1Eragon-ChristopherPaolini.pdf

Eragon

Christopher Paolini

Eragon

INHERITANCE

BOOK ONE

Christopher Paolini

ALFREDA. KNOPF

New York

Christopher Paolini

Eragon

This book is dedicated to my mom, for showing me the magic in the world;

to my dad, for revealing the man behind the curtain.

And also to my sister, Angela, for helping when I’m “blue.”

Christopher Paolini

Eragon

Prologue

Shade of Fear

Wind howled through the night, carrying a scent that would change the

world. A tall Shade lifted his head and sniffed the air. He looked human except

for his crimson hair and maroon eyes.

He blinked in surprise. The message had been correct: they were here. Or

was it a trap? He weighed the odds, then said icily, “Spread out; hide behind

trees and bushes. Stop whoever is coming... or die.”

Around him shuffled twelve Urgals with short swords and round iron

shields painted with black symbols. They resembled men with bowed legs and

thick, brutish arms made for crushing. A pair of twisted horns grew above their

small ears. The monsters hurried into the brush, grunting as they hid. Soon the

rustling quieted and the forest was silent again.

The Shade peered around a thick tree and looked up the trail. It was too

dark for any human to see, but for him the faint moonlight was like sunshine

streaming between the trees; every detail was clear and sharp to his searching

gaze. He remained unnaturally quiet, a long pale sword in his hand. A wire-thin

scratch curved down the blade. The weapon was thin enough to slip between a

pair of ribs, yet stout enough to hack through the hardest armor.

The Urgals could not see as well as the Shade; they groped like blind

beggars, fumbling with their weapons. An owl screeched, cutting through the

silence. No one relaxed until the bird flew past. Then the monsters shivered in

the cold night; one snapped a twig with his heavy boot. The Shade hissed in

anger, and the Urgals shrank back, motionless. He suppressed his distaste—they

smelled like fetid meat—and turned away. They were tools, nothing more.

The Shade forced back his impatience as the minutes became hours. The

scent must have wafted far ahead of its owners. He did not let the Urgals get up

or warm themselves. He denied himself those luxuries, too, and stayed behind

the tree, watching the trail. Another gust of wind rushed through the forest. The

smell was stronger this time. Excited, he lifted a thin lip in a snarl.

“Get ready,” he whispered, his whole body vibrating. The tip of his sword

moved in small circles. It had taken many plots and much pain to bring himself

to this moment. It would not do to lose control now.

Christopher Paolini

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