Alagaësia's New Dragon

By Commentaholic

A/N: "The report of my death was an exaggeration." -Mark Twain, 1897 A.D.; Commentaholic, 2011 A.D.

That's right. I'm back.

Well, I topped my last chapter's review record of 15 with a review count of 22! And 108 reviews total! -Giggles- For those of you not counting, that's an average of over 10 reviews a chapter!

Ok… This chapter took me ages to write, but here it is at last! I've kinda been a little inhibited by writer's block and only a small part by my spinoff story, Blackened Gold and my new Oblivion/Inheritance Cycle crossover, Blurring Reality. Both only have one chapter each so far, but they're out there. I really only wrote this in the last three days or so, due to spending three weeks staring at the same blinking cursor, wondering what to write for the next sentence. Literally.

Around 5400 hits total on this story and 108 reviews! So much better than I ever expected!

Ok, characters are acting normal after the goofy chapter (though, it's hard to tell how "normal" Kir is).

But before we begin, I'd just like to apologize for my absence. I wrote this longer chapter to make up for it, and I hope that no one hates me for my time gone.

I'd also like to introduce something that I'm planning. At the end of each chapter, I will be placing a well-thought-out haiku, summarizing the chapter that the reader has hopefully just read. I'll also be trying to make my A/N's shorter.

Knowing what's coming up, I think it's fitting that I remind everyone that:

I do not own Eragon, Eldest, or Brisingr, nor any part of the Inheritance Cycle. They are the products and property of Christopher Paolini. Any use of his content is merely for continuity use and adherence to parts of the plot line.

Read and Review!

Chapter Nine: Omens of Truth

Eragon, guided by Saphira's mental instructions, made his way off the road once he left Teirm's gate behind him. The sounds of the forest surrounded him as he trekked through it, heading towards where Saphira was leading him. He soon found himself at the bottom of a pock-marked cliff face. Saphira's head peered over the edge. Come on, Eragon!

"How am I supposed to get up there?" grumbled Eragon. Saphira didn't reply, but a feeling of amusement was clearly projected across their link. "Very well," Eragon said, pulling on the gloves they had bought in Daret to cover the mark on his palm, "Climbing it is." Saphira's head disappeared back over the edge of the cliff as Eragon gripped the first handhold firmly. He grunted as he pulled his body up to be able to reach the next small ledge in the nearly-vertical stone wall.

It was only Saphira and Glaurung at the top of the cliff, Arya's sleeping form off to the side. They had moved from their camp in the forest when a hunter had almost stumbled across the three dragons and the elf. They had moved up to the cliff at that point. Kir was off hunting at Saphira's request. They had eaten early that morning, so it couldn't be that she was hungry. Glaurung had the sneaking suspicion that she had sent the black dragon away so he and Saphira would be alone together. He had noticed Saphira's increased attachment, and it was a little disturbing. But possibly more disturbing was her treatment of Eragon.

The sounds of Eragon's effort could be clearly heard by the dragons' acute hearing. Glaurung watched as Saphira came back from watching Eragon's progress. That should take him a while, Saphira said to Glaurung, laughing as she spoke. The sun sparkled off of her scales as she lay down next to him. The clear air of the late spring morning was exhilarating as they breathed in the cool air. They lay together for a few moments, enjoying how the heat of the sun contrasted with the cold breeze, before Glaurung spoke up.

Why do you test him so, Saphira? Glaurung asked Saphira, who looked back at him. You could easily go down and pick him up.

Why? Why should we, the masters of the sky, be forced to leave our lofty position?

Glaurung stared at Saphira. This was unusual for her, especially when comparing her to how she was in the book. He is your Rider! You should be helping him? Do you not care for him anymore?

Saphira snorted, Of course I do, but a little climb won't hurt him... Saphira paused as Eragon cried out, his shout followed by the sound of a small avalanche of rocks. Much, anyway.

I'm just going to say something that has been bugging me. You have been getting more distant from him. Glaurung said, watching Saphira as her head whipped around to glare at him.

And how would YOU know how a rider and dragon should be? she said, letting loose a low growl.

Glaurung was taken aback at her sudden hostility. What's gotten into you, Saphira? You're acting strange. All I'm saying is that you've been ignoring him except when you two are flying together.

Saphira huffed and turned away from Glaurung, returning her gaze to the sunset that was inching towards the horizon. She was silent for a few minutes, during which Glaurung could hear the sound of Eragon's slow, laborious climb to their perch.

Glaurung was about to look over the edge to see if Eragon needed any help when Saphira blurred into motion and threw herself off the cliff, plummeting downward. He heard her wings snap open, catching the wind, followed by Eragon's startled yelps. Saphira rose again above the cliff's edge, Eragon hanging by his shirt, which had been snagged by her claws. She released her rider, who tumbled onto the ground, rolling to a stop by impacting against Glaurung's side.

Glaurung reached around and pulled Eragon to his feet. The young man gave a small nod of thanks and began brushing himself off. Eragon then looked over at Saphira with the anger evident on his face, "So, did you finally come to your senses or did you just lose your patience?"

Saphira did not respond. And after a few moments of grumbling, Eragon went over and reclined against her as she lay next to Glaurung. The golden dragon was excluded from their ensuing mental conversation, but he assumed that Eragon was discussing what he had learned in Teirm.

He rose to his feet; I'll go check on Kir. He's been gone too long.

