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

Edge of Oblivion

Chapter XI - Winter

"Your balance has improved, and so has your strength and speed," said Brom with a fatherly pride in his eyes, impressed as he traded a few more blows with his son. Their swords were held in front of them firmly in their grips as they observed each other, looking for any weaknesses to exploit or foreseeable reactions to take advantage of. Knowing how your enemy would react to an attack would allow one to strike in the desired places after all. While their fundamental styles had not changed, Eragon's increased speed, strength, and balance as noted by the older rider had improved his fighting abilities.

Unbeknownst to his son, however, he had been holding back for many years now as he waited for him to get stronger and better. Now that he was, he was slowly increasing his effort - not too fast so as to arouse suspicion. It would not do to reveal such deception on his part. Even though it was to make Eragon feel better, knowing the truth would hurt not only his pride but his trust. The young rider would no doubt feel slighted and maybe even a little manipulated, but Brom did what he thought was necessary. And in his opinion, so far, he had been right in doing so.

Eragon raised an eyebrow momentarily during one of the breaks as he noticed that his father seemed to have gotten faster and stronger himself since the last time they had sparred. They had yet to hit each other this time around, but his father had come dangerously close to doing so several times already. More so than the young rider had at least, but he relished the challenge. If his father wanted to step up his game, then he would try and match him. He redoubled his efforts, to the surprise of Brom who backed up a little as he parried and blocked several strikes, leaning back as a sudden, unexpected stab of Eragon's sword grazed the bottom of his beard.

Batting away the younger rider's sword he recovered and grinned boyishly, again impressed by the improvements his son had made over the past few months. A feeling of sadness flitted through his mind as he realized how fast his son was growing up already. Too soon he would have his own home and family to take care of.

"Enough for today," he said, "I grow weary."

Eragon looked at him with a curious expression. The young rider could feel that something had bothered his father. "Is everything alright?"

Brom nodded, putting a nearly genuine smile on his face as he said, "Yes. Everything is fine."

His son believed him, still not able to closely study such subtleties in facial expressions for if he had he would have seen the falseness of the smile and the slight hesitation of his father. Two shadows passed over them, and looking up they saw Sephyr and Saphira flying around rather playfully. It seemed Sephyr was letting himself go a little, and that made both father and son smile. Noticing that their riders were watching, both dragons roared happily and Sephyr let out a jet of fire. Saphira, to Eragon's surprise, also opened her jaws and released a small jet of blue flame.

You breathe fire! he exclaimed in his thoughts, Has it really been that long already? he asked her as he stared up in wonder at the two dragons, his eyes focused especially on the smaller of the two as she flew through the air with far more grace than the larger dragon.

Aye, little one, she said, Time has flown since the time I hatched.

Eragon smiled and said playfully, It's okay, you'll still be a hatchling in my eyes.

She mentally growled at him as she flew around in circles over them. The sun shone brightly overheard, only a few clouds in the sky. It was a relatively warm winter day thanks to the mostly clear skies that allowed the sun to bathe everything with its everlasting warmth.

The whole time that was happening, Brom had been studying his son, capturing a mental image of the moment. Eragon was still looking up, watching Saphira with joy in his eyes and a large smile plastered onto his face. He wanted to remember this moment, and thought that perhaps he would make a fairth of it later. His mind drifted then as his thoughts turned from those of sunshine and happiness to the dark clouds that seemed to be gathering. A storm was coming to Alagaësia, and he was afraid that his son would have to grow up even faster when it hit.

The Shade had been seen all over Alagaësia based on some reports from the agents of the riders as well as some of the riders themselves, though those that saw him never dared approach him alone. Then, there was the mysterious disappearance of elder Roppen. It had been several days since he left Ileria, where he had been staying as it was his turn to be at the capital for a few months - the elders would switch shifts that were months at a time long, because there always had to be an elder in Ileria. According to the Knight captain who had last seen Roppen, he had been summoned by another rider who identified himself as Demholdst, who flew a red dragon.

Making matters even more suspicious and perplexing was that Demholdst could not be found either. From what he had heard of the rider and from what he personally knew, this was unusual behavior on his part. While there was a sneaking suspicion of treachery and foul play involved, nobody wished to give that idea much weight. It was too dangerous and grave a thought to dwell upon, though Brom was willing to bet a king's ransom that the Shade was somehow involved in all of this.

