My first and truest companion, my serpentine shadow in that lonely fortress of waifs and wayfarers… my Katana. She was the most incredible experience of my life, without contest, and I will hold her in my highest esteem as long as I draw breath. I have not always been the best partner to her… but I have always loved her more than life itself.

Our ebrithil would not have it any other way.


I stared down at my shoes. They were crudely-worked leather, boxy slippers with simple cut-outs on the top. They were starting to get a bit uncomfortable as I grew, but they were thin enough that I could probably stretch another year of wear out of them. The lightly tanned hide was stained with oil and dirt, darker and darker towards the soles. I kept my toes perfectly aligned, terrified as I was to move even an inch under the intense gazes of fourteen senior riders. Katana curled protectively on my shoulder, staring them all down with imperious dislike.

The dining hall of the old manor house had been repurposed into a meeting room. It was long and narrow, paneled in dark wood and lit by candles set every few feet. Rarely were all of the forsworn available at a given time, so a rippled bronze mirror had been appropriated from one of the bedrooms to sit above the head seat. Today it was blank, as every single member was in attendance.

Morzan sat cross-legged on top of the table, grinning like a hound that had just been tossed a meaty bone. "Who gets her then?" he asked with obvious relish, "Because I have dibs on teaching her to fight."

"That seems… an imprudent place to start," Kialandi slid in politely. She was seated near the middle of the row, giving her the perfect angle to fix her sapphire eyes on the big man. Her full, dark lips curved into a disapproving frown, and she tapped the table pointedly. "Your skills are better suited for a more skilled combatant."

"She'll learn," He promised cheerfully, "And, if she knows what's good for her, she'll learn quick."

"I can help," The first of two identical men spoke up. This one was Gildor; his dusty brown hair was the tiniest bit shorter than his brother's. Their builds were equally lanky but Gildor's was better filled in by muscle, and his pale green-grey eyes sparkled with easy confidence. The scrawnier and shyer of the two was perched in the first's lap. Gelmir nodded along without bothering to interject, though I got the vague impression Gildor only spoke at all at his brother's prompting. "Morzan's a hell of a first fight. I'll tag along and make sure he doesn't accidentally turn her into paste."

"If I pulverize the kid, it won't be an accident," Morzan chipped in, leaning back on his hands. "Hey, if you want to come and waste some time with the kid and me, I don't care." He reached back for the nearest goblet, realized it was a little too close to a short, blonde-haired she-devil in disguise, and retracted the hand. "Anyway, the real question is who's going to be stuck teaching her everything else?"

A bit of shuffling betrayed the group's dislike of the assignment.

"I'll take responsibility for her general education," Xanist cut the silence in his signature bored monotone. He was always careful not to seem too close to me when the others were around. He was only one wolf in a particularly savage pack, after all. His soft spot for me may have been common knowledge, but he didn't need to flaunt it. "She can read well enough, so proceeding with her traditional learning should be simple enough."

"And I can help her study while you're out on work," Gelmir offered kindly. I relaxed a little. The twins tended to isolate themselves from the rest of us, but they were gentler by far than the rest. The tension in my shoulders eased and Katana puffed a smoke ring to celebrate our shared relief.

"Which leaves magic," Kialandi put in. Here several members averted their gazes as if to avoid being implicated in the statement. Some needn't have bothered; even I knew that Balor was only a perfunctory mage, Beren could hardly cast at all, and Amroth would rather roast me over an open fire than give up his solitude.

"It is my opinion that Kialandi would be best suited for this task," a tall, willowy man entered the conversation. He spoke in smooth, cool tones with all the authority of someone who expects to be heard. His waist-long white hair was bound back in a braid. His crisp blue eyes reminded me of Shruikan, particularly when he was angry… which they both very often were.

