Eragon

371 Pages·2005·1.66 MB·English

INHERITANCE
BOOKONE
Christopher Paolini
ALFREDA.KNOPF
NewYork

This book is dedicated to mymom, for showing me the magic inthe world;
to mydad, for revealing the manbehind the curtain.
And also to mysister, Angela, for helping whenI’m“blue.”
PROLOGUE:
SHADEOF FEAR
W
ind howled throughthe night, carrying a scent that would change the world. Atall
Shade lifted his head and sniffed the air. He looked humanexcept for his crimsonhair
and marooneyes.
He blinked insurprise. The message had beencorrect: theywere here. Or was it a trap?
He weighed theodds, thensaid icily, “Spread out;hide behind trees and bushes. Stop
whoever is coming . . . or die.”
Around himshuffled twelve Urgals withshort swords and round ironshields painted with
black symbols. Theyresembled menwithbowed legs and thick, brutisharms made for
crushing. Apair oftwisted horns grew above their smallears. The monsters hurried into
the brush, grunting as theyhid. Soonthe rustling quieted and the forest was silent again.
The Shade peered around a thick tree and looked up thetrail. It was too dark for any
humanto see, but for himthe faint moonlight was like sunshine streaming betweenthe
trees;everydetailwas clear and sharp to his searching gaze. He remained unnaturally
quiet, a long pale sword inhis hand. Awire-thinscratchcurved downthe blade. The
weaponwas thinenoughto slip betweena pair ofribs, yet stout enoughto hack through
the hardest armor.
The Urgals could not see as wellas the Shade;theygroped like blind beggars, fumbling
withtheir weapons. Anowlscreeched, cutting throughthe silence. No one relaxed until
the bird flew past. Thenthe monsters shivered inthe cold night;one snapped a twig with
his heavyboot. The Shade hissed inanger, and the Urgals shrank back, motionless. He
suppressed his distaste—theysmelled like fetid meat—and turned away. Theywere tools,
nothing more.
The Shade forced back his impatience as the minutes became hours. The scent must have
wafted far ahead ofits owners. He did not let the Urgals get up or warmthemselves. He
denied himselfthose luxuries, too, and stayed behind the tree, watching the trail. Another
gust ofwind rushed throughthe forest. The smellwas stronger this time. Excited, he
lifted a thinlip ina snarl.
“Get ready,” he whispered, his whole bodyvibrating. The tip ofhis sword moved in
smallcircles. It had takenmanyplots and muchpainto bring himselfto this moment. It
would not do to lose controlnow.
Eyes brightened under the Urgals’thick brows, and the creatures gripped their weapons
tighter. Ahead ofthem, the Shade heard a clink as something hard struck a loose stone.
Faint smudges emerged fromthe darkness and advanced downthe trail.
Three white horses withriders cantered toward the ambush, their heads held highand
proud, their coats rippling inthe moonlight like liquid silver.
Onthe first horse was anelfwithpointed ears and elegantlyslanted eyebrows. His build
was slimbut strong, like a rapier. Apowerfulbow was slung onhis back. Asword
pressed against his side opposite a quiver ofarrows fletched withswanfeathers.
The last rider had the same fair face and angled features as the other. He carried a long
spear inhis right hand and a white dagger at his belt. Ahelmofextraordinary
craftsmanship, wrought withamber and gold, rested onhis head.
Betweenthese two rode a raven-haired elvenlady, who surveyed her surroundings with
poise. Framed bylong black locks, her deep eyes shone witha driving force. Her clothes
were unadorned, yet her beautywas undiminished. At her side was a sword, and onher
back a long bow witha quiver. She carried inher lap a pouchthat she frequentlylooked
at, as ifto reassure herselfthat it was stillthere.
One ofthe elves spoke quietly, but the Shade could not hear what was said. The lady
answered withobvious authority, and her guards switched places. The one wearing the
helmtook the lead, shifting his spear to a readier grip. Theypassed the Shade’s hiding
place and the first few Urgals without suspicion.
The Shade was alreadysavoring his victorywhenthe wind changed directionand swept
toward the elves, heavywiththe Urgals’stench. The horses snorted withalarmand
tossed their heads. The riders stiffened, eyes flashing fromside to side, thenwheeled
their mounts around and galloped away.
The lady’s horse surged forward, leaving her guards far behind. Forsaking their hiding,
the Urgals stood and released a streamofblack arrows. The Shade jumped out from
behind the tree, raised his right hand, and shouted, “Garjzla!”
Ared bolt flashed fromhis palmtoward the elvenlady, illuminating the trees witha
bloodylight. It struck her steed, and the horse toppled witha high-pitched squeal,
plowing into the ground chest-first. She leapt offthe animalwithinhumanspeed, landed
lightly, thenglanced back for her guards.
