winds of winter and, possibly, meat as well. His suspicions were confirmed when a powerful scent of frying bacon wafted out of a single open window to Eragon's sensitive, wolfish nostrils. He whined plaintively, ears drawn back flat, as he struggled to resist diving headlong into the hut and what could possibly be a trap.
It was all too easy to find this new scent and how he found it was very suspicious, what with the blanket of snow and all. Such things did happen from time to time but Eragon was usually cautious enough to avoid them. The place looked empty too aside from puffs of gray smoke floating lazily out of a squat, rectangular chimney and the crackling of a warm fire coming from within the hut.
Eragon whimpered as the smell of luscious meat cooking on a spit intoxicated him. Finally, he was unable to resist and lunged forward. He darted into the house transforming into his human-form as he did so, for he knew that his wolf-form would only get him into trouble inside someone's home. But no sooner had he done so, however, than he was flung back against the wall by an invisible force.
The twelve-year-old groaned as pain lanced up his back and his vision blurred. He glanced down wearily only to see an old man wearing a tattered brown robe and, oddly enough, a silver-gray male wolf sitting at his feet. The man stood before Eragon with a smirk on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. His hands were clasped lightly behind his back and he seemed eager for this meeting.
"Another apprentice, I see," The strange man chuckled.
"Who? What?" Eragon stammered, trying to regain his senses. "Who are you and what do you want with me?"
"My name is of no consequence," The old man chuckled lightly. "But what I want with you is more of what do you want with me?"
"I beg your pardon?" Eragon asked in confusion, his eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to decipher the strange hermit's riddle.
"I see old Shadow-Mane taught you no sense of logic and reason," The hermit sighed dramatically. "What a pity, what a pity."
Eragon's mind reeled with shock.
"What do you know of my mentor, old man?" He growled defiantly, struggling against the invisible bonds that held him to the wall.
"I know many things about many people," The hermit revealed mysteriously. "But there are many things that I don't know and can't know also."
"Can you just get to the point," Eragon groused.
"If I must but riddles make an otherwise dry revelation such a joy," The old man said nostalgically, a faraway look in his eyes.
"So tell me then," Eragon hissed. "What do you want with me and what do you know of my mentor?"
"I know that he is a werewolf and that you are also a skin-changer and a Void-walker," The old man answered.
"How?" Eragon asked simply, not wanting to allow the man the pleasure of his surprise at the statement.
"I can peer through the shadow veil, into the world beyond, into the Void," The old man explained. "I have the Eyes of the Other One, the Second People, the Seers and Soothsayers. I am Tenga."
"I guess that's a good explanation as any," Eragon sighed. "Now that that's over with what do you want with me."
"I want much and you want more and fate calls for something greater," The man called Tenga quipped. "But we can't always get what we want in life, can we now?"
"The point being?" Eragon sighed.
"I can help you where your mentor cannot," Tenga answered. "Where the wolf falls I shall rise up, with knowledge of the arcane being more powerful than brute force."
"The arcane," Eragon repeated in confusion.
Then his eyes widened as realisation dawned on him.
"Magic," He gasped.
"Yes, magic!" Tenga exclaimed gleefully. "The supernatural strength that warriors lack, it is the force that moves this world from the shadows, the force that can slay kings and smash armies. It can shape worlds and change destinies. It can be used for good or for evil."
"But I'm a werewolf not a magician!" Eragon protested, recalling the old tales of magic and magicians Brom used to tell him.
"Ah but not so!" Tenga said, wagging a finger in front of Eragon's face. "Not so as you think but so as is in you, magic thrives in your core, thanks to your inner wolf."
"How?" Eragon asked, intrigued.
"Werewolves are not normal mortals, yes?" Tenga enquired, arching an eyebrow.
"Yes," Eragon agreed.
"Werewolves, shape-shifters, elves, dragons, dwarves, all not mortal can use magic, some humans too but those be magicians," Tenga revealed. "Magic is all around us, waiting for us to seize it, to use it. To not use magic would be a shame, a waste of precious power the gods bestowed upon us when the world was young."
