Author's note
OK. This is my first Eragon fanfic, so it might be a bit rusty. I am greatly flattered that you've decided to read this, and if you like it… pass it on to other dragon lovers! Thanks
Ziahra Shur'tugal
As the young boy silently trudged up the sandstone formation, the pain finally caught up with him. Fire seemed to engulf his legs, and lightning zapped through his veins. Looking back across the landscape, still simmering with flames, a lone tear fell down his face; the only tear that would fall down his face. Unwillingly, he turned his eyes away from the only world he knew, and continued climbing.
His memory had escaped him, leaving only scenes of what he now understood was his home, racing through his mind. The flying things, black cloaks, emerald light. It all was jumbled in a cage of emotion.
As the shadows of night waned, and the warmth of the sun waxed, he reached the top of the formation. At last, he was safe. Cautiously, he examined his surroundings and unwrapped the bundle in his shirt. A solid white stone, about the size of his head, tumbled onto the sandstone with a sharp ring, like the cathedral bell. He studied it closely, trying to remember where it came from.
Then, he remembered his father's words. "Take it, my son. Flee to the east! You must never let them have it… never!" Intending to keep his father's will, he carefully set it into a shallow crater.
Before curling up to sleep, he gazed at his surroundings. As far as the eye could see, was nothing but grass. He had walked for a solid day, careful to avoid any form of live, hoping to survive.
He walked to the other side of the formation, eager to see more than a sea of green and yellow. He got his wish. Standing erect, directly in front of him, was a cascade of pillars and spires, twirling and dancing towards the sky. The boy reached forward to touch its clear, glassy surface. As his fingers grazed against the structure, it rippled like water. He followed the solid wave downward until his eyes met the face of a man, old and stony.
Etched into the spirals, directly in front of the man's dead face, was a single word. "Brom."
The lad felt a surge of power and mysterious energy flow through his mind. The man's eyes snapped open, and his dry, frozen lips uttered, barely above a whisper, these words. "Shur'tugal… has once again… returned…"
With that, the boy stumbled back to his stone, dumbfounded, and collapsed, unaware of the voice in the distance.
Please review! And be honest. I hope to hear from you soon!
Ziahra Shur'tugal
