CHAPTER SIX

Discovery

The sun climbed slowly over the jagged peaks of the Spine as I sprinted into Carvahall, its first rays casting a warm glow on the village rooftops. My breath came in short, sharp bursts, my legs burning with exhaustion, but I pushed on. Garrow's weight on my back was a constant reminder of what was at stake.

Elain and Horst stood outside their home as I approached, their quiet conversation interrupted by my frantic arrival. Elain, holding a broom, gasped audibly when she saw me, her eyes wide with shock. Horst's brow furrowed deeply, his voice a mixture of alarm and confusion.

"Mark, what happened to Garrow?" His gaze darted to the bloodied sword at my side. "Is he— Is he dead? And why do you have a sword? And why is it… dirty?"

I stopped abruptly, the sword suddenly feeling heavier in its scabbard. "Oh crap," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "I forgot to clean it."

Horst's expression hardened, but his concern over Garrow overshadowed his confusion about the weapon. I shifted Garrow's limp body and said quickly, "We need to get him inside. Help me, please."

Without further words, Horst moved to assist, his strong arms taking Garrow from me. Together, we carried him into the house and laid him on the bed. Baldor, Horst's eldest son, appeared at the doorway, wide-eyed.

"Baldor," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "go find Gertrude. Tell her it's an emergency. And Brom. We need him too."

Baldor hesitated, glancing at his father, who gave him a nod. He darted off, disappearing into the growing morning light.

Inside, Elain hovered over Garrow, her hand pressed to her mouth. "What happened?" she whispered. Her voice trembled, her eyes darting from Garrow's pale face to me.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. "we were attacked. I— I did what I could to heal him, but it's not enough. This was my first time using magic like this."

The word seemed to echo in the small room. "Magic?" Horst's voice was low, disbelieving. Elain took a step back, her expression a mixture of awe and fear. "You can… use magic?"

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of their gazes. I raised my hand, palm up, and whispered a phrase in the ancient language. A soft, glowing were light materialized above my hand, illuminating the room in a soft, ethereal glow.

Elain let out a small scream, stumbling backward, while Horst's eyes widened as he instinctively stepped in front of his wife. Their reactions hit me harder than I expected, a pang of pain shooting through my chest. I clenched my jaw, extinguishing the light with a flick of my wrist.

"I've been hiding this since I arrived," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want you to think differently of me. I didn't want to put you in danger."

For a long moment, there was silence. Then Elain's expression softened, her hand lowering from her mouth. "We could never hate you," she said softly, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm sorry for reacting that way. It was just… unexpected."

Horst nodded, his broad shoulders relaxing. "You saved Garrow. That's what matters. But… you owe us an explanation."

"I will tell you everything," I said firmly, meeting their eyes. "But first, you must swear an oath in the ancient language not to tell another living soul. It's the only way to keep everyone safe."

They exchanged a confused glance. Horst frowned. "The ancient language? What is that?"

I took a seat, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm me. "It's the language of magic. Words in this tongue are binding. If you swear an oath in it, you can't break it—not even by accident." I hesitated, then added, "I trust you, but this ensures the information doesn't slip out. Not even under torture."

Horst's face darkened at the mention of torture, but after a moment, he nodded. "If that's what it takes."

Elain hesitated, her lips pressed into a thin line, but she eventually agreed as well. After teaching them the necessary phrases, they repeated the oath, their voices steady despite the uncertainty in their eyes.

Once the oath was complete, I began. "I'm not from this world," I said, the words hanging heavily in the air. "I come from a place far from here, a place without magic or dragons. A place where people like me… are powerless."

Elain's eyes filled with tears again as I recounted my past—the abuse at the hands of my stepfather, the despair that had driven me to the brink, and the moment when everything changed. "I tried to escape," I said, my voice breaking slightly. "I thought I'd found a way out. Instead, I ended up here, A powerful being brought me here."

"A being of extraordinary power brought you here?" Horst asked, his voice low and incredulous.

I nodded. "They called me their champion. Gave me a second chance… and more power than I ever thought possible. I'm faster, stronger, and I'll keep growing.."

