Is the integration good? Does Yomir feel organic and natural in this world? Please some feedback is needed here...

Do you like his power, skill and behavior?

Please respond.

"Why do you think those two Urgals were still in Yazuac?" asked Eragon, after they had been on the trail for a while. Yomir, walking along side them at a good pace, peeked his ears up and listened eagerly to their conversation. He was glad to find people who actually did not want to kill him to be around, it was something he feared he'd never get the chance to embrace again "There doesn't seem to be any reason for them to have stayed behind."

"I suspect they deserted the main group to loot the town. What makes it odd is that, as far as I know, Urgals have gathered in force only two or three times in history. It's unsettling that they are doing it now."

Feeling it a grand time to speak, Yomir sprinted a little ahead, turning to face them whilst walking backwards. "There were actually a lot more, nearly twenty or so. They have been attacking villages near and far for some time and will continue to do so I imagine. This time I saw those stragglers, of which I slew them personally. They were delicious."

Both men froze, looking at him with a delicate fear and discomfort.

Brom, being the braver, spoke up. "Delicious?"

"Yes, part of whatever Durza did to me. I need blood to survive, a fair portion each and every day. I lack venom, so if it is no trouble, I can merely feed on whatever you kill and cook. It will be no great struggle to maintain my needs." He offered a smile, hoping to disarm their terror and discomfort. "I have never fed on people, only animals and Urgals. Worry not."

There was moment of silence as they continued on their trek towards who knew where.

Then, out of nowhere, Eragon spoke up. "Do you think the Ra'zac caused the attack?" The word, Ra'Zac, was unfamiliar to Yomir and yet felt as familiar as his own breathe. He focused in on the boy with frightening intensity, knowing beyond words that it would be a potent fact that would shape his life.

Brom frowned. "I don't know. The best thing we can do is continue away from Yazuac at the fastest pace we can muster. Besides, this is the direction the Ra'zac went: south."

Eragon agreed. "We still need provisions, however. Yomir needs blood to survive. Is there another town nearby?"

Brom shook his head. "No, but Saphira can hunt for us if we must survive on meat alone. This swath of trees may look small to you, but there are plenty of animals in it. The river is the only source of water for many miles around, so most of the plains animals come here to drink. We won't starve."

Eragon remained quiet, satisfied with Brom's answer. As they rode, loud birds darted around them, and the river rushed by peacefully. It was a noisy place, full of life and energy. It agitated Yomir's senses, the desire to rip and tear and feast on the level of blood he had just the day before was strong. "What are the Ra'Zac? The name rings in my mind, a bell that tolls in the dark. I can hear it but see nothing."

"Monsters," grumbled Brom. "Beasts that feed, much like you do, on the living. Their preferred food is human, from blood to marrow to muscle, they have no limitations. They are more like insects or birds, born the size of humans. Their breath is toxic, binding the mind and flesh. They cannot use magic but are unaffected by mental attacks of any variety. Their strength and speed is incredible and they are without mercy. If you choose to travel with us further, as I feel you will, then you will encounter them. I will need to learn of your full capabilities later, so I know how you may fight them if it comes down to it. " He scratched his chin, then turned his gaze towards Eragon. "I suppose you're still wondering about this magic. The fact that you've discovered it presents a thorny problem. Few know it, but every Rider could use magic, though with differing strengths. They kept the ability secret, even at the height of their power, because it gave them an advantage over their enemies. Had everyone known about it, dealing with common people would have been difficult. Many think the king's magical powers come from the fact that he is a wizard or sorcerer. That's not true; it is because he's a Rider."

"What's the difference? Doesn't the fact that I used magic make me a sorcerer?"

"Not at all! A sorcerer, like a Shade, uses spirits to accomplish his will. That is totally different from your power. Nor does that make you a magician, whose powers come without the aid of spirits or a dragon. And you're certainly not a witch or wizard, who get their powers from various potions and spells. Which brings me back to my original point: the problem you've presented. Young Riders like yourself were put through a strict regimen designed to strengthen their bodies and increase their mental control. This regimen continued for many months, occasionally years, until the Riders were deemed responsible enough to handle magic. Up until then, not one student was told of his potential powers. If one of them discovered magic by accident, he or she was immediately taken away for private tutoring. It was rare for anyone to discover magic on his own," he inclined his head toward Eragon, "though they were never put under the same pressure you were."

"Then how were they finally trained to use magic?" asked Eragon. "I don't see how you could teach it to anyone. If you had tried to explain it to me two days ago, it wouldn't have made any sense."

