-Eldest Chapter Twelve-

(A/N) Just a quick announcement… I know that some of you are very . . . 'eager' about my story, and I appreciate that. Keep the reviews coming, they help a lot (especially when some of the astute readers find misspellings/grammar errors that I have missed. However . . . some of you have made comments about the story itself, the mythology behind it, or view their own conceptions as fact. While I love people comparing and contrasting, everyone needs to realize a few things.

1-THIS IS *MY* rewrite. Not Christopher Paolini's. The story is called ALTERNATE WORLD for a reason. Because it IS AN ALTERNATE WORLD! So while I appreciate emails about what happened in the original stories, I don't care because this rewrite follows a much different plot.

2-This is a Dark Fantasy story. Now, I realize that I did not state this at chapter one or anything, so I can forgive some people that are taken aback by the situations/violence. Dark Fantasy stories usually have more mature themes, characters, and realistic portrayals of people in realistic situations in a fantasy setting. Plot armor is very thin, and people WILL be maimed and killed. No character is safe from that fate in this rewrite. So while I appreciate emails talking about how some scenes were disturbing, I have to say that I'm sorry but that won't change. The violence in this rewrite is at "Teen" level, so I won't be changing the rating.

3- My story, my mythology. This is the most annoying for me- when people feel the need to correct aspects of my rewrite. Christopher Paolini didn't create dragons, he didn't create magic, and he certainly didn't create elves. I'm sorry that this story isn't the typical stereotyped fantasy world with run of the mill features. One of the reasons my rewrite is read by people is because it is a different setting. But people still FEEL the need to nitpick certain features of the races here. The most amusing (to me) is people finding fault with "talking dragons."

DRAGONS HAVE TALKED FOR AGES. In Tolkien, in Earthsea, and countless other mediums. I get the feeling that many of you haven't read much aside from the light-fantasy world of CP, which leads to confusion. But you need to understand that fantasy stories ALL have different interpretations of famous races. For instance, my Dwarves are also called Dwarib, and they are not midgets. I believe in the Elder Scrolls series it is the same there. So what you need to do is read with an open mind, and save any useless criticism that doesn't help the story. If you want a boring rehashed Inheritance, there are plenty of other stories more popular than mine that will not challenge your mind to adapt to new concepts. I'm sorry for how harsh this sounds, but it is really annoying as an author for people to IGNORE events occurring, alliances breaking and being reformed, and other aspects of my story and focus SOLELY on what they perceive as "corrections."

4-THIS STORY DOES NOT FOLLOW THE FLIPPITY FLAPPING CANON! *THIS* REALIZE THIS! With all of the changes, I DON'T UNDERSTAND how people can STILL think that I'm following canon. As stated earlier, this DOES NOT FOLLOW CANON! You've all already read Inheritance! Why would you want to read it again? YES, I named Morzan's dragon. YES, his dragon is black. YES, Brom is using his own sword. YES Oromis isn't old, YES Orrin is a jerk, YES Galbatorix is blonde with green eyes. ALL of these changes (and more) Were made to make the world CP made more ORIGINAL and INTERESTING! You know it's funny someone emailed me saying I made some contradictions, so I was like

"Okay, thanks for catching them would you mind telling me where I made them?"

And he went through the effort of finding them . . . but the contradictions were in conflict with the ORIGINAL SERIES! People, this is an alternate WORLD. If you can't grasp that concept, unfollow this story and go follow the dozens of other copy-paste Eragon books on here. Like I said, many of them are a hell of a lot more popular than mine. Yes, I am a little bitter. I said this before but it is annoying that people ignore so many important plot points and decide to waste an email or a review with some dumb complaint. I spend at least 30 minutes to an hour with every chapter, and I try to make it the best work I can.

*sigh*

Anyway, here's chapter twelve.

RORAN huddled closer to the orange fire that crackled amid a circle of black stones. Smoke rose silently into the air, creating a gray sheen between the shining night sky and the ground. Still, bright stars shone brilliantly through the haze, while the cold and crisp scent of midnight mixed with the smell of burning wood. Long brown hair teased the point of Roran's chin while a great beard surrounded his jaw. His body had grown stronger and wider, with massive biceps and powerful legs. His chest was broad, and his shoulders were large and round.

"Commander Magebane."

Roran did not drop his gaze from the stars, but his ears listened to the man who approached from the forest of tents that dwelled below him.

"Yenlick Barrow." Roran said with a warm smile. This time, he did lock eyes with the man. Yenlick was of the pure North, with pale skin and dark-colored hair. He wore a bear-skin cloak, the upper jaw of the creature resting above his head. Teeth framed his eyes alongside bangs, while an iron greatsword poked from over his shoulder. Yenlick bowed stiffly, not out of disrespect for Roran, but rather because of the cold.

"It's spring. It shouldn't be so frigid." Yenlick chittered, eying Roran's fire enviously.

"Come, sit." Roran said with slight bemusement. Yenlick grunted happily, unstrapping his sword and letting it fall heavily to the ground. He sat, cross-legged, beside Roran, placing his palms out before the fire.

