Chapter 11
Another time skip and some introductions of characters...don't worry everyone Arya will show soon! I've been rather eager to write ExA moments. And for the review that asked about Eragon having waking dreams, he does I just don't describe it since there's too much going on in each chapter. In any case, hope you all enjoy this chapter! R&R.
"Lucas, you need to focus," said Eragon rather shortly as he turned to the young man before him who was struggling to gather his thoughts after Eragon had speared his concentration into pieces. If there was one thing he learned about Lucas, it was that the boy lacked confidence, and therefore it was easy to penetrate his mind and thoughts.
"I apologize, sir," said Lucas, his face beat red and his features strained from his exertion. The circular room contained nearly a dozen other apprentices, who were successfully moving along with their studies, and though it was Eragon's duty as the head of Du Gata Vrangr, to move about and study them as they worked, Lucas's inability to move forward through his studies had prevented Eragon from doing so. "It is just simply too difficult to focus my mind in different directions all at once."
"It is difficult," agreed Eragon hoping that Lucas would not become disheartened due to his short comings the past few days. "But you need to learn how to focus, else it would do no good for you nor your companions if you were unable to utilize your skills in battle."
Lucas, who seemed apprehensive about Eragon's reaction, seemed to sag in relief when he made no move to scold the young man. Rather, Eragon reached down to lift a sizable stone ball in his hand and placed it on the table before Lucas.
"I have seen you lift objects before," said Eragon watching as Lucas seemed to blanch at the size of the stone. "I want you to challenge yourself. We shall test the defense of your mind in the next lesson."
"Yes, thank you sir," said Lucas now turning his eyes to focus on his new task.
He watched as the young man, whom he once knew as a young boy, turned his eyes downward to the stone ball on the table before him and begin his task with newfound determination. Satisfied that Lucas was not wasting away in his frustration as he was earlier, Eragon continued about the room to study his other apprentices.
Six years ago when he had first arrived in Tronjheim, Weldon had accepted him as an ally of the Varden's under Eragon's promise to him that he would be able to form a group of magicians that would aid the Varden's needs. And so within the first few months that he had arrived in Farthen Dûr, the entirety of the Varden was questioned and observed for any potential magicians and spellcasters. However, despite the smooth process, there were quite a few hiccups spread far and between the searches for potential apprentices. Many humans believed that magic was wrong and unfair and that it went against the laws of nature and their superstitions of magic caused them to cast harsh judgment over those who practiced magic.
At first many were unwilling to participate particularly due to this belief of magic and due to the fact that they would be learning under Eragon, an elf who they did not trust. But there were a few willing students and despite how they were treated, it was clear after the first raids in which Eragon's spellcasters had volunteered in how essential magic was in terms of allowing the Varden to prosper. When once a company of soldiers returned with a cart of dead, only a few men were injured when they ventured out with a spellcaster amongst their ranks. The difference in mortality rates was enough to show to Weldon that magic was essential for their survival.
And so, the people had to grudgingly admit to the benefits that magic brought despite their distrust for it. Eventually more of the Varden began to volunteer their services to learn magic. Though their determination was admirable, only a few handful could actually grasp for the magic within themselves. Thus, began his task of forming the new group of magicians for the Varden. While he knew the group of magicians to be Du Vrangr Gata in his time, he could not bring himself to recreate the group with the incorrect name and so instead, he formed the Du Gata Vrangr, the true Wandering Path.
Teaching was frustrating but patience was needed, else he would have ended up snapping at quite a few of his students. Over the six years he had learned how to reign in his anger as best as he could when it came to his apprentices and he could only see that he had done well in doing so for the spellcasters of Du Gata Vrangr were disciplined, determined, and overall apt spellcasters compared to what he had to work with in his own time.
"Sir," he turned to a sweet looking young woman with auburn hair.
"What is it Petra?" asked Eragon worried as he caught the crease between her brows showing her frustration.
"I am having difficulties with this particular passage," she lifted the ancient text up to him. Eragon took the book from her and began to read the passage written not in the normal lines of the human language but with the glyphs from the ancient language. Letting his eyes take in the writing, he paused as he found what it was that Petra was confused about. The pronunciation of one particular word had changed since the tome was written and it didn't fall in line with what he had taught her.
"It is not your fault that you are confused," said Eragon as he reached for her quill which she hurriedly gave to him. "The text is outdated and the pronunciation of this particular word has changed. Correctly, it should be this." He neatly crossed the word out and wrote the correct version so that Petra could see.
