DISCLAIMER: The Inheritance Cycle is not owned by me. Christopher Paolini owns that universe which he created.

NOTE THIS IS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE STORY SO I WILL BE CHANGING THINGS FROM THE BOOKS.

Edge of Oblivion

Chapter III - Hatchling

Eragon held the practice sword firmly in his hands. It was a hand-and-a-half sword, which suited his fighting style perfectly for it was neither too long nor too short and was thus an excellent blade for all manners of fighting - whether in cramped spaces or in wide open fields. His stance was strong and balanced and he was focused on the task at hand: defeating his father.

Brom attacked him then, and he stepped back, parrying and blocking the blows just as quickly as they came. Eragon counter-attacked, then defended his father's response, then counter-attacked again. They went back and forth several times. Although it was clear that his father was the superior swordsman, the Rider only went so far as to test the boy to his limits.

Every day since the day he was able to hold the wooden practice sword his father had taught him how to handle a blade. At first his grip was weak and his arms jelly after only a few minutes of swinging a wooden sword around. He remembered despairing those first few days, wondering how he was going to wield a steel blade if he could barely even hang on to a wooden one.

Slowly, he started to see progress as he got stronger and better able to handle the wooden sword. Eventually, he became strong enough to actually spar with his father, and it was those lessons that taught him the most. Practicing on your own was good, but practicing your skills against another was even better.

"You are holding your sword too tightly, Eragon. You must hold it a little looser so you are not as rigid in your arms. That will help to smoothen your movement, and it will also help you last longer in a fight since your arms won't tire as quickly," Brom instructed, watching as Eragon made an effort to relax, "There you go. Firm but relaxed. Doesn't that feel better?"

Definitely better. He could already feel the difference. His forearms had begun to hurt slightly from gripping the sword too tightly earlier. And, of course, his father was right as they traded blows again and Eragon found that he was responding faster and more fluidly. Still not nearly on par with his father's skill, but a step in the right direction.

While Eragon definitely had the speed advantage over his father, Brom was still stronger and far more experienced. Eragon was, as Brom had pointed out to him before, definitely a natural swordsman though.

"In a fight, you have to let yourself get into the habit of moving without much thought, trusting your instincts and your reflexes," said Brom as their wooden swords clacked against each other,"Moving your sword must become second nature to you. It must be an extension of your arm, of yourself. In any sword fight or a battle it is easier to block and then attack than it is to attack first unless you are not only more skilled than the other person but are also fast enough to land a blow and strong enough to see it through. At least, I am speaking from my experience. I admit that my style of fighting is more defensive-oriented, while other Riders are more offense-oriented in their fighting style. In whatever style, reaction time is crucial. The more you think while you fight, the slower your actions will be. And a slow swordsman is a dead swordsman," he finished.

Eragon nodded as they danced around, their blades lashing out at all angles at each other. A few bruises stung different parts of his body, and though he had managed to hit his dad once, Eragon believed that the old man had let him since the gap between their skills was still far too great. At the end of the sparring match, Brom raised his hand to signal that it was over and then went over and hugged him. "You have improved so much, son. I am proud to say that you'll definitely be a much better swordsman than I later on in your life."

With those words Eragon beamed and felt happy for the rest of the day. The admission made him even more excited and willing to learn and do his best at handling a sword. Later on, he started reading a book on true names of objects in the Ancient Language. He also practiced what he knew in the Ancient Language with his father and Sephyr after supper and before bedtime. He was progressing faster as he dedicated himself to learning everything that his father wanted to teach him, particularly the Ancient Language. Partly because he wished to be able to converse properly with elves the next time he saw one, and there was one elf in particular who he wanted to see again.

-xxx-

Brom rubbed a hand down his face, feeling very tired. The senior and elder Riders had been called together for another meeting. There were twenty-two of them, seven elders and fifteen seniors. The remaining members were fourteen junior Riders, who were not present. It had been several weeks since the Emperor's birthday and the revelries of that day were already long forgotten, replaced instead by the weariness of travel and work. Even though the Riders' services were not always needed during this welcome time of peace, there were still problems and dangers to take care of all across the land. They needed to maintain the peace after all.

"I am telling you, brothers and sisters, this Shade is too much of a danger. We must hunt him down immediately before he gets any stronger. There is no doubt in my mind he is plotting something terrible for Alagaësia, and the sooner we act the better. As many Riders as can be spared must be sent out to search for this dark foe," said one of the senior Riders, blue eyes flashing. Some of the other Riders in the room nodded their heads at that statement.