Yomir hoped the man would continued, hoping that perhaps through his teachings perhaps he too could master the talent so frustratingly was denied him by his curse at the hands of Durza.

"The students were presented with a series of pointless exercises designed to frustrate them. For example, they were instructed to move piles of stones using only their feet, fill ever draining tubs full of water, and other impossibilities. After a time, they would get infuriated enough to use magic. Most of the time it succeeded. What this means," Brom continued, "is that you will be disadvantaged if you ever meet an enemy who has received this training. There are still some alive who are that old: the king for one, not to mention the elves. Anyone of those could tear you apart with ease."

"I will protect him then." Both turned to him, so he gave a toothy grin, a single new thread of his mask appearing before his eyes. "I happen to like Eragon, he seems a find lad." He kept a smile on his face, never showing the mild desperation he felt at the notion of the first humans he met dying even if Durza would probably be the one to end them. The monster that owned him was a merciless beast and had an interest in them and that alone signal death even if he had not made a motion to harm them as of yet or complained that Yomir was bound by magical oath to not harm them.

Eragon flushed. "Lad? You cannot be any more then fourteen summers?"

"Actually your almost right, I think. I cannot remember my actual age, as I said my mind is in a fog. I remember so little of my past, it is as if someone scraped it clean." His smile deepened." That doesn't change the fact that you are literally the first people I have seen in months, since I lost my memory in fact. I have little interest in losing the little structure and company gained through such unusual measures."

"No matter how powerful you may be, you are mortal and there is only so much one can do against magic. There isn't time for formal instruction, but we can do much while we travel," said Brom. "I know many techniques you can practice that will give you strength and control, but you cannot gain the discipline the Riders had overnight. You," he looked at Eragon humorously, "will have to amass it on the run. It will be hard in the beginning, but the rewards will be great. It may please you to know that no Rider your age ever used magic the way you did yesterday with those two Urgals."

Eragon smiled at the praise. "Thank you. Does this language have a name?"

Brom laughed. "Yes, but no one knows it. It would be a word of incredible power, something by which you could control the entire language and those who use it. People have long searched for it, but no one has ever found it."

"I still don't understand how this magic works," said Eragon. "Exactly how do I use it?"

Brom looked astonished. "I haven't made that clear?"

"No."

Yomir, seeing further opportunity to integrate into the conversation and keep himself relevant, spoke up. " Magic works through the ancient language and the innate power within your body and mind." Eragon turned to him, looking at him with curiosity and confusion. "The word give direction to the power you draw upon. You say fire and you offer the power to make it so. It is the basics of magic, I lack the capacity to draw on power from my mind even if I can block mental attacks."

"So I'm limited by my knowledge of this language?"

"Exactly," crowed Brom. "Also, as your friend explained yesterday, one cannot practice deceit while speaking it."

Eragon shook his head. "That can't be. People always lie. The sounds of the ancient words can't stop them from doing that."

Brom cocked an eyebrow and said, "Fethrblaka, eka weohnata néiat haina ono. Blaka eom iet lam." A bird suddenly flitted from a branch and landed on his hand. It trilled lightly and looked at them with beady eyes. Yomir smelt no fear on the beast, no trace of despair or shock. Just genuine trust, even it's heart beat stayed constant. A remarkable feat all it's own. After a moment he said, "Eitha," and it fluttered away.

"How did you do that?" asked Eragon in wonder.

"I promised not to harm him. He may not have known exactly what I meant, but in the language of power, the meaning of my words was evident. The bird trusted me because he knows what all animals do, that those who speak in that tongue are bound by their word."

"And the elves speak this language?"

"Yes."

"So they never lie?"

"Not quite," admitted Brom. "They maintain that they don't, and in a way it's true, but they have perfected the art of saying one thing and meaning another. You never know exactly what their intent is, or if you have fathomed it correctly. Many times they only reveal part of the truth and withhold the rest. It takes a refined and subtle mind to deal with their culture."

'Can I do that? I think it is an art that would come in handy to deal with Durza and his control over me, if nothing else I could insult him and get away with it. It might do my soul a great deal of good.'

Eragon considered that. "What do personal names mean in this language? Do theygive power over people?"

Brom's eyes brightened with approval. "Yes, they do. Those who speak the language have two names. The first is for everyday use and has little authority. But the second is their true name and is shared with only a few trusted people. There was a time when no one concealed his true name, but this age isn't as kind. Whoever knows your true name gains enormous power over you. It's like putting your life into another person's hands. Everyone has a hidden name, but few know what it is."