Brom, while not an elder himself, was close to some of the elders and thus was privy to such sensitive information. Vrael was worried, and Brom actually thought he might have sensed a bit of fear in the eldest of them all. Oromis was also concerned, though he was optimistic about the matter. Perhaps Demholdst and Roppen had discovered something important and had yet to return. Deep down, Brom knew that was false hope. In fact he found it rather foolish that the elders merely speculated rather than actively trying to find out. Their reasoning was to not cause alarm among the ranks, and if word ever got out into the greater Alagaësia there would be panicking for sure. As well as a heightened sense of fear for all.

"Father?" Eragon called to him again as Brom finally snapped out of his deep thinking, looking around as if he were lost for a moment then remembering where he was.

"Sorry, Eragon. I must have gotten lost in my thoughts," he replied with a hint of apology in his voice. He listened intently to him then to ensure he would not slip back into his thoughts and ignore him again. He needed to stay in the moment when he was with Eragon, for worrying solved nothing and time once lost could not be retaken. And he wanted to relish as much time as he could with his son while he still could, for the days ahead seemed to grow ever darker. He hoped his son would be ready for the storm it when it came.

"I was wondering," his son hesitated to continue, as if he was unsure if he should speak his mind.

Brom gave him an encouraging nod, "Go on. You may speak freely to me, Eragon. I am here as a father, mentor, and friend."

Making up his mind he finally said, "What do you know of Morzan? And his son Murtagh? Master Oromis mentioned to me before that you two had been his pupils before..."

To say that the question surprised Brom would have been a massive understatement. He had not expected that question to be asked by his son, and he wondered what made him so curious of the two. Carefully choosing his words, he replied, "Well, son. What Oromis said is true, we both trained under him. Morzan was older than I by several years, however, and so he finished his training well before I did. As for his son, I know little about him save that he is one of two novice riders, yourself included in that number."

Eragon looked at him thoughtfully. He wondered how much more he could ask his father on the subject. At least this time he had noticed the hesitation and the surprise that his father had reacted with to his question. He could tell it was not something he wished to freely discuss, but Eragon had been trying to think of what troubles Murtagh was going through.

"So... were you two close?" The question was posed innocently enough, and again Brom was surprised and pained that it was asked. He did not want to go through this memories and talk about the past here. Not when he was trying to enjoy the present with his son. But he also knew he could not fully ignore his son's questions. One thing he had learned as the father of Eragon was that the young man was curious about everything and had questions about everything - though he may not speak them aloud all the time he knew they were there.

Brom sighed deeply, "Once," he allowed himself to say with a slow nod.

"What happened?" Now this question was not unexpected. He had seen it coming, and knew it would be asked but a part of him had hoped that maybe, just maybe, his son's curiosity might be satiated. He also had hoped that perhaps he would pick up on just how much he did not want to talk about the matter. Either his son really wanted to know more about them for whatever reason or he was oblivious to subtle messages entirely. He hoped it was the former.

Sighing again, he spoke, "Why do you ask such questions, Eragon? What interest do you have in Morzan and his son?"

A part of Eragon felt that he should not reveal his friendship with Murtagh, but when he tried to think of a reason as to why he should he could not come up with any. The only thing that came close to a reason was to keep Murtagh's privacy. Eragon could not imagine his father blabbing about how Murtagh was a friend of his son though, so he decided to tell him.

Brom, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, was stunned again. He had not known about his son's meetings with Murtagh, and how they were now friends. He had been away on rider business as well as his own personal matters that he had not really paid as much attention to what his son had been doing. Then again, he was no longer a small boy who needed watching over. Brom was wary of Murtagh however because of his father and he was not exactly sure how he felt with the fact that his son was befriending the spawn of Morzan.

"Son," said Brom, "Listen to me very carefully. Morzan and I... we used to be close. I looked up to him at one time, but then something terrible happened... and he was never the same after that. He became manipulative, violent, quick to anger, and most of all power-hungry." He paused, eyes staring intently at his son's so that he may understand what he was trying to convey, "Admittedly, I have never met Morzan's son and the fact that you are friends with him shows that he does not seem to be like his father. That said, you should be wary with your dealings with him from now on."

Brom had a far-away look in his eyes as he continued to speak, his voice softening towards a whisper, "One time I thought I could change him, but he has fallen beyond my ability to help..."