"No, to fly out with such numbers is folly," responded one of the elders, sitting back in his chair with a deep frown, "He will surely hear of our movements and going out in force will likely scare him into hiding once again. We must lure him into a false sense of security so that he exposes himself, and then we strike at him. This Shade is stronger than you think, and his magic may yet hide him from us should we scour the entire Empire for him en masse."

There were murmurs of agreement with that statement too.

"All I am saying is that the longer we wait the more chance there is his plans will be set in motion and it may be too late to stop them. We all know the destruction a Shade can cause, and if we can prevent it before it gets worse we must do so. It is our duty to protect this land from such evil," said the first Rider.

One of the other senior Riders then asked, "Has anyone actually seen this Shade? Confirmed that this is a real threat and not simply someone pretending to be a Shade?"

Oromis, one of the elders, shook his head. "None of us have seen the Shade ourselves. He is extremely careful of his movements and it is difficult to sneak up on a Shade, especially when you ride a dragon through the sky. We do have accounts from witnesses and there are whispers in the land of his name, as you all know by now."

"So we don't know for sure," stated the same senior Rider, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Vrael finally spoke, his eyes fastening onto the senior Rider who had asked the question, "He exists, Hefflin, this is not speculation. I have delved into the minds of those who say they saw him, and as much as I do not like to admit it, what they say is the truth. The Shade Durza is real." His words weighed heavily upon them.

"We have known about him for years, why have we not acted already?" asked another senior Rider, breaking the silence that had ensued.

The first elder who spoke previously, an elf named Roppen, replied, "Because he knows we are already hunting him upon learning of his existence. Unlike previous Shades that we have dealt with, this Shade went into hiding and has been keeping a far lower profile than his predecessors. He is by far the most cunning Shade I have witnessed, having evaded us for so long. And I have fought against two other Shades in the past. I do not know how he has evaded us thus far, for even though we do not go out in force our patrols still search for him, any trace of him at all. And so far there have been nothing but whispers and shadows here and there."

Brom did not like the fact that there was a Shade in Alagaësia, particularly one who as skillful and cunning as this. Worst of all, the Shade appeared to be more active as of late, indicating that either the Shade had something big planned that was coming soon or the Shade has become more confident in his abilities and less fearful of the Riders. He preferred the former over the latter in that regard. Despite wanting to get rid of the Shade as quickly as possible, he agreed with Roppen in that they must not frighten him into hiding again by riding out in force. They must act as if they are not actively searching for the Shade. Now that he was becoming more active, the Shade will more likely be found. Even though it pained him that their methods would mean that some people would suffer, it was for the greater good. Diving it into hiding would merely prolong the plague that he has set upon the land. He wished it would decide to kill itself and save them the trouble of killing him - though that was as likely to happen as him turning into an Urgal. Or even making friends with one.

Another ten minutes of discussion passed before it was decided that they would wait until a better time to strike with force at the Shade. However, as a compromise for those who felt more action was needed they would increase the frequency of the patrols along the center of the Empire and along its border with the Hadarac Desert, areas where it seemed the Shade, who is apparently called Durza, was sighted in.

The next order of business was to discuss the upcoming Hatching Ceremony for the two Rider-children who were to come of age soon. Both the son of Brom and the son of Morzan could have a chance to be a Rider. While it has never been thoroughly proven, the offspring of Riders often become Riders themselves, and so because of this they must undergo the ceremony.

On this matter Brom was both excited and nervous. If his son turned out to be a Rider, it would bring him immense joy, but the nervousness stemmed from the dangers he would then be exposed to. As a Rider, he would have duties and responsibilities that came with the position. He would have no chance to live a normal life, and that was something that sometimes Brom wished he had. He was snapped out of his thinking by Vrael, who had spoken to him and gotten his attention.

"Forgive me, Vrael, my mind wanders elsewhere. What is it that you were saying?" he apologized, leaning forward.

Vrael repeated what he had asked with no hint of any expected irritation from having to repeat himself, "Do you believe your son is ready and willing to be a Rider?"

Brom thought for a minute on that, then replied, "I believe he has room to get ready, but he is most definitely willing."

Vrael asked Morzan the same question, and his reply was different: "Murtagh is more than ready and more than willing. He will be a Rider, I swear it," said the other senior Rider, his tone one of conviction and determination.

With that, it was decided that they would undergo the ceremony three days hence.

-xxx-

Eragon swiftly nocked an arrow to his bow, making sure to do it as silently as possible. His breathing slowed and he took only shallow breaths to further minimize noise. Crouching behind some bushes, he could see the hind part of the doe he had been hunting for the better part of the last hour and a half. Carefully, he inched forward, minding his step so as not to step onto anything that might make a sound and alert the doe, such as a stick that he narrowly avoided stepping on.

