I recently re-read the inheritance cycle, and I noticed a very small plot hole. For almost every single dragon, the egg always hatched within a day of meeting the future rider. This makes sense for the egg couriers, because how else would they know which child was destined to be a rider? This rule holds true for every egg except for Saphira, so I decided to explore what could've been if it was. I hope you enjoy!

Updates will be uploaded regularly at the scheduled time at the bottom of the chapter.

As always, this story is just an interpretation of Christopher Paolini's series, so all credit goes to him.

Eragon shivered, the temperature inside his makeshift shelter growing colder as the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the tall peaks of the Spine. He was down to his last few pieces of salted venison before he had to turn back to the village of Carvahall, and beyond that to his home. He had left the farm a few days prior, due to this being the last opportunity for a hunt before the first of the winter snowfalls came in to make trekking into the Spine almost impossible.

The young buck he was tracking had been forced to leave his herd behind as they migrated to the lower levels of the mountains for the winter, making him the perfect target because of its lower speed. A single buck, even one that small, would be able to feed his family for a week if they rationed it carefully, or he could sell it to Sloan the butcher in return for some money that they could spend on grain for their cow. It was their only one this year, the other two had been killed from frostbite, although there was no way they would be able to keep all three alive through winter anyway.

He finally deemed it dark enough to leave his shelter, one that was carved into the middle of a large gorse bush which acted as insulation to retain heat. After shouldering his pack he strode away, following the small hoof prints.

There! It was almost an hour later and the light twilight had morphed into a much darker dusk the colour of charcoal, but he had the deer in his sights. It was limping slightly, although the lack of blood made it certain that it was either an old injury or one that it had gained from birth, and it was likely the reason why its herd had abandoned it. He lifted his bow from his back and nocked an arrow to the string. After a few seconds of waiting to make sure the deer hadn't heard his sudden move, he released his shot.

The arrow flew true, hitting the buck square between his eyes. He nocked another arrow just in case it wasn't dead, but shortly after the buck collapsed, snapping the arrow underneath it. Eragon was too relieved to care, his delight at now being able to eat a good meal swamping the regret of needing to carve another shaft. He silently walked over to the meat and inspected it, looking for any sign of disease and after finding none, he slung the deer into his pack.

He started, hearing a twig snap nearby, and putting his pack down he crouched low to the ground and backed up into the nearest tree for cover. The noise came again, and by that time Eragon was almost sure it wasn't a human due to the force of the snaps. That also meant, however, that it wasn't a deer and likely something much more dangerous. Keeping still he saw a large hulking mass of fur prowl into the centre of the clearing with its eyes trained straight on the pack with the deer sticking half out of it. Eragon cursed to himself, he should have been more careful. Praying that the bear wouldn't see him, he slowly pulled out his hunting knife, relieved to have at least a little defense even though deep down he knew that any of his efforts would be futile if the bear saw him.

The bear stuck its nose in his bag, its sharp white teeth glinting in the moonlight. They latched on to the meat and dragged it out, leaving a dark glistening trail of blood seeping into the frozen ground. It shuffled backwards, its heavily muscled legs writhing as it pulled its heavy half ton body effortlessly up, before it turned and prowled back off into the night.

Eragon allowed himself to breathe, not realizing he had been holding his breath until the stress was over. He felt a sinking feeling deep inside his chest, with no meat how would he find a way to feed his family? With a heavy sigh, he accepted the necessity of another few nights in the Spine to find another kill.

Suddenly a loud crack startled him, and as he whipped round he briefly saw a bright flash of white light in the centre of the clearing and as the shock faded he immediately leapt backwards, terrified that the noise would attract the bear. After a few anxious minutes of waiting, he eventually decided that the only thing the sound had caused by way of animals was a flock of birds flapping away. He looked back at the centre of the clearing and was shocked to see a shimmering sapphire blue stone sitting where there had been nothing before. He tensley edged towards it, wondering if it was a threat or not. He held his hunting knife tightly but there seemed to be no change. He caught a faint whiff of smoke and saw a ring of charred vegetation around the stone. He was right. It was magic that brought that… thing here, and that meant someone was looking for it and would pay quite a hefty price.