Returning the book to her, he watched as she began to read the line once more and the crease between her brows disappeared as she smiled up at him. "Now it makes more sense," said Petra.
Eragon nodded and he left her to her own devices as he continued to makes his rounds. What was most odd but all the more welcoming was how it seemed as if young women began to grow more confident in themselves within the Varden. Though females were often cast in a domestic light, it was rather novel to see capable young women willing to fight for a cause they believed in. He never really agreed with the gender roles amongst human society. Though human females were indeed physically weaker than their male counterparts, it did not necessarily mean they had to conform to the social norm. He thought of his mother, Rosalie, and Desdemona all of whom were strong females in their own right. It was refreshing to see that there were those who did not conform.
Petra was one of the few females that Eragon generally liked all around. She was very diligent and responsible and had a sense of duty and comradeship. She had come to him two years ago to learn how to become a spellcaster to serve within the Varden. From what he gathered about Petra, her parents lived within the Varden but they were not warriors. Her father was a blacksmith and her mother took care of her younger brothers. Though Petra did not say it outright, since she was the eldest child and the only daughter she wanted to find a way to assist in their plight. He had found that she did not like the idea of settling down at a young age and starting a family when there was much to be done still.
"Hitch," Eragon called to the man who was glaring at the glass with frozen ice in his hand. "You need to focus on your task and not let your anger get the best of you. Rushing will not help you reach your goal."
Hitch's eyes flickered to him and he nodded taking a deep breath before he went to focus on turning the ice back to water without altering the form of the glass. Though there was a certain method to doing it with ease, Eragon had challenged Hitch by using the spell Brisingr. If he could control his flow of magic than it would make him an even more accomplished magician.
The training lasted for two more hours before Eragon called them all to a stop. "You have all worked diligently," said Eragon as he stood at the front of the spellcaster. "I believe it is time for me to call for a halt in today's lesson. And I would also like to say that there will not be any lessons for the next week."
Catching sight of their dismayed expressions Eragon held up his hand before they could burst out into protest. "I have been assigned to a mission by Weldon and it needs my overseeing," said Eragon. He could see the tension in their expression but he continued, his eyes sweeping over those gathered in the room. "Though I shall expect all of you to be studying assiduously."
There was a twitch of nervousness in the room for each person knew that Eragon did not take lightly to those who slacked away from their duty. After a few more words, he dismissed them all and eventually began to make his way back to his chambers. Tomorrow, he was going to be leaving with a small company of men to Surda for supplies for the Varden and to exchange reports. Though it was a task given to the other captains within the Varden, Weldon had specifically came to Eragon to ask him to oversee this particular trip.
There had been reports that some of the Forsworn had been seen flying about the Beor Mountains. It had appeared that with Galbatorix ruling the western half of Alagaësia for the past near three decades had caused them to grow confident in their powers. Though he had not heard word of Morzan flying about the Beor Mountains as of yet, he could only speculate as to the other ten Forsworn remaining. Eragon had heard word that one of the Forsworn, an elf by the name of Faelon had ended his own life out of his crazed misery after the Banishing of Names—Du Namar Aurboda. That was merely one less opponent for him to think of.
Despite the dragons who had casted such an enchantment, Eragon could not help but think that it made the Forsworn only more dangerous in their madness. He had no idea how they were reacting to the slow degradation of their dragons but it appeared that it was beginning to take its toll on the Dragon Riders. Perhaps not Dragon Riders, thought Eragon with a frown as he readied the charger that he was given early morn the following day.With their lack of self-expression, their dragons have become no more than mere animals.
He thought of Shruikan for a long moment. Galbatorix's dragon was spared of having his name torn away from him but the black dragon was no better off than those of the Forsworn. Because of their greed, they had subjected their dragons to a most primitive fate. It was sickening to think of. Shaking his head from the thought, Eragon turned back to his company of men. Weldon had given him one hundred and fifty men to travel to Surda with for their cargo and back.
Glancing at their grim and yet determined faces, he easily mounted his charger, Creed, and turned back to his men. "When they open the gates stay in formation. If we encounter anything on the way through the path outside of the Beor Mountains, look for my signal," said Eragon in his authoritative voice that he had learned to use when he was allowed to trained the soldiers five years ago. "But no matter what, do not break formation."
