PROLOGUE: Letting Sleeping Dragons Lie

The little boy in white jumped over the top of the mountain of gold pieces and jewels, skiing down without making a noise, with the light feet levitating a few inches from the treasure. The sleeping dragon snarled, his massive red scaled coils slithering over the marbled floor of the dark volcanic lair.

Lomy had spent at least on hour now messing with the countless piles of treasures, magic artifacts, trophies and furniture carefully ordered by the kobolds servants, but the reptile had yet to give any sign of awakening.

Huff… I’m just too good. And now I’m bored…

Lomy floated over the dragon’s head, jumping and dancing silently from horns to crests, holding its gloved tapered fingers over its mouth in anticipation from time to time. At the second growl the dragon slowly shook his head and the boy puffed away keeping itself from laughing still.

Wait for it… Wait for it!.. Oh, come on!

With a tired hmpf, the dragon lowered the snout, starting to snore again. Lomy reappeared and shouted, quivering.

“That’s it! Now I’m also annoyed! Hey, helloo? Big bad evil scary red dragon? Is there an intruder screaming in your lair?”

Vanishing and reappearing beyond his tail, Lomy patiently waited a little more, before tapping its feet on the ground, coughing and mocking in a whining whimper.

“Oh Maaaster? Dinner is ready! Freshly baked valiant knight on a stick with.. oh, please!

Another teleport later.

“What a cruel Fate have the gods doomed me to, a fair, young virgin sexy princess, lost, far away from my realm and now ending up in the lair of this terrible… Come on, I thought you were into this! Weren’t you dreaming something like it when I was probing you an hour ago?!”

The boy flew again near the dragon’s snout, charging a kick to his closed eye, but managing only to sore its foot. Rolling over in the air with the accused limb between its hands, it crashed into one of the treasure chests of holding. While shaking its head, seized by the tingling fountain of gold and enchanted items, its eyes fell over a falling jeweled scepter imbued by a glowing pulsing blue magical light.

Oooh, sparkly! Nothing like all those others crummy dark artifacts of doom I screwed over on the pillars!..

Lomy grabbed the staff with a lunge mid-flight, grinning, and took off again.

Bah, forget ol’Breart, I’ll play with this! Let’s see what happens zapping a couple of kobolds with it…

The boy was still flying toward the marbled door of the main trophies’ chamber when a deep rasp thundering voice resonated all over the cave.

“Is there a theft I smell?”

Lomy rolled over itself, hiding the scepter behind its back and smiling.

“Oh? Not at all!”

It puffed again, but rather than reappearing in the High Sycophant quarters, it felt itself squashed on the floor with the Great Wyrm staring with a weary look at it, nostril slowly smoking and eyes half-closed. Lomy clenched its lips badly covering the grin and shook the free hand to say hello, winking with false shyness its golden eyes.

“O-hi, ol’Breart, how do you do? Going for a run?”

Squirting as fast as it could, Lomy dodged the first crackling black lightning, but let out a squeal when the second one hit it just when it reappeared on the other side of the cave, sending shivering of corruption through its spine.

“Whoa, how did you do that? Do you have clairvoyance or something?”

“You’d better come back here before I’m completely awake, you poor excuse of a butterfly.”

“That’s not fair! I don’t even got wings!”

Running and chuckling in the air, the boy came to a rush stop when the door was suddenly wrapped in a clenching swirling wall of metal spikes. Lomy opened its mouth, excited by the display, and clapped its hands.

“Oh, I see! You’re a dragon and a wizard! How awesome is that?”

Breart was still half-coiled on himself, following the boy with his gaze, yawning and speaking in a tired tone.

“You have to hope this is over before I decide to actually remember my spells. And how would you even came to be in this Demiplane?”

Lomy disappeared and shifted behind an onyx statue of the dragon, carved in a triumphant pose over a multitude of animated tentacles.

“We’re in a Demiplane? You know, I actually started to wonder.. there was an obscenely high amount of portals in the other rooms…”

“We’re hovering in the Far Realm, how did you even find your way to my dreams across the infinite layers of madness all around?”

“Well you do have a really big ego…”

Lomy chuckled again, evading a third lightning and rolling away in the air. The dragon emitted an irritated growl, snorting a cloud of black smoke.

“We both know how this is going to end, you’d do best to spare me the-”

“No no no no no! You don’t, but I do: look!”