Saphira nodded to him as he fanned his wings to take off from the cliff's edge. He leapt from the edge, angling downward, enjoying the sensation of the wind whistling past his scaly head as he angled his wings to catch the updraft to slow his descent, swooping upward to head out over the countryside. He made sure to bank right, so as not to fly towards Teirm. They were already close enough to the coastal city without appearing as a dark blur on the sky's horizon to the city guards, who would no doubt report it to their superiors.

A thermal updraft tugged at his right wing, and he shifted left to avoid it. It still surprised him how naturally flight came to him after the initial crash course Saphira gave him. Of course, during his first flight, he still didn't know how he had managed to save himself from becoming a gold-scaled smashed puddle on the ground. Perhaps his body just knew, or as Saphira had put it, it was instinct.

The ground flew by beneath him as he breathed in the refreshing cool air. Glaurung scanned the area around him for any sign of Kir. He had caught Kir's scent around here a few minutes previous, and Kir had flown north when he had departed from Glaurung and Saphira.

Suddenly, he caught a whiff of an unexpected aroma: Blood.

After he and Saphira were finished discussing Eragon's experiences in town, the blue dragoness flew her rider down to the bottom of the cliff, giving Eragon a brief nuzzle before taking flight back up the cliff face.

Eragon came into sight of the portcullis of Teirm just as it was beginning to lower. Calling for the guards to wait, he put on a burst of speed and slipped inside mere seconds before the gateway slammed closed.

"You cut that a little close, boy." observed one of the guards.

"It won't happen again," Eragon said, bending over to catch his breath. He left the guards behind as he wandered through the streets of the darkened city. Rain began to fall as Eragon navigated through the labyrinth of criss-crossing streets, which prompted the young rider to speed up his pace. He had thought himself lost until he spotted a familiar building and eventually found his way to Jeod's, arriving just as the rain began to shift from a light drizzle to a torrential downpour. A lantern hung outside Jeod's house, burning brightly into the night like a beacon. At his knock, the butler ushered him inside and to the library where Brom and the others were examining several leatherbound books of business dealings. As they perused the thick volumes, they chatted amiably amongst each other. Brom looked up as Eragon entered, taking a pull from his pipe before speaking with a wide smile.

"Ah, good. You're back. Have a good walk?"

Eragon raised an eyebrow at Brom's lighthearted tone. I wonder what put him in such a good mood? Why doesn't he just come out and ask how Saphira and Glaurung are? Everyone here already knows about them. "Pleasant, but the guards almost locked me outside the city. Then I had to find my way here before I was soaked. This city is big."

Jeod chuckled, "Once you have seen Gil'ead, Dras-Leona and Kuasta, Teirm will seem insignificant. I like it here, though. When it isn't raining, the city is actually quite beautiful."

Brom nodded, "But you really should have seen it before the current governor took power. His squandering of the city's resources have caused a drastic drop in the living conditions."

Eragon remembered his conversation with Saphira, and her dislike for her idle state. "Brom, any idea how long we will be in town?"

"It all depends on how long it takes to find what we are looking for," Brom took another puff from his pipe, "Jeod here was just saying how he was going to get us into the record halls."

Jeod sat up in his seat where he had been slouching, "Ah, yes. I'm going to see if Brand will let us into the records building tomorrow..."

Eragon stiffened at the sound of the name Brand. It sounds... familiar. I wonder where I could have heard it before. Eragon felt as though the name resonated with something at the back of his mind.

"... and using what we know because of where Sabo found the Ra'zac's seithr oil, it should go faster if we all lend a hand."

This brought Eragon back to the conversation, and he blushed a little in embarassment, "I don't think I'll be able to help,"

"Why not?" asked Brom, "There will be plenty of work for you."

Eragon was embarassed to say the least. He blushed even more as he prepared to be ridiculed. "I don't know how to read," Eragon mumbled, lowering his head.

Brom gaped in disbelief, "Garrow never taught you how to read?"

"He knew how to read?" asked Eragon, puzzled.

Brom snorted, "Of course he knew how. The proud fool probably saw it as an unnecessary luxury. No matter, I can teach you."

Eragon winced. Brom's lessons were usually intense and brutally direct. How many more things can I learn at one time? he thought to himself. "I suppose it's necessary..." Eragon mumbled.

Jeod chuckled at Eragon's reluctance, "You'll enjoy it, I assure you. There is much to be learned from books and scrolls," he said, gesturing at his library, which was stacked high with bound tomes and rolls of parchment. "These books are my friends, my companions. They can make me laugh or cry or even find meaning in life." Eragon had to admit that it sounded intriguing. Perhaps this wouldn't be so terrible and tedious after all.

Brom and Jeod lapsed into conversation about how Jeod's interest in books had become less of a scholarly pursuit and more of one akin to being a bibliophile. "One who loves books," Brom said to Eragon before the young rider even had the chance to interrupt by asking what the word meant.

Eragon perused the shelves for anything of interest. He ran his fingers over the spines of many leatherbound books until one caught his attention. Its black cover was dotted ornately with golden studs. The words within flowed over the pages in glossy red ink. He closed it and was about to return it to its place on the shelf when a line of script on the cover caught his eye. He couldn't read it, but he could tell that the line of script was special due to its flowing shapes and sharp points. He presented the book to Brom, a curious look on his face. "What is this?" he asked, pointing to the strange writing.

Brom's eyes raised in surprise, "Jeod, you have expanded your collection! Where did you get it? I haven't seen one in ages." Jeod craned his neck to see the title. His eyes lit up.

