DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle

A/N: This is basically rewrite of my original story. You might find that many things have changed but the essence of my story hasn't. Sunburst Radiance puzzled me for so long – it turned into a kind of hiatus. But here I am, posting the completed story. The amount of chapters may be few, but the story has been condensed into a denser line and increased pace. And pardon my English. This is an Eragon Time Travel fiction and there is no more technological prowess in Eragon's repertoire, because I deemed it unnecessary among the line of events. This is a complete reboot.

Warning: There is some content in this fiction that requires some maturity to understand, the kind that comes with a bit of age and hence this fic is rated M - and not because I have some intimate sex scene or too much violence (there is almost none of that in here). But strict things considered, it is 'not entirely kid stuff'.

….

"What's going on?" Eragon asked the He-She-It-Thing that had come that day without the help of the elven women.

"We have waited long enough. No new Dragon Riders have come. We shall end the pact of the Dragon Riders now."

"Hey wait, I thought we agreed to give it more time!"

"Even during the driest years of the Order before Galbatorix's betrayal at least one Dragon Rider would come every century. Many have passed and none have come. The bond is already weak. You are the only Dragon Rider alive. The pact is null and void already. We are just finalizing it. You have been honourable and we shall be kind. But understand that this is the end."

Eragon didn't get another moment to argue. The bond between him and Saphira was ripped apart. The gap in his mind which Saphira previously occupied healed under the guidance of the Dragons and poof, he was whole but alone. The worst part was the realization that dawned on him – that he and Saphira couldn't be together anymore. There was no dependency, no connection, none of the previous intimacy and understanding. Eragon looked at Saphira – the one and only ex-bonded Dragon alive. A few wild dragons had managed to hatch, but that was it. The rest had rotten or were in unknown hands.

The He-She-It-Thing disappeared. Eragon lost his ability to do magic the moment the bond broke. He hadn't received the gift by training or effort but by the bond, though he had developed and used it well. And Eragon looked at Saphira – he faintly and distantly realized that she too was feeling this – who had become an alien to him. There was none of the horror or the void they had imagined in this separation. The Dragon magic had worked efficiently, healing their separation up before they even knew it.

Understand that this is the end they had said.

Eragon turned away from them, not knowing what to do. The alive Dragons were instructed by the Eldunari to take them away to somewhere else. Over the days, the Eldunari were evacuated to who knew where. He didn't see Saphira again either. It became appallingly clear that he wasn't connected to Dragons anymore. They were aliens to each other now. It was strange; he had assumed that bonding was physical, mental and emotional. The Dragons no more found use for the chains that bound them to mortals. It wasn't that they weren't kind. Many Eldunari consoled him, but the distance…was something new to him. Just a spell by some overgrown lizards and everything was over.

Eragon didn't leave his partly built city. He had planned it. He had built most of it and had hoped that it would be filled y more people like him. He had left most interiors unadorned so that the inhabitants could customize it themselves – in a graduating ceremony, perhaps. Yeah that meant only his quarters were furnished. And a guest house for the occasionally visiting elf. Most of his guard had left when all the Dragon eggs that would hatch had hatched. They, unlike Eragon seemed to know that there was no connection to the aliens that were the Dragons. They treated them with high respect, but they seemed to know of the distance and had worked around it for centuries now. Eragon now understood why there had been a war between the Dragons and the Elves. They were too different. Even as a human he could plainly see it.

Over the years, his body returned to ordinary human. Eragon, when he found the will to look at mirror, was surprised to see many parts of Brom's face staring back at him. Eragon didn't have problem for food anymore – he had made contingency plans in case of emergencies for the city and now they were purely used for his survival. They would serve him well till his approaching death.

Eragon was so curious about his death. It had never been a looming danger since he'd learned about his partial immortality. Now it was an overhanging mountain, like the one on Uru'baen. Illiera again now, wasn't it? It also occurred to Eragon that he had most probably been forgotten by now. He guessed that he had maybe two decades left to live. He wanted to see his home – Algaesia. Maybe even his father's tomb. Some golden lilies too if he could. He had heard that many problems had cropped up in Algaesia since his time.

Eragon didn't go back, in any case. On the day he had planned to depart, he had found something that had blown his mind away. It was such a simple thing, a small thing and very unremarkable on first, second and third glance. It shouldn't have held the importance he saw in it. Eragon had woken up late that day.