After puffing away another time, the boy reappeared on the top of a giant sacrificial jeweled cup and, after balancing itself, it tapped the border of an enchanted sword left there in precarious balance with the stolen staff. As the weapon started to fall, the dragon’s eyes opened wide.

“What’s that doing over th-”

The sword fell blazing with dark flames on the ethereal orb hovering on a misplaced pedestal; the following explosion triggered the defense mechanism of a minor artifact removed from its place in one of the high pillars, which in turn primed the teleportation of two chests of holding. As the disaster escalated over Lomy’s giggles, the red dragon pronounced another spell as fast as he could, trying to counteract the rampaging magical catastrophe.

“You see? You see? You didn’t really thought it was to end this way, did you?”

Now we’re talking! This is fun! But now I really wander what this does. Couldn’t the lizard sleep for another hour or so?

A sudden silence accompanied the imposition of the anti-magic field conjured by the dragon, swiftly followed by the boy’s thud as it sorely hit the ground.

“Hey, no spoiling the fun!”

As Lomy rolled through a pile of treasure, stumbling and unsuccessfully trying to dislocate itself, the dragon rose completely his long spiked neck, giving an exasperated glance at the whole chamber.

“Alright, I’m starting to actually get upset here. Deliver the rod and yourself up now, little freak, and I shall maul you so much your native Plane will feel sore.”

Abandoning the idea of flying for the moment, the boy kept on running around, maintaining itself hidden from pile of treasure to pedestal to trophy and starting to examine again the scepter.

“Shouldn’t be ‘or’?”

Maybe this could overcome the…

“Let me think about it…”

The dragon removed the interdiction as he declaimed another spell; Lomy felt choking for a second and right after, when it blinked and took breath again, it found itself suddenly in the clutches of Breart.

“…after long consideration.. no, it would not.”

As the dragon inhaled deeply and the staff’s glow increased, Lomy shut its eyes and instinctively slipped inside the artifact on verge of activation.

“What are you trying to do, you worthless scrap of…”

Enveloped in a shroud of light, the possessed rod disappeared again, this time far beyond the dragon’s senses. Tapping nervously his left claws on the ground, the Great Wyrm focused on his innate divination senses and casted another spell, but no mental image was projected nor the new location discerned.

“Hmpf. Well, that ain’t good.”

Clenching his teeth and slowly growling, Brearcharos attempted to remain calm, despite the rising tic on the right eye and growing awareness of the damage caused by the little intruder both before and after his wake, all over the lair.

“Now.. let us not be hasty… We didn’t really lose anything valuable, only some minor artifact and loot. Now now, I’m supposed to be on vacation, my time off is certainly more important than petty blood-tripping soul-flaying world-shattering revenge, now, isn’t it?”

The dragon stayed still, pondering for a moment.

“Fine. I’m going to track down the little fairy twerp thief and slam its dimension-shifting entrails one by one all over the Great Wheel. But it will be mostly to recover the rod.”

CHAPTER 1: Thrusting in the Aftermath

Whooo.. feeling dizzy…

Lomy rapidly blinked a dozen times, clenching at the border of the blanket and looking around as woke up.

Wait a second? In a bed?

“Well, hello there, sleepyhead. Feeling better?”

As it crossed the gaze of a short old woman, an embarrassed and frightened look passed over its face.

“No way! I’m too young to retire!”

Jumping out of the blanket, the boy looked desperately around.

“I’m still cool, I don’t want to be babysat by some..! Oh, right…”

Flying near the startled and intrigued woman, the boy pat patted her head, charmingly smiling.

“Sorry: condolences, mommy, shrugging we ate the real one. …Which is even sadder, because I don’t even remember that part and waaaait a second!.. I’m flying! I still got powah, baby! That means those ungrateful sons of myself didn’t force me to retire just yet. raising the index This cause for celebration!”

The old woman rose from her chair, leaving her knitting and trying to get its attention.

“But you…”


Before she could attempt to stop it, Lomy puffed again, leaving the room.

The songs of the dead are the lamentations of the…

“Hey! Did someone already partied this place down? No fair! I didn’t even get started!”

The high-pitched infantile voice and the cheerful tone were so conflicting with the grim sense of pain and death stirring over the battlefield and gripping at Eragon’s mind that they disrupted the young Rider’s numbing feel of emptiness. He followed the voice to its source, a short skinny boy in a white and golden tunic jigging about the ground of Farthen Dûr, hopping on rocks and corpses alike with no apparent notion of the dread sight all around him. Such a view unsettled Eragon, who had yet to come to terms with the brutality of war and death.