"How are the Imperials acclimating?" Roran inquired. Yenlick was in charge of the Imperials who had forsaken their vows, and took up oath with Roran. They were the survivors of his victories against the Empire- before his long string of defeats. He knew the general he fought now was Morzan, a member of the Forsworn.

The man was a tactical genius.

It was said that Roran had natural born instincts when it came to war- which was true. He could make decisions in a heartbeat that would take minutes in other men, and see strategies intermixed with maneuvers and guerilla warfare when he gazed upon a campaign map. But Morzan . . .

He saw through every feint, every false lead. They had yet to meet face to face with the man's army, but other generals under Roran, following his direction, were destroyed. Stragglers from their army would come upon Roran's camp like wraiths, with wide eyes and skin covered with black smut. They spoke of Morzan calling asteroids of fire down on them, told of the Forsworn breathing fire into their faces while he fought. It was gleaned that Morzan did not fight with his dragon, but despite that, he was still immensely powerful. Roran remembered the markings on his body protecting him from magic, hoping that they would come to his defense when he finally faced Morzan. Roran had learned that he could direct the power that guarded him onto others- creating a sort of unbreakable ward as long as Roran maintained his focus. He was training with Pike mages day and night, perfecting his mind so that he might be able to save a few hundred men from Morzan's asteroids.

"They are adapting well. Our own men seem to have warmed up to them. However . . . my scouts say the Forsworn is on the march." Yenlick said conversationally. Roran knew the news was coming. They had initially marched far into the south of the northern regions when they received word of a renewed Imperial offensive. But with each defeat, they were driven back up north. Now, they were held up in Gil'ead, former Imperial territory. They would make their last stand here. If they failed, they would be forced to retreat to the lands of House Pike, while the Empire gathered fleeing Northern Houses who would no doubt shift loyalties in exchange for their lives.

"This Morzan . . . he does not seem human." Roran laughed bitterly.

"I had hoped I would taste peace before the bitter sting of defeat."

Yenlick chuckled at that, taking a stick and moving the embers of the fire about.

"We are amidst the air of peace now, are we not? The calm before the storm." Yenlick grinned.

"We will kick that bastard back to Uru'baen." He added strongly. Roran thought of Katrina. He thought of the countless lives that had begun anew within the township amidst the land of Gil'ead. He then tried to picture Morzan. What did he look like? What was the sound of his voice? The shade of his hair? Roran could not begin to see the man's physical features. The Forsworn seemed to be a class above humans, a god within a physical body. The haunting tales of survivors who partook in battles against him did Roran no favors. He was told of fields that contained nothing but bubbling craters filled with hot blood, while grass burned in the thick embrace of a dark blue blaze. They spoke of a man who wielded the sword with deadly precision, a being that could turn away one hundred arrows with the flick of his fingers, and the send them flying back to their source.

"What happens if we lose, Yenlick. What happens then?" Roran asked quietly. Yenlick smiled, but his eyes glowed with uncertainty. He looked away from Roran and up into the sky.

"As a fellow Northman, you understand the stars like I do. They always seem so close." Yenlick reached above his head, and opened his hand.

"I feel as if I can grab a handful, and put them in my pocket. I would give them to my wife, to my young son. You must think of them, Roran. If we lose, they will surely die." Yenlick stated grimly. Roran shuddered. He had almost lost Katrina once, he would not allow her to leave him. Not now. He saw her smiling face, he saw her eyes. He could feel the softness of her hair, the eager and supple curves of her womanly body. He could feel her stomach, and he could sense the small and quivering life that grew within, saw her eyes as she stared at him, pride written over his face.

I am with child, Roran. You are going to be a father.

"There is no option but victory. You are right, Yenlick." Roran's heart gladdened when the man slapped him on the shoulder.

"You have lead us through thick and thin. This Forsworn will fight real Northemen, when the day comes."Roran felt the power of command surging within him, strength that he had lost. Resolve hardened and stationed itself in the dark confines of his heart, while his eyes blazed with determination.

"Have a watch set up. From the dark woods to the green plains. Have our mages deny the Imperial magic users the use of their scry-pools. I want groups of forty men, mounted archers, to harry the Imperials as they approach." Roran ordered.

"It will be done Commader." Yenlick said with a heavy sigh as he rose to his feet. He retrieved his sword, and strapped it back between his shoulders.

"You are strong, Roran. Never forget that. The North never will." Yenlick descended from Roran's hill, and into the camp.

Roran would find Morzan on the field of battle. And Roran would kill him. Forsworn or not, Morzan will die by Roran's hand. He would not tolerate any threat to Katrina. His mind drifted to his brother, Eragon, who was half way across the land. He knew that Eragon was off in Du Weldenvarden, prancing with Elves when he should be here, defending their home.

Eragon is a fool. Roran simmered. But still, the love the two brothers shared for one another was still strong, and despite his anger, Roran prayed for the best.

You're a fool, Eragon. But you need to make sure you don't become a dead fool.

Roran spent the rest of the night watching the celestial bodies above him, aloof to the quarrels of men while they lit the dark skies.