"Ah, yes, the Domia abr Wyrda. Some man came through a few years ago and tried to sell it down at the wharf. I managed to buy it off of him before any guards learned about him." Jeod shook his head, "If only he knew the value of what he had!"

"It's odd, Eragon, that you should pick up this particular book. Domia abr Wyrda, or Dominance of Fate," Brom intoned, "Of all of the items in this house, it is probably worth the most. It details a complete history of Alagaësia - starting long before the elves landed on the continent and ending a few decades ago. The book is rare and the best of its kind. After it was written, the Empire decreed it as blasphemy and executed the author, Heslant the Monk, by burning him alive. I didn't think any copies still existed. The letters you asked about are from the Ancient Language."

"What do they say?" Eragon asked, enraptured by the fact that the book was disliked so much by the Empire.

"It is a small portion of a poem that tells of the years when the elves warred with the dragons. This particular excerpt speaks of one of their kings, Ceranthor, as he rides into battle. The elves love this poem, and recite it regularly. It takes three days to perform it properly, so that they never forget the mistakes of the past. The songs are so beautiful at times that some say that even the rocks will cry."

Eragon marvelled at the fact that a man could speak to people through these pages, even after his death. He handled the book gently as he held it. Then a thought occurred to him: What if this has information on the Ra'zac? He began to browse through the book, despite not understanding the majority of the words within. A few he recognized, but they were so few and far between that it was impossible to gain any knowledge of the context. Hours passed as Brom, Jeod, and Sabo spoke of old times, and Eragon began to drowse. Out of pity, Jeod bid them a good night, allowing them to make their way to the inn at which they had rooms. Eragon was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Saphira was getting nervous. Glaurung had not returned with Kir as soon as would be normally expected. She had expected them to return once Eragon had left, no doubt due to Glaurung's consideration for Saphira and her rider's privacy. But that was an hour ago. She wanted to go out and look for them herself, but she could not abandon Arya to be alone in the forest wilderness. She fidgeted for quite a while until she heard the reassuring sound of two sets of wings beating through the air. Soon Glaurung and Kir appeared over the treetops and they came down to land in front of her. Saphira was shocked to see bloody scratches and cuts covering Kir, who seemed exhausted. Glaurung, who seemed only to have been minorly bruised by whatever had befallen their friend, glanced over to Kir, privately conversing with the black dragon. After a few moments, Kir nodded and trudged weakly across the clearing to collapse into a dozing heap, fast asleep. Saphira turned to look at Glaurung, her eyes conveying her curiosity. Glaurung, what happened to Kir?

Would you believe he fell into a thorn bush? Glaurung said, his eyes dancing mischieviously.

No.

Glaurung chuckled in his throat, I thought not. He suddenly grew rather serious, telling Saphira what had happened...

Suddenly he caught a whiff of an unexpected aroma: Blood.

Glaurung wheeled in the air, turning rapidly towards the smell. He saw a mass of huddled figures in a clearing a good ways off. Glaurung caught a glimpse of a thrashing black dragon's tail amid the hulking figures. Kir! he shouted, soaring at top speed towards the figures. As he approached, features began to come into focus on the large beings. Horns curved down from either temple, their roots covered by a metal cap. Yellow, pig-like eyes peered from foul, grey-skinned faces. Urgals! What are they doing here... Glaurung murmered. Of course, now wasn't the time for questioning such things. Kir was in trouble, and Glaurung had to assist.

He saw Kir being bound beneath a massive web of chains that acted as a net while the Urgals around him attacked his friend with clubs, daggers, and fists, pounding him into submission. Kir's tail thrashed around, catching one in the side before it was jumped on by another Urgal, halting Kir's resistance. An Urgal larger than the rest approached the huddle with a spear grasped in hand. Oh no! Glaurung yelled, roaring as he approached. The sudden arrival of another dragon startled the Urgal warriors, scattering them for a moment, which allowed Glaurung to see that Kir had lapsed into unconsciousness. He roared with fury, swooping down to catch two Urgals across the throat with vicious slashes, dropping them instantly. Three Urgals managed to gather up the bravery to charge at Glaurung, a foolish choice, given what terrifying might an angry dragon is capable of unleashing. They didn't stand a chance as Glaurung slammed one aside with his tail, launching the heavy Urgal twenty feet to the side to collide with a thick tree, its back snapping upon impact. The fate of their fellow warrior gave pause to the two others for a moment, but they soon recovered and charged at Glaurung simultaneously, waving their implements of destruction. Glaurung snapped at the one to his left with his powerful jaws as he swiped at the one to his right using his talons. The one he bit at jumped backwards, avoiding a bloody fate, if only for a moment. The other wasn't as lucky. The Urgal to Glaurung's right was caught in the stomach by the angry dragon's sharp talons, its abdoment being ripped open, entrails splattering to the grass. The Urgal tottered for a moment as its brain registered the wound before falling to the ground.

Glaurung turned to the last of the three that had challenged him, advancing menacingly as the Urgal dropped its club and tried to run. Glaurung was about to spring when he was caught in the side by a large Urgal, a new warrior who had gathered up enough courage to enter the fray. The Urgal had abandoned his weapons, instead choosing to ram his body into Glaurung's side, knocking the dragon away from his tribemate. Glaurung slid for a few feet before his claws caught, halting his backslide. The Urgal before him was massive, probably a Kull. It shouted at the others in its gutteral tongue, and the other Urgals began to melt into the forest. Glaurung blinked in surprise. This Urgal was sacrificing himself so that the others could escape Glaurung's onslaught. He knew that the Urgal tribes were close-knit within their own villages, but he had never heard of such self-sacrifice from the beast-like creatures.