Eragon did not know what to make of his father's advice. He did not know much about Murtagh to begin with, and even less about Morzan. What he did know was that so far, Murtagh had been a good man. He seemed nice enough, though intensely private and sometimes prone to anger. He was not so sure that his anger was not warranted however, and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt for the time being. He would keep his father's advice in mind for sure, but he would not let it color his view of Murtagh. If Brom said that Morzan was as bad as he was, he believed it. But from what he had seen from his few interactions with the son, it seems the apple has fallen far from the tree.

They were quiet for a while as their respective dragons finally landed close by and approached their riders. Both riders were digesting the information that they had each gleaned from the other while their partner-dragons thought little else besides having more fun. Brimming with excitement, Saphira touched Eragon's mind and, startled at first, he quickly filled her in on what her father had said. Quickly turning serious, Saphira agreed with his thoughts.

Murtagh does not seem to be like his father is described, she gave her opinion on the matter, And if Morzan is indeed like that, then perhaps now you can understand the troubles he seems to be going through.

Eragon looked up at her, What do I do then? He seemed at a loss. While he agreed that it must have been troubles with his father that had affected Murtagh, he did not know how to act on that knowledge. He had told Murtagh that he would give him the space he needed, and that should he decide to include Eragon into his life more then he would do so. Eragon was not going to push, but this made him deeply troubled that perhaps maybe he should. In order to help him. To save him.

Little one, Saphira said with warmth, It is extremely generous of you to wish to help Murtagh, but you heard what he said. You know what he wants. He wants to handle things on his own terms and when he is ready he will talk to you and open up more. She paused as she moved her head closer to him, a large sapphire eye looking at him with a hint of sadness. A far cry from the jubilant gleam she had a mere few minutes ago.

Eragon did not speak. Her words were true, and he knew it deep down, but he still felt as if he should be doing something to help his friend.

Again, recall that he said you are already helping him with what you are currently doing, her voice lowered, and if you push him he may tighten in on himself and never open up to you.

He allowed a look of frustration onto his face as he ran a hand through his hair. Closing his eyes, he breathed in and out deeply to relax. You're right. I just... knowing what we know now, I feel as if we should be acting on that knowledge.

Saphira grunted, True. But think deeper than that, Eragon. You know he will also want to know how you know these things about him. He will be suspicious, that is for certain.

Okay, okay, he grumbled, I get it. Her reasoning was sound, and he knew she was right. It did not mean he had to like it, however. Doing nothing, even when it was the right course of action, made him feel as if he were failing in some way.

Saphira let out a small snort, I am always right.

-xxx-

The cold was unforgiving and the wind howled unrelenting in its fury. Even the trees seemed to shiver, their leaves rustling in the wind like the chattering of teeth. At least those trees that had leaves did. The ones that were leafless swayed their naked branches, their cold barks groaning in protest over the hostile conditions. Dark storm clouds as large as mountains rolled overhead, threatening at any moment to unleash the torrent of snow that they no doubt held closely. Then, like a host of warriors charging towards the enemy ranks, the snow burst forth from the clouds and dropped as a heavy blanket upon the land.

Eragon watched it all unfold through a window overlooking the small grove nearby as he sat by the fireplace, a few logs burning and keeping the room nice and toasty. He had his legs curled up under him and to the side slightly as he sipped upon the hot tea his mother had made for him. A blanket of a middling thickness covered his lower half and he felt quite cozy. His gaze drifted towards the fire, and his mind turned to Saphira. He hoped that she had been in the hold before the snow fell.

I am well, Eragon. I told you that a big storm was coming. She sent him an image of the scene at the hold: numerous dragons of different colors and sizes rested all around. Glaedr among them, looming larger over most dragons though Eragon noticed one purple dragon that seemed to be close to his size. Noticing a few red riders, he wondered...

He is not here, Saphira cut him off. For a moment he speculated as to where they could possibly be and he hoped that they were not caught in the blizzard.

How are the other dragons? asked Eragon suddenly, trying to change the subject. He had wondered how Saphira interacted with the others of her kind. While she had seen how she acted with Sephyr, that was because he was his father's dragon and so they shared a closer relationship than he imagined most dragons do. Then there was Thorn, who Eragon noticed was just as private and seemingly isolated as his rider was. Glaedr, being her master, was a different story and did not quite count. All in all, he had not seen her in the company of other dragons much.