The Urgals’deadlyarrows quicklybrought downthe two elves. Theyfellfromthe noble
horses, blood pooling inthe dirt. As the Urgals rushed to the slainelves, the Shade
screamed, “After her!She is the one I want!” The monsters grunted and rushed downthe
trail.
Acrytore fromthe elf’s lips as she saw her dead companions. She took a step toward
them, thencursed her enemies and bounded into the forest.
While the Urgals crashed throughthetrees, the Shade climbed a piece ofgranite that
jutted above them. Fromhis perchhe could see allofthe surrounding forest. He raised
his hand and uttered, “Böetq istalri!” and a quarter-mile sectionofthe forest exploded
into flames. Grimlyhe burnedone sectionafter another untilthere was a ring offire, a
half-league across, around the ambushsite. The flames looked like a moltencrown
resting onthe forest. Satisfied, he watched the ring carefully, incase it should falter.
The band offire thickened, contracting the area the Urgals had to search. Suddenly, the
Shade heard shouts and a coarse scream. Throughthe trees he saw three ofhis charges
fallina pile, mortallywounded. He caught a glimpse ofthe elfrunning fromthe
remaining Urgals.
Shefled toward the craggypiece ofgranite at a tremendous speed. The Shade examined
the ground twentyfeet below, thenjumped and landed nimblyinfront ofher. She
skidded around and sped back to the trail. Black Urgalblood dripped fromher sword,
staining the pouchinher hand.
The horned monsters came out ofthe forest and hemmed her in, blocking the onlyescape
routes. Her head whipped around as she tried to find a wayout. Seeing none, she drew
herselfup withregaldisdain. The Shade approached her witha raised hand, allowing
himselfto enjoyher helplessness.
“Get her.”
As the Urgals surged forward, the elfpulled openthe pouch, reached into it, and thenlet
it drop to the ground. Inher hands was a large sapphire stone that reflected the angrylight
ofthe fires. She raised it over her head, lips forming frantic words. Desperate, the Shade
barked, “Garjzla!”
Aballofred flame sprang fromhis hand and flew toward the elf, fast as anarrow. But he
was too late. Aflashofemerald light brieflyilluminated the forest, and the stone
vanished. Thenthe red fire smote her and she collapsed.
The Shade howled inrage and stalked forward, flinging his sword at a tree. It passed
halfwaythroughthe trunk, where it stuck, quivering. He shot nine bolts ofenergyfrom
his palm—whichkilled the Urgals instantly—thenripped his sword free and strode to the
elf.
Prophecies ofrevenge, spokenina wretched language onlyhe knew, rolled fromhis
tongue. He clenched his thinhands and glared at the sky. The cold starsstared back,
unwinking, otherworldlywatchers. Disgust curled his lip before he turned back to the
unconscious elf.
Her beauty, whichwould have entranced anymortalman, held no charmfor him. He
confirmed that the stone was gone, thenretrieved his horse fromits hiding place among
the trees. After tying the elfonto the saddle, he mounted the charger and made his way
out ofthe woods.
He quenched the fires inhis pathbut left the rest to burn.
DISCOVERY
E
ragonknelt ina bed oftrampled reed grass and scanned the tracks witha practiced
eye. The prints told himthat the deer had beeninthe meadow onlya half-hour before.
Soontheywould bed down. His target, a smalldoe witha pronounced limp inher left
forefoot, was stillwiththe herd. He was amazedshe had made it so far without a wolfor
bear catching her.
The skywas clear and dark, and a slight breeze stirred the air. Asilverycloud drifted
over the mountains that surrounded him, its edges glowing withruddylight cast fromthe
harvest mooncradled betweentwo peaks. Streams flowed downthe mountains from
stolid glaciers and glistening snowpacks. Abrooding mist crept along the valley’s floor,
almost thick enoughto obscure his feet.
Eragonwas fifteen, less thana year frommanhood. Dark eyebrows rested above his
intense browneyes. His clothes were wornfromwork. Ahunting knife witha bone
handle was sheathed at his belt, and a buckskintube protected his yew bow fromthe mist.
He carried a wood-frame pack.
The deer had led himdeep into the Spine, a range ofuntamed mountains that extended up
and downthe land ofAlagaësia. Strange tales and menoftencame fromthose mountains,
usuallyboding ill. Despite that, Eragondid not fear the Spine—he was the onlyhunter
near Carvahallwho dared trackgame deep into its craggyrecesses.
It was the third night ofthe hunt, and his food was halfgone. Ifhe did not fellthe doe, he
would be forced to returnhome empty-handed. His familyneeded the meat for the
rapidlyapproaching winter and could not afford to buyit inCarvahall.
