Eragon opened his eyes slowly, seeing Saphira had moved to the balcony outside. He looked up and jerked upright, seeing the silver sword floating above him. He reached for his sword, but saw it lying in pieces on the floor. He rolled out of bed, the sword floating after him. A small presence touched Eragon's mind, and he was shocked to hear a voice. It could accurately be described as having a sharp edge, a metallic sound. It was impossible to tell if it was male or female.

Welcome to Uru'baen, Rider. The sword said, floating in front of him. Eragon stepped back, glancing at Saphira. I am Sverdar, the Dream-Blade, and I have decided to let you wield me. Eragon spotted a grey sheath lying on his bed. So, you must learn to fight if I am to be of any real use to you. My former wielder understood the bond between rider and dragon completely, and made me able to create that bond with my holder. What is your name?

I am Eragon. I'm honored to have you do this. Eragon said, strapping the sheath to his belt.

I tire of waiting for my owner to return, and I long for the taste of blood on my blade. The sword slid itself into the sheath. Come on, Eragon, let's go pick a fight!

Pick a fight?! Eragon asked in alarm, Saphira sniffing the blade's hilt.

Fine, if you don't want to fight then I will, but find something to do! If not fight, then find someone to spar with. You must learn from me, for I am the greatest sword and swordsman in existence! Sverdar paused. It was customary for the blade to match the dragon, so shall I change my color?

You can do that?

Of course! I must admit that your dragon's blue is quite stunning. It would look better if it were stained with blood, however… Eragon shivered at the cold words. Take your time; I can change as much as I want due to the magic in me. I say you visit a pub near the castle called the 'The Bloody Knife'. It sounds horrible, but the place is famous for its brawls. The mead has something in it that make you angry, though it isn't permanent. You could hear some strange rumors in a pub, so I hear, and maybe you'll have a chance to fight! Eragon glanced at Saphira.

I don't like it, but maybe you could hear something interesting. I'll wait outside to help if anything happens. I feel that Sverdar could handle anything dangerous.

That's the spirit, young dragon! Onward! The blade shouted. Eragon shook his head, stepping out into the hallway.

The Bloody Knife

As they approached the building a man was thrown out the door, landing in a heap on the street. Eragon frowned, drawing Sverdar and stepping inside while Saphira watched.

The inside was a mess, the walls blackened by all the mead that had stained it. There were at least twenty men in the place, beating on each other and shouting. A spark leapt up Sverdar's blade.

Swing, Eragon! My blade will not cut them now, but break some bones if you have to! Eragon lost himself in the blades words, swinging the sword at a passing man. The man yelled and held his arm, a blood bruise where he had been struck. That's it, Rider! Go on, knock them all out!

Eragon brought the hilt down on a man's head, not really realizing what he was doing. He felt strength in his limbs that burned like fire, making him feel invincible. He swung the silver blade down on a man's hand, and he dropped his knife. Eragon strode up to the counter, smirking. The barman frowned at him, looking at his ruined tables and chairs.

"Get rid of 'em, friend!" He said, pulling out a small mallet. "Knock them into the street if you have to but save my pub!" Eragon smiled, feeling strength pulse from Sverdar's hilt.

The barman hit a man on the head with the mallet, knocking him out cold. The mallet was worn, and obviously well used. Eragon swung wildly, the feeling that the brawl gave him unlike anything he had ever had before. Soon he was fighting mindlessly, the silver sword seeming to move his limbs on its own. Eragon kicked a man in the nose, blood flying out at the others.

Within a few bloody moments the brawl was at an end, Eragon standing on a mound of bodies with Sverdar held tightly in his hand. The barman picked up a smashed chair, scowling.

"Thank ye. If this had gone on any longer I might have had to close down for the night. I'll have new chairs in the morning. What's your name?" Eragon held out his hand, the mark gleaming in the dim light.

"I am Eragon the rider." The barman gave a whoop.

"To think that I had a rider brawling in my own pub!" He kicked a man who was moaning on the floor. "Thanks again, my lord. If you ever need a drink, I'll supply it on the house."

"Thank you. I need to see to my dragon." Eragon walked out the door into the sunset, Saphira looking at him in concern.