He lifted it, and while it was definitely not heavy enough to be a solid rock, there was

still some tangible weight to it. He shrugged his shoulders and just put it in his pack, setting off into the blackness.

It was the next day when he spotted his next piece of prey, and as luck would have it the young boar was only a few hours trek from where he first found its tracks. It looked like it had only recently separated from its mother, however it still had very large and sharp tusks which could prove deadly should he be gored.

It was another quick kill, however this time it required two shots, one between its eyes and another on its side before it gave up and fell to the ground. He carefully prowled over and took the arrows out of his kill, and after noting with satisfaction the fact that they were both undamaged, he put it in his pack and sealed the top.

Looking out down the mountain, he could hear the Igualda falls roaring nearby and a sea of stars in the blanket of night above him. He took out the stone and admired it. It looked like some kind of precious jewel and was almost perfectly round. He felt it and could not feel or see any roughness on the surface. He pulled out his knife from its sheath and tapped the flat edge of it against the stone's surface. It let out a peal of sound, slightly like the chime of a bell only with a slightly higher pitch. Looking at the surface where he had struck it, there was not a single mark. He gently brought the blade of the knife over the stone as well, however again, the stone bore no mark. He shrugged and set the stone down on the rock next to him and just took some time to stare at the stars.

Suddenly, the stone at his side wobbled. He immediately took a few steps back as he cautiously observed it. There was a loud crack and still looking at the stone he saw a long fissure spread across the surface. He pulled out his hunting knife but made no move forwards as more cracks appeared, until finally, after maybe a minute of waiting, the entire stone fell open, and from inside a tiny dragon stumbled out.

It was a striking blue, much like the color of the egg it emerged from. It was around twenty centimeters long and after unfurling its wings it was a meter wide. The membranes between it's wings were almost see-through, only a pale blue haze showing there was anything there. Eragon watched in wonder as it stumbled around, and he reached out his hand to stabilize it after a particularly bad tumble.

As soon as he touched it he felt an indescribable sensation, one that he would later liken to bathing his hand in an ice cold pond. He instantly wrenched his hand back towards his body, causing the dragon to turn towards him and huffed, small plumes of smoke leaving the corner of its mouth. Eragon looked at his hand, and upon it was a silvery mark glowing softly in the moonlight. The dragon walked towards him, seeming to have control over its legs at last. It looked at his hand and slowly touched its muzzle to it. Eragon flinched, expecting a similar shock to last time, however nothing happened so he returned the gesture.

The small dragon opened its mouth, revealing several sharp teeth. He laughed and laid out a strip of salted beef in front of it and immediately it wolfed them down. Satisfied, the dragon curled its tail around its body and fell asleep. He eyed the sleeping dragon for a while before mimicking it and falling asleep himself.

The next day he awoke groggily, and it was only when something sharp poked at his back that he remembered. The stone was no ordinary mineral, but a dragon egg. He pondered his options. There was no doubt Galbatorix would pay dearly for this dragon, but with farmer subsidies growing fewer each year he felt nothing but resentment towards the Black King. That left two other options, he could go back to the farm and tell his cousin Roran and uncle Garrow about the egg, but they would likely call it too much trouble for its worth and demand Eragon kill the thing. Looking at the helpless dragon rolling on the ground he realized that deep in his heart he would never be able to kill it. That left only one other option, he would have to stay hidden in the mountains and nurture it until it was big enough to survive on its own, and then they would think about whether to abandon it or take it in.

