GENERAL

Syrai gaped at the crooked old woman marching down the corridor straight towards him with agreeable stealth and ability. The human woman – Syrai was finding himself suddenly surrounded by them; Eragon, Lillyan, Angela, Murtagh… - was unbelievably old, her skin white and wrinkled, but not as wrinkled so that one may say 'she looked a thousand years old' no. She looked about 69, maybe 72, but all the beings in the room new that that was some sort of magical illusion (or not, who knew what Angela got up to?) that kept her young, or young looking, the energy might have been some deep-set, never dying source within her small sturdy figure.

"Does she ever die?" Eragon commented, a smile on his face, even though it had obviously been a serious question. Did the woman bring back old memories?

"I will die when no one needs me anymore," Angela replied promptly and letting a slightly amused, slightly dangerous look shoot in Eragon's direction.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find jobs for you here and there, for all eternity if it pleases you, but we have more important matters than about who does when," Arya signalled towards Lillyan. She had stopped humming and was watching Angela with her glazed, far-away eyes.

Angela stood in front of Lillyan and looked at her. Lillyan repeated her message to Angela and Angela alone. Angela listened intently while studying the girl, circling her as though she were planning on purchasing her. She lifted Lillyan's arms, her hair, bent down to have a closer look at her feet and toes. Then she sprang back up and Lillyan reached the end of her speech.

"It sounds like a prophecy to me," she thought out loud. "The storm is coming, what sort of a storm…Lill…Lillyan?"

There was a pause. "Yes, yes it's a big storm, a wild storm, but what kind of a storm?"

At which point Lillyan collapsed on the floor, her eyes blinking and normal, bright green.

"Lillyan, now your back to normal again, I'd like to ask you something,"

Lillyan gazed at the woman drowsily, but made no protest when she was tugged down the corridor.

A door slammed and Arya, Eragon, the twelve elves, Blodgharm and Syrai were left, confused, excited and worried, not knowing what to say to one another.

LILLYAN

"A RIDER!" Angela shrieked in excitement, joy and surprise, "A RIDER WHO DOES NOT SPEAK! The best kind, that way no nonsense can come out of your pretty little mouth!"

Lillyan smiled meekly and then turned her face away, she wanted Dorum!

Angela's happy smile faded "How come no one told me?" she grumped, crossing her arms infront of her chest and looking thoughtful.

Perhaps they wanted to surprise you?

"No, that's not it, something else."

Dorum…

"Well ,anyway, what's your dragon's name then?

Dorum…

Doru…I mean Deloi-Orum, earth serpent, Dorum for short…or Eloi.

Angela looked at her "Earth serpent? EARTH? Why earth? Why not…Master, Dragon king? Crook shredder!"

Lillyan chuckled, a noise deep in her body which she did not even have to open her mouth for. Angela joined her odd laughing and once they had finished she let out a noisy breath.

"Aye, I admit…but if you ever get a sword please consult me for names, Eragon named his sword, brisingr, BRISINGR!" she shook her head in disgust, "So dull!"

Lillyan shook her head.

I'm not so good at sword fighting, I prefer the bow and arrow

Angela nodded as if in agreement and then pulled out a little string of bottles from within her pinafore.

She went through the two dozen or so glass jars, bottles and boxes until she came to two, the largest and tiniest, bottles where she paused before performing a very complicated procedure in which she removed the two bottles which were in the middle of the row of holders, without taking any of the other bottles off the string in less than a minute.

"This," she begun to explain, pointing at the larger of the two, "is a very powerful poison, if your facing someone powerful, try to put it on the tip of your arrow, hit him, anywhere and it will start working them minute it touches his skin, coming out in painful pus-filled purple blotches, then partial blindness, dizziness and eventually complete paralysation. As for the other…well, something tells me you'll know what to do when the time comes," She handed the bottles to Lillyan. Lillyan thanked her and stood up to leave.

Angela, she remembered the question that had been itching her all along, even though all she really wanted at that minute was Dorum, the legends tell of a cat, named Solembum, who walked at your hip like a dog does a man.

Angela threw her head back. "You make me sound old!" she complained "but I'm sure you'll see him around, where I go, he goes, he's probably hiding."

Lillyan nodded, thanked her once more and with a wave stepped out the door.

MURTAGH

Lillyan was…different. Somehow…neutral. She'd known him all her life, never by name, never by history, just from afar. She was a shadow in the distance to him, he was a shadow in the distance to her. It always seemed uneven though. As though the distance between her and him were smaller than the one between him and her.

Perhaps it was just that she was related to Eragon. That one day or another she would find out who he was, what he did, and never view him in the same way again. The sweet, mildly interested eyes would never fly across his face, a flicker of recognition flaming up within them and dying in the same instant as though to say 'I've seen you before, but I've never seen your ways', they would be gone, instead there would be a scowl a glare, fixed to a point where he wasn't. Murtagh had seen it a million times. Elves, humans, dwarves…it always happened.

Not anymore. They wouldn't glare at him in disrespect and disgust any longer, no, he would earn his respect alright. He would change his clumsy, ever flailing, fumbling mind, he'd be good, that was it. He would sign up to be a warrior, train, protect Lillyan. Would she scowl at her then? When he was at her side with a sword on his hip and a shield his hand, with the oath on his lips to always protect her, even if it cost his own worthless life. He hoped the answer would be no, no she wouldn't scowl at him. All he wanted to do was life his life with no watchful and hateful gazes fixed on his every move. Even at that moment while he thoughtfully stroked Thorn's scaly head, the servants were taking in his movements from the windows of the trees.