Yomir froze. " How does one find this name?" He panicked, fearing that this name may have been how Durza controlled him so potently. It seemed to resonate within him, like the bell in the dark, he knew that he knew of this concept.

"Elves instinctively know theirs... No one else has that gift. The human Riders usually went on quests to discover it—or found an elf who would tell them, which was rare, for elves don't distribute that knowledge freely," replied Brom. He turned to Yomir and considered. "If you are truly an experiment, it is likely that your name has shifted greatly due to whatever has happened to you. I can sense enough to know you are no longer mortal or human, your name would have shifted with this to redefine your existence."

"I'd like to know mine," Eragon said wistfully.

"As would I. " Yomir added.

Brom's brow darkened. "Be careful. It can be a terrible knowledge. To know who you are without any delusions or sympathy is a moment of revelation that no one experiences unscathed. Some have been driven to madness by that stark reality. Most tryto forget it. But as much as the name will give others power, so you may gain power over yourself, if the truth doesn't break you."

"I still wish to know," said Eragon, determined.

"You are not easily dissuaded. That is good, for only the resolute find their identity, but I cannot help you with this. It is a search that you will have to undertake on your own." Brom moved his injured arm and grimaced uncomfortably. "Yomir, since you are incapable of using Magic, you may be unable to find your true name. Eragon's education, as I am sure you can understand, must come first. He is the first rider free of Galbatorix in a century. He is the hope of countless many, and for that reason I will be focusing on him. However, should you prove yourself to our cause, then I may teach you what I can. You may sit in our lessons and learn what you can, but I need for you to be silent unless you see a rare point. Is that clear?"

Yomir nodded, understanding the man's point precisely even if some part of him ached at the suggestion of his unimportance. "Of course... however I ask that I am allowed to spar with him while you are injured. I need to maintain my skills and I am sure that he would like to do that same."

Brom nodded. " That is a sound suggestion."

"Why can't you or I heal that with magic?" asked Eragon, looking curiously as Yomir as if wondering what he could possibly do in combat.

Brom blinked. "No reason—I just never considered it because it's beyond m ystrength. You could probably do it with the right word, but I don't want you to exhaust yourself."

"I could save you a lot of trouble and pain," protested Eragon.

"I'll live with it," said Brom flatly. "Using magic to heal a wound takes just as much energy as it would to mend on its own. I don't want you tired for the next few days. You shouldn't attempt such a difficult task yet."

"Still, if it's possible to fix your arm, could I bring someone back from the dead?"

The question surprised Brom, but he answered quickly, "Remember what I said about projects that will kill you? That is one of them. Riders were forbidden to try to resurrect the dead, for their own safety. There is an abyss beyond life where magic means nothing. If you reach into it, your strength will flee and your soul will fade into darkness. Wizards, sorcerers, and Riders—all have failed and died on that threshold. Stick with what's possible—cuts, bruises, maybe some broken bones—but definitely not dead people."

'Then what does that make me, if not a dead man living on the fruits of the living?'

Eragon frowned. "This is a lot more complex than I thought."

"Exactly!" said Brom. "And if you don't understand what you're doing, you'll try something too big and die." He twisted in his saddle and swooped down, grabbing a handful of pebbles from the ground. With effort, he righted himself, then discarded all but one of the rocks. "See this pebble?"

"Yes."

"Take it." Eragon did and stared at the unremarkable lump. It was dull black, smooth, and as large as the end of his thumb. There were countless stones like it on the trail. "This is your training."

Eragon looked back at him, confused. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't," said Brom impatiently. "That's why I'm teaching you and not the other way around. Now stop talking or we'll never get anywhere. What I want you to do is lift the rock off your palm and hold it in the air for as long as you can. The words you're going to use arestenr reisa . Say them."

"Stenr reisa."

"Good. Go ahead and try."

Eragon focused sourly on the pebble, searching his mind for any hint of the energy that had burned in him the day before. The stone remained motionless as he stared at it, sweating and frustrated. Yomir watched, sensing no burst of energy or change in the world, even as he focused on safely walking backwards, he felt tha the would sense something, any sort of sign that there was a change in the world. He had done so when Herndall Ryuuga cast spells.

Finally, Eragon crossed his arms and snapped, "This is impossible."

"No," said Brom gruffly. "I'll say when it's impossible or not. Fight for it! Don't give in this easily. Try again."

