Hello everyone! I decided t o finally update on this story… I was thinking to discontinue this story because Brisinger came out and changed a lot. So, you may find things in this story to contradict a lot in Brisinger… I apologize for that.

Oh! This is kinda important…. It's pretty slow in the beginning but gets better. It's that way for almost all my stories/ well, here you go! PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!!! I NEED HELP!!!!!

Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon or Eldest!

Chapter One: Strangers and a Challenge

POV- Third Omniscient

"Please brother," whined a fourteen old boy, "can I come to?"

"Aren't you a little young to be whining like that?" commented his eighteen year old brother. His younger brother pouted when he saw that he was losing the battle. Their uncle was loading crops into the back of a large wagon. They lived in a family of farmers. When their mother had died a few years ago they had to go live with their uncle and cousin.

"Come now, Murtagh, Eragon is right," their uncle called over sounding a bit exasperated, because the brothers always fought like this, " he has not been to the town very often." It was Murtagh's turn to pout. He hated his younger brother. He was so annoying, but still he was his brother. His only real family he thought sourly. It was his father's entire fault. His father had killed his mother. Only Murtagh knew who his father really was. He had told Eragon that their father was a poor farmer in Surda that had died a long time ago. But this was a complete lie. Their father was not a poor farmer and he never lived in Surda. His father was rich and he lived in Uru'baen with the king. But most importantly his father was a dragon rider and did not come even close to being dead. He almost killed, but he survived but sheer luck, probably magic. Their father was and is Morzan, first and last of the Forsworn. (A/N- Confused yet?)

The brunette shook his head then jumped on to the wagon. His blonde brother Eragon sat next to him.

"Do you have ants brother?" he laughed as his eager brother jumped up and down. He glared at him and stopped jumping. It would be a miracle if the pair got along. Roran, their cousin climbed on to the front of the wagon next to his father, Garrow. The road to Carvahall was long and bumpy. One would have to have a bottom of steel to endure it, one Eragon did not have. He complained the whole way about how the wagon swayed on the uneven ground. Everyone was happy when they finally reach the town.

Carvahall was teeming with people. The traders may be a common sight, but when they come in large groups, it is like the circus coming to town. No one adored the traders as much as small children, with all their colorful costumes and such. Eragon gave a whoop of joy and ran into the growing crowd. Garrow shook his head at the boy's retreating back.

"When will he ever act his age?" he commented gravely.

"Never." Roran and Murtagh said in accord. The trio laughed as a man walked towards them pulling a boy the ear.

"Is he yours?" he asked in an angry voice. Garrow nodded slowly as he stared disapprovingly at Eragon were he stood.

"What did he do this time?"

"He will not stop rummaging through my knapsacks and almost made off with my most prized possession." Garrow blinked in surprise when he heard this. Eragon may be curious but he was not the one who would steal.

"There must be some mistake…" he began but the man stopped him. He looked very angry now. His face was turning a bright red and his fists were in tight balls.

"There is no mistake," he said menacingly, but then his face softened, "I guess I could let him off this one time." They stood in amazement as the man turned to leave. First he was yelling and seemed very angry. And the next he was forgiving him and walking away. Eragon stood there rubbing his ear and mumbling under his breath. His face was bright pink in embarrassment. Murtagh laughed at his brother but stopped abruptly at his Uncle's command.

Murtagh walked down the busy street with his arms crossed. Eragon walked passively beside him. Apparently he was no longer hyper but in a more mature mood. Garrow had told Eragon to stay with Murtagh. Both were unhappy about this but Roran agreed with him. So Murtagh decided to go to the tavern for a drink. He was old enough and Eragon was not. He knew this but decided to go any way. Eragon can get water or something.

The warm air blew softly around the two. Though it was loud and busy Eragon heard none of it. "I should really act my age," he thought sorrowfully, "I am almost a man, and want to be part of the community."

Good idea. Whispered a ghostly presence into his mind. Eragon whirled around trying to find the source of the voice. Murtagh stopped and looked at his brother in confusion. Eragon stopped and shook his head. Murtagh rolled his eyes and continued to walk. When his brother's back was turned he continued to look around but stopped when they got to the tavern.

Hot air blasted against their faces as Murtagh opened the door. It was crowded and noisier then the streets outside. Many townsfolk and traders were drunk so Eragon and Murtagh choose a table in the back. Eragon sat down and Murtagh went to go get drinks.

Eragon grew bored and his eyes began to wander. Nothing very interesting was happening. Unless you consider men getting so drunk they pass out on the floor. A few women, mostly traders, were there also. They did nothing but sit there and laugh at jokes that weren't even funny. One man caught his attention. He seemed drunk by his behavior but his speech was sober. Maybe he was always that way. It did not matter any way. Continuing his search he did not notice a cloaked man enter the tavern. The figure was garbed in black leather and on his hands were black-leathered gloves. His black cloak covered his face concealing his features. He sat down in the opposite corner and listened to the conversations.

Eragon looked up when his brother appeared in the throng. He carried a mug of some kind of alcohol (Eragon did not recognize what it was.) in his other hand he carried a small glass of water. Eragon moaned when he saw this. It was what his brother always got him. Murtagh sat down the mugs the joined his brother.

"Having fun?" he joked.


"Great to hear it." The two sat in silence drinking when they were interrupted by a loud shout. They looked up to see the man Eragon saw before holding a woman by the wrist. She looked frightened and was trying to pull away. The man just laughed and held her tighter.

"Were you goin', lovely?" He asked. She was very lovely, Eragon found, she was more beautiful than any woman he had seen. She had long flowing blonde hair and she was small compared to the woman in Carvahall. Her skin was slightly tanned and her features were angled, not rounded like other women's.

The drunken man pulled the woman toward him. She struggled but he was much stronger than her. To Murtagh and Eragon's surprise a cloaked man walked forward and drew a long blue sword. The drunken man stared at it warily before asking, "What's with you?"

"Let her go," he said in a soft but authoritative voice. The man just laughed and turned away. The hooded figure placed a firm hand on him. The man whirled around and slapped him hard on the face. That made things ten times worse. The two rose and faced each other.

"She is not yours so back off," the apparently not drunk man warned. When he did not back off he got angrier. "Fine, I'll challenge you to a duel at the town square at noon, whoever wins gets the girl." This surprised Eragon, why do they want her so much? Sure she was pretty, but all serious duels were a fight to the death. The 'drunk' man pushed past them and left the tavern. All the spectators returned to their previous conversations as if nothing had happened.

Murtagh stood up to leave and Eragon followed. It was dark when they left. "I thought he said noon," Eragon stated. Murtagh nodded and began to walk home. "Wait! Can we go?" Murtagh spun around and eyed his brother. Eragon was frightened by what he saw his brother's face was very white and troubled. His features were drawn into a deep frown.

"No," Murtagh stated coldly, "it is too dangerous."

"'Too dangerous' what is that supposed to mean?" Murtagh ignored him and continued walking home. "Fine then, I will stay here by myself." Murtagh stopped and sighed.

"If we are going to stay here over night then we better may camp." Eragon punched a fist in the air in triumph. He had never seen a duel before. It was going to be fun. Eragon gasped when he felt the cold tip of a sword against his back. Murtagh spun around when he heard this and froze when he saw the attacker poised behind his brother ready to kill.