I greatly apologize for the six month wait! This chapter is more exciting than the last, and I'll try not to take so long in writing the next one.

I don't own anythin except Cassandra, her brother, and the plot!

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Cassandra continued to draw in a fevered frenzy, still completely oblivious to the stares that were directed toward her. Eventually, everyone grew bored with watching the new girl and continued with their normal work. Of course, by work, that meant the silent battle of endowments between the two sides of the table. Ideth and Inez chose to pick on Tancred that day, though one of the twins (no one could tell which) decided to mess with Cassandra once or twice, though every time, she reached out with a white hand and stopped whatever it was that twin was trying to manipulate. Eventually that twin gave up and turned her attention back to Tancred.

Tancred was apparently working on an essay for some class, and he was almost finished. He tried to catch the paper as it floated into the air. He shot the twins an angry glare when it went out of his reach, and his hair crackled dangerously. By then, Cassandra had finally stopped drawing and was watching the contest of endowments with interest. One of the twins gave a tiny, wicked smile as the paper began to tear itself up.

“Hey!” Tancred shouted furiously. “I worked hard on that!” The yellow-haired boy’s green cape billowed out behind him with the strong wind that accompanied his rage.

“Calm down, Torrson,” Manfred said lazily, not bothering to do anything about it. The wind grew stronger, and papers began to fly about the room. Cassandra cried out in dismay when her newly finished drawing was ripped from her sketchbook. She raced around, trying to catch it, and didn’t notice when another notebook fell off the table. Emma grabbed Tancred’s arm and urged him to calm down, but it was difficult to hear her. Apparently Tancred did, because the wind, and the many loose papers, settled, and everyone hurried to collect their work.

When the bell sounded for everyone to go to bed, Cassandra and Charlie were the last two in the room.

“Does that sort of thing happen a lot?” the copper-haired girl asked as she collected her belongings. Her voice was quiet, almost wispy, but with a very prominent Irish lilt.

“Usually,” he answered with a loud sigh. Cassandra hadn’t once looked at him.

“Oh.” Without another word, she walked out, her coppery red hair bouncing with every step she took. Charlie closed a textbook and started to put it in his backpack, and accidentally knocked his pen off of the table. It clattered to the floor with a sound that was abnormally loud in the quiet room. As Charlie bent down to retrieve his fallen pen, he noticed something else that had dropped to the floor; a notebook. He reached out with his left hand and grabbed the notebook’s wire spine, pulling it towards him.

Charlie then started to flip through its pages, looking for a name, or any indication of who it belonged to. In his search, he discovered it was not a notebook, but rather a sketchbook and the drawings that filled its pages were done with incredible skill. One in particular caught his eye. It was more vibrant that the rest, more realistic, and depicted a young brown-haired man riding a sapphire blue dragon. In the man’s right hand was a gleaming blue sword the same hue as the dragon. In his left was a bundle.

Curious, Charlie wondered if his endowment would work on a drawing like this. It wouldn’t hurt to try! He narrowed his eyes and concentrated, not expecting any results, but nearly dropped the book in surprise. He could have sworn he had heard the tiniest whisper. He looked about him, making sure he was truly alone; it would be just like Joshua Tilpin or someone like him to play a trick on him. Turning his attention back to the drawing, he concentrated harder. Before long, he could hear the murmur of two voices. One was a deep rumbling, like a growling animal, probably the dragon. The other was human, but it took a moment for it to become clear enough to understand.

“Dive, Saphira!” a male voice shouted. No doubt it was the man speaking. There was a thump and pulsing of wings, then a roar that sounded distant. Charlie scanned the page, and saw a second dragon. This one was a brilliant scarlet, with a second young ban on its back.

“Hand it over, Eragon!” a second, slightly deeper male voice yelled.

“Hurry, Saphira! I’ll fight him on the ground!” There were sounds of something sharp scraping against stone, then the clashing of metal on metal. Incoherent words blazed through Charlie’s mind, and waves of fiery power washed over him: flashes of blue and red behind his eyes.

He turned the page, unable to hear the overwhelming events coming from the drawing. How can this happen? he thought, keeping his eyes away from the page he had turned to, afraid of what he would see.