It was chewing up some leaves off of a thick bush, completely oblivious to the mortal danger it was in. It's ears twitched and it looked up every now and again, but it did not sense Eragon just yet.

Sunlight streamed through the canopy of the trees, shafts of light piercing through the leaves and branches. A slight breeze blew and the forest responded with the rustling of leaves. This caused the doe to freeze and bring its head up, eyes wide and legs tensed and ready to move. This was actually the perfect time to strike, for in order to preserve itself the doe was staying completely still. What it did not know was that because it was still it had become a much easier target.

Eragon held his breath, afraid that maybe even his shallow breathing might be heard. With practiced ease he raised his bow and pulled the string back. Making sure he was aiming properly, he sent an arrow hurtling towards the doe. It struck its flank above the front left leg. It grunted after being hit and dashed away, blood trickling out of the arrow wound.

Cursing, Eragon broke cover and chased after it. He had hit it right where he wanted, and yet the doe still had strength to run. No matter, it would stop and collapse soon, but Eragon still didn't like running after a wounded animal like that, especially when he was running blindly into wherever the doe was going. He was in the Spine after all, and it was dangerous to be out there alone and moving so loudly. One of the predators in the Spine might see him and he would be in big trouble, especially if it was one of the big cave bears or even wild wolves. Thankfully, there was a trail of blood to follow, for the doe had already gotten lost in the foliage about ten seconds into Eragon chasing after it.

Eragon was panting, sweat covering his skin as he chased after it, eyes always on the lookout for the splotches of blood left behind by the fleeing animal. Pushing through some low-lying branches, he finally reached the doe, which was lying on its side, a bloody arrow protruding from its flank. Its breathing was fast and ragged, eyes wide and fearful, as its life slowly ebbed away. Taking out his hunting knife, he knelt beside its head and then slit its throat, killing it quicker and ending its pain. A few seconds later and the doe was completely still. Taking off his pack, he began to skin it and carve it up. Tomorrow they were going to have venison.

His pack much heavier - and smellier - than when he had left the house, he trudged east through the forest back towards Therinsford and Palancar Valley. He would not make it back home by nightfall, and traveling through the Spine in the dark alone without a proper weapon was a bad idea. As the day waned he finally decided to stop and camp at a small grove. He placed one of the blankets he had brought on the ground and then put up a tent over it. Placing his bow within arm's reach as well as his dagger, he munched on some seasoned bread that he had packed. The light from the moon was bright enough that he had no need to start a fire in order to see, and that was fine by him. While a fire may keep him warmer and help to scare off some critters, it would also attract attention.

Lying in his tent, his mind turned to his training, which had intensified over the past few weeks since his visit to Ileria.

His swordsmanship was much better now than when he had started and he could hold his own more often against his father, who he knew was still holding back so as not to overwhelm him. His skill with a bow was also well-honed from all the hunting as well as through target practice whenever he had some time. Brom had also finally begun teaching him how to use a spear and other weapons of war recently, such as axes and clubs, in case he should have need of such skills. All of it was new to him and challenging, but he embraced the difficulties. He knew had to be stronger if he wanted to be a Rider, after all, and he did want to join their ranks. Plus he felt it was the only way to make his father proud, and because he had been around so many Riders a part of him already considered himself to be one.

Soon enough I shall be officially one of them, he thought, at least I hope it will be so.

He still was not sure when he would get the chance, but he knew he would not hesitate if it was given to him. Fairly recently, his father had finally begun teaching him about magic. Thanks to his decent knowledge of the ancient language he could say the spells and think of what he wanted well enough - the problem so far was that he had been unable to tap into this inner energy that turned these ancient words into magic spells. Brom had told him that he would be able to do so with more practice and focus and had told him not to worry too much about it.

Crawling to the mouth of his tent, he picked up a small stone from the ground, recalling the simple phrase his father had taught him. Concentrating on the stone, he whispered, "Stenr raisa." A few seconds ticked by and yet nothing happened. One more time, and the stone remained mockingly still. He tried a few more times, then frustration overtook him and he threw the stone far into the darkness, laying back down. Upset at himself, he wrapped himself with his blanket. Thinking about everything he still needed to work on and learn, he drifted into the dreamworld.