The room fell silent. Elain wiped her eyes, her tears falling freely now. "Oh, Mark…"

Horst's jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists. "Your stepfather," he growled. "He's a coward. A monster."

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze. "I didn't tell you this to make you pity me. I told you because I trust you. And because things are only going to get more dangerous from here."

At this, Horst frowned. "Dangerous how?"

"There's so much more to this world than you know," I said quietly. "Elves, dragons, magic… all the stories you think are myths. They're real. And they're coming for us."

Their faces shifted from shock to disbelief, and finally to grim acceptance. I could see the weight of my words settling on their shoulders.

"I'll explain everything," I said, leaning back in the chair. "But you need to know, this is only the beginning."

The tension in the room was thick as dawn's light spilled through the windows, marking the start of a new day—a day that would change everything.

The knock at the door announced Gertrude's arrival, and I quickly opened it, letting her step inside. The healer carried her well-worn satchel, her sharp eyes immediately sweeping over the room to assess the situation. Her gaze landed on Garrow, pale and unmoving on the bed.

"I don't see any visible injuries," she said, her voice clipped and professional. "What exactly happened?"

I hesitated. There wasn't time to explain everything just yet. "I'll explain it all soon," I assured her, my tone urgent. "Right now, I just need you to make sure Garrow stays stable."

Gertrude narrowed her eyes, clearly not satisfied with my evasive answer, but she nodded briskly. "Fine, but don't think I won't demand an explanation later."

Before she could move closer to Garrow, Baldor returned, leading Brom into the house. Brom entered slowly, leaning on his staff, the picture of an old, harmless storyteller. His eyes, however, betrayed the façade, sharp and calculating as they took in the scene.

"Thank you, Baldor," I said, nodding to him. "Could you do one more thing for me? Keep an eye on the road for Eragon. Let us know the moment you see him."

Baldor gave a quick nod and disappeared out the door without hesitation.

Brom's attention shifted to Garrow, his expression tightening with worry. "What happened here?" he asked, his voice quiet but firm.

"He's stable," I said, meeting Brom's eyes. "But… I don't think I healed him completely."

Gertrude, who had been arranging her tools, froze mid-motion. Her head snapped up, and she gave me a sharp look. "Healed him? What do you mean, healed him? What did you do?"

Brom's eyes narrowed slightly, a silent warning as if asking me, what are you doing, boy? I held his gaze steadily. "Horst and Elain know," I said softly. "They've sworn an oath of silence. It's fine."

Brom let out a slow breath, his eyes darting to the couple and then to Gertrude. After a moment, he nodded. "She needs to swear the same oath," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

Gertrude looked between us, her confusion and suspicion evident. "An oath? What kind of oath?"

Brom moved closer to her, his voice dropping to a quiet yet commanding tone. "In the ancient language. It will ensure you cannot share what you learn here with anyone, whether intentionally or not."

Gertrude's brow furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "This is highly irregular, Brom," she muttered, but after a moment's hesitation, she added, "Fine. What do I say?"

Brom spoke the words carefully, and after some initial reluctance, Gertrude repeated them, her voice steady. The moment the oath was complete, Brom straightened.

Elain, who had been watching the exchange with wide eyes, finally broke the silence. "Brom," she asked cautiously, "are you… a magician too?"

Brom hesitated for only a fraction of a second before nodding. "Yes," he said simply, though the truth was far more complicated.

I couldn't help but smirk slightly. Keeping his status as a Rider hidden. Smart move.

Elain's next question followed quickly. "And the Varden? You're part of them?"

"Yes," Brom admitted. "I've been working with them for years."

Elain and Horst bombarded him with questions, their curiosity spilling out in a rush. Brom answered some of them, carefully sidestepping others, keeping his responses measured.

When the questions finally subsided, Brom turned his attention back to Garrow. "I'll see what I can do," he said, stepping toward the bed. "But I don't have the power to do a clean, thorough job."

"Hold that thought," I said, already heading for the door. "I'll be right back."

I returned moments later, carrying the power vest I'd crafted. Brom looked at it with obvious confusion.

"What is this?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Feel it," I said, gesturing toward it. "Use your mind."

