Prolog: To be chosen

"Ariisse." Said a gruff voice into the night. The wooden cottage in front of him was tattered and disheveled, but he didn't want to do any more damage to it. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, and he wore dark red armor and had a sword at his waist. A small click was heard as the lock on the door was undone by the spell. The man slowly pushed the door open and entered the small cabin.

In a flash, a blade darted towards the man like the strike of a snake. The man simply stood as the blade was stopped by the ward he always had in place. The man looked down at the village woman who had just attempted to strike him. She was weak and disheveled, and clearly distraught by his arrival. She had tears in her eyes and she looked at him with fear and anger.

"You won't take him! I won't let you!" The woman said as she tried to stab him again.

The man let his hand fall to the hilt of his sword, the bright red crystal shining in the dim light. He considered drawing it as a warning but decided to leave it where it was, no reason in causing her more distress.

"Meelik Vár Cönteír," Said the man softly. Once he finished speaking, the woman was thrown to the right of him and was held, suspended in the air, unable to move.

The woman tried to squirm but she was held firmly in place. She began screaming at him, berating him, calling him scum and evil. The man paid her no mind and walked up to a baby manger that rested in the corner of the room. As he approached, the baby began to cry, the wailing was deafening in the quiet night. As the man approached the baby, he entered the child's mind and calmed the baby with a simple thought. The baby now seemed to look at him with a sense of trust and warmth. The man tentatively lifted the baby out of the manger and began to leave the cottage.

"Damn you, Damn you riders, I curse you and your families." the woman said in a pained voice.

The man turned to look at her. She was still fighting even though she could do nothing to stop him. It was almost pitiful, the man thought as he continued out the door.

Then just as he was about to leave a horrible pain erupted from his back and launched him across the cabin. He cradled the baby in his arms as he flew and crashed against the far wall. Stunned and weary, he slowly began to regain his bearings. He checked to make sure his spells were still in place and that his wards hadn't faltered. The pain coursed through his body like lightning, never abating, never waning. He yelled in pain and fury and the baby in his arms began to cry. He tried desperately to find the source of the pain but he couldn't. He had taken no physical damage, and none of his wards had been tampered with, so what was causing him such pain.

"Halmach. Creesee. Mäkeiti arlöí barghtatós. Magchteïgi." He spoke the words quickly and in rapid succession but none of them helped abate his intense pain.

He writhed on the ground and turned towards the woman. Her eyes burned into him with fire and rage. He could see that she possessed only a small amount of magical ability, but it must have been enough. Her intense maternal instinct and emotion at the sight of him taking her baby had caused her to cast a mental curse at him, a curse of unending pain.

"Every happy moment you have will be forever painful, I hope your new rider was worth it, you monster." The woman spat at him with venom and malice.

The man stared at her with shock and reluctant admiration. He winced against the pain and managed to stand up with the baby in his arms. Pain coursed through him like a writhing mass. He gathered his strength then spoke in the ancient tongue, "Taéirí."

Then the woman's eyes rolled up into her head and she fell unconscious. Once he was sure that she was out cold, the man limped through the door and out into the crisp night air. What greeted him outside was a large light red colored dragon that stared at him with worry and shock.

"What happened? I felt this horrible pain through you, I feared the worst." The dragon said this to the man through his mind. The dragon's feeling of worry was being clearly translated to the man but he could not put her fears at ease. Then an image came to him through his dragon's eyes, and he saw the extent of damage that the spell had done. His hair had a white line arcing through it, which ended at his right eye. His eyeball now had a white line that ran down it, making it look as though his iris and pupil had been cut in half.

The man shook the image aside and climbed atop his dragon's back. The dragon looked back at his injured form and spoke again with greater worry. "Brom, please rest, you are clearly injured. We have the child, I'll take care of the rest."

Brom Eragonsson rested his head against the nape of his dragon, Ihralilth. As the dragon lifted itself into the air, his weariness and pain overcame him and he fell asleep, just as the baby in his arms fell asleep as well.