Luminescent (Inheritance Cycle and Beyond)

Chapter Three: Luminescent

I glared at the two merchants. Pompous citizens of Urû'Baen, of course, they would be groveling at Galbatorix's feet. The people around me were just as irritated by the merchant's statement as I was.

"Yeah?" I heard a woman call. "If you're willing to call the Varden small."

"We already explained that the Varden have no interest in helping you. That's only a falsehood perpetuated by the traitors in an attempt to disrupt the Empire and convince us that the real threat is inside— not outside— our borders. All they want to do is overthrow the king and take possession of our land. They have spies everywhere as they prepare to invade. You never know who might be working for them."

"How do you know this," Eragon said, stepping forward. "I can say that clouds are green, but that doesn't mean it's true. Prove you aren't lying."

"Aren't your children taught respect? Or do you let boys challenge men whenever they want to?" I felt Eragon stiffen next to me. I placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from doing anything rash.

"That is true," I said, earning the crowd's attention. "But Eragon is no boy, and I do believe that the citizens of Carvahall need some proof to believe your stories."

"Now who do you think you--" The large merchant started to say with a red face before being cut off by Morn.

"I won't be having anybody disrespecting Miss Mal in my establishment. Her words are right and true. Don't be starting a fight in my tavern." The two merchants fell silent after Morn's words and Eragon and I headed back to the bar.

"Incredible, isn't it? They're worse than vultures circling a dying animal. There's going to be trouble if those two stay." I glanced back at the two glowering merchants.

"For us, or them Morn?"

"Them." Morn spat out. Eragon and I said our goodbyes before leaving the smoky tavern and hunting down Roran. Not surprising, we found him in an alley with Katrina. Katrina kissed Roran goodbye before darting off into the shadows.

"Have a good time?" Roman grunted at Eragon as we headed for Horst's house. "Have you heard the news?"

"Yes, what do you think of Sloan?"

"I thought it was obvious." I rolled my eyes at Eragon's statement.

"There'll be blood between us when he finds out about Katrina and me." We lapsed into silence as we approached Horst's house. Dinner was loud and boisterous as usual, and the men consumed several ales. When dinner finished, we headed back out to the merchant's field and gathered around a massive bonfire. This was Eragon and I's favorite part.

There were several plays and jokes before the light's extinguished in anticipation for the storyteller. The storyteller went by the name of Brom; he was an older man with a scraggly beard and scrunched figure. Brom told a story about the Dragon Riders of old, back before Galbatorix came to power. The story made an intense feeling of sadness wash over me at the thought of slaughtered Riders and their Dragon's.

We left Carvahall behind us and rode the wagon back to the farm in a somber mood, Brom's stories were very intriguing but at the same time saddening. All those Riders and Dragons lost their lives because of one greedy Rider. When we got back to the farm, I helped Roran unharness the horses before retreating to Eragon and I's room.

When I got to my shared room, I saw Eragon already inspecting his stone with three tools spread out on the bed. I took out my stone and sat on my bed, placing the stone in my lap. The stone twinkled in my lap from the candlelight, creating tiny specs of refracted light around the room. A sudden sharp ringing filled the room, making me look up at Eragon in confusion, he was holding a mallet, and from the dining noise, he must have hit the stone.

"Eragon, I don't think you will be getting through that stone, no matter how hard you try." Eragon spared me a glance before focusing back on the blue stone. He then picked up a heavy leather hammer. "Eragon...."

Eragon hit the stone, making a mournful peal reverberate around the room, he then took a chisel to the stone and started to hammer away, not leaving one mark or blemish. As the ringing sound died down, I heard a faint squeak. I put my stone down and stared at the blue stone. Did it just squeak or did I imagine things? I put the squeak in the back of my thoughts and curled around my stone before falling asleep.

My eyes shot awake when I heard a squeak. I sat up and looked around for the source. Eragon was up as well, and I could see his hand slip under his mattress and pull out a knife. We waited for a few more minutes before slowly returning to sleep. Another squeak pierced the air and sent Eragon leaping out of his bed.

"Are you hearing what I'm hearing Mal?" I nodded at him a looked around the room, trying to find the source. I pulled out a match and lit a candle, sending soft light around the room. I searched the room until my eyes landed on Eragon's blue stone that was shaking. I heard another squeak, but this time, it was from behind me. I spun around to see my white stone doing the same thing.

