INHERITANCE: Memorandum Of Scales

A HARSH LESSON

The Varden? Who are they? She asked Brom mentally. Eragon heard her question as if it was his own thought.

Brom's mouth twisted, and he spat yet again at the ground.

"They are a coalition of Lords who want to usurp the current King, Galbatorix, and place a descendent of House Langfeld back on the throne. The Langfelds had ruled for thousands of years before the war."

Eragon frowned.

"How do you know they will accept me? How are they any less dangerous than the Empire?"

"Because you're a rider. Right now, Galbatorix and his highest ranking generals, the remaining Forsworn, all have their own dragons. You also have a reason to fight against the Empire, due to the death of your family and the destruction of your town. They will accept you and your dragon." Eragon looked at Saphira, who raised her head to him in turn.

I do not believe we have a choice. Either we go with him to the Varden, or we die at the hands of the Empire Saphira reasoned.

Eragon nodded in agreement. She spoke truly. They had nowhere else to go, nowhere else to hide. There was no other alternative.

"I'll go. We'll go." He said quickly, strength blossoming in his voice. Brom nodded in approval.

"You have no other choice, do you?" He said with a sour grin. Eragon bowed his head, and Brom walked on ahead. Eragon faltered, the question he had been wanting to ask for days building up in his throat until it finally came bursting out-

"Were you a Rider?" He asked, blurting.

Eragon! Saphira scolded, but he continued on, stepping forward.

"It's true though, isn't it? That's how you know so much about dragons . . . the wars . . . and that sword, it's a riders blade, is it not?" Eragon said breathlessly. Brom remained silent, but had stopped moving. A breeze sauntered through, rustling vile-looking branches and swirling ancient leaves around their feet. Eragon's long hair waved into his eyes, and he looked at Brom through a light-brown veil.

"Aye. I was." Brom said finally, his voice heavy. Eragon did not know if it was sadness or anger, and he finally settled on the possibility that it may have been both.

"What happened to your dragon?"

"She died some time ago."

Brom breathed deeply, and began to speak.

"It all started with a girl. A Rider. Beautiful. Her name was Alyenne. She was from a noble house . . . the Tarsors or the Vines, I forget which one exactly. Sweet and gentle, she was every man's dream. She . . . she was sent by the Lord Rider, who controlled and led the Riders, to treat with the Dwarves. A new merchant family had inherited the kingship, and he thought it prudent to gloss over past transgressions. Dwarves are long-lived, and they never forget when they are slighted.

She went alone, astride her dragon, Faythym. When she reached the mountain passes, two massive hosts of Dwarven armies waited for her. Don't believe the stories you read as a child- Dwarves are not much shorter than regular men, and they're stronger, much stronger. Brutal creatures. They shot her down with silver-tipped arrows, a metal that is known to hurt dragons more than steel or iron or bronze. Her dragon hit the ground breathing its last breath, but she still lived. The leader of the attack, a Dwarf named Orgian Jaystark, killed her himself, cutting off her head and eating her dragon. After the attack, I believe he changed his name to Dragonfeller."

Brom's face softened as he continued.
"Galbatorix . . . he was young then, for a Rider, anyway. He loved her, and demanded justice. The Lord Rider sent word to the Dwarf King, who refused to release Orgian to us, due to the fact that the Dwarf King was related to Orgian, through his mother's line. The Lord Rider wanted to avert war . . . and they both settled on sending a Dwarven proxy to face justice. Galbatorix was incensed. He saw no point in ending a life that was not guilty of a crime. He took it upon himself to get revenge."

Eragon's eyes widened, enraptured by the history he now shared.
"Galbatorix flew with his closest companions, some of which would later lead his armies in conquest. They ravaged the mountain passes, burning and killing Dwarf villages that were above ground. Orgian, still drunk off of his murder, raised his host and met Galbatorix on the field of battle. He had Alyenne's hand dangling around his neck, and her skull decorated his spear. Galbatorix challenged him to single combat. Orgian agreed, as long as Galbatorix refrain from using magic. Galbatorix simply killed him with a powerful spell, saying that the Dwarf did not deserve the honor of his compliance. He then continued to shatter Orgian's host, killing hundreds of young dwarven nobles. He and his allies flew back home, only to be put under arrest by several Riders waiting for them. The young dwarf King demanded that Galbatorix be executed by threat of war, already calling his banners from underneath the mountain pass.

Galbatorix fled his former allies, finding solace in the keep of Lord Hosteaux, who was a descendant of Galbatorix's brother, long dead. The Langfeld King demanded that Hosteaux deliver Galbatorix, and Hosteaux refused, saying he would die before that happened. Bannermen loyal to the King rose to attack Hosteaux's keep, and Hosteaux, with Galbatorix, were able to throw them off. Riders who sympathized with Galbatorix joined him in his defense, and smaller lordlings loyal to House Hosteaux answered their Lord's call. Soon, the entire realm was engulfed in a bloody war. It raged for ten years, and during that time Galbatorix went from fighting a defensive war, to becoming a conqueror. Human Houses joined him, seeing his power. He waged war on the Dwarves, killing their king and forcing them to abandon the richest of their holdfasts, taking their gold for himself. He then turned to the Elves, who had been aiding the Langfelds. At the end of the war, Galbatorix found himself King, his enemies scattered, and his rule absolute. Here we are now, on the brink of yet another war."

Eragon was stunned. He had read about the war before, but most of the tales he gleaned were either myth, or flat out false. He had no idea that Alagaesia was filled with such bloodshed. He also found himself sympathetic to Galbatorix . . . he had never been in love, truly, but the lack of justice was there for anyone to see. Eragon was unsure if he would have fought against Galbatorix then.

"Who did you fight for?" Eragon asked. Brom glared at him.

"Galbatorix rewarded those loyal to him. Does it look like I fought for the man?" He asked, and Eragon shook his head.

"Enough questions then. Keep walking. I want to cover more ground before dusk."

And so Eragon walked.