He glanced back at his company of men made of three platoons. The majority of his men were on horseback while those that weren't were sitting within the empty carts that they had stationed at the rear center of the formation. It was a formation made for quick mobility but also for flexibility. He glanced back at his platoon leaders before he motioned to the dwarves that were guarding the eastern gate out of the Beor Mountains.
They acknowledged his gesture and began to turn the gears causing a low rumbling to echo over the eastern gates. He waited atop Creed, silent and relaxed unlike his men. With a cloak fastened at the base of his throat and his swords strapped in place on his hips, Eragon leaned forward on his horse. Despite the fact that he was perfectly capable of running the distance to Surda in a few days with a few breaks in between, he did not want to out distance his men who needed his commands to stay in order. Thus he was forced to use a steed.
Gripping Creed's reins in his hands, he narrowed his eyes slightly at the tunnel before them that would lead directly above ground near the Beartooth River. When the gates were fully open, Eragon waved his company forward. Gently pressing Creed's side with the heels of his boots, his charger tossed his head before galloping forward into the dim gloom of the tunnel lit every fifty feet by flameless lanterns but just for good measure he sent up his were-light to accompany them.
Though the acceptance of magic was steadily growing, he could tell that the floating orb of light unnerved several of his soldiers but they did not say anything for the darkness about them was pushed back. As they travelled, the sounds of the carts being pulled across the dirt path and the cantering of hooves against the ground the only sound within the tunnel, Eragon was left to the solitude of his mind.
It was apparent that six years was too little span of time to try and build the Varden into something more than a ragtag band of people seeking justice. It was clear to Eragon during his first year with the Varden how the organization lacked a sense of order. Having served Galbatorix for several years, he understood the need for structure in society. Though Galbatorix's idea of law was to put himself above and beyond it, his way of governing was effective albeit cruel and corrupt. The Varden at first was appearing to be traveling in the same direction as Galbatorix's rule and though he only knew what would become of the Varden in his time, he did not like what he was seeing.
Instead, Eragon quietly went about structuring the Varden in order to help secure Weldon's position. The first matter to be dealt was with the Council of Elders. He had remembered how they had managed to corner him into swearing his fealty to Nasuada and decided to put a stop to the corruption before it could take root. It was difficult but with Weldon's agreement they had shown the Council of Elders that they were merely there as advisers and nothing more. And though both Weldon and Eragon had created enemies from those who wanted more he could care less, it was another matter to be done with. Though they would have to make sure to keep a close watch on the council. The moment they let up, corruption would take its place once more.
The next matter to be dealt with was the army itself. Weldon was the sole commander of the Varden and with his military right hand man being a veteran soldier, he knew Irvine to be loyal and righteous. And so together, the two of them began to make reforms to the army of the Varden, instituting a rigorous training for their troops. There was a need of discipline and order that could only help to better serve them. Though the Varden was a rebel group for seeking refuge from the Empire, they could not afford to be on poor standards, especially not with the oppression of war in the near future.
At first there were many protests from the men. They did not like the idea of training for battle for they believed that they were safe in the halls of Tronjheim. Nor did they like the fact that Eragon would be teaching them. It was during a rather large show of insubordination from one of the soldiers, that Eragon had shown them how capable of a fighter he was. Though he had not fought an opponent for nearly two decades, it did not mean that he had lost his edge. Quite the contrary, he would have thrashed the soldier within an inch of his life had it not been for Irvine who had stepped in and eased the tension, proclaiming that the training was needed and that those who refused would be subjected to punishment for their defiance.
Was it a harsh treatment? Eragon did not think so and within time, they began to relent to the training and it was clear on the first day just how poorly they were fit for battle. Those training to be archers could not even hit their mark when it was merely a log of wood. Throwing them out into the midst of battle would only serve to kill them.
He spent five years trying to better the army and work on building Du Gata Vrangr into a respectable group of magicians but it was clear to him that he was going to need more time to do so. It was a slow process but the results would be worth the effort, of that he was sure.
They travelled for the rest of the day until night-time fell and Eragon, not wanting to work the horses to death, called for a rest a few hundred yards away from the Beartooth River so that they could picket their horses and allow them to graze on the grass and drink from the river. Having left the confines of the tunnels earlier, they were instead subjected to the cool night. Glancing about the area, Eragon turned to Marlow, one of the platoon leaders.
"Set up camp here," ordered Eragon as he dismounted from Creed, patting the charger's strong neck. "Have a patrol in place as well. I shall go see to the surrounding areas after I have settled my things."
