Author's Note: This story is going be divided up into parts. This is Part One and it is called The Dead Secrets. Every time I complete ten chapters that is the end of the part. When a part finishes I will take around ten weeks to start uploading the next part. Think of the parts as seasons of a TV show. Between every season there is a waiting period and in this case it is ten weeks. Right now this is the first chapter of Part One of the story. Nine more chapters to go before we take a break.

New chapters will be uploaded every Sunday. Enjoy this chapter.


Passing of Time

I - Roran

One Month Later

When Roran Stronghammer had accomplished the monumental task of uniting Palancar Valley he built a mansion for himself on the north-eastern hill — the loftiest hill there was — in Carvahall. This was the promise he made to Eragon. The mansion covered every yard on the top of the hill; a jewel for the city's residents. Sharply peaked roofs, a dozen rooms, limestone walls, a wide orchard, and a whole company of guards — Roran had left nothing to chance.

"Hurry up Roran, our guests will arrive shortly!" exclaimed Katrina, eying her husband trying to clean a muddy patch on the pearly granite floor. Roran tensed when he heard Katrina sigh. That meant he had done something wrong or forgot.

"What did I do now?" Roran asked, scratching the back of his head.

Katrina smiled. "Don't worry. You'll know soon enough."

Roran rolled his eyes. Another one of her riddles. He tightened the lapel on his coat and brought his hands behind his back in a presenting fashion. "How do I look?" He knew he could never be as presentable as Katrina was; her flowery red dress, her immaculately braided copper hair, her formal etiquette, and of course her deep brown eyes put her leagues ahead of beauty that he could ever possess.

"Shouldn't that be my line?" questioned Katrina with a knowing smile. "You look as handsome as ever." She joined Roran and gave him a quick peck to the cheek.

The years had been kind to Roran; age had not withered him greatly. His once shaggy beard was now neatly trimmed, and the scars which once covered nearly all of his body had mostly faded.

"I guess so," Roran said.

He gave up trying to clean every inch of his home until it was spotless. Instead he walked towards the open front door for some fresh air.

"And Roran," Katrina said, "maybe next time you should take off your shoes before you enter the hall." Confused, he looked down before letting out a dramatic sigh, causing Katrina to chuckle.

"You could have told me before you know," he said, without turning around.

"What, and miss the chance of seeing you completely oblivious? I think not."

Roran smiled to himself and headed out. A light breeze greeted him accompanied by the smell of fresh grass. Far off he could smell the banquet that was sizzling in the kitchens. The two entrance guards inclined their heads respectfully. From up here he had a perfect view of Carvahall, and the surrounding countryside. Garrow would have been happy to see this.

Thanks to the gold trade between Tronjheim and Palancar Valley Roran could afford the upkeep for Carvahall. With the gems that Eragon had given him Roran built a solid, defensive square around the city, with tall cylindrical towers providing an impregnable garrison for catapults and archers. The stonework was relegated to Orik's most talented masons and they did not disappoint with their immaculate attention to detail and structure. Finally, the ballistae at the crown of the towers protected the city from aerial attacks.

The houses were arranged in an orderly fashion populated by narrow level streets which diminished the labors of travel that a city usually had. The houses were made of Talmerian timber that were harvested from The Spine. It provided great strength and durability. Mottled on the outside of these houses were creamy rock tiles which protected against erratic weather and provided exceptional insulation. The buildings close to the walls were mainly shops whereas further inside the structures grew larger and grander.

As Roran lifted his gaze towards the horizon, he saw the colossal ball of fire trying to descend below the folds of the earth, signaling the arrival of nightfall.

"FATHER! Are they here yet?" asked Garron and Ismira. Roran abandoned his gaze towards the horizon to give them both a smile.

"No, not yet. But slow down before you both fall and get hurt," replied Roran. His children ran towards him with arms open wide expecting the fierce hug they always got, and of course today was no exception. Releasing them he inspected them from head to toe, making sure they had not ruined their clothes before the celebration even began.

Ismira had a fair complexion with neatly braided copper hair and light brown eyes. She wore a bright yellow dress with a silver chain around her neck. Garron on the other hand had grey eyes, a slightly darker complexion due to constant playing in the sun, and a batch of ruffled brown hair. Both Garron and Ismira's eyes overflowed with excitement. Roran smiled and asked, "Did you have fun?"

"Yes father, it was great," replied Garron and Ismira with wide grins.

"But father, did you know Garron pushed me?" said Ismira, changing her grin into a sad pout.

"Oh really. Now that is not good," said Roran, eying his five year old son who made an angelic face attempting to show his innocence. "You go inside and help your mother, while I have a talk with Garron," said Roran.

"But father..." protested Garron with an exasperated expression, as if he was the most unfairly treated child.

"Garron, now listen to me carefully. Never hurt women, it's not a man's place."

"But Ismira kept annoying me."

Roran looked towards Garron with amusement. "Instead of being annoyed at women you should charm them. Just like me and your uncle Eragon did."

"Uncle Eragon and you charmed women?" asked Garron, surprised.

"Oh yes. Your uncle and I were quite the charmers. We charmed every women we ever met and that's what you should try to do instead of hurting them," said Roran, his face solemn as if relaying a legendary piece of advice.

"Alright father," replied Garron determinedly.

"Who's a real charmer?" asked a gentle, amused voice from behind Roran; he knew the voice and thus felt quite embarrassed.

