THE DRAGON grew faster than Eragon anticipated. He watched the newly hatched youth scamper around in the grass, wings flaring as she ran. Eragon could hear her thoughts in his mind, her inquistive voice mumbling, strange thoughts mixing with his. At first the sensation had scared him- her intrusion was sudden and queer- but as she grew he got used to the feeling. She knew a few words, well enough to speak haltingly to him, but she preferred to relay her thoughts to him by a mixture of emotions and smells, physical feeling and sights. This form of communication was unfamiliar, but Eragon was more than surprised that he could understand everything that she wanted him to.

The morning sun was rising, splattering the open sky with hues of orange and red. Eragon looked at the artistic orb of light rise as it rose above the trees that surrounded them. They were deep in the wooded area behind his village, where Eragon had constructed a den for his Dragon. She hated the den, and would rather be out in the open, but Eragon had stressed the importance of her not being seen.

It had been a mere three weeks since she hatched, and Eragon doubted that the Empire had lost interest with her. No, the soldiers looked even harder than they had before. Roran had told him how the search had been expanded to encompass all of the northern holdings, and even to the edges of the mountains.

Roran knew it as the Stone. Eragon wanted to share the truth with him- But he couldn't. Roran was a good man- if Eragon told him about the egg, his brother would be forced to choose between his duty and his family.

Eragon did not want to see the results of that choice. The drifter they had taken in was doing better, walking about and talking. He still had a ways to go, being very thin and still weak, but he was kind enough, and even helped Eragon with simple tasks while Garrow was in the village and Roran was out on patrol. The man told them his name was Brom, and when Roran asked what he had been doing, wandering about in the deep flat valley, he gave them a strange tale.

Eragon remembered now, as he watched his young Dragon get out all of her excitement before she was forced to stay in her wooden keep.

"I was in the South." Brom had said, his voice croaked, and he coughed. Garrow had Eragon fetch the man a flagon of water. Brom nodded gratefully, and drank. He slumped over his chair and leaned on the table, but his eyes seemed alert enough.

"South? Dras Leona? Harbbold's keep? Fentlass..." Roran trailed off as Brom shook his head.

"Further. Past the deserts. Past even Surda." He coughed again, and Eragon winced as he could hear the phlegm building in Brom's chest.

Garrow made an irritated sound as he ate his dinner, a simple soup, with salted beef and hard bread.

"Impossible. There's nothing past Surda- It is an endless waste."

"And how would you know? This world is filled with dark wonders old and new. There are lands beyond Surda, with kingdoms of men with jet black skin, lords who bathe in gold dust and wage war atop horned horses ten feet high."

Roran leaned forward, his face beaming with interest.

"And you've seen these things?"

"Aye." Brom said, taking a drink of water. "I have."

Garrow was about to respond, but Brom began speaking again.

"I was a mercenary in those lands. Surda is where common law stops- South of Surda, there is no king. There are kings. Hundreds of them. All fighting each other in an endless war. Pillaging one another, making alliances, and then breaking them. It is their way of life. Beyond even that? Vast jungles with towering trees. Islands stuck in an endless winter, and beasts with more intelligence and cunning than man that stalk the hidden expanse, and hunt the deep and forgotten seas. That is the world past, where there was never men, only creation and magic."

It was Eragon who spoke this time.

"Have you seen them? What you speak of? These islands..." Brom shook his head.

"No. The farthest I've been was the Reaches of Dayyub, which even the Southlords believe is the edge of the world. But I have been told these things. By mages and travelers, hunters and heroes alike. They return with hollow faces, and eyes that are twice the size of a normal man's, on account of the horrors and wonders they experienced. But it was always very few that returned, despite sometimes entire armies entering the Old Lands."

Garrow laughed, unimpressed by Brom's tale.

"I'm sure there are many things in this world that we simply do not understand," He offered, taking another slurp of his meal.

"How did you find your way to the valley? Where we found you?" Roran asked. Brom paused, taking another drink, coughed, and then answered.

"I was fighting. Past Surda there is nothing to do but fight. Sleep, fight, and shit. Eat if you can. Starve if you can't. The lord I fought for was named Na'iem Al Dem. His skin was the color of coal, with fiery yellow hair and red eyes. I won many a battle for him, leading his armies. But he took a liking to my blade", Brom paused, glancing over to his sword, which Garrow had retrieved for him when he had woken. It was the first thing he said when his eyes shot open. Where is my blade?

"I wouldn't give it to him. So he planned to have me ambushed. Killed. But I am harder to kill than I look. I was able to drive his men off, and steal a horse and ride for Surda. But the horse died long before I reached the border. Na'iem hadn't forgotten about me, no. He had sent camel riders to come capture me. Attack me they did- I was an easy find, I rode in one direction and I stood out from the natives. Killed many of them, their water and provisions kept me alive as I continued. Stole a few camels, but they died one after the another and stopped coming altogether after Na'iem's men gave up pursuit. I ended up crawling to Surda."

"It was from there I caravan jumped- I didn't know where I was going, I just moved. Merchants, warriors, nobles...I passed through every sort of life on this earth. It was at Carn where my caravan was attacked. I survived, with my sword, but I was left to wander the green plains. That is where you found me. I know not how many days I walked before I found myself on the outskirts of your village."

Garrow grunted, satisfied enough by Brom's tale. "Well, you're welcome to stay as long as necessary." Brom nodded. "Thank you. Though I doubt I'll be needing to keep here for much longer, I recover quickly."

And it was true. In the days since then, Brom grew stronger and stronger, and Eragon could could see that it seemed the man was growing younger. His skin unwrinkled, his hair regained its sheen, and even his long beard became a dusky brown, when it was tired hazel when he had came to them.

Brom. He felt the feral voice inside his head, Eragon nodded, smiling.

Yes. The man I told you about before.

Does he fly?

No. Men cannot fly. We lack wings, unlike you.

I have wings, but I cannot fly.

Not yet. Eragon answered, and smiled upon the sight of his dragon flapping about aimlessly. She needed to grow stronger; right now her wings could not support her weight. She jumped from the ground, wings beating ferociously, but all for naught- She hung in the air for a moment, and then fell to the ground. She snarled quietly and then looked to the sky.

Sun comes. Wooden house now? She asked Eragon, taking him by surprise. Usually, he had to remind her of the sun, and the danger it brought.

"Yes, wooden house now." He answered with his voice, and his dragon trotted towards him, blue and brilliant. He gathered her up in his arms, and the comfortable heat that radiated within her warmed him in the early morning air. He turned, and walked a few paces into the forest, going to the large face of wood that laid between a large oak tree and a round stone. The wood leaned on the tree diagonally from the stone, giving his dragon a shady place to spend her daylight hours. Eragon always supplied food for her, giving it to her at the start of each day and at night.

He put her down, and she scampered off to the wooden house, and looked at him, her large eyes looked almost sad. He frowned, walked towards her den, and dropped a few bits of raw meat for her.

"I'll return when the sun begins to go down." He said.

Goodbye. His dragon replied.

Why are we afraid of the sun? Was the last thought he heard from her as he walked away. It wasn't the sun he was afraid of. It was the Empire. He couldn't stay here. Not with her. And at that moment, he knew the one person he could trust with her existence, one man who could get her to safety.

Brom.