"Yes sir," said Marlow, instantly moving to carry out his orders.
Unpacking his things from Creed, he went to work setting up his tent for the day. If they rested within the next two hours, the horses would have enough time to recuperate by early morning for them to set out once more to Surda. Within ten minutes, his tent was erected and his things already inside. Casting a glance back to the camp that was being set up, he began to make his way to survey the surrounding areas. He needed to make sure if it was safe to stay about the Beor Mountains.
He was certain that Weldon's fears were not unfounded. He had requested that Eragon take the role of captain to oversee the travel to Surda and had therefore showed to Eragon how seriously he was taking the sightings of the Forsworn about the mountains. Shifting a branch of a young tree from his face, he continued forward making sure to keep alert in case he heard anything.
After half an hour of scouting and coming up short, he was determined to believe that there was nothing dangerous about, he was about to return to the camp when he felt something strange towards his left. Curious as to the odd feeling that he was receiving, he drew Brisingr and Vrangr. Holding his swords aloft, Eragon turned towards his left and began to inch forward. He had waved away the noise by the River as the mere sounds of animals but now that he listened to closely, he thought he heard a soft voice singing.
Who could that be?
Even more curious, his grip on his swords tightened as he carefully stepped over a few branches littered on the ground. As he neared the source of the noise, it was clear that what he was hearing was indeed singing. It was not the singing that alarmed him but rather the lilting voice that was the source of the music. It was not a rugged nor roughish in any sort but rather soft and smooth. As he neared, he could pick out the words to the music and it surprised him to know that it was an elvish song that he had heard before during a festival in Ellesméra.
Frowning, he stepped forward and out of the covers that the trees gave him. The Beartooth River sparkled beneath the crescent moon and the werelight that was hovering a few feet overhead. The light radiated downwards and lit the river and the person that was bathing in the water. At the sound of his entrance, the woman in the river paused, her song ending with her silence. A few seconds passed and then she lifted her chin causing her dark hair to shift to reveal pointed ears.
"Who are you?" asked Eragon harbouring a sneaking suspicion of who the elf maiden was.
Her sapphire eyes were sharp as she regarded him before she tilted her head to the side, a rather cold smile coming forth. "You certainly are a rude one," she said, her eyes flickering to his swords. "Any other gentleman would refrain from intruding on a private bath. It seems as if you lack any sort of inhibition."
Eragon frowned but he dared not turn and show her his back. Instead he chanced a look at her and saw that she had turned and had drawn a towel to cover her, not caring that the piece of cloth became wet in the water of the river. He took a moment to scrutinize her face. Her skin was flawless and her features were smooth and ethereal like all elven-maidens. However, there was a characteristic about this particular elf before him that made him cautious.
"Then let me repeat myself once more," said Eragon unaffected by her beauty. "Who are you?"
"What makes you think I shall tell you anything about myself when you demand so?" she asked. Her eyes flickered to his swords and he could see a gleam of interest enter her startling sapphire eyes. She tilted her head to the side. "A Rider?"
"You have yet to answer my question," said Eragon refusing to relent. Could this elf be one of the Forsworn that Weldon had told him several of the scouts have caught sightings of? But then where was her dragon? It was odd to think that an elf could ever be a Forsworn but then again, Galbatorix had always been rather persuasive. "What could an elf be doing out in the Beor Mountains? Certainly not just for a mere bath in a river."
"I can ask the same of you," she directed back at him and it was clear that this person did not easily relinquish her answers. Annoyed, Eragon made his way forward to stand on the shore of the river. Shifting his right arm, he held the tip of Brisingr directly before her but she was unfazed by his threat, instead she languidly stretched in the river before reaching up to glide her finger up the iridescent blade of Brisingr. "You have a beautiful sword or rather beautiful swords I may say. The hue is fitting… tell me, how did your dragon die?"
If she was planning on offending Eragon she did not for Saphira was never killed. He was the one who died. Raising a brow, Eragon spoke in a rather harsh tone, "I would rather my dragon living peacefully in whatever afterlife there is rather than be turned into a mere shell of what she once was. Where is your dragon? Out hunting with the hounds?"
Instantly her expression changed. Her brows became slanted and her eyes blazed at the insult. "How dare you," she hissed glaring at him. "Your rudeness can only account for your rising. Hounds? Your mother and father were the hounds to give birth to such an insolent excuse of a Rider."