Don't worry. He said, looking at his soaked clothes. This isn't my blood.

Don't start making this a habit, Eragon. Was all she said as he jumped onto her bare back. Sverdar hummed in his hand, and Eragon sheathed it.

Bloody magnificent! You're a good fighter, Eragon, and I am glad I chose you to wield me! Ah, the taste of blood on my blade… It went silent as Saphira walked along the empty street.

Let's not do that again any time soon. I don't want to be killed. Saphira growled in agreement as the gates opened. The king was in the courtyard, talking to a strange man. Eragon jumped down, nodding to Galbatorix.

"Eragon, I'd like you to meet Durza." The man had red hair and maroon eyes. "Durza is a shade." Sverdar flew out of his sheath, floating in front of Durza. The king raised an eyebrow at the blade's appearance, but nothing more.

Evil creature! Sverdar spat, thrusting forward and stopping at the shade's nose. I should smite you where you stand! Durza laughed.

"I am a servant of Lord Galbatorix, and if I die, so do you." He said coldly.

"Durza is loyal, Eragon. He is sworn to serve me and the riders with me. You can trust him with your life, for he is to guard it." Galbatorix said, turning to look at the shade. "Have you found the Varden yet?"

"I have. They reside in the Beor mountains, and my army is marching there as we speak. I will see to it that none escape this time." Galbatorix nodded and Durza vanished in a cloud of smoke.

"Eragon, I am having a prisoner transferred here for questioning. I will let you do that, for interrogation is a valuable skill in a time of war. Knowledge is power, and something you need. I will send for you when the prisoner arrives from Gil'ead. Until then, learn from the books in your study."

"I don't know how to read." Eragon said. Galbatorix.

"The books are magical, and will read themselves. You'll see when you open one." Galbatorix strode off, entering the city.

The study

Eragon looked at the leather-bound book in front of him, wondering what to do. He opened the book to the first page, and suddenly found the words being said in his mind. To his surprise he found that the book was about Sverdar, of all things. It was unbelievable that he had picked this book at random.

Draumr-Sverdar is known as the first blade that can think for itself. It was first wielded by the rider Artanis Fireblood. The blade became sentient when it was imbued with powerful magic after its owner's death. When it chooses a new wielder it forges a slow bond with him or her, similar to the bond between dragon and rider.

Eragon took all this in, holing the sword in front of him.

The blade is capable of incredible feats of strength, and can use magic on its own. It is not known how it does this, but the fact remains. Its personality can be described as slightly eccentric, often doing foolish things for a taste of blood. It has been known to fight on its own at times, usually when the wielder has fallen. It will stay by the owner's side until his or her death, defending them from anything seen as a threat.

I think only some of that is right…The blade said.

It is known that the sword is capable of extending to other blades, an action that allows it to control hundreds of weapons to defend its master. There are many things which are not known about this blade, and not all of its powers have been discovered. The sword, at the time of this writing, is over two-thousand years old. It has once been seen wielded by a young dragon, which it had bonded completely with. The following is an incomplete list of the sword's wielders:

Artanis Fireblood rider of Mirage Mirrorscales

Galbatorix Tiermborn rider of Alana Lunari

Miscal the green dragon, only dragon capable of wielding a sword

Artanis Fireblood (reincarnated)

Brom Hiroter rider of Saphira Brightscales

Eragon jerked with surprise at the name. It couldn't be possible!

The blade is currently in the possession of Eragon Garrowson. The book went silent.

Brom, a rider! And not just a rider, but his dragon was named Saphira as well! Sverdar spoke to him then.

Brom was a good man and he didn't deserve to have Saphira die. It said. He had lost his own sword, and I helped him to kill Morzan. Yes, he was the same man from your home.

Why didn't I see it before! That's how he knew so much about dragons! Eragon put the book away, sitting back in the chair to think. Brom was a rider, and Saphira was named after his lost dragon. He decided that he would have to go to the man and find out the entire story. Sverdar floated up and slid into its sheath humming softly.

You will discover the truth soon enough. It said. Eragon strode out to the dragonroost, seeing that Saphira was asleep in the bowl in the stone. He looked out at the stars, most of them blacked out by the light of the city.

One day I will discover the truth, Sverdar. One day…