It was a question of work and rest. Till now he had been burdened by so many fucking duties. What was he doing, setting up another task for himself which involved so much trouble? Was he a submissive masochistic self-slave who always went to work?

It was appallingly clear what was being done to him. He had some reason till now, maybe. Seeing as his five centuries had become a total waste, maybe the couple of years spent defeating Galbatorix was all that he'd ever accomplished. Maybe because Galbatorix's rule could've been better, from the reports he heard from Algaesia occasionally. Rogue magicians, unheedful use of wordless magic and wars and all such. Even a couple of Shades and Ra'zac.

Eragon figured, what the hell. I'll just lay back here, just here and do nothing.

It soon turned out that everything had been slavery so far. He had been forced to eat regularly and sleep regularly because he had been 'busy'. He found new levels of rest and relaxation. The best thing was, there was no end to it. An occasional pee and shitting and bathing, yes. Some eating, some sleeping. The only other thing he did was sit or lie down.

Over time, his body couldn't take it. The sudden inactivity was too much for his body. He died.

That was what Eragon knew. The truth was Eragon was dabbling in something so ancient and unknown that he was jumping into a sea at storm. Sitting simply, as it turned out, meant much more in the realm of magic…

…..

Eragon ate breakfast at home and retired to his favourite spot in the Spine looking over the village. He made no fuss about enjoying the scenery but just sat erect there unbothered. When he felt hunger he quickly hunted down a deer with the bow he'd made a few weeks earlier. He didn't skin the deer but put it whole in a sack. He opened his backpack and ate some cooked meat. This had occupied him till sunset and hence he returned home. Garrow grunted at his return.

It had been agreed that Eragon would do only one chore for the family. And he had gotten hunting. That totalled all of his work into three hours a week. Garrow and Roran managed their farm well enough without him.

The next day Eragon went to the same spot but didn't get up to hunt. He simply ate a meagre lunch and returned home at sunset. He had been able to maintain an erect spine for some more time today. Maintaining an erect spine was difficult when sitting for long periods of time.

He started this practice from age 5. Before becoming a four year old he'd done absolutely nothing. In that one tremulous year between 4 and 5 years of age, Eragon had to battle society's nasty expectations. He had rebelled by silence and inactivity till this compromise was reached after a year. Eventually they gave up the boy for a failure, though they didn't stop belittling him for being a bad boy and branded him to be an unsuccessful individual in the future.

Over the months sitting erect became easy and once the stress on his back was gone, it was much easier to do nothing. It was as if he was doing more nothing than before. His hunger dropped gradually and unexpectedly his need for sleep was reduced. Eragon didn't even notice them at first because they were minuscule.

But as he became a seven year old it was clear that he was wasting time and energy in climbing up and down the Spine. So he combined his newly received waking moments of early day and late night into more inactivity. He spent all of his time in his room staring out of the window now. It made him even idler than before, somehow.

Eragon got up from his posture on the floor only to piss, shit, bathe or eat. It wasn't pleasant to sit all by himself with no work to do for months and years continuously. He didn't consider thoughts as company but as more work. Eragon couldn't stop thinking even for a moment generally but there were rare periods every month or so where he would be tired of thinking and miraculously have a reduced number of thoughts.

At age nine he ate two small meals every day. He had taken a liking to the roof of his house for his extended periods of inactivity. It pissed off Garrow a bit that he would climb roofs but not trees for some twigs. Eragon always showed a deaf ear to all 'elders'. His weekly hunt had become a nuisance for him because the deer avoided the areas where he hunted these days. Eragon took alternative routes to track down a few squirrels instead of deer and rabbits. It was not appreciated in the house but Eragon ate so little anyway that he didn't mind.

Till then, everything was boring but Eragon was kinda fine with it. Anything that wasn't slavery was good. It all truly started when he hit the four hour sleep mark (he was so inactive that his body needed to rest only for four hours every day).

Eragon got up from sleep seamlessly into waking mode, his eyes automatically opening. Eragon went outdoors and did his three morning works: piss, shit and bathe. He returned to the house where Garrow and Roran were up, tending to the farm already, doing…something Eragon didn't remember or care about remembering anymore. Eragon leisurely went to what passed as their storage room and brought out the preserved lizard meat. He placed a leaf on their table – which passed as tablecloth cum plate in this village – and began eating. It had been an hour and a half since he'd got up. Eragon went to the back of the house and climbed his usual route up to the roof. He found his shaded clean flat spot and sat down there. He was calm and collected.