"I agree," Kialandi put in graciously, "I have some experience tutoring younger mages from my days on The Island. I would be happy to-"

"No." A single word is all it took to draw every eye to him. He reclined comfortably at the head of the table, a spot of even darker darkness in the already shadowy room. His black locks had grown long after weeks of constant travel. He flicked them casually over an ebon-draped shoulder, tapping one long, sun-bronzed finger against the stem of a goblet as he thought. "I do not doubt your abilities Kia, but we have not the luxury of doing things properly." His voice lulled me into looking up at him, though when I met his intense, black eyes… I wished I hadn't. I somehow felt like he was plucking me apart, examining each muscle and bone, and stitching me back together. I felt a ripple of unease at the back of my mind; Katana was similarly unnerved. "I will be her primary instructor in this. Siyamak, you shall assist me once she has mastered the fundamentals."

If the older man took issue with this order, he resisted the urge to object. "Very well, though I take no responsibility if she cannot keep up." A few dark chuckles resonated through the room. I shifted in my seat, cringing as it creaked.

I thought I saw the ghost of a smile prick his lips, "I would expect nothing less. As for the rest of you," Torix stood, meeting every one of their eyes, particularly an ornery redhead who had previously been scratching at the wall. "You will all end up teaching her something before all is said and done. She will need to start helping provide for the house; Formora and Eltereth can see to this." The former's groan of displeasure contrasted sharply with a tall, distant woman's nod of acquiescence." Kialandi, you are still the most accomplished medic. You will share mine and Siyamak's burden once her strength has built enough. Balor, Beren… eventually, you may end up assisting Gildor and Morzan in combat training. Until then, don't bother yourselves with her." Two rotund men, one with dingy bronze curls and the other with a flat greasy mop of brown hair gave vague acknowledgments of the words. " Amroth and Idril, the two of you have deeply specialized knowledge. This may come in handy at some point, but until then-"

"I'll teach," a dreamy voice floated up from the petite blonde. Idril stood (barely 4' 11" at her fullest height) and roved empty, hazel eyes over the room. "And she'll learn," She smiled. It would almost be a kind smile, if not for the way it lingered, lifeless and insincere on her cherubic face.

"Or die," Morzan added helpfully as he flicked over the goblet from which he'd nearly drunk. Its contents sizzled where they touched the wooden table. In no time at all, they'd eaten right through to the rug below, bubbling an unpleasant grey-black smoke. "She's a very persuasive teacher."

I gulped.

"Meeting adjourned," Galbatorix clapped his hands together once and pushed his chair. "Lilleth, follow me. The rest of you may do as you wish; I have no further leads for the day." I hastened to obey the retreating form of my new teacher, adding an extra step for every two of his.

-:- -:- -:-

"Please, sit." He entered the cramped office, propping open the door just enough for me to squeeze in behind him. The space had once been refined and elegant, but since the current resident took up occupation it was less of a "study" and more of a dragon's hoard of loose papers and half-read crumbling volumes. I inched through the quagmire until I found an empty nook near the window. The portal was small, latticed with lead, and frosted around the edge. My perch was clearly meant to be more of a decorative alcove, but it had been retrofitted with a thick red cushion (courtesy of Morzan, no doubt). Father took his own seat, a high-backed chair upholstered in velvet that may once have been a deep emerald, but had faded to a dingy gray. Katana crawled from my shoulder and scurried along an empty patch of the upper shelf, sticking her snout out occasionally to judge distances and releasing plumes of warning smoke to ward off spiders. I glanced at Torix, but his attention was completely fixed on Katana's antics. We both waited in patient silence until she was situated.

He cleared his throat, crossed his fingers, and gave me a once-over. "I imagine you have many questions. The majority of them must wait, trust that you will know what you need when you need it; no more."

"Yes sir," I answered, trying to sound serious.

"Not sir," he said. It was quick and simple, like the snap of a riding crop. "Ebrithil is acceptable, or 'Master' if you find the ancient language too difficult."

"Ancient Language?" I asked.

He lifted a brow, his thin veneer of patience clearly waning.