Glaurung glanced over at Kir, who was still restrained by the chain net. Kir's wounds looked bad, but not life-threatening. He still needed to get out of here soon, though. Glaurung returned his gaze to the Urgal, who stood patiently in a combat stance, awaiting the dragon to make the first move. It wasn't a particularly wise move, waiting for a dragon to be ready to fight. This gave Glaurung pause, despite his rage at Kir's condition. He extended his mind towards the Urgal's. Perhaps he could ascertain the meaning for their being so close to Teirm.

To his surprise, the Urgal's mind presented a bit of resistance. Most beings didn't know how to even partially shield their minds. It wasn't enough to stop Glaurung, though. He brushed aside the mental defenses and searched for their mission. Memories flashed before Glaurung's mental probe, and they seemed strangely familiar... It can't be... Glaurung murmured. Glaurung rose from his combat stance and went over to Kir, ignoring the Urgal, much to the Kull's surprise. He loosed the chains and mentally prodded Kir's consciousness, eliciting a stir from Kir's battered form. Kir, can you stand? Glaurung asked.

Barely, Kir replied, rising shakily to his feet, I thought I was done for. I cannot thank you enough, Glaurung.

Don't mention it, Glaurung said dismissively, gazing at the Kull, who still hadn't left. The Urgal had begun creeping towards the edge of the clearing, but had not removed his gaze from the dragons. Let's get back. I bet Saphira's worried sick. Can you fly?

Kir flapped his wings experimentally. He gave a small hiss of pain before the wings went limp. Not yet. I still need some time to recover. Glaurung nodded, gesturing with his head for Kir to head into the forest. They began to head south, back towards where Saphira probably was driving herself mad with worry. The setting sun cast the clearing into an orange hue, gleaming off of the Urgal's shabby yet strong armor as the Kull watched the dragons left.

Oh, Kir, I almost forgot to ask. How did you get captured by those Urgals? asked Glaurung as they strode through the forest.

Kir grimaced, After I went hunting, I decided to take a nap. They snuck up on me while I was asleep. Glaurung shook his head at this, chuckling.

Saphira won't believe this...

Night was half gone by the time Kir could fly steadily. They soared low over the treetops, Glaurung flying close to Kir just in case the black dragon's wings gave out. In the distance, he could see Saphira's blue-scaled form pacing back and forth on the edge of the cliff. Great, he thought, How am I going to explain this...?

As Glaurung finished his tale, he braced himself for the scolding of a lifetime for making Saphira worry. To his surprise, she nuzzled her neck against his.

I'm just glad you and Kir are safe. she said, easing to the ground beside him. Glaurung looked at her for a few moments before drifting off to sleep as well.

Neither of them noticed the pair of red cat-like eyes gleaming from the shadows of the forest. The eyes remained for a few moments before disappearing into the night.

The next day, Eragon woke refreshed. He sleepily pulled on his clothes. He then made his way downstairs, where the innkeeper stopped him.

"Your friend told me to let you know that he's giving you the day off, lad. He'll start your lessons tomorrow." he said as he wiped a rag across the bar's counter.

Eragon almost cheered aloud. He would be able to avoid Brom's lessons for a little while longer, at least. He thanked the man and went back upstairs, retrieving the money pouch from his pack before departing from the inn.

He breathed in the salty sea air as he walked along the docks. The sun was peeking through a patchy layer of clouds left over from the previous night's rainstorm. The light reflected brightly off of the choppy sea as the waves splashed against the hulls of the ships moored at the docks. Eragon looked out over the immense body of water. The largest amount of water he had ever seen in one place prior to this was the small lake high in the Spine. But even that lake with it's sparkling cool water couldn't compare to the sight of the ocean.

Eragon made his way through the busy city streets, visiting a couple street vendors to view their wares. Nothing really held his attention as he wandered through Teirm until he found himself back on the street of Jeod's house. That's where he noticed the strange building next to Jeod's house once again; the one that the strange woman had been standing in front of when they had arrived. It was an unusual place for a shop. The other stores were down by the city wall, not crammed between expensive houses. He tried to look through the windows, but they were covered with a thick layer of crawling plants obscuring the view from the inside. Curiosity piqued, he entered the shop.

At first, he couldn't see anything because the room was so dark, but once his eyes adjusted to use the faint greenish light that filtered through the plant-covered windows, he began to look at the oddities that filled the building. A large colorful bird chirped at him as it watched him curiously from its perch. Eragon glanced at it for a moment then continued his tour. Plants covered the wall and clung to the ceiling, the vines obscuring all but an old chandelier that hung from the roof. A diverse collection of mortars, pestles, metal bowls adorned the counter, as did a clear crystal ball the size of Eragon's head.

He walked to the counter, carefully stepping around strange, unidentifiable contraptions, crates of oddly-shaped rocks, and stacks of dusty scrolls. He heard a clatter and spun around to see a cat entering the shop via a small flap-covered entrance. The cat glanced at him as it sprang up onto a chair in the corner, curling up into a ball, gazing at him with its eyes half closed. The cat bore a shaggy mane that framed its angular face. Tufts of black fur grew in patches from the cat's fierce, strong form. Eragon stared at the cat for a moment. It seemed to be examining him, staring at him before flicking its tail dismissively. Eragon reached out with his mind to try to convey that he was a friend.

You don't have to do that.

Eragon's eyes darted around the room in alarm. The cat merely ignored him and licked at its paw. Saphira? he asked Where are you? No one answered. He reached for what looked like a plain wooden rod on the counter.