The sound of chirping birds awoke him, and he noticed that there was a pale light that illuminated everything around him. Slowly, his mind sharpened and he finally awoke fully. He began to roll up his blanket, and when that was done he took down and packed his tent. Clasping the dagger onto his belt and slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he set off for the remainder of his journey home, bow in hand and quiver on his back next to his pack. It took him half a day of traversing the safe mountain passes that he and his father had discovered, and he finally began to descend into Palancar Valley at the area between Carvahall and Therinsford. The sun was beginning its approach towards the horizon as he picked his way down the last slope carefully.

The sun was setting when he arrived back in Therinsford, weaving his way through the haphazardly placed wooden buildings and houses. Their house was on the southeastern outskirts of the town, so he had to cross the entire town to get home. Stopping finally in front of his own, he fished out the keys from one of his pockets and let himself in. After locking the door he brought his pack into the kitchen and proceeded to unpack the meat he had gotten, careful to throw most of it into an icebox nearby that was partially filled with other meat that he and his father had gathered on their hunts the past few weeks.

"Eragon! It's about time you got back," his mother said, a slight tinge of worry in her voice. Although he was near old enough to take care of himself and was being trained by Brom, she still could not help but feel nervous and fearful whenever he went out on his own, particularly to the Spine. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, mother, I'm fine. Guess what though? I managed to get us some venison. Tracked and took down a decent-sized doe," he informed her, glad to see his mother smile happily at the news.

"Excellent! Well done, Eragon. I'll start cooking some of it up so we can have some of it tonight. Oh! You must be hungry."

The boy laughed, waving his hands. "Don't worry, mother, I'm not too hungry yet. I can wait for the venison to cook. No need to rush either."

She was already bustling about, grabbing some of the meat he had just brought in, readying the seasonings and some vegetables and lighting a cooking fire.

The venison turned out to be fantastic, though that was largely due to the cooking of his mother rather than the quality of the meat. The rest of the night was uneventful, with Eragon retiring extra early because of how tired he was from all the traveling he had done.

Daytime dawned soon enough. Rolling out of bed, Eragon finished his morning routine and then went downstairs to for breakfast. His mother told him that his father should be by within a few hours.

"At least he told me he would be back by today from whatever it is he's off doing," she mumbled as she and Eragon cleaned up the kitchen after having breakfast.

Brom arrived around midday and when Eragon saw him the older man walked over and hugged him tightly without saying a word, an unreadable expression on his face. Unsure of what to do, Eragon just hugged him back.

"Welcome home, father. Where did you go this time?" he asked as they parted.

"Vroengard. There was an important meeting I had to attend," replied Brom cryptically. After a minute, Brom called Selena and asked her and Eragon to sit themselves down. He began to pace the room then, and Eragon started to wonder what it was that was on his mind.

Selena sighed in an exasperated manner at her husband's hesitation. "Oh, come now! Out with it already. What's this about?"

Brom finally stopped pacing and looked at Eragon specifically. "The Riders have decided that Eragon shall take part in a special Hatching Ceremony two days from now," he said, his words stunning them both.

To say he was shocked would have been a complete understatement. A wave of emotions washed over Eragon, none the least of which was excitement and anxiety and of course nervousness. He had wanted to be a Rider ever since he had learned about them and that his father was a senior member of their ranks. He had longed to have a dragon to be at his side and for him to fly over Alagaësia, keeping people safe and fighting against evil. At that moment he wanted to run to Carvahall and talk to Roran, his cousin, about it - he was as close to a brother as Eragon had - but a part of him also did not want him to know for if he failed to become a Rider then he would feel so very much embarrassed.

There was a long moment of silence in the room, no one moved save for the rise and fall of their chests as they breathed. Even Brom was still, silently observing his son's reaction to the news. Then Selena finally went over to Eragon and clasped her arms around him tightly, as she usually did. She said nothing, her actions doing all the talking in this case. Although she did not like it, she was both proud and happy for her son. He was to follow the footsteps of his father, and there was nothing greater in her mind than to be a Rider - a protector of all of Alagaësia.

Eragon was still trying to process the information when his mother finally let go of him after holding back a sob, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Excuse me," she whispered as she left the room in a sudden hurry.

Brom finally moved and sat down next to the boy, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. For a moment they were quiet as neither one deigned to speak to the other, then Eragon finally managed to speak.

"Father. Do you think... do you think I am ready?" He himself was not sure if he was ready for the task. All this time he had been itching for the chance, training to be strong enough to become a great Rider. Now that it was looming over him the position of Dragon Rider seemed so daunting and so very real now.