"We'll worry about this in the morning Mal, go back to sleep." I hesitated before returning to my bed and staring at my white stone. I finally managed to get back to sleep before being woken again by my white stone shaking violently on my bed. I looked at Eragon with the same look of worry and confusion.

Eragon's blue stone fell off the bookshelf it has been resting on and hit the floor with a loud thump. My head immediately went to the door. Hopefully, that noise didn't wake up Garrow or Roran. I turned back to my stone and saw it shaking just as violently. We watched in silence as more squeaking came from both stones until I heard a crack and a crack appeared on the stone and a shiny white head poked through.

"Eragon, these aren't stones, they're eggs." I gasped out, finally realizing what was happening. I knelt in front of my bed and watched as more cracks appeared along the surface, soon enough there was a tiny white head poking out of a hole in the egg. The creature let out another squeak before wiggling its body out of the egg and into the moonlight.

I heard a gasp from Eragon and turned to see a tiny blue creature stumbling around the floor. Eragon looked up at me in disbelief.

"Mal, these are dragons."

Eragon and I watched as our dragons stumbled around on their shaky legs, my dragon had the exact coloring of the egg but was far more beautiful. I let out a giggle making the dragon snap its head at me. Vibrant blue eyes met mine as the dragon began to stumble towards me, letting out little squeaks.

As the dragon drew closer, I held out my right hand towards its head. Just as my hand touched its head, I felt a blast of energy go through me that left me on the floor of the room, withering in pain. I heard Eragon hit the floor next to me and assumed the same thing happened to him. After twitching for a few minutes, the pain finally receded, and I could move again.

There was a flutter of wings, my dragon coast down from my bed and land in front of me chirping. I tensed up when it nudged my hand with its head but found instead of pain there were tingles. I pulled myself off the floor and picked up the shining dragon before sitting on my bed and letting it sniff my dress. I rubbed my hand on its head before noticing a mark on my palm — the sign of a Rider.

"Mal, did you feel what I felt when I touched it?" Eragon said, stumbling to his bed.

"If you're talking about the burning sensation, then yes. Eragon, these are dragons, we don't know anything about caring for them, what are we going to do?" The two dragons started to let out little wails.

"We can think about it later, right now we need to get them food before they wake up Garrow and Roran," Eragon said before leaving the room. He came back shortly with strips of meat, he handed me some, and we started to feed our little dragons. When the dragons finished, they both crawled into our arms and drifted to sleep.

I headed to my bed and laid down being careful not to squish my dragon, its squeaked at me before curling into my side and falling asleep, I let my mind wander until sleep eventually overtook me.

Morning came, and Eragon and I slipped out of the house with the two dragons and several rags and leathers. We scurried across the fields until we came upon a tree for the two dragons. We made the dragons a small hutch to get out of the harsh wind. We left the two a stash of food before hurrying back to the farm.

We got rid of the eggshells before getting to work, trying to make the day pass by faster. Eragon and I discussed how we were going to hide our marks, Eragon and I decided to keep our hands dirty. When the work on the farm was completed, Eragon and I managed to snag a few sausages from the cellar before we headed out to the tree.

To our joy, both dragons were still in the tree. We checked the food supply and found that it was gone but noticed that there were feathers in the bottom of the hutch.

"They can get their own food, that's good," I said while petting my dragon, I look over to see Eragon lifting his dragon in the air, much to its displeasure. "What are you doing?"

"We don't know if they are a girl or a boy Mal, don't you want to know?"

"Yes I do, but your dragon doesn't seem to like the inspection Eragon." We walked around the forest with our dragons on our shoulder until it was time for us to return to the house. When the dragons were big enough to roam on their own, it took Eragon and I a great deal of time to enforce that the dragons couldn't follow us home.

"Mal, I think we need to find more about dragons and find names for the two, we can't keep calling them it. We need to go to Brom. I think Roran is heading to Carvahall to get a chisel repaired. We should go with him and talk to Brom."

"And what do you suggest we say Eragon, we can't exactly go up to him and say 'Hello Brom, we currently have two dragons, we were wondering if you could give us information on them and supply us with a few names'."

"Just let me do the talking as usual Mal," Eragon said with a small glare. When the day finally came, Roran, Eragon and I headed out on the wagon to Carvahall. We traveled in silence before splitting ways, Roran to the blacksmiths and Eragon and I to Brom's house. We reached the front door and Eragon raised his hand to knock but ended up hesitating.