He just sat there for some time. At a time he guessed was probably noon he suddenly had this impulse. Till now, all the improvements that had come in his abstaining from work were normal and not really that exciting – less sleep, less hunger, a sporadic reduction in thought, a body that could remain still, etc. That day, however he experienced something on a whole new level. It wasn't as much of an impulse as an automatic change. His muscles relaxed considerably, as if he had been holding them tense till now. It started as a wave of relaxation from his feet that travelled towards his skull. As soon as his brain was hit, he had this sensation of his head being blown off his shoulders as he descended rapidly into a bottomless pit. He supposed it was some kind of trance but this was so not a trance as much as an improved chance to get idler. He was conscious of the various background thoughts that he'd been previously unaware of. He was able to see many more body movements that he'd been unable to see before. An upgrade of a kind, really. An upgrade to do what he wanted to do better.

But that feeling faded over several minutes. His body was too used to the minuscule but needless movements and he relapsed, coming back to normal. Eragon shrugged mentally. This changed nothing. He had given up work because it required sacrificing things that he wasn't willing to sacrifice. It wasn't some sort of psychological or mental or philosophical peace that Eragon sought but actual, REAL peace. The kind that meant no war or arguments or whatever. Peace at all levels. Granted he knew nothing about it except that if he worked, peace would never be possible. So he just sat there anyway as normal.

Eragon was surprised when the experience recurred again that week. It became a common phenomenon pretty quick. Over months, he was drawn deeper and deeper into this upgraded idleness. At age 10 the experience occurred almost every day for about half an hour. Eragon could feel himself somehow comparing his previous and current idleness levels and clearly come to the conclusion that he was indeed improving at becoming idle. He didn't know how but his current normal sittings were 'idler' than his previous sittings not just during those half-hours but all the time he sat simply.

His daily scolding dosage from Garrow also decreased as he moved out of the 'beatable' age. His need for sleep also being smaller than before he settled comfortably over another year into an exponential growth in the idleness department. He was able to descend into the trance on will and with some more training was able to do it even when doing his other works. All his time gradually sank into the time of a trance. The distinction between sleep and waking moments also grew hazy, leading to his waking hours becoming more restful and the sleeping hours turning into a deeper level of the same trance, except more wakefully and that made his sleep quite exciting to experience somehow. He was vaguely aware of the things happening in his mind during sleep. It was interesting.

But it didn't not stop there. When he was thirteen he was basically in the state permanently and was beginning to experience sporadic bursts of a significantly deeper state of idleness. He was much more idle than before. He curiously noted that his weekly hunting trips became extremely short because his aim never missed now. His mind had so little to do that when it did do slave labour, it was with the caution and handling it took up when dealing with an explosive. And with a ridiculous level of concentration. Maybe his hunts fared well because Garrow had grudgingly given him a good bow for his efforts for his thirteenth birthday. They hadn't starved this time around under Eragon's hunting. It was at least squirrels and lizards if not deer and rabbits.

He was half a year past his fourteenth birthday when in a flash his mind opened up. His bursts of greater idleness had only recently become regular. But that day, he felt a much more powerful burst of idleness that he suspected his head really had blown off his shoulders. He was quite sure that his heart had given up its task from the exertion. It was like a snap and suddenly Eragon seemed dead again.

Only, he wasn't fully dead. Technically, he was dead – there was no pulse, no breath or even any kind of brain activity. Subjectively, he felt no different than a perhaps strong trance. At that moment, the world opened up. It was full of colours, sounds and all the possible sensations but wasn't his own world. Because he wasn't doing particularly anything, Eragon didn't notice much but he somehow quickly realized what this place was: the mental world. That world of 'lights' he'd analogized every time he used the mind arts or when meditating – it turned out that he'd missed so much detail. It was as if he had put blinders on so that he saw only black and white before and blocked all the other sensations while now, he had removed them. The mindscapes he'd seen before and dealt with were just tips of icebergs. He was now underwater, seeing icebergs from below the surface.

What was more surprising was that he was unable to come back fully from the new state of doing nothing. He was unable to close his mind off like before – it was work. Eragon curiously saw the new world once he realized what he was looking at. It was interesting o note all the different sensations other than just other people's energies. He saw through all minds near him, like seeing ice in water.