I wouldn't do that if I were you, the voice came again.

Eragon looked around for the voice's source, Saphira, stop playing games! He grasped the rod, intent on using it as a weapon in case he was attacked.

A shock of electricity exploded into his body, coursing along every nerve, leaving him gasping in pain upon the ground. The pain slowly faded, and Eragon began to pick himself up off of the ground. The cat jumped down off of its chair, looking at him.

You aren't very smart for a Dragon Rider. I did warn you.

You said that! exclaimed Eragon. The cat stretched, yawning, before weaving its way through the miscellaneous furniture filling the lobby of the shop.

Who else?

But you're just a cat! Eragon objected.

Oh, please. Do I look like a normal cat? The cat sprang up onto Eragon's chest, and with Eragon in his weakened state, knocked him to the ground. The cat strode up Eragon's body and sat upon his chest. Look closely, and be honest. Am I like any cat you have ever seen?

No... Eragon admitted.

Then what makes you think I am one? The cat dug in its claws as Eragon tried to rise. Apparently your education has been neglectful and pitiful. I - to correct your mistake - am a were-cat. There aren't many of us left, but I should think that even a farmboy would have heard of us.

I thought were-cats were a myth! Eragon said, fascinated. A were-cat! He was luckier than most people. The were-cat race was always flitting about on the edges of stories, often in the company of great people, usually kings, offering advice when it suited their fancy. It was also said that they lived longer than most beings and possessed magical powers, and often knew more than they told.

Well, the cat said, lowering his face into Eragon's, Seeing is believing, isn't it? Knowing is independent of being. I did not know that you existed before I arrived back here, interrupting my plans for a nap.

Sorry... Eragon said, still feeling awkward that he was apologizing to an animal. A smart, magical animal, but still an animal.

I wasn't really tired, anyway. It's just a habit of mine. Now, if I were you, I'd put down that rod, it's going to shock you again in a few seconds. Eragon quickly replaced the rod where he had found it.

What is it?

A boring artifact, unlike myself. It's purpose...you've already found that out, haven't you? The were-cat said, flashing its fangs in a small grin. It sprang back up to the chair and curled up, closing its eyes, purring.

Wait, Eragon said, What's your name?

The cat raised its head off of the chair's cushion. That's quite a question you pose. I go by many names, but if you want my proper one, you will have to search elsewhere. You, however, may call me Solembum.

The door to the shop swung open, letting the sunlight in, silhouetting a figure against the brightness outside. The herbalist he had seen when they had first arrived in Teirm strode in, a few baskets in her arms, which were filled with miscellaneous plant life. Her eyes flickered at Solembum, then widened in surprise.

"He says you talked with him."

"You can talk with him, too?"

The herbalist laughed, "Of course, but that doesn't mean he'll say anything back. I'm Angela, by the way." She set the baskets down on the counter and turned to him. "He likes you, which is unusual. Most of the time, Solembum doesn't show himself to customers. He even says that, given a few years of work, you could show promise."

"Thanks."

"It's a compliment, coming from him, that is. You're only the third person to come in here who has been able to speak with him. The first was a woman many years ago, and the second was a blind beggar. But I don't run a shop so that the customers can hear me prattle on. Is there anything you want? Or did you just come in to look?"

"Just to look, really." Eragon said, still pondering the were-cat, "Besides, I don't really need any herbs."

Angela gave him a mischievious grin, "That's not all I do, if that's what you're thinking. The rich fool lords pay me for the love potions and the like. I never claim that they work, but for some stupid reason, they just keep coming back for more! But I don't think you need any of that silly trickery, do you? Perhaps you'd like your fortune told? I do that for all the rich fool ladies."

Eragon laughed, "No, I'm afraid my fortune is pretty much unreadable. Besides, I don't have enough money to buy anything right now."

Angela looked at Solembum with a curious look on her face. "I think..." She gestured at the crystal ball resting on the counter, "That's only for show, anyway, It's useless for anything but display. But I do have... Wait here, I'll be right back." With that, Angela dove into a room in the shop's rear. The sound of the herbalist rifling through her belongings followed, being punctuated by the sound of tinkling bottles.

Angela came back, breathless, holding a small leather pouch, which she placed on the counter. "I haven't used these in so long that I'd nearly forgotten where I'd put them! Now, sit across from me and I'll show you why I put myself through all this trouble." Eragon obeyed and sat across from her on a stool that he pulled from its place across the room, and scooted up to the counter across from Angela. Solembum's eyes glowed from his chair, which had been cast back into shadow once Angela had closed the door.

The herbalist laid a thick piece of cloth on the counter, then upended the bag over it. A handful of smooth bones tumbled out of it, each slightly longer than a finger, runes decorating their sides. "These," she began, "are the knucklebones of a dragon. Don't ask me where I got them, it's a secret I won't reveal. It's too long of a story, anyway. Unlike tea leaves or any of the other 'mystic' items of nonsense, these have actual power. They never lie, though the magic entwined within them is understood by few, if not none of the people who practice the profession of prophesy. Even for me, understanding their meanings is... complicated. If you wish, I will cast them and read them for you. But I warn you, knowing one's fate can be a terrible burden. You must be completely positive that it is your desire to know."

Eragon looked at the bones with a slight feeling of foreboding and of dread. There lies what was once one of Saphira, Glaurung, and Kir's kin... But to know one's fate... How can I make this decision when I don't even know what lies in wait for me, much less if I will like it or not. Ignorance is bliss. "Why do you offer this, anyway?" Eragon asked.