Frowning, Eragon closed his eyes. A moment passed, then something changed around him. Yomir felt it, that rush of something akin to heat. He focused on Eragon and saw the blue and greenish light of heat around his palm shift, turning into a bright white before he gasped out. "Stenr reisa," The pebble wobbled into the air over his faintly glowing palm. He struggled to keep it floating, but the light of his palm, the radiant heat faded quickly and The pebble dropped to his hand with a soft plop, and his palm returned to normal. He looked a little tired, but grinned from his success.

"Not bad for your first time," said Brom, Yomir would have said more but he knew he was to be quiet and so he observed.

"Why does my hand do that? It's like a little lantern."

"No one's sure," Brom admitted. "The Riders always preferred to channel their power through whichever hand bore the gedwëy ignasia. You can use your other palm, but it isn't as easy." He looked at Eragon for a minute. "I'll buy you some gloves at the next town, if it isn't gutted. You hide the mark pretty well on your own, but we don't want anyone to see it by accident. Besides, there maybe times when you won't want the glow to alert an enemy."

Looking curiously, Yomir for the first time saw the mark they spoke of. It was like a tiny dragon, spiraling inwards on itself, seared into Eragon's palm. For some reason it seemed familiar and he wondered if he had ever met Galbatorix, wondering if the man had been apart of his life before he lost his memories...

"Do you have a mark of your own?"

"No." His heart skipped a beat, heat flared around him... a lie was cast from his lips. Yomir could not help but wonder why. " Only Riders have them," said Brom. "Also, you should know that magic is affected by distance, just like an arrow or a spear. If you try to lift or move something a mile away, it'll take more energy than if you were closer. So if you see enemies racing after you from a league away, let them approach before using magic. Now, back to work! Try to lift the pebble again."

"Again?" asked Eragon weakly.

"Yes! And this time be quicker about it."

While Eragon continued his work, Brom turned to him. "So, tell me, what do you remembered Yomir? What powers do you have, other then remarkable stamina and speed and the power to sustain yourself on the blood of the living."

The words sent a shiver through Yomir, and he considered his options... how much he could and should share with the man before him. How much was too much, how much would cost him with Durza? 'Hiding too much would only breed suspicion... I need to be honest, as in a fight I would be revealed in moments...' Sighing, he shrugged. "I am remarkably strong, though to what level I cannot confirm. I have killed Urgals with my bear hand, I can tear through softer metal and hard wood. I can see heat, and apparently magic as I could see the radiance of the Magic your apprentice used when he levitated the rock. I never thought to use it when I learning or attempting to learn magic, so I did not realize that until now... I heal fast as well. A bruise will fade within hours, a cut depends on it's size and how often I feed... to be entirely honest I am not sure, something I can confirm through oath, just what I can do. Perhaps we can evaluate while training?"

Brom nodded. " That seems fair... do be warned, I will never give you my full attention, as I mentioned Eragon requires more time and attention. Your time with us will depend solely on your capacity for being helpful. So I ask, why are you with us now?"

"Honestly, it just nice to have someone to be around... I was lonely... and on some level I feel that I may gain answers by being around you, to my past and future. Perhaps it is the work of the gods, or perhaps it is chance but I sense that you are the keys to my future."

""""

That evening, the dull light of the descending sun, Yomir stood across from Eragon. Brom offered Yomir his own fake blade, carved delicately from wood, ensuring that they could not cut each other and then allowed them to face each other. Twisting his blade, Yomir fell into a loose stance, feeling his body ache for movement and power, knowingly embracing the beauty of combat and a hunter's pleasure. Eragon would not be easy prey, he saw the right away, the boy falling into his own perfect stance with a determined focus to his eyes...

There wasn't a signal, but at the same time, both moved. Eragon lashed out with a swipe, and the much shorter Yomir ducked under the strike before lashing out with an upward strike. He was not as familiar with a sword but he knew the basic movements from his time with the Urgals, knocking into Eragon's sword with enough force that it went flying upwards. With an almost blur of speed, he knocked the boy into the dirt, standing over him with a smug look.

Eragon flushed. " That was uncouth."

"Perhaps, but I warned you that I am remarkably strong. I prefer my axe in truth, but my speed and strength cannot be beaten by you yet... but I suspect a better swordsmen, like Brom would win. Care to try?"