She seemed a bit amused and embarrassed by the question and did not answer him immediately.

What's so embarrassing? he wondered aloud in his mind, letting her hear his thoughts.

He could feel a slight uneasy in her as she answered him, Well, most of the dragons here are male... she trailed off.

Oh. He understood now. That was why... He resisted the urge to laugh, though it was not enough for her not to notice the thought of doing so and she glowered at him for it. It is not funny, some of them are quite nice... others, well they are rather rude and... well, let's leave it at that.

Unable to resist this time he finally broke out into a light chuckle, Any fine suitors yet?

This is not funny, Eragon, she huffed and blocked him temporarily from her thoughts.

He grinned, still somewhat amused as he sipped at the tea.

"What is it?" asked his mother curiously.

He turned his head towards her, "What is what mother?"

"What were you laughing about?"

His grin widened a bit, "Oh, Saphira is being... wooed by a dragon or two, I think. She hasn't told me the whole story, and I doubt she will anytime soon. But I thought it was amusing, especially since she was making fun of me and how I felt about..." he stopped then as he realized he was about to reveal her name to his mother. He hoped that she would not make the connection, having been there that night and having introduced them after all. She saw through him plain as a day, and he cringed slightly at how Arya must have seen him looking at her in such a way.

Her mother's lips widened into a grin of her own. Her eyes, unwavering, looked with affection and a trace of amusement at her son. Already a young man, for the most part, and a rider to boot. He could have his pick of women if he so chose, but the one he wanted was probably one of the hardest to catch in all of Alagaësia. Fair though she may be, she was as much good as she was bad. Good in that she was wise, powerful, and she understood the dragon riders as well as humans in general. Bad in that she was far older than she appeared, and the age gap may prove too much between them. Another bad was that danger would follow her wherever she went because of her duties and her lineage. She did not have the heart to tell Eragon all this, however. He would have to find it all out for himself and decide for himself what he would do.

As a mother, she felt both joy that he seemed to have found someone he loved and yet sorrow for in her mind it did not look like it was going to happen. Very few elf-human couples have ever lived, but most of them were riders however. So if any human were to find an elf as a mate and join that rare group of them it would be Eragon. Above all, she hoped that for his sake he would not be too hurt should she reject him.

Seeing his discomfort, she decided not to pursue the matter and instead asked him about his training and what new things he had learned. He proceeded to tell her some of more interesting words he had learned in the ancient language as well as some stories of historical battles that changed the face of Alagaësia forever. He talked about his weapons training as well as his magical training, which much to his dismay was progressing at a far slower rate than his physical training. Then there were the aerial maneuvers that Saphira was learning both on her own and with Eragon on her back.

He shared a few more things with her, such as what he thought about Glaedr and Oromis. "Glaedr, I feel, is so serious and intimidating that I can never not take him seriously. Oromis, meanwhile, has loosened up a little and been a bit friendlier than before. While he was always friendly to me, he seems... almost warmer and more receptive to my presence now than before. He is definitely at times a little less serious than Glaedr, but they are both strict in their teachings," he explained to her, "I am blessed to have them as my masters. It's been a lot of hard work, but because I enjoy the whole experience it does not seem nearly as hard as it does... sometimes," he added the last bit as an afterthought. True enough, he was merely starting his training and he had no doubts that what lay in store for him in the months ahead were going to be more difficult.

She sat on a couch across from the one he was sitting on, both angled fourty-five degrees to face the fireplace. A round, wooden coffee table stood between them, underneath which was laid out a rug made out of the brown pelt of a giant stag. Selena drank from her own cup of tea as she looked over at Eragon, marveling at how much he had grown already in the span of a little more than six months. And just like Saphira, it was not merely his body that had grown but also his mind.

"Your father always spoke highly of Oromis, and the few times I have had the chance to speak to him he has always been pleasant," she told him, adjusting the blanket that she had wrapped around herself.

"What do you know about Morzan?" he asked, seemingly out of the blue.

She was taken aback by the question, "Why do you ask?"

Realizing that his father must not have spoken to her about their previous discussion of Morzan and his son, he told her that he had befriended Morzan's son but knew little of his father. "Murtagh hasn't exactly told me anything about his father, and I am curious since father spoke of being close to him before... though not anymore."

"Brom told you?" she looked puzzled. She was not aware that her husband had told Eragon about his past with Morzan, and she wondered just how much Brom had told the young man.