Brom did as I instructed, and a sharp, audible gasp escaped him. "This… this is incredible," he murmured. "So much energy, Mark. You should keep this for an emergency."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I already have one. This one is yours. It's designed to give you strength, speed, and magical power when you need it most—especially in combat."

Brom was visibly awestruck as he carefully donned the vest. The moment he accessed its stored energy, he inhaled sharply, his whole demeanor changing as newfound vitality surged through him.

"Thank you," he said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "This… this is remarkable."

With renewed focus, Brom turned his attention back to Garrow, working with an intensity that left the others in awe. Gertrude, standing near the bed, muttered under her breath, "Minutes ago, I was in my shop preparing herbs. Now my entire worldview is upside down."

Brom finished after some time, straightening and wiping his brow. "You did well," he said, glancing at me. "You healed the leg correctly, but you missed reattaching one of the tendons. I've fixed it."

I nodded, relief washing over me. "Thank you."

He gave me a sharp look. "Now we need to discuss our next steps. Tell me exactly what happened."

I recounted the battle in detail—how I'd been ambushed, how I'd fought and killed two Ra'zac and a Lethrblaka.

The reactions were immediate. Horst, Elain, and Gertrude looked stunned, their mouths agape. Horst stammered, "You… you killed those strangers?"

Brom, however, was focused on a different detail. "You killed a Lethrblaka," he said, his voice tinged with awe. "And two Ra'zac. Alone?"

"I didn't win on raw power alone," I admitted. "It was mostly cunning. I had to outthink them."

Before Brom could question me further, Baldor burst into the room, carrying a wounded Eragon in his arms. Blood smeared Eragon's tunic, and his face was pale as a sheet.

"Help him!" Baldor cried. "Please!"

The room erupted into action. Brom stepped forward, his calm authority taking over as he examined Eragon, while the rest of us tried to process what fresh chaos had just walked through the door.

Baldor rushed into the room, his face pale with worry and his arms trembling as he carried Eragon. Blood dripped onto the wooden floorboards from Eragon's shredded legs, the skin below his knees torn away, leaving raw, exposed flesh.

"Put him here!" I barked, gesturing to the bed beside Garrow. Baldor carefully lowered Eragon onto the mattress, his hands lingering for a moment as if reluctant to let go.

Eragon was unconscious, his face slack and ghostly pale, a stark contrast to the blood staining his clothes and legs. My chest tightened at the sight, and when my eyes met Brom's, there was a mutual understanding there—a grim, unspoken acknowledgment of what needed to be done.

Gertrude wasted no time. She fell to her knees beside Eragon, her hands flying to the satchel she carried. "These wounds—he's lost so much blood. We have to stop it!"

She began wrapping strips of cloth around his legs, but Brom stepped forward, his staff clutched tightly in one hand. "Move," he commanded, his voice sharper than I'd ever heard it.

Gertrude froze, staring up at him, her hands still gripping the makeshift bandages. "What? Brom, I'm trying to—"

"I said move," Brom repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. He knelt by Eragon, gently pushing Gertrude aside. "This is beyond herbs and bandages."

With a flick of his wrist, Brom's staff clattered to the floor, and he placed his hands just above Eragon's legs. He closed his eyes, his lips moving in a steady, almost hypnotic rhythm as he began an incantation in the ancient language.

The air in the room shifted, becoming charged with a subtle hum of power. A faint glow emanated from Brom's hands, and before our astonished eyes, Eragon's legs began to heal. Skin regrew over the raw flesh, the edges knitting together seamlessly. The once-bloody wounds now looked unbroken, as if they'd never been there.

Gertrude gasped audibly, her hand flying to her mouth. Horst and Elain stood in stunned silence, their eyes wide as they watched Brom work.

When Brom finished, the glow faded. He inspected Eragon carefully, his fingers probing the newly healed skin. After a moment, he nodded to himself. "He's stable now," Brom said, his voice a little weary. "He'll need rest, but he'll recover."

The room was quiet for a beat, save for the shallow breathing of Garrow and Eragon. Then Brom stood, brushing off his knees. "We need to let them rest. There's much we need to discuss."