Eragon finally opened his eyes. His heartbeat had resumed at some point and he breathed a slow rhythm. But it was clear that he had permanently evolved into an idler being. He whiled away more time, getting his bearing. He had got some sort of permanent spike in his ability to remain calm and do nothing. He could move if he wanted to, but otherwise he might as well be dead corpse.

Eragon elatedly realized he was finally free. It was much clear now – he had been a self-slave, meaning that freedom had always remained in his hands. Eragon's whole body underwent a wave of relaxation again from the realization and what was amazing was that it didn't come back from the rest.

Eragon never found the need to sleep again.

Over the next year, nothing changed because there was nothing to achieve. He was simply in a very idle state 24x7. Eragon nonetheless never picked up any work, though he could do so if he wished to. He just simply sat there in his room. Now that he could afford moving around, he usually went to sit in different parts every day. He never slept anymore, so he just aimlessly walked here and there.

He supposed he was close to reaching the fifteen year mark when magic became available to him without preamble. He was doing his thing in the forest when magic had smoothly come to him and allowed him to walk in the air. It was strange to Eragon, who had branded all magic and spells into the category of 'work'.

He didn't dwell on magic but continued simply sitting. Just as unreasonably his magic had come it grew. He trained nothing, he didn't do Ringmar or orce himself to meditate and even speak words. He couldn't close his mind off to the world however but that hardly counted as magical training. There were several people who could defend their minds but couldn't cast magic. Eragon had no explanation of what was happening to him and frankly, he didn't bother. However, even more astonishingly, answers came to him without him grabbing or searching for them. They just popped into his thoughts.

He grew familiar with the sudden insights and learned not to get distracted by them from whiling away his time. He just accepted them as a part of his free life. Eragon was cloud watching when an egg appeared before him silently. Apparently, the dragons at a place he shouldn't mention out aloud or risk losing some information had more tact this time and had decided not to damage his roof. Eragon had not realized it was already the time.

A sudden notification came to Eragon – one of those unsourced insights – that he wouldn't be affected by memory magic because a) his memories weren't stored as thoughts in his brain but as impressions in his soul and b) because his magic automatically prevented such magic from accessing him which was basically because he was too idle for such magic to have any more effects on him.

Not really bothered, he resumed cloud watching. The egg disappeared and landed on his bed. Eragon did not even need to will it to happen. They just happened as if on their own but Eragon knew that they were operating off him – an earlier notification had told him so – but at deeper levels than what he could sense currently. And he wasn't interested in descending any deeper than he already was. The truth was that he literally couldn't do anything about it. Maybe it would occur or it wouldn't.

Eragon got up from his spot on the roof and swung himself into his bedroom. He looked at Saphira's egg and noticed that it was glowing warmly – he was nourishing it with his magic. This magic was so different from what Brom and Oromis had taught him. The only reason why he named his new ability magic was because it did inexplicable things. Otherwise, there was nothing common between them. There was no barrier to take down, no words or thoughts to decide upon and no energy release. He didn't know what exactly his new magic was but it was just one thing; not a multitude of procedures.

Eragon went downstairs to find Garrow and Roran eating lunch. They looked up surprised at Eragon. He never came down to lunch. Not since age seven or eight, it was hard to remember.

"A blue stone appeared in front of me. It is now in my bedroom" Eragon said. Eragon had also gained something he'd never even dreamed of possessing: graceful movement. His movements were smooth, much like his elf-hybrid body. As far as he knew, he didn't have the strength or speed, however.

Eragon's voice was…like a musical instrument. Not that it was melodious or something but that it was absolutely controlled, as if adjusting his teeth would lead to a difference in pitch. His voice was smooth, in some way Garrow couldn't put a finger on. He'd heard that kind of voice only when expert, long time singers talked. And they matched nothing with Eragon's right now.

"You alright, son? It must be some sort of sorcery. I hope it didn't affect you?" Garrow replied to the remarkable occasion of Eragon actually talking.

Eragon gently shook his head, again betraying some sort of ultimate control over his muscles.

"It looks pretty. We'll sell it to the Traders" Ergon supplied, surprising them again because he had talked. Eragon knew full well that whether the events would turn out good or bad, he would start departure by then. He remembered that the merchants wouldn't buy it anyway.