Brom's mouth twisted into a small smile, "I believe in you, Eragon. You are my son, and I have every confidence that you are ready for what lies ahead." What Brom did not tell him, however, was that there was a chance that none of the eggs he was presented to would hatch. There was always the possibility of complete rejection, but rarely has that happened to an offspring of a Rider - those being few and far between in the first place. Usually, for they were few in number and often far apart, any offspring of a Rider turned into a Rider himself. As was the case with the current Riders Yetta and Pelios, who were father and son respectively.

"I've always dreamed about this moment," said Eragon, his voice sounding seemingly far away. "But it never felt like it does now. It's... hard to think that this is finally happening."

Brom squeezed his shoulder in reassurance, "Dreams are most always different from reality, Eragon. But the reason we have dreams is so we can strive to make them reality. Just think, once you become a Rider we shall travel across the skies of Alagaësia together, as father and son."

Eragon smiled broadly at that, his apprehension lifting for the moment. It would be nice to finally be able to be both with his father and yet separate. While it was a little sad that he would no longer have need to ride Sephyr, and he loved the big dragon as if he were his own, he was looking forward to having his very own dragon. For a moment he imagined both he and Brom gliding along the clouds, their dragons circling and playing with each other. He hoped that it would come to pass and did not merely reside in the land of dreams.

He turned to his father then and in all seriousness and with curiosity asked, "So how does it work?"

Brom removed his arm from around Eragon and stood up, still smiling. "You shall find out soon enough, my son."

-xxx-

The next two days passed by agonizingly slow, at least to Eragon. Nothing could distract him from thoughts of the upcoming Ceremony, however it was to be conducted. Brom still refused to tell him what happened, and so the young man resorted to his imagination. Perhaps the Riders would test him somehow, maybe in combat and magic and perhaps in the ancient language - all things that Brom had emphasized he should study and master. Or perhaps they would make him fight some strong, wild beast to prove his worth. His train of thought followed along such lines, and some of his ideas became so fanciful he realized that he was making himself more anxious and nervous by thinking about it so much.

Yet even while he read his books, or practiced his swordsmanship, he could not escape the lingering thoughts about the Ceremony. They dominated his mind every second of the days that passed, and it was with great relief that he realized it was the day of the Ceremony. His father had told him it was called the Hatching Ceremony, and so he assumed that he would definitely see a dragon egg by the end of the day. He wondered what color it would be and what he would do. He wondered if there would be any challenges, and it was another ten minutes of such wondering before he finally found the will to calm his thoughts.

All three of them were to travel to Doru Araeba so that Selena would be able to see him as soon as the Ceremony ended. They returned to the clearing where they had originally met Sephyr when they flew to Ileria, and again there waited the large dark blue dragon. His mind touched all of theirs and greeted them, focusing on Eragon in particular with his thoughts.

Be calm, little Eragon. You will be fine, he said as it sensed the young man's feeling of dread.

With the booming of his mighty wings as they flapped, they flew up and away from the Spine and headed towards the island of Vroengard. They were silent along the way, not one of them speaking as each was lost in their own thoughts. Eragon in particular had adrenaline rushing through his veins already in anticipation of what was to come. He sent a prayer to whatever gods existed above that by the end of the day he would have his very own dragon.

Doru Araeba was quiet, the city's streets mostly empty. Although it was a small city, there were a number of inhabitants there - most were supporters and servants of the Riders who wanted to help them in whatever capacity they were able to. Even then, the city was not even at half capacity with many of its buildings and homes empty. It was as they approached the Citadel of Doru Araeba that he realized they were all gathered there. Every inhabitant of the city was present in the courtyard of the Rider's Citadel, towering high over the city and carved partly into the mountainside.

Dragons were perched on stone roosts built specifically for them above the taller and larger buildings, most of them watching the approaching Sephyr with interest, and Eragon counted at least thirty of them. Most of the Riders are here, he thought. Although he had seen many Riders at once before, rarely had he seen most every Rider present in one place at one time. This was a momentous occasion indeed, not just for him he realized but for the rest of the Riders as well. It had been a long time since they had added new members to their ranks and all of them had been told of the special Ceremony that was to come.

Every year, the Riders accepted candidates from all over to come and partake in a public Hatching ceremony, and the Ceremony for this year had already occurred many months ago with no Riders emerging from that pool of candidates. Not too surprising, given that in the last three decades rarely has a dragon hatched. Some of the Riders talked of reforming the candidacy rules to try and cast a wider net and have more candidates, but the Elders refused to alter tradition.

Sephyr landed without incident and they dismounted quickly, not one of them saying a word still as they walked into the Citadel.

