IT'S REAL

A couple of days of travel North of Carvahall, amidst the thick woods that covered the Spine until the snow and ice became a permanent companion and rendered the environment unhospitable for every kind of life, three people were sitting in a small clearing, a clearing so small that the trees kept the sky hidden. A small clearing, where a minuscule firepit had been dug in order to let the hatchling properly enjoy the fresh air. An air rich with smells and whispers of something older, that made Saphira wish to spread her wings and almost roar.

Almost, because among her instincts, there was also something that urged her to be careful until she was grown enough to eat a small house with a single bite.

The first was an old man, slightly hunched forwards, with a permanent scowl on his face. The second was a beautiful elf: she had long black hair and sharp green eyes that looked for meaning in the fire. The third was by far the more interesting of them: one-eyed, looking third years old, clothed strangely, and more importantly, holding a blue dragon in his arms.

"Why?" David asked, eyeing the length of wood that had been trusted in his hand like it was a snake.

"Because I say so, boy." Brom replied uncompromisingly.

The one-eyed man narrowed his eye at the older Rider: "I'll let you know that I'm more than 200 years old, so 'boy' is a woefully inadequate term."

You only don't wish to be beaten with a stick. Saphira laughed in his mind.

David snorted, ignoring her with a flash of disdain mixed with the mental equivalent of a shrug while he tossed the piece of wood into the fire: "I'm really not seeing why I should learn how to use a sword."

"Every Rider has wielded a sword, many of which have become as famous as their owners." was the stark answer, accompanied by a constant half rumble of curses as the older Rider, fast as lightning, picked back the length of wood from the flames before it could burn.

"And you've basically gone extinct." David pointed out, "It seems to me that doing something only because that was how the Riders acted is a weak argument."

Saphira let out a conflicted bundle of emotions, a stark flash of amusement for her Rider's dry wit coupled with a stab of pain because of what could no longer be because of the actions of the Black King, that Brom had recounted in the past evenings around the fire.

Brom gritted his teeth eyeing with distaste the stubborn Rider that was refusing to learn what he deemed unnecessary, more often than not callously pointing out the kind of failure that the Raiders had endured and caused with Galbatorix's rise to power: "You'll have to fight eventually, boy."

"Your calling me 'boy' is a good attempt to put yourself in a position of power over me, but one doomed to simply annoy me." David retorted with a sigh, "I'd much prefer to talk about magic, it seems to be a far more effective weapon, and the primary cause of your problems, given the account Arya gave me of Alagaësia's history."

Brom grumbled something under his breath and shot a reproaching look at Arya, who murmured an apology in the Ancient Language. "I was figuring it out on my own, talk with me, and if you explain clearly enough, maybe I won't experiment on my own."

"No!" thundered Brom, while Arya maintained a blank face to hide her own grimace, "It's extremely dangerous, boy!"

"You live in my necklace wit Saphira while Arya carries you around, and still think that you can determine hat's dangerous for me in terms of magic? That's rich, and my name is David, stop calling me boy." the one-eyed man wryly retorted.

The man has no reason to be an enemy, stop antagonizing him. Saphira tried to calm down her Rider, even if she expected scarce success.

"I'm trying to make sure you learn how to remain alive!"

"And a sword is a dumb weapon." David shrugged, "The first man with a half-decent armour will take a hit and cleave me trough with his following attack." The one-eyed wizard was aware that a sword was more a status symbol than anything else, at least since armour made of iron started to get around. An axe would be a better choice, since it could power through the protection offered by the enemy armour and at least break the bone beneath.

Not that he was going to entertain the idea of using a weapon with his hands, what was he, some idiotic brute that needed to dirty his hands in order to compensate for a lack of ability with the Arcane Arts?

Dismissing the wisdom of others is unwise. Saphira whispered in his mind, apparently finding a strange delight with the lacklustre word-play.

"That's why Riders used swords forged by elves, capable of ignoring every defense!" Brom thundered, tossing again to him the roughly sculpted stick that he expected to use as a training aid.

