Reading The Inheritance Cycle Chapter 2
The next morning, everyone went back into Nasuada's tent for the next chapter and it was Nasuada's turn to read. Everyone leaned in, very eager to hear what was going to happen next.
DISCOVERY
Eragon knelt in a bed of trampled reed grass and scanned the tracks with a practiced eye. The prints told him that the deer had been in the meadow only a half-hour before. Soon they would bed down. His target, a small doe with a pronounced limp in her left forefoot, was still with the herd. He was amazed she had made it so far without a wolf or bear catching her.
"You were going to kill it?" asked Arya. Eragon looked down guiltily and then noticed something, "That's when I was still not a Dragon Rider, so.. yes." Replied Eragon.
The sky was clear and dark, and a slight breeze stirred the air. A silvery cloud drifted over the mountains that surrounded him, its edges glowing with ruddy light cast from the harvest moon cradled between two peaks. Streams flowed down the mountains from stolid glaciers and glistening snowpacks. A brooding mist crept along the valley's floor, almost thick enough to obscure his feet.
He's good at describing things. Thought Angela. Orik seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Eragon, I didn't know you were that good at describing things." Commented Roran, repeating Angela's and Orik's thoughts, they all nodded.
Eragon was fifteen, less than a year from manhood. Dark eye brows rested above his intense brown eyes. His clothes were worn from work. A hunting knife with a bone handle was sheathed at his belt, and a buckskin tube protected his yew bow from the mist. He carried a wood-frame pack.
"Yes, Eragon, you are now actually in 'manhood', yet you still act childish." said Murtagh with a smirk. Eragon shot him a glare.
The deer had led him deep into the Spine, a range of untamed mountains that extended up and down the land of Alagaësia. Strange tales and men often came from those mountains, usually boding ill. Despite that, Eragon did not fear the Spine—he was the only hunter near Carvahall who dared track game deep into its craggy recesses.
"Only a hunter?" asked Orik. "When I was still not a Dragon Rider." Repeated Eragon.
It was the third night of the hunt, and his food was half gone. If he did not fell the doe, he would be forced to return home empty handed. His family needed the meat for the rapidly approaching winter and could not afford to buy it in Carvahall.
At this, everyone was sad for Eragon. "How much was the meat?" asked the herbalist. "Let's say.. a few crowns? But we didn't have that much many that time." Confessed the Rider. Angela nodded.
Eragon stood with quiet assurance in the dusky moonlight, then strode into the forest toward a glen where he was sure the deer would rest. The trees blocked the sky from view and cast feathery shadows on the ground. He looked at the tracks only occasionally; he knew the way.
"You knew the way? How? It's the Spine!" demanded Murtagh. Eragon snickered. "As the book said, I was a hunter in Carvahall and I hunt at the Spine and I got used to it, I got to memorize my path back." Said Eragon.
At the glen, he strung his bow with a sure touch, then drew three arrows and nocked one, holding the others in his left hand. The moonlight revealed twenty or so motionless lumps where the deer lay in the grass. The doe he wanted was at the edge of the herd, her left foreleg stretched out awkwardly.
"So you were used with a bow?" asked Arya. Eragon nodded, "Even until now."
Eragon slowly crept closer, keeping the bow ready. All his work of the past three days had led to this moment. He took a last steadying breath and—an explosion shattered the night.
The dragons leaned closer to hear better at the mention of this.
The herd bolted. Eragon lunged forward, racing through the grass as a fiery wind surged past his cheek. He slid to a stop and loosed an arrow at the bounding doe. It missed by a finger's breadth and hissed into darkness. He cursed and spun around, instinctively nocking another arrow.
Roran gasped, "You cursed?" asked his cousin. Eragon gave a guilty smile.
Behind him, where the deer had been, smoldered a large circle of grass and trees. Many of the pines stood bare of their needles. The grass outside the charring was flattened. A wisp of smoke curled in the air, carrying a burnt smell. In the center of the blast radius lay a polished blue stone. Mist snaked across the scorched area and swirled insubstantial tendrils over the stone.
"If you add pine and needles you'll get pine needles. I had no idea why I described it so complicatedly." Muttered Eragon. At this, the dragons snorted.
Eragon watched for danger for several long minutes, but the only thing that moved was the mist. Cautiously, he released the tension from his bow and moved forward. Moonlight cast him in pale shadow as he stopped before the stone. He nudged it with an arrow, then jumped back. Nothing happened, so he warily picked it up. Nature had never polished a stone as smooth as this one.
"Saphira's egg." murmured Eragon to everyone. Katrina raised her eyebrow, "Was that the stone you brought at my fath- I mean Sloan's shop?" she asked. Eragon nodded.
Its flawless surface was dark blue, except for thin veins of white that spiderwebbed across it. The stone was cool and frictionless under his fingers, like hardened silk. Oval and about a foot long, it weighed several pounds, though it felt lighter than it should have.
"Eragon, let us see if you can describe Firnen's egg when he had not hatch yet." said Arya with a small smile. Then added, "Nevermind, the egg shell must have decomposed or something else."
Eragon found the stone both beautiful and frightening. Where did it come from? Does it have a purpose? Then a more disturbing thought came to him: Was it sent here by accident, or am I meant to have it? If he had learned anything from the old stories, it was to treat magic, and those who used it, with great caution.
"Yes, Shadeslayer, you should treat it with caution. Although you haven't been treating magic with great caution lately since you started mastering it." Said Blodhgarm and that made Orik and Angela laugh.
But what should I do with the stone? It would be tiresome to carry, and there was a chance it was dangerous. It might be better to leave it behind. A flicker of indecision ran through him, and he almost dropped it, but something stayed his hand. At the very least, it might pay for some food, he decided with a shrug, tucking the stone into his pack.
"You would sell the Dragon Egg just for meat?" gasped Arya. Eragon raised his eyebrow meaning 'That was when I was not a Dragon Rider'.
The glen was too exposed to make a safe camp, so he slipped back into the forest and spread his bedroll beneath the upturned roots of a fallen tree. After a cold dinner of bread and cheese, he wrapped himself in blankets and fell asleep, pondering what had occurred.
"End of chapter one. Who's next?" stated Nasuada. Blodhgarm raised his hand and she handed the book to the elf.