She fingered the bones, nudging one onto its side to reveal a shimmering rune upon it as she thought. "Because of Solembum," she said, looking into Eragon's eyes. "He may have been rude to you, but the mere fact that he deigned to speak with you means that you're special. He is a were-cat, after all. I offered to do this same thing for the two others that talked with him. Only the woman agreed, her name was Selena. Ah, but she did regret it afterwards. Her fortune turned out to be bleak and painful. I don't think she believed it - not at first.

An unexpected wave of emotion overcame Eragon, prompting tears to come to his eyes. "Selena..." he whispered to himself. His mother's name. Could it possibly have been her? Perhaps her destiny was so terrible that she felt that she had to abandon me to protect me from the same cruel fate. "Do you remember anything about her fortune?" he asked, feeling sick.

Angela shook her head, sighing. "That occurred too long ago, and the details of our meeting have melted into the rest of my memory, which definitely isn't as good as it used to be. Besides, I will not tell you even what I do remember. That fortune was meant for her and her ears alone. It was sad, though...I still remember the look of sorrow upon her face..."

Eragon closed his eyes, then noticed something about what Angela said, "Why do you complain about your memory?" he asked to distract himself from the revelation that the reason behind his mother's abandoning of him might have been told in this very room. "You're not that old."

Angela smiled broadly, "You flatter me, but do not be deceived. I am much older than I look. The appearance of youth is probably a result of having to eat my own herbs when times are lean."

Smiling, Eragon took a deep breath, bracing himself. If that was my mother and she could bear to have her destiny foretold, than so can I. "Cast the bones for me." he said, a grim look on his face.

Angela's face became grave as she grasped the collection of bones in her hands. Her eyes closed, and her lips moved in a collection of soundless words. Then her eyes snapped open and she said in a powerful voice: "Manin! Wyrda! Hugin!" and tossed the bones onto the cloth. They fell all jumbled together, their ivory-hued surfaces gleaming in the candlelight.

The words rang in Eragon's ears. He recognized them from his Ancient Language lessons with Brom, and realized with apprehension that to use them for magic, Angela must be a witch. She had not lied; this was a true telling of his fortune. Minutes passed as Angela closely studied the bones.

At long last, Angela leaned back and sighed loudly, pulling a wineskin from behind the counter while wiping her brow. "You weren't kidding when you said your fortune was nigh unreadable. I've never known of anyone's fate to be so convoluded and tangled as yours. However, I was able to wrestle a few answers from the jumble." She held out the skin to him, and Eragon refused.

Solembum leapt up onto the counter and settled there, watching them. Eragon clenched his hands as Angela pointed to one of the pale bones. "I will start here, " she said slowly, "because it is the easiest to understand, believe it or not. It is still difficult." The symbol on the bone was of a long horizontal line with a circle resting on it. "Infinity, or long life," Angela murmured to him. "This is the first time I have ever seen it come up in someone's future. Most of the time the runes depict a normal span of years. Whether this means that you will live forever or just a very long time is a mystery to me. Whatever it means, you can be certain that many years stretch out before you."

No surprises there - I am a rider, after all. thought Eragon. Was Angela just going to tell him things he already was aware of?

"Now they grow harder to read, as the rest are lying in a confused pile." Angela's long finger touched a set of three bones. "Here the wandering path, the thunderstorm, and the sailing ship all lie together. It's an arrangement that I've never seen in person, only read about. The wandering path speaks of your meandering fate affecting the world around you; your choices shaping the realm's future, some of which you face at this present time. Great battles will be fought, raging around you, some fought for your sake. The great powers of the world will struggle to control your destiny. Beware of losing your way, for you are one of the few people alive that are truly free to choose their own fate. That freedom is a gift, yet the responsibility that comes with it is more binding than the strongest chains."

Angela pointed then at the sailing ship, "And your choices will lead to a single fate. It is unable to be misunderstood. Your destiny is to leave this land forever. It is inescapable. Even if you try to avoid it, you will never stand again in Alagaësia, wherever you end up, for I know not where your destiny will take you." She then pointed at the last bone of the three, "And the thunderstorm. A portent of doom and trouble. Danger will pursue you, of that you can be certain."

Eragon mused on this for a moment, More trouble... and what could force me to leave my homeland?

"Now, three bones here lie together, their individual meanings as contrary to each other as the sun and the moon. The entwined serpents, the thorns, and the rose. Alone, their meanings are clear, but when they are in this arrangement..." Angela gestured at the trio of bones, which lay in a triangle, "I'm not quite sure what to think."

She stroked her chin, deep in thought. "I know not their full meanings the way they are, but I will do my best to guess. I'll start with the most pleasant of the three: the rose." On the bone, a rose blossom was inscribed between two elegant curves of a crescent moon. "The rose speaks of an epic romance in your future, extraordinary, as the moon indicates - as it is a magical symbol - and strong enough to outlast empires. How this passion will conclude, happy or not, I cannot discern, but your love is of noble birth and heritage. She is powerful, full of wisdom, and her beauty is beyond compare." Angela's finger touched the next bone of the three, the entwined serpents, "The entwined serpents touch both the rose and the thorns. A serpent is usually a symbol of deception or evil, secrecy as well. But that is the meaning most used with a single serpent. The pair intertwined together is odd, especially with such a connection with the rose. I would guess that a love will arise between someone close to you and a stranger, one that is not trusted. As if to contrast with the rose... are the thorns. They speak of loss, pain, perhaps even death. All that can be certain is that there will be trouble involved in this stranger's romance."