“Bone!” an angry female voice startled him. Matron. Lucretia Yewbeam stood in the doorway, hands on her narrow hips. Her iron grey hair was, as usual, piled on top of her head and her expression was livid. “What are you doing here? Get to bed before I give you detention.”

“Yes, Matron,” Charlie said breathlessly. The experience he had had with the drawing had left him gasping for breath, as if he hadn’t taken in air the whole time. He closed the sketchbook hurriedly, shoving it into his backpack. He hoped that his great aunt hadn’t noticed what he had been doing. She hadn’t. Either that or she didn’t care.

As he tried to push his way past, she took hold of his arm in her vice-like grip.

“Keep in mind, boy,” she hissed. “One toe out of line this week, and you will get detention. I won’t be this lenient a second time. Understand?”

“Yes, Matron,” he replied meekly. She released him. He hurried out of the room and up the stairs to the dormitories.

“Listen closely,” Ezekiel Bloor whispered harshly, leaning forward in his wheelchair. Manfred sat in the corner of Ezekiel’s lab, looking utterly bored. Eustatia, Lucretia, and Venetia Yewbeam were paying close attention, not wanting to miss a single word. Manfred’s father, Dr. Bloor, was absent from the meeting, as he had an important meeting to attend to elsewhere. “This could be the greatest find any of us have ever made. And it’s all thanks to Manfred’s little friend, Joshua.” The old man nodded to a small figure nearby. The Tilpin boy nodded eagerly, the usual collection of leaves in his hair rustling.

Ezekiel turned his attention to a long object wrapped in black silk. It sat on the table in from of him, power emanating from it in small waves.

“Keep in mind,” the old man said, his voice crackled with excitement. “What you are about to see is not to leave this room. Manfred, I trust you to get your friends up here so they can be in on the plan as well. We need all the help we can get in this. But whatever you do, don’t let Bone or his friends know what is going on. He alone could ruin everything.”

“What about the new girl?” Lucretia asked, one grey eyebrow raised.

“Do you even know what her endowment is?” Venetia inquired.

“No, leave her out,” Ezekiel said. “However helpful she might be, I don’t think we want her involved.”

There was silence. No one moved as Ezekiel reached forward with his wrinkled hands, and lifted one corner of the silk from the object. Inch by inch, the fabric was raised from the object. The last ounce of the fabric was removed, revealing a gleaming sword. The hilt was fine gold, the grip wrapped in silver wire, and the pommel held a brilliant ruby. The blade was almost five feet long, and it was colored a gleaming, garnet red. Near the base of the hilt was an alien symbol, carved in black.

“This sword,” Ezekiel said, barely over a whisper. “Belonged to one of the most fearsome Dragon Riders to have ever existed, in this world or any other. That Rider’s name was lost centuries ago, but I know that it passed to both of his sons. The youngest received for a while, only to have it claimed by the older brother. Both brothers were Dragon Riders.”

“Dragons?” Manfred laughed disbelievingly. “They don’t exist! They never have!”

“That is where you are wrong!” Ezekiel roared. “They did exist, but not on the Earth we know. A different world, centuries ago. No one knows how long.” Manfred huffed, still not convinced, but he didn’t argue. “Now, I have reason to believe that there are two more swords like this still out there. I don’t know what colors they are, but if any of you see them, you will know. We must find these other swords.”

“What do you want with them, anyway?” Eustatia questioned.

“You will know when I have all three. Now go!” They filed out of the room. Ezekiel stayed, running his ancient hands along the length of the blade. With any hope, the proper owners of this sword had not noticed its disappearance, and they won’t notice when the other two vanish. If his plan had any hope in succeeding, he would need them to be oblivious to what would be taken right from under their noses. If only Manfred hadn’t lost his original endowment! Then it would be so much easier!

Still, it would work. It had to.

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Yes, a bit of the villain's plan has been revealed to you! I hope that makes up for the long wait.

Cookies for anyone who can guess the name of the red sword.

Also, I would like suggestions for names for the other two swords. Thanks so much!

Please review! And no flames.