How can someone be so oblivious to pain?

Maybe he doesn’t know…

The consciousness of Saphira tapped in, comfortably shrouding his mind.

…the white one seems in some sort of stupor, he might’ve just woken up.

«Look at this! pointing a corpse an orc – with horns! Is that some kind of minotaur hybrid? clapping hands Oh-uh, I wonder which one of the parents was the raped one? Hmm, that’s tricky…»

Eragon slightly nodded to himself.

You might be right. I should talk to him, he may need more resting.

I’m coming.

Do not be too sudden: if he’s still confounded, a scare could hinder him more.

Don’t worry, little one, I will not startle him. Much.

Eragon grumbled something and walked towards the young boy. He welcomed that distraction; in the past three days he had found the best way to avoid gritting at the dark memories of the battle of the Farthen Dûr was distracting himself, do not linger on those wrenching thoughts and go on in his life.

He was shorten than him, could have been eleven or twelve if his plain white skin, his silvery hair, his big oblique golden eyes and his long pointed ears didn’t qualified him as something more than a human.

Brom said elves are immortal, but now I wonder if that means they still take the same as humans to grow up? You think maybe he really is just a child?

Looks strange for an elf though.

But we only saw Arya, maybe not all elves are the same?

The boy’s gaze focused on Eragon and he shackled his fingers in greeting, chuckling to himself and resuming his graceful and light walk among the fallen.

He seems so.. detached…

Shortening the distance between them, Eragon took breath, addressing him with a gentle but high enough tone to be heard.

“Kvetha, Eka fricai un Shur’tugal.”

Using the same formula in ancient language employed days before with Arya to acquire the wounded elf’s confidence, when they were running across the Beor Mountains, Eragon hoped to put the boy at ease and gain his attention.

Initially the elf didn’t appeared to even have heard his voice but, when the Rider approached him even more and was thinking about repeating himself, the boy jumped around, with an interrogative expression and asked something in the elves’ language. After taking some time to ponder about its significance, Eragon just shook his head, answering in the tongue of men.

“I’m sorry, friend, but I do not have full comprehension of the ancient language. Can we..?”

“Oh, don’t worry, everyone’s fine. So, among the other things, I was asking: Rider of what?”

Since the look of the boy appeared intrigued as well, Eragon’s baffling grew.

“Rider.. of Dragon. I’m…”

Whoa, hold on a second!”

The boy opened wide his eyes stifling a smile of anticipation.

“Did you just say dragon? As in you people here just jump over the big bad flying fire-breathing lizards and use them as glorified mounts? That’s pretty hardcore for you. And pretty humiliating for them. Pfffhh!..”

The little elf bent over himself, covering his mouth with his hands and laughing frantically, while Eragon looked at him more and more puzzled.

He must be the way he got here. He clearly doesn’t know.

Clearly. Although he’ll have something more to trouble him than amnesia when I’ll be there.

Come on, don’t be too hard on him, he’s just confused.


“How can you not know about Dragon Riders? You’re a member of the fair folk.”

The boy breathed again and rose back, putting proudly his hands on his flanks and nodding with a flown expression on his face, still betraying the access of hilarity held back.

“I sure am.”

“Elves were the first Dragon Riders. Didn’t your.. parents told you about them?”

“Why would th..? Waaait right there…”

After a second of uncertainty another more ravenous smile crossed the boy’s face as his gaze sharpened.

“Yes.. of course. …Elves. We know that kind of things…”

The boy chuckled to himself, tapping his fingers for a second before assuming a more plain and inquiring face.

“But I do confess I’m kind of lost here. Could you give me a fast recap?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Of the situation. Who the ether are you in the first place, you know, beside a dragon’s pride castrator…”

Yet a little confused and embarrassed, Eragon respectfully hung his head.

“Hum.. sorry. My name is Eragon. Eragon. Eragon Shadeslayer, they called me.”

“You mean like a dragon who leveled up is first letter?”

The boy giggled again, passing a finger on his lips.

“This just gets sillier and sillier…”

Once again the Rider could not feel but disordered; at the last sentence a vein of offence started as well to drive itself into his heart, steadily accompanied by the snarling voice of Saphira.

Oh, don’t be too hard on him, little one, he’s just confounded.

“You have to know this! It’s the name of the first Rider! An elf, like you!”

The little elf shrugged, trying to suppress his smile.

“Well I guess his parents really hated his guts. …But, hey, don’t be too hard on yourself, I’ve heard worst names.”