Garrow and Roran agreed. Some more time Eragon whiled away and the Traders came. Eragon came to the village for the first time in years. Others didn't notice him much. The villagers who did sneered at 'the brat who never did chores'. Parents around him told their children moral stories of how lazy people suffered in the end. Bah, as if they even saw 'the end'. They didn't realize that 'the end' was death. Nothing before that would ever stop their course of life.

The merchant visit was quickly and secretly done, with no other villager knowing about it. Eragon suggested to Garrow that he could perhaps sell it himself in a big city. Garrow refused, saying that he needed to hunt for their food. Eragon said that he would stock them up for a few years by capturing some animals alive. Garrow blinked at the proposal and eventually agreed, mostly because he felt that Eragon did indeed need the exposure he sought in the outer world. Perhaps it would cure him of his laziness.

A few weeks later, the Ra'zac came knocking by. Most villagers kept their mouths shut in fear. The Ra'zac could tell between lies and truth because humans were their natural prey, not that the villagers knew that. The Ra'zac were under orders not to engage in needless action unless they found solid clues. While the Emperor didn't care getting his people slaughtered or even the Ra'zac for the matter, he wanted results fast. Hence, the Ra'zac had no time to question whether odd settlements existed fifteen miles from the village. Sloan, having no strong recollection of Garrow, Roran or Eragon didn't find the vehemence to give them way. He barely remembered them to even exist. The Ra'zac assumed that the main village was all there was to question, began their journey to the Emperor so that they could report their partial failure. They had run across Brom the other day but being too weak to face him and also afraid, they had left quickly. T least they would have something to report.

Brom and Eragon happened to leave on the same day – two days after the Ra'zac left. Eragon had been aware of Brom's plans. Brom had not been deaf to the rumours of Eragon's departure and had decided to time his departure a day late to go with Eragon.

Eragon had prepared for this a ridiculously long time ago. He hadn't come with the excuse of selling the egg in another city on the spur. He had packed all he would need into pockets of space and cloth bags.

Eragon had never cut his hair himself nor allowed others to touch it since he had come upon magic. His new magic. Earlier, the looming threat of scalp diseases, weight and itching had made him cut his hair and wash it regularly. However once he had magic he was immune to such things and stopped caring about haircuts, nailcuts and baths. All the dirt and microbes and consequentially his odours were repelled from his body without his effort.

Brom had talked to Garrow and they agreed that Brom could act as Eragon's guardian in his trip. Eragon had captured enough food alive for that year during those two days – basically, it was just two deer herds measuring a total of 50 deer, enough for two people to eat for at least an year, Eragon thought but didn't actually check. He knew that Roran was going to Therinsford to impress Katrina anyway. Roran would probably take the animals and Garrow with him there while he worked himself funds to hold a household.

Eragon waited for Brom in the entrance to Carvahall. His hair fell to his shoulders, framing the background of his face, but no one would be seeing it because he wore a full dull-white hood made of some nice material his magic had conjured up out of some forest ingredients. The white hood was a part of a dull white robe. Eragon wore brown gloves and knee high boots. All of it had been made by magic. Eragon suspected that it dynamically evolved to suit the terrain and situation he was in. This magic never left his clothing.

Currently they were heavy but airy allowing him to enjoy the breeze on his skin even inside his robes and yet feel warm.

Brom arrived soon and took notice of Saphira's egg. Brom greeted him and immediately asked "Have you packed clean underwear, boy? You don't know how much it matters in journeys such as these."

"I don't wear underwear" replied Eragon, startling Brom. Brom wasn't going to tease Eragon about it but it left him a bit miffed. He decided to work on that later. The boy had bigger problems.

His boots being all cushiony in the inside, Eragon enjoyed the walk to Therinsford. Being permanently graceful and relaxed was a definite advantage to enjoy things. They reached Therinsford on the next day. Eragon didn't pay attention to the bridge thief physically but interestedly noted the first new mind in his mental field. He had grown bored with reading the same minds over and over. There was a lot of information to take in but he had had a year with Carvahall and understood all the people to a certain degree. Even Brom. The traditional single-thought-shield didn't work on Eragon anymore. He simply slipped under them without them ever noticing. Everyone was game and an open book to Eragon.

…..