Eragon could feel many sets of eyes staring at him as he walked towards the Citadel. Selena grabbed his hand, making him stop and turn to her, and she squeezed it tightly. Her expression was guarded, though her eyes betrayed her for they shone with worry. He smiled at her and she let go of his hand, following Brom into the Citadel. Selena remained outside, for no one besides the Riders were allowed within the Citadel.

The air was damper inside and a little cooler as his eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting. Following his father, they made their way through the Citadel, until they reached a set of enormous stone doors large enough for Sephyr to walk through comfortably. The doors opened into a central, circular atrium. The ceiling was many hundreds of feet above them, carved into a dome-like shape. Across from where they had entered was another set of stone doors, with dragons and warriors carved into them.

They walked through those doors as well and into a great hallway, at the end of which was yet another set of enormous stone doors. This time, one giant dragon was carved into the set of them, its eyes large red rubies and it was adorned with many gems. Upon closer inspection, Eragon realized the door was not made of stone but rather was entirely golden. Brom opened these doors as well, and the room they entered Eragon realized was full of people.

Oromis, one of the elders, stood in the middle of the circular room. All around the room were stone steps that also acted as seats for an assembly. Scattered about were all the current Riders, and Eragon counted thirty-two of them. From his knowledge, there were supposed to be thirty-six, and he wondered what those four missing Riders were doing that they would miss the Hatching Ceremony.

Brom clasped Eragon's shoulder and squeezed it one more time as father and son looked at each other. Eragon noticed for a split second that his father's eyes were beginning to wet, but then the older man blinked and his face became unreadable. Brom left him then, pushing him slightly towards Oromis in the center of the room before taking a seat as part of the assembled Riders.

It was only then that Eragon realized there was another boy there standing next to Oromis. He also looked apprehensive and preoccupied, his fierce gray eyes staring intently into space and his long brown hair flowing past his ears and stopping just before his shoulders. He looked to be slightly older than Eragon and was definitely a little bigger in terms of height and weight. Eragon stood on the other side of Oromis, and satisfied that everyone was ready to begin the elder began to speak.

"Today, these two young men shall undergo the Hatching Ceremony. I know that we have already had one this year, but this is special, for this ceremony is strictly for the offspring of our Riders. It has been a long time since we have added new Riders into our ranks, the last of which were Riders whose dragons hatched twelve years ago," he began, "It is my hope that today these young men shall join us as Riders. As you all know, the Hatching Ceremony may take some time, but we shall be patient for today we can welcome into our ranks as brothers these future Riders." He paused, "Should they be deemed worthy by a dragon, they shall begin with haste with their training. May they find it in themselves to be true to their spirit so that a dragon may accept them as their Rider."

"Now," continued the old Rider, his gaze sweeping the assembled Riders, "Is there any here who would protest the participation of either of these two young men in the Hatching Ceremony?"

The room was silent.

"Very well. You two have now been accepted by the Riders into the Ceremony," said Oromis, "Do you protest your participation here? If you so choose you may leave now and not partake in the Ceremony. Know that if you do, you will never be invited to undergo the Ceremony again."

Oromis then, with a flick of his hand, closed the golden doors through which Eragon had entered. They groaned and then slammed shut with a bang that echoed throughout the room. Then he turned and, eyes alight with energy, raised his right hand towards a door about ten feet tall that Eragon had failed to see originally. He began to chant something under his breath in the ancient language, and after a few seconds runes that were etched all around the door began to glow, their light getting brighter as Oromis continued his chant. Then, with a sudden finality, he ended it and then the doors slowly moved open.

"Come, young ones. Follow me," he said as he walked and went through the doorway. Murtagh followed without hesitation but Eragon stood still for a few moments, his legs rooted to the ground. Then he made up his mind and with great determination on his face he strode after them. His muscles were tense, and though he tried to relax them he was unable to. His heart raced and he could feel the adrenaline in his veins, making his hands shake slightly as his eyes widened and his breathing sped up.

The doorway had led to a winding pathway hewn into the rock of the mountain. Eragon speculated that they were now deep within the heart of the mountain into which the Citadel had been carved, and he marveled at the great skill it took to build such a place. He briefly thought that maybe the dwarves had helped to build this place and made a mental note to try and read up on history of Doru Araeba.

They finally walked into a large, dark room. A steel stone railing kept them from falling over as Eragon realized they were a few feet above the floor of the room they had entered. A lone stairwell wound down to the ground. Oromis stopped and turned to them. "Beyond these steps you will see the dragon eggs that we have in our keeping. I shall stay here and watch you as you progress, but you must walk through all the rows and touch each egg. After doing so, you must wait about one minute before you move on. It is a long process, but it is a thorough one and it is a process we have done throughout the centuries," said Oromis.