Eragonstood withquiet assurance inthe duskymoonlight, thenstrode into the forest
toward a glenwhere he was sure the deer would rest. The trees blocked the skyfrom
view and cast featheryshadows onthe ground. He looked at the tracks onlyoccasionally;
he knew the way.
At the glen, he strung his bow witha sure touch, thendrew three arrows and nocked one,
holding the others inhis left hand. The moonlight revealed twentyor so motionless lumps
where the deer layinthe grass. The doe he wanted was at the edge ofthe herd, her left
foreleg stretched out awkwardly.
Eragonslowlycrept closer, keeping the bow ready. Allhis work ofthe past three days
had led to this moment. He took a last steadying breathand—anexplosionshattered the
night.
The herd bolted. Eragonlunged forward, racing throughthe grass as a fierywind surged
past his cheek. He slid to a stop and loosed anarrow at the bounding doe. It missed bya
finger’s breadthand hissed into darkness. He cursed and spunaround, instinctively
nocking another arrow.
Behind him, where the deer had been, smoldered a large circle ofgrass and trees. Many
ofthe pines stood bare oftheir needles. The grass outside the charring was flattened. A
wisp ofsmoke curled inthe air,carrying a burnt smell. Inthe center ofthe blast radius
laya polished blue stone. Mist snaked across the scorched area and swirled insubstantial
tendrils over the stone.
Eragonwatched for danger for severallong minutes, but the onlything that movedwas
the mist. Cautiously, he released the tensionfromhis bow and moved forward. Moonlight
cast himinpale shadow as he stopped before the stone. He nudged it withanarrow, then
jumped back. Nothing happened, so he warilypicked it up.
Nature had neverpolished a stone as smoothas this one. Its flawless surface was dark
blue, except for thinveins ofwhite that spiderwebbed across it. The stone was cooland
frictionless under his fingers, like hardened silk. Ovaland about a foot long, it weighed
severalpounds, thoughit felt lighter thanit should have.
Eragonfound the stone bothbeautifuland frightening.Where did it come from? Does it
have a purpose?Thena more disturbing thought came to him:Was it sent here by
accident, or am I meant to have it?Ifhe had learned anything fromthe old stories, it was
to treat magic, and those who used it, withgreat caution.
But what should I do with the stone?It would be tiresome to carry, and there was a chance
it was dangerous. It might be better to leave it behind. Aflicker ofindecisionranthrough
him, and he almost dropped it, but something stayed his hand.At the very least, it might
pay for some food, he decided witha shrug, tucking the stone into his pack.
The glenwas too exposed to make a safe camp, so he slipped back into the forest and
spread his bedrollbeneaththe upturned roots ofa fallentree. After a cold dinner ofbread
and cheese, he wrapped himselfinblankets and fellasleep, pondering what had occurred.
PALANCARVALLEY
T
he sunrose the next morning witha glorious conflagrationofpink and yellow. The air
was fresh, sweet, and verycold. Ice edged the streams, and smallpools were completely
frozenover. After a breakfast ofporridge, Eragonreturned to the glenand examined the
charred area. The morning light revealed no new details, so he started for home.
The roughgame trailwas faintlywornand, inplaces, nonexistent. Because it had been
forged byanimals, it oftenbacktracked and took long detours. Yet for allits flaws, it was
stillthe fastest wayout ofthe mountains.
The Spine was one ofthe onlyplaces that King Galbatorixcould not callhis own. Stories
were stilltold about how halfhis armydisappeared after marching into its ancient forest.
Acloud ofmisfortune and bad luck seemed to hang over it. Thoughthe trees grew tall
and the skyshone brightly, few people could stayinthe Spine for long without suffering
anaccident. Eragonwas one ofthose few—not throughanyparticular gift, it seemed to
him, but because ofpersistentvigilance and sharp reflexes. He had hiked inthe
mountains for years, yet he was stillwaryofthem. Everytime he thought theyhad
surrendered their secrets, something happened to upset his understanding ofthem—like
the stone’s appearance.
He kept up abrisk pace, and the leagues steadilydisappeared. Inlate evening he arrived
at the edge ofa precipitous ravine. The Anora River rushed byfar below, heading to
Palancar Valley. Gorged withhundreds oftinystreams, the river was a brute force,
battling against the rocks and boulders that barred its way. Alow rumble filled the air.
He camped ina thicket near the ravine and watched the moonrise before going to bed.
It grew colder over the next dayand a half. Eragontraveled quicklyand saw little ofthe
warywildlife. Abit past noon, he heard the Igualda Falls blanketing everything withthe
dullsound ofa thousand splashes. The trailled himonto a moist slate outcropping, which
the river sped past, flinging itselfinto emptyair and downmossycliffs.