Brom nodded, taking Eragon's blade for a moment from the ground. "Yes, do not go easy on me. I am as capable with my left hand as I am my right." And he was, in the moment they started to fight it was clear. Brom started with a jab, Yomir knocked it aside with a barely fast enough slash before jabbing himself, only for Brom to move the side and shove the point of the blade into Yomir's palm, using the leverage point to knock the sword from his hand. "Your strong, my arm radiates pain just from your slash, but your too used to your strength. In swordplay you will need to be more accustomed to delicate movements, measuring your strength... still fighting someone with your powers will make you good practice for Eragon..."

'If I continue to travel with them, I may become a greater warrior indeed... maybe I will gain the freedom I seek... one can only hope.'

""""

'The boy is not human, no human can muster such strength.' Brom wasn't not lying to say that he felt pain radiate down his arm and that was from just a single block. The boy's every movement was predatory, reminding him so much of Durza it was alarming and yet he did not radiate the magic needed to be a Shade. Whatever he was the boy had to be monitored... and that was why he kept him close.

I will discover your secrets soon enough boy, and I pray for your sake that you truly mean no harm...'

The days followed the same pattern. First, Eragon struggled to learn the ancient words and to manipulate the pebble, though each success brought Brom great pride. Then, in the evening, he trained against either Yomir or Brom himself with the fake swords. It was clear from his stance that his son was in constant discomfort, but he gradually began to change, almost without noticing. Soon the pebble no longer wobbled when he lifted it. He mastered the first exercises Brom gave him and undertook harder ones, and his knowledge of the ancient language grew.

Yomir, to his credit, began to speak to them in the Ancient language as much as he could, taking each word and lesson he overheard to heart. His son began to do the same and it seemed to do a massive service. However, to his discomfort, the boys developed a quick bond. Yomir was friendly and kind, praising his son for every success and offering any tips or advice he could be it about combat or pronunciation. Eragon did the same only with Archery and combat, something Yomir seemed to deeply appreciate, as though he could pull back a bow safely despite his strength, it was too forceful and not accurate enough to be reliable.

In their sparring, Eragon gained confidence and speed, striking like a snake. His blows became heavier, and his arm no longer trembled when he warded off attacks. The clashes lasted longer as he learned how to fend off Brom. Now, when they went to sleep, Eragon was not the only one with bruises. Yomir, being far stronger then either of them combined, grew at a similar rate in combat and quickly learned to moderate his strength, taking advantage of the drastic increase in range he had with a sword. His skill with his axe grew as well, as Brom led the boy through more proper Dwarven stances and training methods.

If he was being honest, he enjoyed teaching then both.

Saphira continued to grow as well, but more slowly than before. Her extended flights, along with periodic hunts, kept her fit and healthy. She was taller than the horses now, and much longer. Because of her size and the way her scales sparkled, she was altogether too visible. Brom and Eragon worried about it, but they could not convince her to allow dirt to obscure her scintillating hide.

Yomir laughed at their attempts and gasped when he learned the Saphira could speak like a person, he was amazed and a little fearful when he learned that she could speak mentally. His mind was protected with a vast wall so powerful, the sound of a heartbeat echoing within, that not even Saphira could breach it to speak to him.

They continued south, tracking the Ra'zac. It frustrated, to some of Brom's personal amusement, Eragon that no matter how fast they went, the Ra'zac always stayed a few days ahead of them. At times he was ready to give up, but then they would find some mark or print that would renew his hope.

There were no signs of habitation along the Ninor or in the plains, leaving the four companions undisturbed as the days slipped by. Finally, they neared Daret, the first village since Yazuac.

It was the night before they reached Daret that Yomir finally revealed his naked flesh, as Eragon slept, to Brom. He took off his shirt, mending it with needle and thread he had stored away. He looked on with horror, seeing countless scars dance in the shadows of their night fire, and realized from personal experience that none of them were naturally created...

They were the product of torture...

And finally he started to believe the boy was a product of Durza's abuse. Not that he trusted him as of yet, but he knew the boy would have reason to flee his captor... and that set within Brom the possibility that just maybe they had gained an ally... one with skill, power and a reason to fight with and for them...

He hoped to all the gods that they had, for Yomir was a powerful being comparable to an elf physically... if he became an enemy he would be a hard one to fight and so Brom kept a constant hand on his ring, Aren, and the store of power within, knowing he would have to kill the boy to stop him and he may not be able to do it without magic.

He just hoped he never had to...

Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.
Expect more updates, I have more time and practice for this story and I want it to be great.

Do you like the integration of Yomir? They accepted Murtagh in like five seconds so why not Yomir, if only to keep an eye on the experiment of Durza…

Love, your Ninja Overlord,

Mika.

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