Eragon openly displayed his surprise, "Wait... that's it?" he asked.

Oromis looked at him quizzically, "How do you mean, youngling?"

Eragon could not believe it. "I mean, that's it? All we have to do is walk by the eggs and touch them? That is your Hatching Ceremony?" And all this time he thought there would be some sort of trial or challenge. His father could have told him as much and he would not have been so nervous and worked up about it! He would have words with his father later on the matter. He shook his head slightly, still unable to believe the simplicity of this Hatching Ceremony.

Oromis smiled, "There is no other way. The dragon inside the egg will choose whether you are worthy or not to be its Rider. Even if we tested you and found you worthy in our eyes, should no dragon think the same then you would not have a dragon and would therefore be rejected by the Ceremony, unable to be a Rider. And in doing so you will never be able to go through the Ceremony again."

"It's a one time thing?" the other young man suddenly asked.

Oromis nodded, "Indeed. A dragon knows what kind of a Rider it wants, and it will not change its mind once made. Either it chooses you, or not. Now, we must not waste any more time. The process is a long one, and the Riders present cannot leave unless you are finished or there is an emergency of the utmost importance." With that he nudged them down the steps, remaining at the top of them and watching as they descended. As they were a few feet down the steps, Oromis suddenly clapped his hands and yelled, "Brisingr!"

Torches that lined the walls burst to life as well as many candles all around. The room had stone tables and on each stone table were several large stones of differing colors and designs. Each stone, or egg in this case, was set onto a small depression that had been carved into the surface of the stone tables, keeping them in place. There were six tables all in all, two columns of three tables. And on each table there were six eggs, for a total of thirty-six.

The other young man walked ahead of Eragon. He began on the right-hand column, touching the first egg immediately but then looking at it warily.

Eragon meanwhile started on the left-hand side of the room. He hesitated at first, but then reached out and touched the smooth stone that lay before him. He waited a minute, and when nothing happened he moved on. A little over a half hour later, they had touched every single egg in the room and yet nothing had happened. Panic struck Eragon then. He felt suddenly lost, I... failed? he thought.

The other one there also looked troubled, inspecting his hands as if they were to blame for not having any dragons hatch for him.

Oromis spoke then, his voice echoing from where he stood, "Now that you have touched each dragon egg, they know of your presence and they have judged you. Next, you must rap each egg once more with your closed fist. As if you were knocking on a door, but rather than that you would be knocking on the egg. Only knock on it once, and then wait again a minute. This is your test now, for if they deem you worthy once you knock on their egg they will hatch for you. If nothing happens after this, then you have been rejected and you must move on to the next egg."

Eragon was relieved, except now that he knew the next part was to be final he did not want to go through it so quickly. He reasoned that perhaps the dragon would need a little more time, so as he went through he waited a little longer than a minute before continuing on. Roughly thirty minutes in, he was down to the last table. The other person had just knocked on the last egg on the second-to-last table and when nothing happened he turned to leave but then a crack echoed throughout the room. They both stood rooted to the ground as another crack resounded across the walls. Eragon turned towards the egg the other young man had just come from and it was moving.

It was a red and orange egg, and it reflected the torchlight in such a way that it looked as if it were itself burning. Although he could not see the cracks, he knew they were there, as another one echoed through the room again. The other young man was visibly excited at that point, and Eragon felt a wave of jealousy wash over him as the egg finally broke and out came a red-scaled lizard with small wings. The other young man let loose a cry of satisfaction and triumph, making Eragon turn away from him and go the last table. He felt devoid of emotion as he began to rap on each egg with his right knuckle.

Six eggs left. Five. Four. Despair began to eat at him, realizing that there were fewer and fewer chances now.

Three.

Two.

Eragon's body felt numb and his mind was whirl of emotions as his legs brought him towards the remaining eggs. He did not even notice that the other young man hissed in pain for a while, eventually walking back up the stairs, a tiny red dragon cradled in his hands. Eragon swallowed hard to clear his throat. A sudden thirst hit him, mind spinning as he felt slightly nauseous. Disbelief and disappointment was already beginning to seep into him. How could this be? He would not be a Rider. He had failed somehow. So far, the dragons had deemed him unworthy.

One.

He raised his hand to knock on the final egg, hesitating for a moment.

It was a blue egg with veins of dark blue, the colors of which reminded him of Sephyr, and yet it was of a lighter shade. Like that of the sky, not the darkened blue of Sephyr, but more like someone had put a light underneath Sephyr's scales and it was this illuminated blue instead. Time seemed to slow down as he finally rapped on the smooth shell with his knuckle, the sound echoing in the quiet chamber. He counted the seconds in his mind.