"Then why not using a spear?" David retorted: "I won't be fighting on foot anytime soon, and if what you've told me about the growth-rate of dragons, Saphira will eat anything before it can reach me, and I wouldn't be able to fight either Urgal or Human infantry from her back, she'll grow too big for that."

"And what about when you'll be indoors!?" Brom hollered, close to losing what little patience he still had, he did expect to face difficulties with training a new Rider, but he had imagined they would be caused by either the King or his servants hunting them, or the usual problems that all the Riders had to face at some point, not that the one Chosen by the Egg would turn out to be so unreasonable.

While busy backtalking to the older Rider, David was chuckling with Saphira, pointing out the absurdity of the situation. In his opinion, learning magic would turn out to be much more effective and important, and given what his dragon companion was able to observe from his memories, she largely agreed, even if her instincts were somewhat hardwired to make her learn from her elders.

I need to figure out this place's magic. he commented to Saphira, showing an image of Fleur accompanied by a jumbled mess of memories and a stark stab of guilt.

"Why should I be indoors if Saphira can't come with me?" he countered, before she sent him an image of her hunting on her own, that he countered with one of him hunting as a fox: "And why magic would be less effective indoors?"

"You'd better listen to me! Entitled brat!"

"You'd better start making sense, foolish child!" David snapped back, besides, he would be better served by using a couple of daggers while indoor, wouldn't he?

Arya, who had been busy staring into the fire for the past hour, sighed, turning her eyes towards the bickering duo, before letting her gaze settle on the one-eyed man. He was... uncommon. It had little to do with the strange magical necklace that he had, even if that alone presented a tactical advantage that everyone could figure out immediately: if he managed to infiltrate anywhere with it at his neck, he could smuggle a small army behind enemy lines.

Yet, he spoke with a.. dismissal, of most of what had been the biggest concern of the free people of Alagaësia for the past century, and constantly challenged whatever he was told, especially by Brom.

Granted, human men seemed to grow our sour with age, enjoyed reminding to others of their age, pointing out the wisdom that came with it, and since David claimed to be at least 200 years old, more often than not his discussions with Brom devolved with the recently-christened Rider defending his claims against the white-haired man, who not only didn't quite believe him, but insisted to place himself in a position of superiority and leadership over the one-eyed men that clearly wasn't being accepted.

Brom-elda was the only reason why there was still hope for the people of Alagaësia, but David seemed to be convinced that it was the Order's fault if Galbatorix came into power, and insisted in asking about magic, since he had correctly surmised that it was the biggest obstacle that stopped everyone from simply stabbing the King in the back.

The rigidity of the first and the stubbornness of the second didn't particularly agree to establish an environment where proper learning could take place.

You're kind of defenceless without your magic. Saphira pointed out, even if she grumbly recognized his skill with the mind arts, something that he was practising even then, as while he was speaking with his companions, defending his position, his mind hovered lightly across the trees, stretching from an animal to another, even if there were less than the number he would have liked.

An owl was unknowingly lending him his extremely sharp senses to keep vigil over the group, while a lone wolf got distracted by a sound that never truly happened and stopped moving in their direction.

And how often in my life I have found myself without it? David wondered sarcastically.

You think that the elves captured by Durza would have remained so had them access to their mind and magic? Is not like you to refuse the opportunity to learn something that could become useful later on.

At the unconvinced grumble of her rider, Spahira expressed her laughter with a low rumble from her chest. You just don't want to be whacked with that stick that the old man seems so fondly of waving around.

David ignored her last comment, focusing more of his attention towards the owl's mind that he had partly hijacked in order to remain mindful of his own surroundings. "An owl' senses are extremely well suited to keep vigil at night," he spoke, distracting Arya from her musings and calming down Brom, who stopped his annoying rant in order to witness the next madness from the younger Rider. "From the pear-shaped ocular bulbs, which incidentally was the reason behind why they developed the creepy ability to turn their heads by insane degrees evolution-wise, since their eyes couldn't roll and move in their orbits," David continued, "to the not aligned ears that allow them to pinpoint the exact origin of a sound."

Brom opened his mouth to ask why would such information be pertinent only to clamp it closed as David continued: "I was sharing an owl's mind: we have people incoming." he said rising to his feet, quickly imitated by the other two.