Two more bones were indicated, and Angela gave out a sigh. "I am sorry for what these mean. The Hawthorn root and the tree. They mean that a betrayal is imminent, and it will come from within your own family, that much is certain."

"But Roran wouldn't do that!" exclaimed Eragon. There was no way that his cousin would ever do anything to harm him.

Angela raised a hand to calm him. "I only read the message the bones present." She looked at the last bone, which had landed all by itself on the side. It showed a plume of fire, a bird emerging from the curling flames. It glowed with a reddish aura.

Her face grew puzzled for a moment. "It's odd that the phoenix should arise," she said, tapping the bone, "No pun intended, even during such a strange casting of the bones. I've only ever heard of it coming up once in the same fortune as the wandering path in all of the history of Alagaësia. It speaks of something rising from death. A person or persons that were thought to be gone forever, or never existed at all, arriving back in a blaze of fury and fire. The last time it arose was..." her brow furrowed, "Ah, yes. The time when the dragons were discovered by the elves. I know not whether it concerns you or someone you know, but it will affect you strongly, I believe."

Eragon barely held in his face's reaction. The phoenix... I guess it could be suitable to Glaurung's arrival here... The weight of his supposed future weighed heavily on him, and Angela could see it, for she offered the wine skin to him, and he accepted, his hand shaking. "After all of that, death might be welcome..." he murmured. What reason would Roran ever have to turn on him? Doubt wormed its way through Eragon's mind.

Angela's face was solemn for a moment before she gave a little smile, "It just might be. But you shouldn't worry about what still is yet to occur. The only way the future can harm us is by causing us worry. I can almost guarantee that you will feel better once you're out in the sun."

"Perhaps." Unfortunately, he reflected wryly, nothing she said will make sense until it has already happened. If indeed it does, he amended himself. "You used words of power," he noted quietly.

Angela's eyes flashed with glee, "What I wouldn't give to see how the rest of your life plays out. You can speak to were-cats, know of the ancient language, and have a very intriguing future. Also, few young men with empty pockets and rough traveling clothes can expect to be loved by a noblewoman. Who are you?"

Eragon realized that the were-cat must not have told Angela that he was a Rider. He almost said, "Evan," but then changed his mind and simply stated, "I am Eragon."

Angela's eyebrows rose, "Is that who you are or your name?" she asked.

"Both," Eragon said wittily, with a small smile, thinking of his namesake, the first Rider.

"Now I'm all the more interested in seeing how your life will unfold. Who was the ragged man I saw you with yesterday?"

Deciding that one more name couldn't possibly hurt, "His name is Brom."

Angela erupted into a burst of laughter. "Oh, that one! I had no idea!"

Eragon was puzzled at her reaction, "What is it?" he demanded, beginning to rise to his feet.

Angela gestured for him to take his seat again, "No, no, don't be upset," she said, concealing a broad grin, "It's only that - well, he is known by those in my profession. I'm afraid that poor man's doom, or future if you will, is something of a joke among us."

Eragon gritted his teeth in anger, "Don't insult him! He's a better man than any of you could find!" he snapped.

"Peace, peace, child." chided Angela with amusement. "I know that. If we meet again, and if we have the time, I'll be sure to tell you about it. But in the meantime you should-" She stopped speaking at this point as Solembum padded between them. The were-cat stared at Eragon with unblinking eyes.

Yes? Eragon asked, with a hint of irritation.

Listen closely and I will tell you two things for you and one for your friend out in the forest. When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa Tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the Rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls. And when your friend is confused and needs the wisdom and knowledge to make the right decision, tell him to seek out that which he lost in between the realms.

In between realms? What do you - but Solembum had already turned and left, waving his tail ever so gracefully. Angela tilted her head, coils of dense hair shadowing her forehead. "I don't know what he said, and I don't even want to know. He spoke to you and only to you. Don't tell anyone else."

"I think I have to go," said Eragon, shaken.

"If you want to," Angela said, smiling once more. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you like, especially if you should happen to buy something. But go if you wish; I'm sure that we've given you enough to ponder for a while."

"Yes." Eragon quickly made his way to the door. "Thank you for reading my destiny." I think.

"You're welcome." Angela said, beaming back at him.

Angela watched Eragon walk down the main street of the city from her doorway. She chuckled, "That boy is going to be quite interesting..." She strode back inside, sat back down at the counter, and swept the bones back into a pile. She pulled the bones' bag over, and was puzzled when it dragged along the counter. Something was inside... But Angela could've sworn the bag had been empty when she had poured the bones out onto the counter...

She peeked inside, and pulled out a small, flat object. What's this...? She turned it over and over in her hands until she finally noticed an odd symbol etched into it. It didn't make much sense to her, but...

"Solembum, pack your bags! We're going to go see him."

You should remember what the were-cat told you, Eragon. It's important. More than you know. Glaurung said as he lay down next to Saphira and Eragon. Eragon had left the city directly from Angela's shop, his feet moving on their own, leading him at an increasingly rapid pace to Saphira and the others' hiding spots.

How do you know, Glaurung? Eragon asked curiously. He hadn't told Glaurung about Solembum's message to the golden dragon.