A minute passed. Then two.

The awful finality of it all finally struck him and Eragon staggered slightly, feeling unbalanced. The last dragon egg had rejected him too. What would he do now? His world seemed out of sorts. Then he heard it.

CRACK.

Eragon stiffened, his mind immediately sharpening and becoming alert. Had he heard correctly? Or was his mind playing tricks on him? Was it simply wishful thinking playing with his hearing?

CRAAACK.

There it was again. The sound distinctly echoed across the chamber.

Could it be? he thought with a rush of excitement and hope, and he gazed upon the last egg as it sat cradled on its stone pedestal. Dark fissures marred the previously smooth surface of the egg and Eragon's eyes widened at the sight.

CRACK!

Out from the egg burst a small dragon, pieces of the shell scattering around the pedestal. It squeaked several times before looking up with its tiny head at him and squeaking some more. The joy and relief that simultaneously rushed through Eragon threatened to make him faint just as the despair and shock he felt earlier almost threatened to do so as well.

The small dragon had intense sapphire blue scales and matching tiny blue eyes that seemed to glow with an ethereal energy. It squeaked at him, cocking its head to the side. Then it cocked its head to the other side, squeaking again, as if it was waiting for him to do something.

Apprehensively, he reached towards it with his right hand. Slowly the distance between the dragon and his hand diminished, until he stopped within an inch of touching the creature, again hesitating.

Another squeak sounded from the dragon, craning its neck and reaching forward with its head to close the gap.

Then his palm finally touched the top of the dragon's head, feeling the dragon's tiny scales and spikes. Almost immediately after physical contact with the creature, his hand began to burn and itch, as if somebody was putting a brand to his palm. He yelped, grabbing his hand in horrified panic and taking a few steps away from the dragon, which began to squeak again.

What was this sorcery? he thought, bewildered. Was this supposed to happen? Several seconds later and the pain began to subside, though his skin was still tender where it had burned. And then he felt the presence of the dragon's mind, a heavy, energetic mental weight that pressed very close to his own consciousness. The dragon's mind was jumbled and incoherent, and for a moment he was a little overwhelmed before he managed to focus on gently pushing the presence away.

The dragon seemed to understand what he was trying to do and the other presence subsided into the background, still present in the fringes but no longer pressing against his mind. He realized this was how Brom and Sephyr's mind link must feel like. A constant presence of another consciousness just on the borders of one's own.

Looking down at his palm, he was shocked to see a silvery spiraling oval mark embedded into his flesh. Then he realized that this was the Rider's mark. In his mind, memories flashed of seeing that mark on the hands of the Riders he had seen. His father had a similar silver mark that he could recall seeing many times before.

He still glared at the dragon as the pain subsided a few seconds later, though his glare diminished as it squeaked at him again rather innocently. After composing himself he managed to gather up the courage to touch the dragon again. This time there was no burning sensation, and the dragon's consciousness kept its distance.

In his arms he took the dragon a moment later and bound up the stairs, his legs feeling springy and his body energized. The relief that flooded through him mixed with the euphoria of officially being a Rider now. He barely noticed that he was grinning from ear-to-ear, though Oromis did and was amused by the youth.

He cradled the sapphire dragon in his arms as it squeaked at him. It looked so small and powerless, he wondered how on earth they grew to be so big. How long would it take for it to grow as big as Sephyr? Eragon hoped it would not take too long, for he wanted to fly as soon as his dragon was able to. Shaking his head and clearing his thoughts about the future, he concentrated on the present and how glad he felt. And how proud his father must be, not only that he was a Rider now, but that his dragon was practically Sephyr's sibling in terms of colors.

Elder Oromis began to speak, but Eragon did not pay much attention to him because of the creature in his arms.

A dragon had deemed him worthy. That was what he had been dreaming and hoping for all his short life so far, and to have it come true made him beyond elated. He looked with wonder at the hatchling in his arms, noting how content it seemed to be there. Not only had he passed the Ceremony, but he was technically a real Rider now. He still could not fathom that thought, and he knew the whole situation would not fully hit him until later. For now though, he enjoyed the sapphire blue being in his arms as they walked back to the assembly, the Ceremony in its closing stages.

The dragon squeaked.

A/N: Another update! Thank you for the reviews. For those of you wondering why Brom's dragon is named Sephyr: since Eragon will have a dragon named Saphira I thought it would be confusing if there were two Saphiras in the story. While this may have revealed a little of what lies ahead, it's pretty obvious he becomes a Rider so don't fret too much.