"How many?" Arya asked with a hopeful tilt to her voice, only to be shot down by the one-eyed man shaking his head.

"Two." David replied, "Not elves, too fast to be human." he added as he opened his Iron trunk, letting Saphira make her way inside.

I don't like this.

You're too young to fight, Saphira, and you know that, I'll be a hindrance just as you are, but at least I can try to invade their minds and sneak away as a fox. David replied firmly, ignoring the black ball of smoke that expressed his scaly companion's irritation toward the situation.

As soon as she was inside, he locked the trunk, securing it to his neck: "Less than 300 meters." he added.

"300 what?" Brom snapped unsheathing a gleaming red blade and tossing his shorter one to David. He had kept Morzar's blade in order to give it to the next Rider, but for the impeding confront, it would be wiser if he was the one with a weapon capable of ignoring magical defences instead of someone that had clearly never properly fought before.

"Roughly 300 yards." Arya cut in, looking in the direction where David had pointed before turning into a fox and disappearing among the trees.

Both the veteran and the elf waited with unsheathed blades, ready for the potential hostiles. "Ra'zac?" murmured Brim under his breath, immediately thinking about the worst possibility.

With a hawk-like gesture of her head, Arya nodded, she knew that none of her people would have run so quickly towards her camp without announcing themselves. She started in the darkness, briefly whispering something in the Ancient Language and erasing the few tracks David's fox form had left behind.

An owl's loud screech made Brom whip his head towards the origin of the sound, just in time to intercept one of the disgusting creatures that tried to stab him through the ribs with a short sword that looked like it had survived thousands of battles.

At the same time, a flash of intent and a shared image almost overwhelmed Arya's consciousness, but as she recognized the feeling of David's mind, she turned into a different direction, her sword twirling elegantly in her hand as she deflected the lunge that would have seen her crippled, hastily retorting with a swing that moved her thin blade through the air in a movement to regain space upon which she capitalized.

With the corner of his eye Brom saw that Arya had instead intercepted the other enemy, but he quickly dismissed her, for he needed all of his skill with this opponent.

The second stabbing motion of the Ra'zac was aborted when Brom elegantly stepped forward, the crimson blade he held in his hands rising with an upwards swing that brought him closer to the edge of the small light projected by the firepit. Without stopping, falling into a small routine that he had used exactly three times 45 years prior, he reached inside himself, and threw himself into Aren, light and energy and power ready to be wielded.

To his senses, Aren felt like a well, one filled to the brim with steaming water, and like warm water bringing relief to a tired body, power washed though Brom: "Sja Edtha!" (Look Me), and with unparalleled precision, his spell sneaked its way across the layers of protections posed over the disgusting creature that he was battling against, because his magic caused no harm, did not rob it of its senses, instead, Brom's magic forced the Ra'zac to look only at the aged Rider.

The small clearing disappeared from the sight of the smaller of the two Ra'zac, which found itself capable only of seeing Brom, even if it could still hear the fight of its companion.

Arya ducked and weaved a few feet away, her movements smooth and sharp between the fast-paced fight against her own opponent. The Ra'zac lunged again, immediately retreating when she sidestepped and made an attempt to amputate the offending limb, only to summersault over the sweep that followed, violently kicking the opponent before landing, staring imperiously at the cautious enemy, who hadn't expected its first pincer ambush to fail, nevermind that its companion was in difficulty.

Zar'roc, the Crimson Blade, moved cleanly through the air, eager to end life as it parred the umpteenth attack by its grey counterpart. The Ra'zac, blinded to everything but his opponent, twirled on himself, realizing that his best bet was to not move from where he was, conscious that a single rising root could make it stumble and spell its doom.

Without forewarning, as Brom deflected yet another swing of the enemy, a white owl with black speckled feathers descended from the branches, its talons digging where the bird supposed the Ra'zac's eye was.

There was a flash of steel as the owl died with a screech on the hideous creature's blade and Brom lunged, Zar'roc cleanly cutting through the magic cocoon protecting Brom's opponent before lodging itself through its neck.

