INHERITANCE: Memorandum Of Scales

ENTER MORZAN

MORZAN poured over his various books and scrolls, a dim candlelight aiding him as he read.

His long hair nearly touched the ancient parchment while he craned his neck, his pupils focusing on the elven scribbles that hugged each crevice and ripped corner. He frowned, carefully shifting pages so he could read others, being sure to treat the old passages with great care, else they become even more ruined, and lost to him forever.

He was in his study and to his quiet joy Galbatorix had spoken true- It was mostly unchanged. Few had visited the room while he was away- Galbatorix had, however, posted guards at the small black door so that no one but himself or Morzan could enter. For that, he was grateful.

However, Galbatorix had neglected the library, and when Morzan saw it, the room was much the same...albeit with cobwebs tangling the rows of books, unmoved and snug in their bookcases. Moths had taken to the room as well, he could see their dried corpses in the long forgotten webs of spiders, but some fluttered about when he dragged the door open, light entering the room for the first time in almost two decades.

That was hours ago, and Morzan had not yet left. For the most part he was kept to the comfort of seclusion.
Galbatorix would sometimes intrude on him, but upon receiving a cold reception from Morzan, his visits were infrequent and far between.

The first Forsworn licked his finger as he dragged another page safely to the side, opening a dried leather bound book that was found underneath. All of these books, scrolls, and unorganized pages Morzan personally plundered from the Great Library of Rehoiael, a source of information that had supplied Dragon Riders for thousands of years- Until the rebellion. That was one hundred years ago...When Morzan was young in mind and body. Now, he was still young, but his mind aged- became wiser, more intelligent. As he peeled the book open, his thoughts wondered to the remaining Forsworn.

There were six of them, save for the traitor, Caomhim, who had not only violated his wife but conspired with her, and in the end, carried his two new born sons to the grave with him as he died. His dragon, a female called Saphira died as well, dooming the future of dragonkin. All surviving dragons now were male. There were three eggs that Galbatorix had salvaged from the Riders long ago. Of the three, it was possible that one egg could hold a female. But one was lost, much to Morzan's dismay. Galbatorix assured him the egg would be found. Somehow, he doubted Galbatorix's promise.

Morzan gently twisted the first page of the book over, looking at a picture of a faded dragon that was long and sinewy, with an Elf astride its body, flowing brown hair and skin the color of light bark. It was the likeness of Rayun'haurtubbi, the first rider. The wood elf founded the Riders and lived for aeons, dying shortly before Galbatorix's rebellion. Morzan remembered fighting Rayun'harutubbi's dragon, Yormag- a massive beast that had felled one of the Forsworn and maimed another before it finally was killed.

The book was written in a combination of languages: First it was in the tongue of the Xoshan Elves, then the Laen, followed by the various tongues of man, both old and new. As Morzan read his mind regarded the rest of the Forsworn, passing over Caomhim.

Kinure Furstrom was the youngest- being only one hundred and thirteen years old. He had fine yellow hair, which he grew out so that it reached the tip of his buttocks- Morzan remembered being disgusted by how long Kinure's hair was. The young Forsworn's face was well made- brown eyes saw the world from a visage perfect in every way- a small, rounded nose, lips that were not too thin or too full, strong eyes and brow, with a slim but athletic figure. He was human, highborn, from a house that was destroyed in the Rebellion. Kinure himself slew his father and three brothers in battle, and then devastated their lands with fire from his dragon, named Gintoss.

Morzan flipped through the pages of his former order's history, growing impatient as his mind drifted.

Alauinel was the only female within the ranks of the Forsworn. Morzan remembered her as being beautiful in sight and in mind, with a robust figure uncommon for an elf, aided by curled yellow locks, pouted lips, and piercing purple eyes. Her ears curved upward and slightly higher than the other variations of elves, that and her fair skin marking her as a Laen Elf. She, like all of her people, was prone to pride, and pride is what drove her to betray the Riders, destroying anything and anyone allied with them. Her dragon Osorion was equally vicious, small in size, at least the last time Morzan had seen him. Osorion, however, made up for his small stature with speed and strong muscle- Morzan had seen for himself the dragon kill others of his kind that were much larger.

Morzan skimmed through hundreds of pages in the old books, chronicling old battles ages past, highlighting various heroes of the order. It also had the dates of the induction of the new races, a line which ended with Humans. Dwarves had been forbidden to become Riders, due to their unstable connection to the world around them, which led to the race becoming unwary of Riders, and eventually waging war. The war with the Dragon Riders is what forced the Dwarves to go underground, and to hide in mountains. They fear the sky, as they rightly should.

Farland Kingsbrood was next. Older than even Galbatorix, and oldest of the Forsworn.

At four hundred and sixty six years old, he had the face of a man in his early forties, beautifully aged. He kept his hair short, at least, that is how Morzan remembered him. Well built and tall, he wielded not a riders blade but a rider's great-sword, a sword that Morzan saw cut through a dragon's neck, sending the dragon's large head, sputtering blood and fire, down to the ground below. Farland's mount's name was Barrion, a name shared by Farland's ancestor, who was claimed to be of the First Walkers, the pioneer humans. It was common for a Dragon to pick a name from the culture of their Rider.

The last two were Hossa Biniessien, a former southlord with ebony skin and straight black hair. Well versed in magic, he was a formidable man, and delved into the secrets of the craft, as his people were known. His dragon was named Aariuthma, and was a behemoth, dwarfing most dragons he flew with. Blood thirsty and violent, Aariuthma reveled in death and destruction. Morzan feared Hossa for his magic, and Aariuthma for his strength and bestial nature.

Avela Massieo was the last rider, hailing from the western human lands. Swarthy and curly haired, he was the envy of the male riders every time he was seen, for his skill and beauty. His dragon was called Absolearet, equally as beautiful as Avela, and as chivalrous. When they did battle, they remembered the Rider Code, a code that the others, Morzan included, had forgotten.

He would see them soon, his fellow Forsworn, the last remnants of the forgotten Riders. Morzan had finished looking through the history of the Order, and turned the book over, disappointed. He had hoped to find meaning in his dreams from the knowledge of old- but he hadn't. His dream was the future, this he knew, and as such it  could not  be bound to ancient Prophecy, no last words scrawled thousands of years ago by a powerful rider. What he faced- What his kingdom faced, was something new. Something dangerous.

For the first time in seventeen years, Morzan felt the ropes of fear tighten around his neck.