"What do you want, boy?" Eragon spun around to face Brom who was standing slightly behind me.

"To get information. Roman is getting a chisel fixed, and Mal and I had some free time, so we came to see if you could answer a few questions." Brom grunted at Eragon and opened his door while beckoning us inside.

"You might as well come inside. We'll be talking for a while. Your questions don't seem to end."

"You have no idea," I muttered while following Eragon into the old storyteller's cottage. The door shut which descended the cabin into thick smoky darkness until a candle lit up. I saw Eragon walk over to a dusty pile of scrolls while Brom lit the fireplace

"Now, what do you want," Brom said, sitting down in a high back chair.

"Well, we keep hearing about the Dragon Riders and their supposed accomplishments. Most everyone seems to want them to return, but I've never heard tell of how they started, where the dragons came from, or what made the Riders special— aside from the dragons."

"A vast subject to tell you about," Brom grumbled. "If I told you their whole story, we would still be sitting here when winter comes again. I will have to shorten it to a manageable length."

Brom lit his pipe before continuing.

"Now, about the Riders, or the Shur'tugal, as the elves call them. Where to start? They span countless years and, at the height of their power, held sway over twice the Empire's land. Numerous stories have been told of them, and most are complete nonsense. If you believe everything said, you would expect them to have the powers of lesser gods. Scholars have devoted entire lives separating this fiction from fact, but it's doubtful any of them will succeed. However, it isn't an impossible task if we confine ourselves to three areas specified: how the Riders began, why they were so highly regarded, and where dragons came from.

Dragons have no beginning unless it lies with the creation of Alagaësia itself. And if they have and end, it will be when this world perishes, for they suffer as the land does. They, the dwarves, and a few others are the true inhabitants of this land. They lived here before all others, strong and proud in their elemental glory. Their world was unchanging until the first elves sailed over the sea on their silver ships."

"Where did the elves come from?" Eragon interrupted. "And why are they called the fair folk? Do they exist?"

"I cannot believe you just asked such a question." I hissed at Eragon.

"Do you want your original questions answered or not? They won't be if you want to explore an ever obscure piece of detail."

"Sorry," Eragon said with a sheepish look.

"No, you're not," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"If you must know, elves are not legends, and they are called the fair folk because they are more graceful than any other races. They come from what they call Alalea, though none but they know what, or even where, it is." Brom paused to take a puff from his pipe, and I felt Eragon's eyes on me for a few seconds.

"Now, the elves were a proud race then and strong in magic. At first, they regarded the dragons as mere animals. From that belief rose a deadly mistake, a brash eleven youth hunted down a dragon as he would a stag, and killed it. Outraged, the dragons ambushed and slaughtered the elf. Unfortunately, the bloodletting did not stop there. The dragons massed together and attacked the entire elven nation. Dismayed by the terrible misunderstanding, the elves tried to end the hostilities, but couldn't find a way to communicate with the dragons.

Thus, to significantly abbreviate a complicated series of occurrences, there was a long and bloody war which both sides regretted. At first, the elves fought only to defend themselves, for they were reluctant to escalate the fighting, but the dragons' ferocity eventually forced them to attack for their survival. This lasted for five years and would have lasted much longer if an elf named Eragon hadn't found a dragon egg. Ah, I see you didn't know of your namesake."

The kettle let out a high pitched whistle, and Brom set down his pipe and poured three cups of tea. He handed Eragon and me our cups of tea before tending his own. I stared down into my teacup as the tea leaves floated around in the scalding water.

"No one knows why that egg was abandoned. Some say the parents were killed in an elven attack. Others believe the dragons purposely left it there. Either way, Eragon saw the value of raising a friendly dragon, he cared for it in secret and in the custom of the ancient language, named him Bid'Daum. When Bid'Daum had grown to a good size, they traveled together among the dragons and convinced them to live in peace with the elves. Treaties were formed between the two races, to ensure that war would never break out again, they decided that it was necessary to establish the Riders.

At first, the Riders were intended merely as a means of communication between the elves and dragons. However, as time passed their worth was recognized, and they were given ever more authority. Eventually, they took the island Vroengard for their home and built a city on it— Doru Areaba. Before Galbatorix overthrew them, the Riders held more power than all the kings in Alagaësia. Now, I believe I have answered two of your questions."