In only a week the dragon had doubled in size, and he no longer felt bad about leaving it alone on his hunting missions to provide food for the pair. He had yet to go back to the farm, knowing that Garrow and Roran would not worry for a few weeks yet as he had been on many trips into the Spine that had lasted longer than a month. They were camping in the hollowed out bush, it provided adequate space for the both of them. However, he soon realized that the dragon would need a new place to rest which was why he was building a larger nest up in a tree, out of reach of predators. He would talk to the dragon while he was working, telling it all about his life: about Roran, Katrina, Sloan and the mysteries behind his mother and father. It would stare at him as he did this, and sometimes he swore he detected a flicker of understanding in its eyes.

Mid-way through one of his stories, he felt a strange sensation, almost like some otherworldly consciousness was pressing against his mind. Unable to stop it, it soon enveloped him and said a single word that seemed to ring inside his head.

Eragon.

He startled, looking at the dragon as that strange voice came again.

Eragon.

He was sure it was from the dragon, but no animal would be able to understand his name, let alone repeat it back

But I am no ordinary animal.

"I can see that," Eragon responded while frowning, "I'm going hunting. We're low on food."

The dragon just stayed there, staring at him with its reptilian eyes as Eragon backed away slowly, unsure about what to do.

After becoming more accustomed to his dragon's way of talking, they had discussed what kind of name he should call it by. During the conversation, it had been quick to voice its displeasure at him calling her an "it", stating very clearly that she was female. They had talked about many possibilities, but after looking at her egg and remembering fondly what he had previously thought, he asked, "What about Saphira?"

It fits.

She was old enough now to catch her own prey, and he frequently came back from hunting trips of his own to find her gnawing on a certain bone from an animal she had eaten. It was then that he decided to go back home, with his pack full of game he was sure he could get enough from Sloan to feed his family for the winter. He could tell that the first snowfalls of the season were close, and didn't want to travel much back and forth from the farm to Carvahall in those conditions.

Saphira had agreed with this decision, on the condition that she would come with him for much of the way before settling in the wooded areas nearby. It had started well, the paths he usually traveled had not changed much in the time he had been away, but halfway down Saphira suddenly stopped in her tracks.

Something's wrong.

Eragon stopped, confused. "How can you tell?"

I smell something. Burning coming from the town.

The ridge was only a few metres away so Eragon rushed over to look down upon the valley. Great plumes of smoke rose up high above the houses, flames crackled beneath them and he could very faintly hear the screams. He panicked, rushing over the ridge, hoping to get there as fast as he could, but instead he felt a sharp tugging sensation at his back and looked over at Saphira who had launched at him and was now taking off, with him clasped beneath her in her talons.

He yelled at her to put him down, but it seemed that she had closed her mind off to him, with only the feeling of panic and protectiveness managing to make it through. Unable to do anything, he just let himself be carried off back into the mountains, to that same ledge he had first found her egg. She landed and immediately Eragon tried to escape from her, but she was big enough now to catch up and pin him down. As much as he struggled, it was impossible for him to get up so he just lay there in resignation just trying to process all that he had seen.

When he woke up the next morning it took him a minute to recognise where he was. It was still pitch dark so he stretched, and his hands touched a scaly membrane surface and it was only then that he realized what had happened the day before.

"Hey! Wake up!" He yelled at Saphira.

She stirred and lifted her wing up to reveal the early morning sun. The weather was crisp and a thin layer of snow had fallen leaving a perfect outline of where Saphira's wing had been. He shoved Saphira again to get her to wake up fully, but in the meantime he made his way over to a pond of spring water that had yet to freeze over to wash his face. By that time Saphira was up, and it seemed that she had returned to her senses. She sent a stream of worry through their mental link and urged Eragon to climb on her back.

It only took them a few minutes to make their way down to the town, but it felt like hours. Eragon's legs were rubbed raw from Saphira's hard scales and it hurt to walk. The town was a mess, the fires had gone out overnight but some of the ruins were still steaming. He looked out over the main courtyard where most of the town's shops were and he felt a crushing sensation deep inside him. It was completely silent, even the birds were not singing, so he walked around the outskirts of the town to see if there were any tracks leading into the wilderness as evidence of an escapee. Unfortunately he found nothing.