Discarding the sudden avian assault and victory, Brom let go of his spell, cutting the energy he was feeding to it while he moved the Crimson Blade sideways, leaving the Ra'zac head attached only by a small amount of what could have been an unholy combination of chitin and sinew.

Arya quickly ran to intercept the Ra'zac who tried to run away, forcing it back with an ample swing of her thin sword.

Trapped between the two, the creature hissed its displeasure, its eyes briefly falling over the fallen form of its companion before returning to the stained blade in the hands of the aged Rider, whose face was as impassible as the trees witnessing the scene.

The Ra'zac threw a dagger at Arya with a sharp motion of its arm while it lunged on Brom, who parried a blow that never came, because the creature swerved on its left while crouching and swung wildly, the blade cutting into the side of the aged Rider with a vengeance.

It didn't have the time to enjoy its triumph however, as the elf had run on the other side of Brom, taking Zar'roc from his weakening grip before bringing it down with a powerful swing, which bit clean through more than half of the Ra'zac's back.

Secure of the death of their opponent, Arya' hand immediately landed over the aged Rider's who fell to a knee with a grunt, knowing that yet another scar would soon mark his skin: "Brom-elda..."

"Poison," he hissed weakly, "I cannot cleanse it, my control frays..."

"I can." she reassured him, immediately dedicating herself to the task, sweet words of power slipping from her lips like crystal clear water from a pure water spring, echoing briefly across the small clearing.

Slowly, under her care, a yellow mixture of corrupted blood and burnt tissue left the gouge in the aged Rider's flank, before her words changed rhythm and tone, echoing something that could have resembled a lullaby while the man's intestine knit itself together, shifting then to something more slow-paced that allowed the muscled to ripple back as they should have been.

David walked slowly in the clearing as a fox, stumbling lightly across the clearing until he slumped near the firepit, turning back into his human form only to roll on his side and puke his guts out.

"Are you..." Arya stopped to take a couple of slow breaths as she helped herself to her feet, while Brom eyed critically the remains of the battle, "...wounded?" she completed, only to have him shake his head.

"The owl?" Brom asked, receiving a tired nod in return from the one-eyed man. Surprisingly, that got an appreciative grunt out of the aged Rider: "Luckier than a dwarf in a mine."

"Why couldn't I feel their minds?" David shivered on the ground, wrapping himself in the affection that emanated from Saphira, who was safe inside the Iron Trunk secured to his neck. The feeling of the steel burning its way through the owl's flesh was still fresh into his mind, permeating his every thought for the time being, even if he made an effort to compartmentalize through some originally applied Occlumency.

"From where did they come from?" Arya asked David, who shrugged as an answer.

"They could have circled back, they came from east however." the one-eyed Rider replied, there wasn't that much they could discern from the direction they came from after all, not when they could move as fast as an elf.

"Your plan is no longer viable, there will be their winged companions waiting for us on the first piece of uncovered ground, if they tried to land here, the trees would break their wings, or at least grant us enough space of manoeuvre to kill them." Brom spoke slowly, mindful of his still tender side and tired muscles, since he was clearly no longer used to wield a blade: "They'll cut us off."

"Whar now then?" David asked to the two that knew the land much better than him while he opened his necklace, smiling as a blue blur slammed against his chest and started nuzzling his neck.

We felt the sword. Saphira murmured painfully through their bond, an echo of the Owl's death still lingering over their minds.

"If we go north, they'll bottle us in eventually, and we'd still need to turn east at some point, crossing the North Sea and then Ceunon's territory before trudging across a forest that is less than welcome towards unknown." Brom shook his head slowly, even if David was listening only with half an ear, since most of himself was twirling around with Saphira, analyzing and accepting the death they had felt through the owl.

"Straight south is not a viable option, the Shade's forces may still be roaming the countryside."

I don't want to feel death ever again. Saphira spoke to David's mind, and while he could relate, he had felt himself dying, after all, he also recognized the kind of versatility that such a tool represented, and thusly was wary of discarding out of the fear of pain and ... he shuddered, repeating in his mind the memory of his death-as-an-owl, with Saphira snapping her teeth near his ear in order to express her displeasure.