Frowning and attempting to maintain a calm tone, Eragon pressed back.

“And yours instead?”

“Oh, I’m Lomyolèndri, or just Lomy, for short. Come on. Presentations made. Bored now.”

The elf started running away, but Eragon, exasperated, grabbed him by the wrist to stop him.

“Wait! Where are you going? Didn’t you want to know where are you, how did you come here?”

“Not really. Come on! How can you be so boring with such an amazing setting?”

Eragon’s look darkened and his tone grew cold as he left the boy.

“People died.”

“I know, and isn’t that hilarious? snicket Suckers. Can’t even manage to breathe anymore. Why are they dead again?”

“There was a battle, they tried to siege Tronjheim.”

“Awesome. Were there any monsters?”

An heavy thump shook the ground behind the little elf, accompanied by a sudden gust of wind which ruffled his snowy tunic. A grin slipped Eragon’s face as the boy lower his eyes to the large shadow projected by Saphira at his feet.

“Just one.”

Lomy startled, pointing at the black form on the ground, with an expression of mixed fear and amusement.

“Gah! Ol’Breart! He followed me with one of his crazy epic ritual-portal spells!.. Waaaait a second! This can’t be him. Ol’Breart shadow’s supposed to be far more spiked and badass.. confused, gesticulating and big and less girly rising the gaze and turning That’s it, you’re just a little blue one! Whoa, do you mean I just got teleported in another lair? It sure looks empty. Except for the corpses, that is. Do dragons here collect those too?”

Eragon’s coming protest choked in his throat when Lomy started flying, flowing around Saphira’s neck to examine her more closely.

“You’re sure cute. Look! Not even the big horn on the nose, you really are a cub!”

“You’re.. you’re flying! But how?”

“Magic, duh? turning to Saphira He really isn’t that smart… Oh, wait! Is he your, you know, dragon knight, or something?»

A mage!

An insufferable one at that.

By then already upset, Eragon stepped forward, gazing harshly upon the little elf.

“But you didn’t say anything in the ancient language.”

“Well I.. tapping his ear you know? Elves. We do that sort of things. Silent casting and all.”


Lomy twitchingly turned a couple times before realizing who had spoken and covered amazed his mouth, looking back at Saphira.

“Are you a dragon and a psionic too? I just find the craziest ones!”

“What do you mean?”

Still mid-air, the little elf pointed at Saphira’s head.

“She just talked to me with mindpower!”

“Dragons can communicate telepathically with others, if they deem so. It is a great honor.”

Or did you think I was a common beast? What did you said, a glorified mount?

“Yeah, everything a dragon does to anything is obviously a great honor. It just seems so shy of you go like that. Certainly you’ll feel entitled to have everyone know what you want to say in your actual voice, which of course you’ll think is the most frightening awe-inspiring snarl humanoid has ever heard…”

Both dragon and Rider remained speechless for a long second.

“Lomy.. dragons can’t speak. They only converse telepathically.”

The boy quickly blinked a dozen times, standing still mid-air with a blank expression.

«You’re kidding, right? watching Eragon shake his head So let me get this straight. pointing at Saphira You carry him like some kind of winged horse and you have telepathy, but you can’t speak like a normal person? starting to giggle What’s next? Are going to say you don’t have a lair to hoard treasure in? Pfffh-aha ah ah!»

Lomy rolled laughing to the ground, diving among the corpses of Varden and Urgals.

I’m going to roast him now.

No, Saphira, wait..!

“Eragon Shadeslayer.”

The Rider turned around, recognizing the voice of Jörmundur, Ajihad second-in-command, hurrying towards them from Tronjheim.

“I’m glad I f… frowning Is that the new elf?»

Eragon nodded, sighing.

“Aye. He just woke, although I’m not sure it was sound to let him go out here already; Angela should have kept him to bed another day or two. He seems.. confused.”

“Ah ah ah ah!.. rolling and chuckling Mute psionic dragons! Please just stop it you make my bowels hurt! Ah ah!”

“Anyway, Jörmundur, is there something you need me and Saphira for?”

After another baffled look at the elf, the warrior nodded slowly, coming back from the stupor caused by that unusual display, and handed the Rider a note.

“Ajihad is returning. The others are waiting for him at the west gate already. You two should hurry up to get there in time.”

“We shall. Maybe.. call someone to take him back to Angela’s chambers?”

“Wait! Where are you going?”

Both Eragon and Jörmundur startled when Lomy sprang from behind them, groping both of them from their shoulders.

