INHERITANCE: Memorandum Of Scales

A HARSH LESSON

"Who was the Rider of Dawn, the one who drove the Dwarven Lords back to their mountain holdings?"

Eragon furrowed his brow as he strained to keep the rock floating above his palm.

Brom looked at him intently, waiting for his answer.

"Varlyn Darke, he belonged to the dragon Ormonder, and was heir to House Darke of the eastern lands . . . until an egg hatched for him, forcing him to join the order and revoke his birthright. His cousin Tenary Larken inherited the lands. Varlyn ended up being the one to put down the rebellion that occurred seven hundred years later, Tenary's descendant Varyn Fort."

Eragon felt sweat drip trickle from his brow and onto his nose and cheeks. The rock wavered, but remained afloat. Brom nodded in approval, leaning on his sword as he sat.

"Good. Good. Now, who was the first Rider?" Brom leaned forward with a smile. Eragon scoffed, but as he did so the rock nearly fell into the palm of his hand. He grunted and focused on it again. Slowly, it began to rise once more.

"That one is easy. Rayun'haurtubbi of the brown wood; hero of the age of mourning and founder of the Riders . . . he lived for thousands of years, until he ended his own life." Eragon felt sad then, death reminding him of Garrow and Roran. He had accepted their passings, but often he found himself crying in the night, remembering their faces and love. He lost his concentration then, and the rock landed heavily on his palm.

Brom sighed and rose to his feet, using his sword as leverage. "That was the longest you've lasted, Eragon. As your Rider powers mature, you'll find you will have more magical stamina, and other facets of your body will improve as well. I see Saphira is growing strong, as well."

Brom smiled at the blue dragon, who splashed in the shallow river that lay beside them. Eragon had decided to name her Saphira after Brom had begun educating him about the Riders. It was an old name, dating back years upon years of generations. Eragon loved it when Brom told him his heritage. He could see it- the Riders in all of their glory, with shining blades and roaring dragons. He had spoken of that to Brom, and the man suddenly had taken a very sad face.

"That is why they fell, the very statement you just said. The Riders . . . they became obsessed with war and glory, until they oppressed the very people they swore to protect." The night Brom had said that to him, the fire between them seemed to glow, and Eragon, for the first time, saw violence in the man's eyes.

But Eragon was in the present now, wishing he had warmer clothes. They had come across various small towns on their journey, staying away from holdfasts and larger villages. They begged for food and begged for clothing. Often they were rebuked, but some kind souls had given them slightly molded fur cloaks, and others small bags of dried meat and bread.

Still, it seemed to be getting colder every day, and night fell upon them quickly and brutally, devouring the light and leaving them party to whatever dark beings watched from the cloak of  sunset.
They had been safe for the most part.

During their journey they came across little to no people, and when they did, Brom often sensed them first, giving Eragon ample time to hide Saphira. His eyes drifted to his dragon.

She had gotten larger. She was the size of a medium sized dog, now, and had proved to be a better hunter than Brom and Eragon combined. She was the one who gathered food for them, finding fat rabbits who hid in their dens, and gathering piles of squirrels that melted in your mouth when roasted by Brom. They traveled by the side of the Ninor river, which thickened and swallowed and deepened at random intervals. Despite the cold, Brom and Eragon would often bathe in the river, attempting to stave off the collecting dirt and grime that ruined their appearances. Eragon knew he looked a mess- His hair had gotten unruly and long, reaching his cheeks. He felt wisps of hair growing under his nose and around his jaw, and often had laughed when he compared his facial hair to Brom's. The man's beard had grown exceptionally, and it seemed to get longer as the man's body revived before Eragon's eyes. He was a totally different man than the one his brother had found in the valley; that much was sure.