"Two hundred Crowns" the owner said, confident that it was too steep a price for them to pay. Brom paid the amount and left with Snowfire and also bought Eragon Cadoc. Eragon recognized the horse. He wondered what had happened to this horse. He remembered riding Snowfire when Murtagh rode on Tornac in their mad dash to rescue Arya. Cadoc must have been sold or left free to roam or he'd died.

Saphira hatched when Brom and Eragon were in the middle of nowhere, which happened to be in the plains. Brom made a big show or surprise as she hatched. Eragon got his hand fried and cooled again, leaving a silvery oval on his palm. His left one this time, on his careful insistence. Saphira had hatched this late because he had used magic on her egg. His extra nourishment had made her hatch a bit later because she had to absorb many things before birth.

"This is ground-breaking, young man." Brom commented with amazement in his voice and something Eragon matched with awe – an act, no doubt – "You have been chosen by a new Dragon as the first new Dragon Rider! I can help you much, I know a lot of legends, stories and facts to help you along. But as I said earlier, do not question me how I know them. That I will keep to myself"

Eragon just accepted it blandly. So much drama for him wanting to control me. The tuatha du ortihrim. Eragon guessed will try to be as painful as before.

Brom continued after supper that day "Do you realize that going back means putting your family and the village in danger?"

"Yes. It will not do well to go back" Eragon said.

Brom nodded and lit his pipe. He had been expecting some resistance. He was glad that Eragon wasn't the un-understanding snot the other villagers portrayed him to be. Otherwise, he was just a little withdrawn.

Nothing bad there, I suppose thought Brom, while figuring out how to train Eragon in all the ways. It took years and months! He would need to skip all the fluff and do only the skeletal concepts. Not too fast a pace, not too slow either. I will keep something going till he shows some sign he is ready for the next. This will mean skipping topics as soon as he shows aptitude for a new aspect of his training…Brom plotted.

The next morning Brom woke up a bit earlier only to find Eragon sitting fully awake He had never noticed that before. Was Eragon an early riser? Sure, he always was up and about before Brom but he just assumed that Eragon got up a few minutes before him. However, today he had risen much earlier. Mistaking his waking for something he assumed again, Brom said "Do not unnecessarily worry yourself with the burden you carry boy. Know that it's precious enough that you know it to be a burden. Or else it would be a sorrowful tragedy of your life. Another story for Brom the story teller to make money out of, nothing else"

Brom was unnerved by the lack of reaction on his face.

Is he a psychopath or something? Brom suspected. He couldn't for sure without a few spells but spending more time with Eragon would prove just as effective. He was trained to recognize sociopaths and psychopaths, after all. It came with the job of being a keeper of peace and justice.

After Brom finished his morning routine, he found Eragon sitting by his young mate. They tried to figure out her name and Brom was struck at heart when he learned that she was also Saphira.

"Dragons come with names when they are born" Brom explained "The names just pop into their Rider's heads over the days" earning a look from Eragon. He seemed genuinely interested in it. "Pity no one knows how or why" Brom said, not happy about disappointing his son but not very unhappy either. Eragon looked away.

So he doesn't not have emotions. It rules out mental illnesses.

Brom was forced to conclude that Eragon was just not fond of using facial expressions and social interactions to convey emotions. It was something like his refusal to wear underwear – not accepted, but not really a pressing issue in the face of Galbatorix.

Eragon isn't a psychopath or a sociopath. Brom concluded with relief.

"Anyway, we have some training to do. I am not certainly an expert but I do have experience with swords. You'll need to learn swordsmanship to defend yourself" Brom said.

Eragon caught the stick Brom threw at him.

And it was a clean match. Brom was beaten soundly – he was no match for Eragon, though he was new to this.

Swords no longer suit me Eragon realized as he was not unmarked from their first fight. He should've been invincible with his experience and tactics. But swords were unneeded work. All that creativity and effort went down the drain into slavery-gutter in the way of the sword.

His clothes were a bit lighter now to suit the plains but were waterproof to counter the rain. He was also warm inside. Saphira began talking in a few weeks. Weeks in which Brom tried to take up all of Eragon's time by his 'training'.

It was sticks and then makeshift swords and then real swords. Yazuac came and went by with Eragon dully casting a fire arrows at the poor Urgals. Poor because they had no money on them. Seriously, what the hell had they looted?