Saphira, how did he..?

I don’t know. …He just.. disappeared.

Another spell?


“Listen.. Lomy.. you need to rest. We’ll visit you later, now we have to go.”

“No no no no no! hovering over them I’m fine, let’s go, let’s go!”

“You really should hurry, Shadeslayer.”

Arya gazed over the west gate, watching for the coming patrol. The dwarf was shifting again on his legs, anxious and impatient; the recurring sound of his feet on the ground and the rasping breath, mixed with elf’s own worries and the otherwise silent plain, were starting to somehow disrupt her mood. After all she had passed of course it would have taken a lot more than some annoying noise and dwarf stench to unsettle her composure, but at that precise moment she couldn’t stop but lingering for a while on that exasperating disturbance.

With the battle of the Farthen Dûr the existence of the new Rider and his allegiance to the free people of Alagaësia had been made clear to everyone, for good or ill. The young human had to be sent to Ellesméra to complete his training if he were to have any chance in defeating Galbatorix and free humans, dwarves and elves from his tyranny. It was her first priority at that point assuring Eragon reached Du Weldenvarden as soon as possible, rather than being tangled beforehand in the power struggle between Varden and Empire. She was confident Ajihad would have backed her, but the mere presence of the Rider there could stir other among the rebels’ high ranks to try and drag him in what was soon to become an open war.

Her senses captured a slight buzz anticipating the flash of smoke from which the young white elf appeared, hovering on them.

“Bam! Hey everybody!”

The small group of soldiers startled; the dwarf cursed, getting hold of his axe, but a simple gesture of Arya was enough to calm everyone down. The elf ambassador stepped forward, examining the boy floating a few meters from the ground. In all the commotion of the past three days she had almost forgotten him. As if she hadn’t enough worries on her mind, the strange young elf had popped out of nowhere in Tronjheim, found no far away from the broken remains of Isidar Mithrim after the battle.

Arya touched her lips with two fingers, in the formal greeting of her people, before speaking in the ancient language.

“May good fortune rule over you.”

“Yeah, no way I’m letting luck be the boss of me.”

Arya maintained her calm, ignoring the rude answer and the disregarded salutation, and spoke again, though now fairly sure he either didn’t know her or was suffering from amnesia. The soldiers around them where still nervous, but neither her nor the boy paid any attention to them.

“I see you are awake and well, young friend, but I shall ask you to refrain from using too much magic, lest you strain yourself to exhaustion.”

“Pfh, that’s not gonna happen anytime soon…”

“May I ask you what your name is and if you remember anything of the events that brought you here?”

“Nothing major, really. And I’m Lomyolèndri, who are you instead?”

“I am Arya, young Lomyolèndri, it is nice to meet another of my race so far away, albeit if in dire circumstances.”

“Don’t be too hasty about it. Far away, uh? looking around Guess we’re in Dwarfland, not a lair after all.”

“You are correct. This is Tronjheim we’re in, deep in the Beor Mountains.”

“Figures. Who’s that coming?”

The dwarf inadvertently answered the question by yelling the Varden’s leader name, pointing at the tunnel opening to caught the soldier’s attention. Lomy leant over in the same direction, while Orik addressed Arya with a harsh tone.

“Eragon should’ve been here already.”

“Is that really the dragon’s dude name? looking at the coming group Well, bored now, I’m going to see this Ajihad guy.»

Another flash and the young elf disappeared; this time Arya was able to see the whole spell, watching Lomyolèndri pop up on the other side of the plain, flying directly over Ajihad patrol. She kept her sight upon the boy and the far Varden, ready to intervene if necessary, still unsure on what to think about that quick conversation.

It looks like some sort of teleportation, but I never heard about usage of that spell with people as subjects; even so, it should be something at least as complex and exhausting as the usual version, an elf that young couldn’t possibly both silent-cast it and be able to sustain a fly spell. Or even remain conscious. Not even an expert elder could. What kind of mage is that?

Her thread of thought was interrupted as she perceived the heavy stomping of feet and paws. When one of the soldiers yelled ‘Argetlam’ confirming Eragon’s imminent arrival, Arya temporarily detached her gaze from the tunnel, laying it on the dragon and his Rider. She indulged herself admiring for a long second the marvel embodied by Saphira, their last hope. All the years passed carrying her all over Alagaësia, searching, hoping to find someone for whom she would have finally hatched, and now Arya was able to see her, strong, majestic, all the splendor of a young promising dragon. And then was Eragon, the boy from Carvahall, so young and yet already able to prove himself time and again, the one who rescued her from the living nightmare of Gilead, the one who killed Durza.