"If we are speaking of poor excuses of a Rider," Eragon's eyes narrowed, "You and your companions surely take the title. To think that what once was has given way to a disillusioned human greedy for his own desires to be fulfilled." His lips curled downward as he stared down at the elf in distaste. "Tell me do you enjoy kissing the hems of his robes? Do you enjoy your petty squabbles with others so that you may be looked upon with greater favor?" At the thought of serving Galbatorix, he felt his anger bubble. To think that such Riders would be easily won over by Galbatorix and his promises. "Does his approval mean that much to you, that you would forsake your humanity?"
She stared up the blade of Brisingr at him with a feral smile. "Does his approval mean much to me? He is the ruler of the Empire, the bane of the Order. The answer to your question then would be yes, it does." Her finger which was still lightly gliding up the blade of Brisingr paused and then she gently pushed Brisingr away from her as she began to climb forth from the river.
Still keeping his swords trained on her, Eragon frowned, as she gracefully made her way to her clothing. "You and I believe in different ideas," she said as she turned her head to pin him with a stare, her earlier smile gone to be replaced by a look of haughty superiority. "While you clung to an Order that was only interested in keeping the world stagnant and their own interests alive, you failed to see the lack of their necessity. What need did we have for those fools? They sat atop their high chairs for what? Just so that they could stare down at the world beneath them. They did nothing and in their lack of action, in their lack of seeing what was before them they fell."
His eyes flickered away as her towel fluttered to the ground and she began to pull her attire on. He did not need to see more than necessary and when he was certain she was done, her turned his attention back to her, to find that she was lacing up her boots a sword now resting on her right hip, the brown color looking fit to match that of a trunk of one of the ancient pines in Du Weldenvarden.
As his eyes took in her sword, Eragon felt a tone of clarity ring forth from within him as he took in her cold demeanor. "So you are Formora," he remembered Oromis telling him about Formora and her fellow Forsworn, Kialandí, and how they had deceived Oromis and Glaedr and nearly killed them. Formora was the one who had left Glaedr crippled for she had sliced his left foreleg. "To think I would meet you here of all places." He twisted Brisingr in his hand lightly. "No matter, it shall make matters all the more easier."
"You would fight me?" asked Formora with a twisted gleam of humor in her eyes as she regarded Eragon, though he was sure that there was a mixture of curiosity within her eyes. "Even knowing that I am a Forsworn? That I am above you in strength and power?"
"For much talk I have yet to see a reason as to why I should fear you," said Eragon scoffing as he bent his knees ready to charge her. "All I see is an elf that has let her greed and ambition take the best of her."
"I am afraid that you are letting your own ambitions take the best of you," her eyes flickered to the right, in the direction of the camp. "If you are not careful, I may tell my dragon to light your companions aflame. I certainly have had enough of your insults."
"Do not tell me your pride is wounded," said Eragon with narrowed eyes. "How petty."
"Do the lives of your companions not matter to you?" Formora asked as she drew her blade, standing ramrod straight as she observed him. He could tell by looking at her that she was confident in her abilities to win. Despite the fact that she could have several Eldunarí with her, Eragon was not willing to back down. He had stumbled upon a Forsworn and he was not going to let his chance slip through his fingers.
"I am only concerned with the opponent before me," said Eragon feeling his darker side come forth.
"You will let your men die?"
"If you plan to kill them," said Eragon coldly, "Then do so. Sacrifice is always a part of the world's workings." Her surprise was apparent as she stared at him. That was right. To change the world, one had to sacrifice everything…even his humanity.
Formora studied him for a long moment before her lips curled upwards into a smile, a hint of her bloodlust showing. "For a Rider that fights for what was his perceived idea of justice you speak much like a Forsworn," she lifted her blade into the air. "Very well, if you want to see to your own death, I shall not deny you."
With that said, Eragon darted forward faster than any elf could comprehend. Though he may have travelled back a hundred years in time and had not fought in battle for nearly three decades that did not mean his skills had waned. If anything, his lack of fighting had made him eager for the battle to come. As he neared Formora, he turned and feigned to her left, arching in towards her. When their blades met, Eragon could see how startled she was at his speed and ferocity.
Arya, thought Eragon as he felt the part of her within him stirring to life at the sense of danger. Give me strength.