Eragon didn't know what to think. He just wanted to get out of here and go home but if this crazy old man was right about magic then that could open up so many new doors for him and help him get his revenge in an even better way than before.
"So do I have magic?" Eragon asked.
"We shall see, see we shall, shall we not?" Tenga said eagerly, a devilish glint in his eyes.
"Alright," Eragon allowed, bracing himself for whatever was to come.
"Striker, seek!" Tenga barked.
And before Eragon could react, the odd wolf that had been listening to his master's words patiently leapt into the air. Eragon didn't even have time to scream before he lunged for Eragon's heart. But instead of tearing it out as he had thought, the wolf leapt into Eragon's body, merging with his skin, with his form.
Eragon's vision stretched and blurred and his heart pounded wildly. His head felt like it was on fire and his whole body ached. His form wracked with pain as he felt something wriggle inside of him, moving, searching. Just when Eragon thought he couldn't take it any longer, the wolf called Striker jumped out of his body twisting around so that he fell on his paws.
Eragon gasped as he saw the wolf covered in a golden glow and his eyes (unlike most werewolves' eyes and his own when he transformed) were completely golden, without any pupils or irises. Striker barked twice, happily, wagging his tail and lifted up his head uttering a triumphant howl. Tenga laughed joyfully and patted Striker on the head, scratching the wolf behind his ear.
Striker growled low in appreciation and his ears flapped backwards as he enjoyed his master's attention. Eragon watched in stunned amazement as the golden aura that surrounded him pulsed brightly for a few moments before shrinking down into the wolf's soft fur. The light in the wolf's eyes faded also revealing normal dark wolf eyes like a regular canine.
"What just happened there?" Eragon asked incredulously when he finally regained his senses and ability to speak.
"Striker searched, searched for magic, looked for your core," Tenga explained. "And he found it, by the Moon and the Sun he found it, what a good boy!"
Striker barked happily, jumping around his master in circles. He barked one last time before darting off into a corner and leaping into a shadow, vanishing from sight.
Eragon stared at Tenga in shock.
"You have magic, boy," Tenga explained. "You are a magician!"
And so it was that Tenga taught Eragon the Ancient Language and how to cast spells of magic. Eragon was a fast learner despite his initial distrust of magic and the old man. The years sped by fast with his new training course. Having already mastered the ability to shape-shift fully, this was a good way to occupy his time since Eragon soon proved to be a natural at swordplay and using other weapons although he was best with the sword and bow.
So it was that he devoted most of his time to magic and learning the arcane arts. He enjoyed the presence of another wolf although he soon learned that the wolf was a Spirit Wolf, a Void-wolf. But he was bound to his master for some strange reason that Tenga never revealed. Whenever Eragon asked him about it, the old man would clam up and rant eccentrically.
Eragon finally gave up his pursuit about the Spirit Wolf and the slightly eccentric magic-teacher but he learned a lot in his short few years he spent with Tenga.
- FLASHBACK ENDS -
In fact, he had just come back from one such lesson. Eragon didn't know how he found the time for all this but he thanked whatever powers might be for his luck and continued to learn. But now he was taking a break and relaxing after a rather strenuous morning.
Of course, his luck in those matters never seemed to last for suddenly he smelt a familiar presence approaching him. He was several feet away, one of Eragon's friends from the village. Eragon was fifteen now as were most of the older boys. He got to visit the village more and more often now which was nice. However, he wondered why the boy Garth was his name had followed him and sought him out.
They all knew that he took long walks in the wilderness and although they thought it peculiar, they left his habits pretty much alone. Now more than ever since he could come more frequently to the village being older and all. So why was Garth running to Eragon?
Heaving a sigh, Eragon tuned into his wolf-sense. Sniffing cautiously, he smelled sweat, dirt, blood from a bruised knee, and...fear, on him. The fear puzzled Eragon the most as well as the worry and anxiety that accompanied it. Not wanting to cause an awkward scenario and embarrass the boy, he quickly slipped out of the pool and cast a quick spell to dry himself.
He was just struggling into his clothes when Garth skidded to a halt, panting for breath and resting his hands on his knees.