He nodded, "He didn't get into specifics, really. He merely mentioned that they were close once, but an incident drove them apart. And now he does not think so highly of him." He wanted to know as much as he could so that if the time came that Murtagh were to open up to him or to ask him for help he would be ready and be able to understand better.

She thought for a moment, as if sifting through memories from long ago. Then she spoke, "I did not know much of him until after their relationship had already broken apart. Brom would tell me little on the matter, but there were a few times that I did meet him when I was with your father. Those moments were quite..." she paused, her eyes seemingly out of focus as she remembered, "unpleasant. There was an air of coldness about him, and I always felt a little nervous when I saw him. His eyes would from time to time flash with a sudden rage, only to be hidden again. Almost as if he were about to explode and lash out at any moment. I would say he was almost... insane, even."

She took a long sip from her own cup of tea and sighed, "Suffice it to say that I do not think highly of him at all, and I would take the utmost care when you are around Murtagh. I do not know what their relationship is like, but growing up in that household..." she stared out the window, not finishing her sentence.

The fire had died down by that point, only a few bright red embers and a some slowly burning small pieces of wood remaining. After a while Eragon finished his tea and soon after he stood up.

"I'm feeling tired," he said, "Thank you for the conversation and the tea, mother." Taking his empty cup with him he brought it to the sink and washed it before he went upstairs to his old room. He had a lot to think about.

-xxx-

The morning after was a far cry from the night before. Everything was calm and quiet at dawn. Working its way higher, the sun jumped over the horizon by the time Eragon left his parents' home in the city. Snow that was roughly three feet deep packed every surface that had been exposed to the elements. A light breeze flowed from the northeast, stirring some of the snow around.

Trudging through the snow, Eragon shivered slightly as he adjusted the thick coat he wore. All around him, the city of Doru Araeba was slowly awakening to find the thick sheet of snow the blizzard had buried them under. Projecting his mind towards the dragon hold high above the Citadel, he focused on Saphira's consciousness.

It took you long enough to wake up, lazy one, she poked back at his mental probe.

He stuck out his tongue at her, mentally of course, I had trouble sleeping.

What happened? she growled, apparently unaware of his conversation with his mother. She had been busy conversing with the other dragons, having had few opportunities to talk to so many of them for so long a time.

Eragon quickly recounted everything he talked about with his mother, going so far as to show her his memories of how she looked as she spoke to him.

The dragonness hummed in response, thinking on the matter. Well, she is of the same opinion as your father and what she told you reinforces what your father already said. You would do well to heed them, though I feel that Murtagh is no image of his father.

Stomach grumbling, Eragon told her he would meet up with her at the hold after he had eaten. Passing through the dining hall, he quickly wolfed down some breakfast before taking the many steps up to the hold. He realized it was not a good idea to exert himself so soon after eating, but he continued on. A light sweat had formed on his skin as he entered the hold. There were a few dragons still there, and his eyes widened ever so slightly at the sight of them. There were seven dragons lying down on the ground in two separate groups, one group of three and another group of four.

They all turned to watch the new arrival, and he felt suddenly conscious of the way he walked. He met their gazes, and none of them averted their eyes as they continued to stare at him. They regarded him differently, some with interest and curiosity and others with indifference. His sapphire-scaled dragon was among the group of three and so he walked towards them, aware of the eyes of all the dragons following his every movement. He wondered what they were thinking. Saphira was situated next to a silver-scaled dragon roughly the size of Sephyr, perhaps a little bigger even. The third dragon had lime green scales that were quite bright to behold. A thought occurred to him then as he wondered what decided the color of dragons.

Saphira lowered her head as he approached and he touched her snout, smiling.

Hello, little one, she greeted him and sending him feelings of warmth, which he happily accepted and returned.

Making friends I see, he said and she laughed.

Indeed. The silver one is Thessus, he is Kristoff's dragon. And the green one is Sona, I do not think you know her rider. She is an elf named Malkha.

His gaze went from one dragon to the other as he gently touched their minds with his own and greeted them. Greetings, I am Eragon and I am Saphira's rider.

Sona greeted him cheerily, Greetings to you, Eragon Bromsson. I am Sona, bonded to Malkha of the elves.

Thessus was more reserved, and as was usual for a dragon of his size his mental voice was deeper and louder than Thorn's, Well met, Eragon Bromsson. I have heard much about you from Saphira and my rider. Sephyr also speaks highly of you.