"I cast fire from my arrows on two rogue Urgals who attacked me" Eragon said in a monotone voice.

"That's…unexpected. You should be proud; few escape unscathed from slaying their first Urgal. But the manner in which you did it was very dangerous. You could have destroyed yourself and the whole town."

Brom stamped his teeth vigorously on the pipe stem, waiting for a reply from Eragon. "You didn't have any idea what you were doing. You shouldn't be taught this, much less use. It's very complex, you see. The practice is more of an art than anything else. What you did was extremely difficult"

The speech elicited no reaction from Eragon. Brom hesitantly continued his speech "You should be a bit more vigilant and attentive in your approach towards this subject. Your case is exceptional. You don't have a choice but to learn magic. Usually, Riders kept this ability secret and trained young Riders in magic only after several years of other training. In your case, you must learn it, considering that Galbatorix and really everyone else is a big threat."

I could have used any reaction from Eragon and trick him into getting the right attitude…but he's not responding. I can't manipulate him into the necessary mindset Brom thought.

Eragon nodded, much to Brom's agitation. What kind of introvert is he? Thought Brom.

After refilling their waterskins from the parts of the nearby river which didn't seem bloody Eragon heard Saphira say something.

Fuck she said, thrusting some emotions of vulgarity and pissed-off-ness.

Eragon's mind didn't reply. He duly told Brom, "Saphira knows swear words"

Brom blinked. That she talked this soon after birth was normal, but swear words, seriously?

I know that each bond between Rider and Dragon in unique and each influence the other. I can't see how Eragon could make a Dragon behave like that. Ah hell, training Eragon will be hard enough. Saphira can hopefully learn to defend herself. However if she turns out as lazy as him…Brom gulped, remembering all the Dragon training lessons. To become a full member of the Order, Riders and the Dragons had to learn both Dragon tutorials and Rider tutorials, so as not to compensate training when one or the other was unavailable. It wasn't a big deal – training was training, no matter what race, especially for well-rounded Riders. But to Brom, who might have to train Saphira – it would be a big headache if she didn't exhibit the necessary competency.

"Tell her to mind her language" Brom answered pleasantly "Dragons have a dignity to hold up to so she must-"

Eragon interrupted Brom by tilting his head towards Saphira and recited, looking at Brom "You are a motherfucking maniac who can't hold your bullshitting tongue for one hell of a second" stated Eragon monotonously. Saphira did the thing that passed for laughing among Dragons.

Bro sighed The Void take me. Rebels.

They eventually reached Daret and the same incident happened. Eragon scoured tons of information from the Daret soldiers and even some villagers behind the walls. He saw patterns common to human minds and figured out information a lot more quickly than before. It wasn't something he did actively but something that happened passively, like his magic.

He did something he himself didn't expect to do: he planted thoughts in their mind to pick up and run out of Algaesia through the desert. Again, it was automatic and experiemental, as if someone else was doing it for him. Eragon was surprised how quickly his planted thought reached the foremind of the soldiers, leaving them as if they themselves had thought that up. Eragon immediately knew that he could be controlled similarly, by someone who had a better grasp at this mental thing.

Eragon tried Planting some thoughts of calming down and relaxing the training regime in Brom, but they never surfaced into Brom's above-surface mind, remaining just a murky thought in his mind's depths. Eragon learnt that the thought could surface only if it was at need. It lead him to wonder what the function of the mind was, if just any thought could simply pop up but only a few were selected to the fore. It was as if the mind was nothing but a filter and some residue.

"Let's go" Brom said and he followed that with a lecture to Eragon about how to sense, defend and attack mentally, all of which of course Eragon tuned out, lest they infect him and his higher understanding.

Whiling away more time, they didn't come across any special Seithr Oil bottle so Brom had no excuse to continue the journey.

Brom asked Eragon one day when Brom was as near as Uru'baen as he was willing to get, several hundred leagues from the city.

"Eragon, I wished to keep you free of the burden of being a Rider but what I will tell you now will come to bite your back later if not now. You are about to be caught in the middle of an ongoing war, purely because Saphira hatched for you, the first of the new Dragon Rider order.

Control over you will mean controlling the new generation of Riders. You can either join the Emperor" Brom made it as modest as possible. He really could choose that side, there was nothing wrong with it except that Algaesia would be doomed to slavery. Brom shivered mentally at the thought but made sure that no choice was posed condescendingly or appraised and continued "Or, the Varden. Either way, it's your choice but you can't evade them forever. Till then, you are safe for no side knows whose your allegiance is to."