Suddenly, a sound echoed throughout the valley as a beam collapsed because the foundations of a house had burned away. A scream followed it, so Eragon ran to where the sound came from. He found the town storyteller in a building that he barely recognised as their house.

"Brom! What happened!" Eragon yelled as he got closer. The storyteller was in no shape to reply as Eragon could see that a beam had fallen on one of his legs, trapping him under its immense weight.

He yelled at Saphira to come through his mental link,

I need help! Someone is trapped under the wreckage.

Immediately, she landed at his side and helped him heave the wood off Brom's legs. After a bit of struggling, they placed it off to the side then Eragon took a look at the legs. It was clear that they were broken, a shard of bone was jutting out of the skin and there was dried and congealed blood everywhere. It was a miracle he hadn't died already. It looked like the bleeding had already slowed, so all he needed to do was clean it up, which he did with a piece of moss gathered from outside. It was clear that Brom would never be able to walk again, so he felt a pang of sorrow in his heart. Brom had been a good man, he remembered when he told stories about the riders, how they created everlasting peace upon all the kingdoms of Alagaesia and beyond.

Brom stirred, gasping in pain before opening his eyes, startled at the sight of a dragon before him. "The Ra'zac were here," be murmured, still dazed, "You must flee, boy."

"Who are the Ra'zac?" Eragon asked

"Galbatoriz's dragon killers," Brom replied

Saphira interjected with a snort, They are gone. I can only scent the lingering traces of the egg breakers.

With that, Brom seemed to relax slightly, pulling himself up so his back was leaning on the partially destroyed wall. "Get me some wine, boy. Then I will explain everything, you no doubt need it."

Eragon quickly made his way over to where the storage area would have normally been, and poured Brom a glass, just like he used to do while listening to him regale Eragon with a story of the old times.

"What is your name" he said softly when he was settled

Saphira

Brom looked slightly startled by that for a second, before he resumed his usual pose with a grimace of pain. "Where did you find her?" He asked Eragon

"Up in the Spine," he replied, "It appeared in a bright flash of light in the middle of a clearing"

"Interesting. I wonder where it came from. Anyway, we do not have much time. You must understand, that dragon there is likely one of only three in the entirety of Alagaesia; Shuriken, Morzan's dragon and Saphira. I am surprised that Galbatorix didn't contact Morzan himself to collect her, perhaps he was away on a mission. That being said, upon learning that his drago killers have failed, he will likely send as many people as he could over with a vengeance. That being said, if you will not leave me then we shall travel to Therinsford. There we will obtain horses and medical supplies to get away from here as fast as we can,"

"Are you able to move with your injuries?" Eragon inquired?

"Do not worry, I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve yet."

With that he stood up, and miraculously started walking. The break that had appeared so life threatening before was no longer showing. The bones that were protruding from his skin seemed to have moved back to their original places. Brom just gave him a wink and strode out from the wreckage, in the direction of the tannery. "Dragon scales can be abrasive, we need a temporary saddle to allow you to fly with Saphira."

Internally Eragon shuddered, the flight he had just gone on had been one of the most terrifying things he had ever done, not to mention painful, so it went without saying that he was not eager to go through that again.

I am sorry little one, I just wanted to protect you. Had you gone in there at that time, you would have been slaughtered almost immediately and I would be on my own. Trust me, our next flight together will be wondrous

Despite that, he couldn't help but feel angry at how Saphira had just picked him up without a second thought

"There are two types of saddle, a general use one, one that is made to fit any dragon, and a molded one, designed specifically for only one. We will make the general one as we do not have the time nor the materials for the other. It does have some benefits, however, the ones that we will be most thankful for are the lightness which allows a dragon to make fast paced maneuvers in the air, and the layer that it puts between your legs and the scales."