We filed into the kitchen, leaving Gertrude, Horst, and Elain still marveling at what they'd witnessed. Once we were seated, Brom and I exchanged a glance. I nodded, signaling for him to start.

"The situation is dire," Brom began, his tone grave. "The Ra'zac must not reach the king with news of what has happened here. If they do, there will be hell to pay. The king will send his best men—and worse—to deal with us."

I leaned forward, my hands clasped tightly on the table. "We can't risk that. The villagers should consider moving—at least temporarily. If the king sends soldiers, they won't care who they hurt to get what they want."

Horst slammed a hand on the table, the sound echoing through the small room. "This is our home," he said fiercely. "Our families have lived here for generations. We're not going to abandon it just because of a threat to one of us."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "It's not just about me or Brom or Eragon. If the king sends men, they won't stop at us. They'll tear through this entire village if they think it'll lead them to what they're looking for."

Horst's eyes narrowed. "And what exactly are they looking for? Why are these Ra'zac after Eragon?"

I hesitated, my gaze shifting to Brom. He gave me a small nod, granting me permission.

"They're after the blue stone," I said, my voice steady. "Because it's not just a stone. It's a dragon egg."

The reaction was immediate. Gertrude let out a strangled gasp. Elain's eyes widened, and Horst sat back in his chair, his expression stunned. Questions erupted all at once.

"A dragon egg?!"

"Dragons still exist?"

"Eragon's a Rider?"

Brom raised a hand, silencing them. "Yes, dragons exist," he said, his voice calm but firm. "And yes, Eragon is a Rider. The stories I've told you over the years—the battles, the Riders—they weren't just tales. They were real. They are real."

Elain pressed a hand to her chest, her voice trembling. "Then… then where is his dragon? Why haven't we seen it?"

"Because it's in hiding," Brom said simply. "None of this is Eragon's fault. If anyone is to blame, it's me. The egg was meant to come to me, not him."

The room fell into a heavy silence as they absorbed Brom's words. After a moment, more questions came—tentative at first, then more insistent. Brom and I answered as best we could, explaining what we could without overwhelming them further.

When the questions finally subsided, we rose to leave. "Keep an eye on Garrow and Eragon," I instructed. "They'll need care while we're gone."

Gertrude nodded; her expression resolute. "You can count on us."

Brom and I exchanged a glance, and without another word, we stepped outside. The cool night air was a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere in the kitchen.

"Let's find Saphira," I said quietly.

Brom nodded, and together we headed into the dark, our minds already racing with the challenges yet to come.

The crisp air of the forest was filled with the earthy scent of damp soil as we made our way to the clearing where Saphira waited. Moonlight danced across her sapphire scales, giving her an ethereal glow that made her seem otherworldly. Her keen eyes fixed on us as we approached, and her voice filled my mind with both relief and curiosity.

"Garrow is safe?" she asked, her tone hopeful but tinged with worry.

I nodded. "Brom healed him. He's weak, but he'll live."

Saphira rumbled with satisfaction, a low vibration that felt like distant thunder. "And the rest of the Ra'zac?"

I hesitated, glancing at Brom, who stood beside me with his staff. "Two are dead," I said. "And so is one of their mounts, the Lethrblaka. But the others escaped."

Saphira's head lowered, her slitted eyes narrowing dangerously. "Then we must hunt them. They cannot be allowed to return to the king."

Brom raised a hand to calm her. "There's time," he said firmly. "The Ra'zac will only travel under the cover of darkness. And since one of their Lethrblaka is injured, they'll be moving on foot."

Saphira tilted her head, considering this. "Even so, we must pursue them quickly."

"We will," I assured her. "I know where they're heading, and I can pick up their trail. But for now, we need to rest and prepare. The fight isn't over."

As we discussed our next steps, Saphira mentioned she had already burned the corpses of the Ra'zac and the Lethrblaka to ash, leaving no trace behind. Her efficiency gave me a strange comfort; she understood the stakes as well as any of us.

The conversation turned to Eragon. My heart tightened as I thought about the young Rider. "I hope the dragons will reach out to him," I said quietly. "He'll need their guidance for what's to come."