"We cross the spine, then we go South." Brom nodded thoughtfully: "It will be murder on my bones, but I guess that we can truly exploit David's trinket."

That brought out a snort from the one-eyed Rider: "Don't call 'trinket' the best piece of magic you've ever seen, brat."

"Do you have at least something to celebrate this victory?" the aged Rider scoffed sarcastically while he took everything of value from the corpses of the two Ra'zac.

"As a matter of fact," David eyed the white-haired man disdainfully while Arya looked with unconcealed joy at the young Saphira taking stock of the real world outside from David's necklace, "I do."

"Two Ra'zac dead will give them a precise idea about where we are, we'd be better served by moving now and celebrating later." the elf cut in before David and Brom could start their bickering.

"I'm well-rested, and I can go west no problem as a fox, while you two deserve your rest." David proposed.

After a few minutes spent to grab their space belongings, everyone, even a grouchy Saphira, who was eager to simply explore the outside world, moved back inside David's Trunk. Soon after, a lone one-eyed fox left the place of the ambush.

In his mind, a single thought kept spinning: the death of the owl had felt real. Like his own. Like he was dying as well.

It's real. Saphira whispered against his conscience, making him look through her eyes as the aged Rider laid down letting out a pained grunt.

Yes. David found himself agreeing with the hatchling. It's real.

AN

Why the Ra'zac

In the book, the Ra'zac searched for the egg randomly across god knows how much territory, managing to find it in a matter of months, and that was because Durza had no idea about where Arya sent the egg, now he had somewhat an idea of the direction in which she had been running even if he may or may not have lost her tracks when David took over the running, while he may or may not have managed to glimpse something from one of the two elves he captured.

In the book, Arya is prised to have resisted for months to Durza, and while I'm not saying anything about what may or may not have happened to faolin and the other of whom I've forgotten the name, Arya is also chosen by her people to become queen when she's barely a century old, hinting at the kind of skill she possesses.

So, two Ra'zac flying around can cover a lot of more territory if they have already an idea about where to go, and they're capable of using logic as well: given Alagaësia map, the fastest and safest way to safety is exactly the one pointed out by David. Losing an eventual tail on the Spine only to sneak back into elf territory is the bare minimum of cunning that everybody would use, something that David owes to his fox's nature.

Arya's mentality right now

And Arya can be forgiven for not pointing out that the plan was obvious given the number of hints her escaping left, she has knowingly chosen to follow the new Rider away from danger instead of trying to save her lover and friend-companion, in her mind, she's already grieving them while irrationally guilt-tripping herself, and she doesn't show a single hint of it because she's naturally reserved, and focused on her duty. Her people kind of make a great deal out of tattooing the 'yawe' on themselves, so I'm trying to expose this by having her showcase her self-sacrifice side effects, namely, carrying on coldly and without flinching.

Brom's ass-kicking

Brom is the motherfucking badass, no matter how you look at it, if not for Eragon, and Paolini pulling Aren's energy out of his ass in the middle of the third book, the old man was more than a match for the two insectoids. His suggestions to Eragon were to sneak through the enemy's protection, not overwhelming them.

Brom killed more than half of the forsworn, and raised the Varden from nothing, all the while avoiding discovery, and while he was at it he stole an egg from Uru'baen (even if helped by the random dragon minds that do exactly nothing in the first two books because Paolini hadn't thought about them yet), so he is the BAMF to go to when you want an unconventional solution.

So, given the lack of worry for his son, I'm playing him as he should have been, using his resources smartly and being his crotchety old self, cunning and dangerous.

That means that unless against a Shade, the super priest from the Helgrind's cult, Galbatorix or some character that is fucking smart, the fights with Brom will not last that long, since he had a century to learn the 'kill them fast' lesson, and from how Paolini described him, he has a bag of tricks that circles three times around the world.

I've finally set up my own site, where my fics can be downloaded in pdf (complete, not chapter by chapter), and you can support me through a donation if you have the means and the wish to do so.

cloud9stories dot net is the name of my site, you can find the complete caption on my profile if googling it isn't enough (for whatever reason ff doesn't let me copy-past the URL here).

Thank you!