He fashioned it by placing one large slab of leather in the centre, then adding a loop on the front and one on the sides. The one on the front would slip around Saphira's neck spikes and the one on the sides would be passed under her chest, securing it in place. All of the straps were adjustable to allow for a large amount of growth.

"If you don't mind me asking, how do you know so much about dragons? The average storyteller would never be able to make a saddle for a dragon," Eragon asked, curiously.

"I am no average storyteller," was the short reply.

"That's it? No more details?" He questioned.

"There is a time and a place for curiosity, but it is neither here nor now."

Annoyed, Eragon stayed quiet while Brom showed him how to saddle and unsaddle a dragon.

"You should aim to have the saddle on only when necessary, these types can cause dragons to become restless. They are uncomfortable and can rub away at their scales, causing a dullnes and weakness in their armor," he explained.

At that Saphira huffed, and looked away, trying to swallow her pride for the sake of her rider.

At last they were finished, and ready to set off for Therninsford. It was decided that Saphira would fly above, and look out for anyone that may be chasing them while Brom would teach Eragon more about the riders. He told them about their old home, Vroengard. About the towering buildings large enough to fit full grown dragons, the peaks surrounding the island keeping it safe from any storms. About the ways of the wild ones and the culture and etiquette of approaching them. Of course, this discussion was peppered with questions, Eragon wanted to know as much as he could about his position, and there was always the lingering sense of confusion, who was Brom?

Eventually the group reached Therinsford, a town much like Carvahall except slightly bigger. Saphira was hunting in the woods nearby, as they had decided that it wasn't worth the risk of her being spotted. She and Eragon still had a tenuous connection, but it worried both of them how difficult it was to communicate. Eragon also thought it strange that no one was aware of the fall of Carvahall, as it was only a few hours' ride. The town was tucked into the Spine with mountains on three sides. It was much less of a farmers town, choosing instead to have more industries than Cavahall, such as the mill and stables. The latter was their destination, and on arrival they saw a man grooming a horse as white as snow.

"A fine beast you've got there," Brom called out as they neared.

"He is indeed, his name's Snowfire, mine's Haberth," was the response, "Can I help you?"

"We need two horses and a full set of tack for both. They must be fast and able to ride for a while, as we'll be doing a lot of traveling "

Haberth was thoughtful for a second, before he responded with "I may have a few, but they won't come cheap"

"Price is no object"

Upon hearing that, Haberth told them to wait at the door before he brought out a couple of candidates. One was a bay that looked slightly skittish, but also had strong legs and looked tough. The other was a roan that seemed to be quite the opposite. It was tame but looked like it was more a racing horse that one bred for traveling.

"The bay looks good but the roan I'm not sure of," Brom said while studying them intently, "How much for Snowfire?"

"Two hundred crowns," Haberth said confidently, he seemed sure that no one would pay so much.

Without a second thought, Brom opened his money pouch and after counting his coins, he handed it over to him. Haberth looked surprised, but just accepted the money wordlessly and gestured to the horse. "He's yours."

"Do not worry, we will treat him like a king," Brom said, happy with the transaction.

"Your words gladden me."

Within minutes they were off, having equipped the horses with tack and stowed their items in the saddlebags. They were able to ride for another few hours before darkness fell, and by that point Eragon was almost sure that the wounds he had sustained by riding Saphira had reopened.

They were nearing mount Utguard, the farthest mountain from the spine marking the end of Palancar valley, when Eragon felt a tinge of panic coming from Saphira. It took a few seconds of coaxing to make her relaxed enough to send a coherent message, but when she did Eragon felt his heart start to beat faster. Empire soldiers, about two hundred of them and they're closing in rapidly.

That's it for the first chapter - hope you enjoyed and I would appreciate some reviews!

Next chapter up: Saturday 2nd December 2023