Brom nodded but said nothing, his expression inscrutable. After finalizing our plans, we began the trek back to the village. The forest was eerily quiet, the only sounds our footsteps crunching against the underbrush.

As we walked, an idea struck me. "Brom," I said, breaking the silence. "Eragon's going to need a proper saddle for Saphira. One sturdy enough to withstand the strain of battle and long flights."

Brom grunted, his tone dismissive. "He'll make it himself. I'll guide him, but it's his responsibility as a Rider."

I frowned but let it slide for the moment. Instead, I turned to a more delicate topic. "You have to tell him, Brom. About who you are."

His steps faltered, and he turned to me, his face darkening. "That's not your decision to make," he said sharply.

"No," I agreed. "But the longer you wait, the harder it will be. He has a right to know. And if you wait too long, he'll be bitter when he finds out the truth."

Brom's jaw tightened, and for a long moment, he said nothing. Finally, he sighed, a sound heavy with resignation. "You're right," he admitted grudgingly. "But not yet. Not until he's ready."

I nodded, satisfied for now.

By the time we returned to the village, the news of the attack had spread. Villagers gathered in hushed groups, their expressions a mixture of fear and curiosity. Many came to the house to check on Garrow and Eragon, whispering amongst themselves about the strangers who had attacked the farm.

Thankfully, Saphira had left no trace of the Ra'zac or their mounts, though her claw marks at the site had sparked wild speculation. Only Horst, Elain, and Gertrude knew the truth, and they kept their silence.

In the evening, Katrina arrived to help. Her presence was a calming one, and she worked alongside Gertrude to clean and redress Garrow's and Eragon's wounds. Watching her, I felt a pang of gratitude. She cared deeply for the family, and her steady hands and quiet determination were exactly what we needed in such a chaotic time.

Meanwhile, I sat in the kitchen with Horst and Elain. The weight of our conversation pressed heavily on my chest, but it was necessary.

"I'll be leaving as soon as Eragon wakes up," I said, my voice firm. "But I don't feel comfortable leaving you all unprotected."

Horst frowned. "What do you mean?"

I pulled out my notebook and spread it across the table, revealing the designs I had drawn. "These," I said, pointing to the intricate sketches. "They're defenses. Barriers, traps—tools to keep you safe. Follow these instructions, and you'll have a fighting chance if the king sends men."

Horst studied the pages, his brow furrowed in concentration. Finally, he nodded. "I'll start on them right away. Thank you."

I turned to Elain, my gaze softening. "If it comes to it—if all is lost—don't hesitate to flee. Protect your family, no matter what. And please… take care of yourself."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she reached across the table to squeeze my hand. "We will," she promised.

That night, sleep took me quickly, but it wasn't restful. I found myself standing in a shadowed realm, the sky a swirling mass of twilight hues. Before me stood Angvard, his form both radiant and imposing.

I bowed deeply. "My lord."

His voice was melodic yet commanding, filling the space like a symphony. "I sense you have questions, my champion. Ask, and I may answer."

I straightened, meeting his gaze. "Why me? Why did you choose me to aid Eragon? He's destined to win against Galbatorix. Even if I did nothing, he would still prevail."

Angvard laughed, a sound both beautiful and unsettling. "Oh but that is where you are wrong, young one, the story has changed."

I frowned, confusion and unease tightening in my chest. "Changed? What do you mean?"

"A new player will soon emerge," Angvard said, his tone grave. "A threat greater than even Galbatorix."

My stomach dropped. "Stronger than Galbatorix? He's practically a god! How am I supposed to face that?"

Angvard's gaze softened, and his voice was almost gentle. "You have time. Focus on Galbatorix for now, and prepare for what comes after. I chose you as my champion because I felt your unique experiences in the human world would make you formidable. Combine your knowledge from your former life with the knowledge of this world, and you shall find true power. Build your strength, gather allies. This fight will be for the fate of all Alagaësia."

I hesitated, then asked, "May I tell my closest allies about you?"

He considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, but only if you trust them implicitly. Build your team of warriors and protectors, child. The fight for this world has only just begun."

When I awoke, Angvard's words echoed in my mind. The weight of his warning settled heavily on my shoulders, but I knew one thing for certain: I would not let this world burn.