Surprised by the knowledge, he made a mental note to talk to Sephyr sometime and thank him for his good words.

There was silence for a while, at least to Eragon. He did not doubt that they were conversing, though what about he did not know nor did he care to find out. He enjoyed being in the company of the dragons, especially Saphira, and he was content with that. Besides, unless they wished to include him in the conversation he did not want to intrude.

Sona stood and announced to all of them that her rider beckoned, and so she left.

A moment later, Eragon felt Thessus' consciousness brush his and he looked at the dragon questioningly.

My rider wishes you to know that within a month he will call for you, one of his large eyes blinked and it took a few seconds for Eragon to realize that he had winked at him. He found that amusing.

Thank you, I look forward to it. He did not know what else to say, so he kept quiet though his eyes still looked on at the silver one. His thoughts had already become occupied with seeing Arya again. He wondered what she had been up to all this time and how she would look and in what setting he would meet her in. Thoughts from the previous night and of Morzan and Murtagh soon forgotten.

-xxx-

Since the blizzard, there was not much activity with regards to the weather. A few light dustings of snow and sleet from small groups of clouds passing overhead was the worst of it and the wind did not blow as harshly anymore. It was as if nature had expended all its energy in that one storm and was satisfied with the effort that any more storms were not warranted. Not that Eragon was complaining. While the winter months and weather added a whole different feel to the world as well as marking the passage of time and the seasons, it was winter that he liked the least.

A month had passed almost as quickly as the blizzard had in Eragon's mind as he practiced the Rimgar in the Training Hall. He could consistently finish the first level with ease now, but the second level still challenged him a lot. Watching, his elven teacher corrected some of his forms if he found any mistakes. For the most part, however, he was silent as he watched the young rider go through with the exercises. Once finished, Oromis nodded with satisfaction. It was already the end of their training session for the day, but he had asked to see his progress with the elven exercises.

"You have progressed well with the Rimgar," said the elder. "Your first level is done extremely well, though there is a tiny bit of room to improve in your form. Your second level is sufficient, but you are placing more effort on finishing than on properly doing each form. This is not the way it should be done, Eragon. You must learn to be more patient in that regard." He impressed upon him the importance of quality over quantity. "Even if it means you do not finish, you must strive to make each form and stage of each level to be as close to perfect as you can manage."

"Yes, Oromis-elda." Eragon understood what the elf meant, but he struggled mightily with each form if he did them as properly as he should be doing them and he felt better if he finished the entire level than stopping when he could go no further. Still, Oromis knew what he was talking about and was his master, so he would follow his words. That was the point of training after all, was it not?

Later that day, Saphira called out to him as he lay reading a book on his bed in his quarters at the Citadel.

Thessus tells me that we must meet them tomorrow at noon, she informed him.

He frowned, So soon. How long would it take? And where are we meeting them? He had no way of contacting Oromis before tomorrow morning, when they usually met for his training session. Telling him that late may only serve to anger him. He was not sure if Oromis would even allow him to leave, but he could not see any reason why he should not. He figured that at most he would be gone a few days, and that was little in the grand scheme of the training cycle of a rider, which usually last at least two to three years. Some cases even longer, depending upon master and student.

There was a delay in the reply as Eragon realized she was talking to Thessus and relaying his questions. We shall meet them at the hold tomorrow at noon. The silver one wishes for us to pack lightly.

Eragon was still debating on how best to handle the situation with Oromis when Saphira spoke again, Kristoff has apparently discussed the matter with Master Oromis, and we have been allowed to accompany him to... well, wherever he intends to bring us.

With that last hurdle out of the way, Eragon breathed a sigh of relief. Speculating about where they were going and what exactly Kristoff had planned ran rampant in his mind, but he did not dwell too closely on the matter.

He would find out soon enough.

A/N: Just a heads up, many of the chapters from here on out will be longer than what I've been writing so... hope you're ready for em. Things are about to get a lot more exciting around here. This one's a bit slow but I promise the next chapter will be quite thrilling.

Also, if any of you were wondering in the previous chapter if Galbatorix lied when he said he would not harm Tensul's rider, well he did not lie, He did exactly as he said, He did not harm Roppen since he had Morzan kill him. And, to Galbatorix' mind, that was not the same as him harming the elder himself.