"Eragon, thank the gods I found you," He wheezed.
"What happened now?" Eragon sighed. "Did someone break into Horst's smithy and ruin his sacred tools again?"
"Now's not the time for mockery, Eragon," Garth snapped. "Something bad is happening at the village."
Eragon frowned in confusion and struggled to brush aside a sinking feel of dread in the pit of his stomach.
"Tell me," Eragon demanded. "What happened now?"
"Swear an oath that you shan't get upset first," Garth stammered.
Eragon sighed. He had gotten into an argument once with the village bully and had allowed his primal instincts to take control. Due to his werewolf strength, the bully was no match for him and Eragon sent the fat tub of lard flying. Everyone made sure to stay on his good side after that.
"I promise," Eragon assured.
"Good," Garth sighed. "Now don't interrupt since we have to get down there quickly. It all started out this afternoon. Roran was down at the village square with Katrina. They were laughing and talking about something when Lord Frostmore appeared on the scene."
Eragon growled in annoyance as he recalled the fat posh nobleman who introduced the new tax and posted guards at the village.
"Anyway," Garth continued hastily. "He laid eyes on Katrina and looked positively evil. He strolled over to her as if he owned the place and started bragging about how a comely girl such as herself deserved a true man, one better than the filth like Roran, his words not mine! He went on to boast about how Lords back in Dras-Leona could do what they wanted with a woman and get away with it so she better obey his wishes or else suffer dire consequences. Things got real bad when he took Katrina's hand in his grubby fingers and mockingly kissed her hand, pretending to be a gentleman but it was obvious that he was not kind at all."
Eragon's eyes flashed with fury making Garth gulp and back away slightly.
"What happened next?" He hissed, struggling to remain calm and not transform due to his bottled rage.
"Katrina spat in the fat codger's face," Garth said with the ghost of a smile. "But that just made things worse and the noble roared in anger. He slapped Katrina and shook his finger in her face, spitting out swear-words like a loose sailor. Roran had enough though and punched the bastard in the stomach. The man went flying."
He paused to catch his breath before continuing. "The people cheered and Roran led Katrina away only to be stopped by the guards. Lord Frostmore got up and commanded that Roran be executed for treason against the Empire in the village square and that everyone watch. The guards were already growing bored so they leapt at this chance. Roran is in chains now. Please do something. He'll be killed!"
"Thank you for telling me this," Eragon whispered hoarsely. "I must go now, I am sorry for what I must do."
"What do you mean?" Garth asked in confusion.
Before the boy could react, Eragon lashed out and used his werewolf-strength to knock the boy unconscious. He didn't strike hard enough to kill the lad but just enough to knock him out since he needed to transform into his wolf-form. The rage was killing him and it had taken every ounce of strength to not transform before now.
He had to transform though in order to deliver justice to the fat old bastard and rid the valley of those diabolical guards. Eragon knew it would turn his world upside-down and he would probably have to escape, but so far no one knew he was a werewolf. So there was a chance he could do it in secret.
Carrying the boy in his arms, Eragon tapped into his enhanced abilities and sprinted down the mountain side so that he could drop the boy off at a safe place and begin the first step to getting his revenge. There was no looking back and he was probably heading down the path to his own destruction.
But Carvahal needed him. Hells, all of Alagaƫsia needed him which was the reason for his strenuous training and abnormal childhood. No matter. It was all or nothing now. He was just one step away from his destiny, from his revenge. Soon he would begin his lonely road of vengeance; Galbatorix wouldn't know what hit him.
Soon.
A/N: Like it? Love it? Hate it? Leave a review and let me know so that I can make this even better yet!
A/N 2: Also, if anyone knows of any good documentaries or books about wolves and their habits (not werewolves) I'd like to know about them since there's not too much about wolves on TV. It's mainly about lions and stuff. I just want to know since I want to make Eragon's werewolf form as realistic as possible, especially when it comes to hunting and mannerisms, etc, in his wolf-form. So if you guys have any advice, I'm all ears.
Thanks a bunch in advance!