"Apologies s-... Master."

He released his tension, like unstringing a bow. His hand flexed on the arm of the chair, tapping a slow rhythm to gather his thoughts. "There is no use to these proceedings until you have more context. Are you prepared to listen?"

"Yes, Master."

He nodded. The first part of his narrative flowed easily; as if he had often repeated it, "Long ago, Elves and Dragons were at war. This war likely would have ended both races, had not one particular elf intervened. He took it upon himself to found the Order, the Riders, wherein elves- and later humans- would form a magical bond with dragons in order to keep the peace. This bond is unique; a feat of magic and mind that has never been replicated. The pair are bonded more deeply than an outsider observer could know. They share one heart; one soul. It is this legacy that the two of you have inherited," here he paused, eyes closing in some inner meditation. I leaned forward in my seat.

"The Order could not hold to its lofty ideals. Over the centuries, they slipped into petty power struggles, among other failings. Much of this is beyond your ken, so for now it will suffice to say that they are no longer a force of good in our world." I wasn't exactly shocked. Even as a kid, I had sense enough to observe the doings of my housemates. He carried on, yanking me out of my musings. "And now, you enter this battleground. Your very existence defies the precepts of the order, and gives us the opportunity to begin anew." He leaned forward. His eyes held me, glimmering with barely restrained passion. "For this reason alone, Katana's hatching is a monumental achievement for you, for us, and for Alagaesia as a whole."

I fidgeted uncomfortably. "Master, may I ask a question?"

He nodded his consent.

"What exactly will you expect from me? I'm not like the rest of you. What good am I going to be in a war?"

He sighed, resting his head on a propped-up hand. He took a moment to collect an answer, and when he spoke it was with uncharacteristic gentleness. "This is much larger than war. We are aiming to build, not just destroy. And, more than that, you are my daughter." He caressed the words with a tenderness he'd never offered me before. He even favored me with an encouraging smile, "I have every confidence that any girl able to survive us this long will be perfectly capable of whatever challenges we conceive." He rose, sitting up on the desk and casually swinging his legs over. He put a hand under my chin, just as he had that first day. "Your primary objective is to grow, individually and together.

"Lastly, you must take one lesson as paramount to all others," His voice dropped so low that I had to strain to catch it. Even in a whisper, it was strained with emotions I could not fathom, "Nothing in this world, nothing, is more important than your survival and Katana's. No other command, no act of heroics, not even if it means the death of every other being you know," He released me, brushing gentle fingers through my hair and smiling at me with utter misery in his eyes, "Any atrocity is better than the loss of your soul."

I nodded up at him, overcome to the very brink of tears.

Then, like a summer breeze disturbing the surface of a mirror pool, his emotion vanished behind an implacable mask. He pulled from me and turned his back, lifting a hand in obvious dismissal. I gladly accepted it. Even Katana could sense the sudden tone shift, gliding down from her perch and straight out the door ahead of me.

The two of us spent the rest of that night huddled close together, twirling our amorphous thoughts around each other like drifting clouds.


You will never catch me defending this man, my ebrithil. In fact, no one else in all of Alagaesia knows the true depths of his cruelty, with perhaps a single exception. That other is the second person that my master took into his tutelage. As such, he is the only one who may commiserate with me over that…. singular misery (and he often has). No one will ever hate and fear this man as we do, as a childish part of me always shall. After all, few things can match the intensity of Galbatorix's expectations, or the penalties for disappointing them.

Still, through all the agony and anxiety, I would be remiss in failing to acknowledge my education for what it was: a gift greater than any treasure in mortal imagining. The years of study were painful, more often than not they were all but fatal, but merely surviving them has made me more capable than I had ever dared to believe I could be. I don't know who I would be if not for their lessons. So, though most of them have shuffled off their mortal coils, I offer a sincere, somber, and humble thank you for their time and tutelage.

It made defying them in my later years so much more...interesting.