"Well, father was saying he was quite the charmer," replied Garron, looking towards his mother, who had come outside holding Ismira's hand.

"I'm sure he was," said Katrina sarcastically. "Now come on Garron, you need to get cleaned up again."

"Mom!" exclaimed Garron in exasperation. However, his rebellion was short lived as Katrina fixed him with a strict stare. Knowing what this could lead to Garron hurried into the house followed by his mother.

Roran decided to check upon the preparations for the banquet. He signaled the guards standing before the entrance to remain behind. As twilight faded lanterns came to life throughout Carvahall, illuminating the city in a golden glow.

Roran walked onto the main street that lead past the great hall and towards the front gate. The streets were bustling with activity, he could see the final arrangements for the feast being prepared as people rushed to the great hall carrying utensils which would be required. Great rows of tables were being carried to the main hall along with dozens of chairs.

At the center of this procession yelling orders to chefs, musicians, and all those involved in the feast was Hiro. Hiro was a young man from Ceunon who had travelled with his family to Carvahall and was now one of Roran's most trusted advisors and commanders. His brother Endimiyon — if Roran could get past the wild dissimilarity between them — was the general of Carvahall. He watched as Hiro yelled orders and curses, causing the people before him to rush with whatever they had.

"Hurry you slack jawed pigs!" yelled Hiro, igniting a sense of urgency within the people. "Hey, Barry. Instead of scraping the table on the floor how about you pick it up. Make some use of that bloody fat you gained."

"How go the preparations Hiro?" called Roran.

Hiro turned before inclining his head. "Ah, Lord Roran. These farmers are as lazy as they are dumb, however, the preparations should be complete shortly."

"Where's Endimiyon?" asked Roran.

Hiro laughed, "If you know him as I do, he is probably drunk somewhere in a tavern."

Roran scowled. "He was needed at the celebrations tonight."

"Aye my lord, but Endimiyon celebrates every night. He wouldn't have thought tonight was any special."

Roran sighed. "That's true. Very well, return to your duties. I will head to the gates, our guests will be arriving shortly."

"Very well my lord," said Hiro, resuming his cursing at the people around him.

Roran proceeded towards the forge before the outer front gates to meet some of his old friends. Carvahall's forge stood tall and proud, its air filled with the smell of molten metal and charred ash. Hammer blows on steel reverberated in the surroundings as Horst levelled his hammer onto a metal rod that burned with an orange glow. Baldor stood beside him, watching his father in order to learn the subtleties of his technique. Baldor and Albriech had both become great smiths, however, they could not match their father's skill.

Horst had his arms bare to the elbow, his eyes concentrating on the hammer blows. His hair had turned completely grey, but the strength in his arms had not waned. Baldor was the first to notice Roran and grinned with delight. Patting his father on the shoulder he approached Roran and enveloped him in a strong hug.

"What brings you this way, mighty Stronghammer?" asked Baldor with a sly grin.

Roran laughed before clapping him on the shoulder. "You'll never stop will you?" he asked in disdain.

"You know me," said Baldor.

Horst had removed his gloves and came to stand by his son, a smile upon his lips. He then looked towards the gate, where a large host of people were gathering. "I'm guessing they are almost here."

"Yes, they must be arriving soon," said Roran, his eyes upon the growing procession.

"Where is Albriech?' asked Roran.

Baldor laughed. "Helping the ladies cook. I swear he doesn't leave more than three feet between him and his wife. He's like a crazed puppy."

"Not too long ago you were the same," said Elaine, who had walked out of the house smiling with a cup of water. She came over and hugged Roran. "Where's Eragon Junior?" she asked, referring to Garron.

Roran smiled. Those who knew Eragon had begun calling Garron by the same name, due to the similarities of their character, especially their undying curiosity. "He'll be coming down shortly along with Katrina and Ismira," said Roran, looking back up towards his home where he could see Katrina, Ismira, and Garron making their way ahead of the procession with guards around them.

"It will be quite a feast," said Baldor grinning. "After all Hiro's in charge and if Hiro is known for anything it's throwing parties." Roran laughed along with everyone else.

Once Katrina arrived with Garron and Ismira stories began to flow between the old friends. However, Roran knew how much Garron and Ismira wanted to see the nobles arrive. Quietly he snuck them away and headed towards the gate. The guards had already begun to work the pulleys in order to open the gate, which groaned and creaked.

The people bowed once Roran joined them. No matter how many times he tried to tell them otherwise they treated him like a king. He recognized a few friends of old along with many new faces all smiling towards him. Carvahall was indeed growing each day, and it made the future that much more exciting.

He placed his hands on his children's shoulders. "Do you want to see them from atop the gate?"

Both their faces shone with excitement and he knew their answer before they even responded.

"Yes father!" They climbed the stairs leading atop the gate accompanied by Berenford, captain of the guard. Atop the gate they could see the wide expanse of land shrouded in night, however, soon the full moon unveiled past the clouds.

"They will be here soon," Roran said, gazing out towards the horizon. Cheers erupted from both Garron and Ismira as they fervently scanned the entire sky for movement. A few watchful stars appeared in the sky, twinkling their faces upon the earth.

"Look towards the east," pointed Roran, holding his children close. "That's where they will come from." A glitter of light suddenly appeared, as if bright new stars had just been born, radiating light in all directions. People would pay a fortune to lay their eyes upon that glittering light, its beauty worth more than a mountain of gold, the beauty as Roran knew from the likes of a dragon.