“It was about time you came here, Eragon.”

“Sorry, Orik, we were delayed. addressing Arya We saw Lom.. Lomyolèndri. The other.. he was just walking on the battlefield. Did he came here too? He said he wanted to see Ajihad.”

The dwarf snorted and frowned.

“We saw him, alright. Came out of nowhere, scared the knurl out of the men. Then he and Arya spent quite some time chatting in their gibberish to each other.”

Arya glanced at Orik for a time, before lowering her head and softening her expression.

“I’m sorry if the secrecy of our exchange has offended you, master dwarf. The young one was disoriented, I wouldn’t know if he were able to speak but elven and even so, I didn’t want to confuse him more. I shall provide that in future such a situation may not be repeated.”

“Hmpf. That’s fine. But if you ask me, it just looks… Wait. What’s happening there?”

Eragon gasped, the eyes pointed on Saphira betraying a silent dialog, then he leaped onto her, yelling at the others.



“Hey, look at the aim down there! That was close!”

Lomy dived over the fight between men and Urgals and turned invisible to avoid further harassment by any of the two parties. Descending behind the warrior who shot the last arrow, the boy pointed its leg on his ankle, chuckling when he fell over the horns of a fallen Kull.

Hmmnnn… Nyeh, this isn’t that much fun. Let’s guess which is the chief.. can’t be the bald ones, they’re strange enough, but they’re two. Maybe is the other boy? That would totally make sense.

“Hey, come on! Wizard guys? Where’s the sparkly artillery? You have enough to go spitting piles of Power Word of Killing but you can’t just throw a fireball or two? How about some polymorphing? Can’t I be amused? Laaaame!”

When one of the twin wizards aimed at it, Lomy nosedived away, but the human was able somehow to still perceive him. The boy felt choked for short time, before stumbling and taking height again.

Whoohoo! Innate Spell Resistance rocks! Although that was pretty close.

“Hey, baldie! What you say we go on racing in the Ethereal Plane?”

Lomy giggled and flew in a circle, ready to shift, but somehow no passage appeared to it.

That’s weird. Why I’m still corporeal?

Just to be sure, it tried to puff again, teleporting with success twice back and forth over the edge of the tunnel, but at a second trial the ethereal jaunt failed again.

That’s a first. Is that supposed to be some kind of specific dimension locking?

“Hey, you there, why is that..? Looking down and around Hey! Where did everyone go?!”

The boy lowered down to the fresh corpses, soon verifying there was no trace of the two wizards.

Aw man! Now I’m never going to know what spell was… Hope is one of those with short expiration date…

“Please.. come…”


Lomy blinked its eyes for a while and puffed three times before finding the man faintly calling, a black warrior severely injured, surrounded by the corpses of some Urgals. Lomy lowered slowly, gently landing on the ripped and blooded breastplate of the agonizing man and bending over to watch him more closely.

“You. Are.. him.. the elf? Can.. can you..?”

“Yeah, do I look like a cleric to you? I don’t heal things.”

“Then.. you have to.. listen to me…”

“Are you gonna death-curse me? Because it was the five orcs here who killed you, I just kinda watched. And might or might not have enjoyed it in some creepy way.. standing straight and going on hanging over the dying human Not as much as I’m enjoying stretching my feet over your ribcage right now, but still…”

“You have.. to.. to tell Eragon.. not to let the Varden fall.. into chaos and that.. that is my.. my… he can’t.. he must. They’re.. They are the only hope of resisting the Empire.. they.. must be kept strong. He.. he must.. promise.”

“Hey there goes the dragon’s dude! pointing at the flying figure swiftly closing in He’s actually riding the dragon! That’s just hilarious. lowering its sight again Sorry, what were you saying again?»

The body of the leader of the Varden lied motionless on the ground, below Lomy’s feet.

“Oh, well, no great loss. shrugging I’ll ask him again when they raise him.»


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  1. FreelancePoliceman on 7 October 2013, 12:19 said:

    No entendo.

  2. Sìlfae on 7 October 2013, 12:59 said:

    Sorry, what in particular?

  3. Need Assignment Help on 15 May 2018, 06:39 said:

    Steve lives in a mystical place that is known for monster redwoods and thundering surf. What’s more, however he generally thought the place was excellent, he didn’t have any acquaintance with it was captivated.