Pushing her back, he brought Vrangr up to swipe at her which she blocked but she was late in dodging from Brisingr flying towards her and he managed to slice a clean cut on her shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood. Instantly, her earlier attitude disappeared, only to be replaced by an air of anger at the slight injury.
He drew back as she regained her bearings and instead charged at him. Parrying a blow, Eragon continued to battle her at a ferocious speed noticing as the fight continued how Formora seemed to grow frustrated. He was not going to be easy to kill off and he was going to show her that. Pushing her back once more, he blinked when she turned and managed to cut him across the cheek. The moment the cut appeared, Arya's magic came forth and he was healed.
Feeling the warmth of her magic as if it was a caress of her hand on his face, Eragon turned to Formora. Her eyes were hard and she seemed to be taken aback by the sudden appearance of the green light of magic. "I hope you've learned that I will not be easily killed," said Eragon as he made his way towards her not one trace of fear in him. His grip on Brisingr and Vrangr tightened.
She did not say anything but merely lifted her hand and he heard a loud bellow from above. Glancing up, he threw himself to the side as sharp talons came bearing down on him and a large brown dragon came diving from the sky. Wincing as one of the talons pierced his arm, he pulled away as the dragon swept Formora up in its paw allowing her to climb onto its back as it took flight.
"You may not have died today but if we ever cross paths once again then I shall not be as gracious," Formora called down to him with a victorious look. Eragon frowned watching as the pair hovered in the air above him for a moment longer before they turned and flew west, no doubt back to the Empire.
Without Saphira, he could not give chase. Instead, he merely sheathed his blades and turned to study his left arm where the brown dragon had injured him. The wound was closing up and the skin was soon healed. So that was Formora.
Glancing back at the river, his frown deepened. Though he had heard of her cruelty and her need for bloodlust there was something about the Forsworn that confused him. His mind thought back to the earlier singing he heard and once more he felt puzzled. Perhaps her pastime was not to torture the less fortune or struggle for power with the other Forsworn. He chuckled darkly to himself. To think someone as corrupt as Formora would enjoy singing. Next we meet Formora, I shall not hesitate.
With that thought in mind, Eragon began to make his way back to camp where he would later spend a good hour calming his troops who had heard the bellows of Formora's dragon. The following days in their travels, he did not catch sight of the Forsworn and when they were within the borders of Surda, he could not help but wonder why it was the Formora had suddenly decided to back down. And then the Eldunarí, thought Eragon bemused, why had she not fought with everything she had? Why did she retreat?
"Go retrieve our cargo," said Eragon as they entered the markets of Aberon, the capital of Surda. "And do not tarry, we must return to the Varden in due time. Do not cause any trouble in the city, it would be poor repayment to Lady Marelda and her kindness to us."
"Of course sir," they saluted to him and began to hurry about with the carts to gather their things. Watching them for a moment longer, Eragon turned to study the bustling markets of Aberon. It was still a rather young country thought Eragon as he stared about the capital. Letting his thoughts wander, he blinked when his eyes fell on a peculiar shop in which many odd plants were stationed outside.
"Marlow," Eragon called to the soldier. "Stay here to oversee the others. I will be back shortly."
Marlow nodded and turned to continue giving out directions. Meanwhile, Eragon had strode over to the shop with a feeling of certainty. Pulling the door open, he stepped in taking in the odd eccentricities within the shop and the peculiar smell.
"Ah, hello, may I help you?" standing there studying a plant was a beautiful young woman with dark red hair and fair skin. She wore a simple kirtle that made her look like a simple working girl but Eragon knew her to be more. He stopped short as he took in his faithful servant or the woman that one day would become his faithful servant. When he did not answer her, Rosalie lifted her head, her lips parting to speak once more but she stopped short when she took in his appearance.
He inclined his head to her as she took in his pointed ears, the swords that he carried, and his fair features. It was a wonder to see her emerald eyes once more thought Eragon as he stared at Rosalie. There was a loud clang in the back of the shop causing Eragon to avert his eyes to stare over her shoulder. He caught sight of a short, curly-haired woman and felt a faint smile curve onto his lips.
"What is it Rosalie? You are as still as a stick in the mud," Angela bustled about her apprentice to catch sight of Eragon and she appeared startled.
"Angela, the herbalist?" asked Eragon with a faint smile.
Just slowly working my way about the Forsworn. I was always interested in Formora's character so I want to see where she'll end up in this story. In any case, more shall come to you all soon! Please be anxiously waiting! I hope to see you all soon in any case!