Just trust me, those names are important. Especially the Menoa Tree. As for the Rock of Kuthian... I've heard rumors, but nothing conclusive about what it is. Just don't tell Brom. He'd start asking unnecessary questions, ones that he wouldn't leave alone without them being answered. Your fortune telling is for you alone, and nobody else's. You probably shouldn't even have told me and Saphira, though she probably would have wormed it out of you anyway. Eragon fidgeted a little. He hadn't told them the whole fortune, either. He had a bad feeling about the entwined serpents and the phoenix bones. He didn't want to admit it, but he now realized that Glaurung was definitely secretive about a lot of things, as Brom had said. Eragon didn't hold the same distrust for the gold dragon as Brom did, but the doubt was now growing as a result of the fortune telling.

I guess you're right. I couldn't lie to Brom anyway... Maybe I won't say anything. Still, this might be too important to hide. The talked until there was nothing more to say. Eragon was shocked at Kir's condition, but for some reason, the other two dragons were reluctant to divulge anything about it. Once they had exhausted all topics of conversation, they sat there, taking comfort in each others' companionship, watching the trees until dusk. Eragon hurried back to Teirm and was soon knocking on Jeod's door.

"Is Neal back?" he asked the butler.

"Yes, sir. I believe he's in the study right now."

"Thank you," said Eragon. He strode into the room and peeked inside. Brom and the others were sitting almost exactly where they had been the previous night. Brom was puffing angrily on his pipe. Eragon was almost too afraid to ask. "How did it go?"

"Bloody awful!" growled Brom around his pipe.

"So you talked to Brand?" The name rung another chord of familiarity with Eragon, but he ignored it for the time being.

"Not that it did any good." Brom grunted, "This administrator of trade is the worst sort of bureaucrat! The non-corrupt kind. He abides every rule, delights in making his own whenever it can inconvenience someone, and at the same time believes that he's actually doing some good!"

"So, he won't let us see the records?" Eragon asked, already knowing the answer.

"No!" snapped Brom in an exasperated tone, "Nothing I could say would sway him. He even refused bribes, and substantial ones at that! I didn't think that I would ever meet a noble that couldn't be bought out, but now that I have, I find that I prefer the corrupt kind. Greedy bastards, I can deal with, not these noble ones that won't take a bribe that would feed a normal family for a month!" He puffed even more furiously on his pipe, mumbling a steady stream of curses.

When he seemed to have calmed, Eragon asked tentatively, "So, what now?"

"I'm going to take the next week and teach you how to read."

"And after that?"

A grin split Brom's face. "After that, we're going to give Brand a nasty surprise." Eragon pestered him for details, but Brom refused to divulge the plan that was currently under construction within his mind. They parted company with Jeod and headed back to the inn. Eragon was almost dreading the coming week and his instruction in the world of letters.

Saphira, come quick! came Glaurung's mental shout. Saphira turned around and headed back towards the campsite, her prey forgotten as it darted into the forest. She glided down next to Glaurung.

What's going on? she asked.

It's Arya, she's waking up! They leaned over the elf as she began to stir. Her eyes began to crack open... then shot open quickly. Arya tried to scramble to her feet, not with fear, but surprise. A strange look appeared in Arya's eyes. She looked back and forth between Glaurung, Saphira, and Kir, who was still asleep across the clearing. She stared at Saphira for a few moments, almost as if analyzing Saphira's blue color, recognizing it as the same color as the egg she had been carrying. She put her hand on Saphira's brow, and the blue dragon hummed briefly, looking back into Arya's eyes.

"Kvetha fricai skulblaka. Eka sja ono unin du garjzla abr dag."

It is good to see you again, as well, Arya. Saphira replied.

Arya glanced over at Glaurung, stepping forward cautiously, tilting her head to get a better look as she circled him, examining his every angle. He didn't move. It wouldn't do to startle her and start another person hostile towards him. Brom was enough. She circled back towards his head, looking him in the eye.

"Glaedr-elda? Er ono?"

Glaurung may not have been able to speak the Ancient Language fluently... well, actually not much, despite his many readings of the series, but he did recognize Glaedr's name. No, Arya, I am not he. he replied. Arya suddenly got a lot tenser. She glanced over at Kir, who still slumbered.

"Who are they, fricai skulblaka? Eka vanta ilumëo."

Arya, they are not enemies. Arya seemed to relax a little at Saphira's words, but still seemed on edge. Glaurung decided to break the ice.

I was among those who rescued you from the Shade, Durza. You have nothing to fear from me, nor anything to fear from the black-scaled one, Kir. We are all friends here. He didn't expect much. Arya was bound to be even more skeptical and hostile than Brom had been, the elf having many years of experience in being suspicious of strangers. Arya didn't relax around him or Kir, seeming much more comfortable around Saphira, whose egg she had carried for many years. Glaurung decided that it was best to keep his distance for now. They fell asleep under the stars.

A/N: Aannnddd... And that's a wrap, people! The longest chapter I've ever written is now complete! I really worked hard, and I'm sorry for such a long wait. I'd just like to thank all of you who stayed loyal during my absence. I was even getting an average of 30 hits a day up to last week! Despite it being like on page 7 of the most recently updated stories. Either way, I'd just like to thank everyone who showed support to me during my time of writer's block. I felt as though you people deserved an extra-long chapter for being so loyal.

Note to self: NEVER END A CHAPTER ON A CALM NOTE. It just doesn't work out because it doesn't provide any drive to continue as fast as I usually do.

This story is now on the favorites list of 35 people and on the story alert list of 28 people!

Ok, I will likely not be able to update until after next week, due to finals coming up. I need to study, and so I will be taking a short break. But I will try to pump out another chapter in 2 weeks' time, so stay watching!

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