"Describe each side" Eragon asked, again not interested in the reply but eager to get Brom going. This plan had begun forming in his mind without him even willing it to happen. Something that had accelerated since the time he had met the Daret soldiers.

"Well," Brom paused, calculating what to say. It was rare that Eragon showed any interest. It was best to capitalize on it "you know the story of Galbatorix from my stories back in Carvahall. To say about his rule, it mostly involves having harsh laws to keep the majority in check while dispatching Special Forces to deal with other threats. The Emperor himself sits and does nothing about this stuff. Rumours say that he is locked up in some kind of research, no doubt to discover something that would torcher us all in one shot, but those rumours are only natural, considering the nastiness of our ruler."

"Sounds nice to sit and do nothing" Eragon noted aloud.

Brom chose to ignore that and said "The Varden is more of a band of humans trying to resist his rule. It consists of rebels who have escaped from King Galbatorix's control. No one knows where the Varden is, but it is said that there are spies everywhere and one can join them if they are cautious enough. Their administration is also vague, since they are focused mainly on military and espionage."

Eragon asked, "So they are more or less, a probable military rule?"

Brom was surprised at his thought but said yes.

Eragon sat there for a few minutes calmly, giving Brom the impression that he was thinking but we know very well what Eragon was doing – just whittling away some more time wood.

"I'll run around Algaesia and collect more information for the side I'll choose based on the info"

Brom agreed, deciding it was the best course of action. He had done his part as father in this matter. It was time to switch to being a member of the Varden. As much as he wished his son free will he didn't want to face his own son in war. He would try his best from now on to subtly make Eragon choose the Varden, which at worst was the lesser of the two evils.

Brom was not ready for the next statement from Eragon, who said "Then it's time we part. I have no doubt that you, being as informed as you are, are a part of one faction or the other. I do not want to be influenced in anyway. Any cause for concern is well received but I shall continue on my own from now on. Thank you for…whatever you've done. Goodbye"

Eragon mounted on his horse, which had been suspiciously packed and he was ready to leave, leaving Brom sputtering. We should duly note that Eragon could read Brom's mind openly and had chosen the best possible words for his agenda.

"Fine. I shall tell you this: I am affiliated to the Varden, not Galbatorix by any chance. You know who to go to if you wish to join the Varden" and Brom wished to tell him his one secret that he owed to Eragon but decided that he couldn't bear it if Eragon were to go over to the Emperor. It was best in that situation that Eragon and Brom died as enemies, not as known family members. Brom would reward Eragon with the information if he joined the Varden willingly, Brom decided.

Brom said "Beware, if the Emperor catches you, it's game over. You won't have any choice. He'll learn your Name, which is the word in the Ancient Language I've taught you that describes you and grants power over you to those who know it. And then he'll make you his slave. I hope you'll evade capture. I have not trained you in all I wished to train you but it will have to suffice. You have been a quick learner."

Indeed, they had finished learning what Brom and he had covered last Time around within this period.

"And never, ever, ever lose your Dragon" Brom said softly before he began packing. His eye caught something and presented Zar'roc to Eragon.

"I've learnt that you don't prefer swords, but this will not tarnish or dull, so it's bound to be useful" Brom said and bid him farewell.

So long sucker Saphira said to Brom directly.

Brom had cunningly placed a small tracker on Eragon before he'd left. Eragon had noticed it and kept it so that he could manipulate Brom in the future. Brom suspected something like that would happen if by accident if not vigilance and hence placed another spell on Eragon to alert him to such incidents. Eragon wished the same of that spell and all the others that Brom had managed to do in the short window of time.

Brom then headed west, knowing that he would need Jeod's hep to get to the Varden. He had heard that the Emperor had increased the border patrol ten times that of the previous size.

Eragon's robes grew heavy and picked up a certain thick dullness to them. Between layers of the cloth, there was some special liquid that froze into a very hard substance on pressure. Much like a non-Newtonian liquid of our world. His robe had changed into ideal armour, stopping any attack without fuss and caused him no damage as the robe itself would take all the vibrations without passing them onto him. He didn't even bother with unsheathing Zar'roc. He deposited into a Pocket dimension, along with his other supplies.