“In times of old, centuries ago, when the great Dragon Riders were diminished and an evil man by the name of Galbatorix ruled the lands of Alagaesia, a hope arose in the midst of despair. A young farmer boy named Eragon discovered a dragon egg in the mountain range of the Spine. Surprising him and all around him, the dragon hatched for the boy, and, as is tradition, Eragon was marked with the gedwey ignasia, the silvery mark of the Shur’tugal. He became a Dragon Rider, and the last hope of the people of Alagaesia.

“Through many toils and adventures, the young rider found himself at the gates of the Varden, the rebel force that defied the Emperor and hid in the mountains with the dwarves. It was then that he decided to pledge himself to them and help the people in any way that he could. He traveled to Ellesmera, the hidden capital city of the elves to officially begin his training from a broken warrior and Rider of old. But after the death of the leader of the Varden, and the rise of his daughter, Nasuada, to power, the Varden was taking bold moves. Nasuada led the Varden to the edge of the Empire and attacked.

“They were met with a long and tiring battle, known in history at the Battle of the Burning Plains. It was revealed in this battle that Galbatorix had found another Dragon Rider to serve him, and Eragon was outmatched and his powerful sword taken. Left broken, the young Rider left the Varden once again to destroy the vicious servants of the Empire, the Ra’zac. He then traveled to the elves again and completed his training with his master.

“Eragon discovered a nest of dragon eggs, a blessing and an advantage. If they could find the people whom these eggs would hatch for, the Varden would be much more powerful than Empire and finishing the war, defeating the King, would become a simple task.

“But it was not meant to be so. The eggs were discovered by the Empire, and as Eragon and a guard of elves escorted the eggs to the Varden after searching through their own inhabitants for the Riders to the eggs, the Empire attacked with a small army of soldiers, many more than were guarding the eggs. Despite the fact that the elves were far more skilled, they were overwhelmed by the amount of soldiers converging upon them. Several egg-bearers fled from the battle in secret, protecting their treasures. Eragon and Murtagh, the Imperial Rider who had defeated Eragon once before in the Battle of the Burning Plains, engaged in combat once again, and destroyed each other. The Empire seized the two remaining eggs, which eventually hatched for them, just as the eggs the elves had managed to save hatched for the Varden.

“Over many years, the battles continued, the war stretched ever longer. Both sides had talented people in war and battle, and each side won victories worth retelling, but the people of the land were growing tired of the war-torn land. On both side, people deserted their posts and fled into the wilderness to escape the war, and only those who had lost themselves in the battle-frenzied land stayed and fought. Many towns and even cities were abandoned, left in ashes and ruins. Many heroes fell on the battlefield, and many more saw the foolishness in the war. Wise people attempted to reason with the leaders of each, begging with them to stop the fighting and come to an agreement, a treaty. When these attempts failed, and they were threatened with their lives, they fled the fighting and followed the footsteps of many before them, hiding in the wilderness to survive.

“It seemed as if some had listened to them, however, though not in the way they would have liked. Tired of the constant fighting and the battles that never tipped the scale, Galbatorix left his palace in Uru’baen for the first time in over a century and gathered what remained of his troops before him. He rallied even those who had refused to fight with him before. He spoke of a peace like the land had never seen before. And then he left for battle. With the great Rider and his mountain-like black dragon at the head, the Imperial army marched on the Varden capital of Feinster.

“In this battle, the Varden’s capital was destroyed and its inhabitants slaughtered. Nasuada, leader of the Varden, was captured and eventually murdered by the King when she failed to give him any useful information. Several of the Varden’s remaining generals and Riders were killed in the battle, and those who were left fled to the wilderness to seek a haven they could no longer find in their homes.

“The once beautiful western part of Alagaesia was a land of despair and desolation. The small population that remained there cowered in the black, fire-burnt lands and made their living in whatever way they could. The King returned to his palace and continued his reign, knowing that the Varden was forever crushed and that he could rule in peace. But there were some who would not give up on the land that was once their home. In the wilderness beyond the Empire, a small band of people began to gather support for reclaiming their land once and for all. Among these people were Riders, elves, humans, dwarves, and even a werecat. They split up and scoured the wilderness around them, gathering anyone they could to come to a great meeting of all the people of the land. An elven Rider by the name of Saethiira was successful in convincing the queen of the elves to attend this meeting, and Terrof, a human Rider, managed to bring the leaders of twelve dwarven clans to the meeting. A werecat of the name Vali gathered all her kin under her and together they traveled to the meeting, collecting broken families of humans as they went. A mage of the name Avalon spread the word through her magics, encouraging people of any race and background to come. Many talented elven spellcasters even gathered the support of the animals and nature.

“The meeting was held in the lands beyond the Hadarac Desert, in the large spacious ground where the thousands who had gathered could circle around the leaders of the gathering. For days, the meeting debated what it could do about the threat of the Emperor, for he had begun to expand his lands towards the Beor Mountains the Hadarac Desert, and even the forest of the elves, Du Weldenvarden. They feared for the haven that they had found. At the end of five days of debate, they decided to battle, as many knew that a man such as Galbatorix would refuse everything else.

“For many years after the great meeting, all who had attended trained for the battle that faced them. They continued to gather support for their cause, knowing that they would need all the help they could find. After five years of this, they all gathered under one banner and marched to Uru’baen.

“Galbatorix say them coming long before they reached his palace and readied his army. He met them at the edge of the Hadarac desert and engaged them in combat before they had any time to set up camp. He was enraged that any would dare to oppose them, but was also somewhat fearful, because for once his army was outnumbered.

“The greatest of the fighters who opposed the King’s rule avoided his army and found him at the back of the it, watching the fighting. They attacked him and, after hours of battle where many of them were killed, they destroyed his dragon. Furious, Galbatorix went into a rage like never seen before, murdering many more of those who were fighting him. The queen of the elves, who was among those who fought him, was killed, along with several of the Dragon Riders. Just as the Emperor was about to stab a powerful mage, a young boy brandishing a dagger jumped up onto him from behind and slit his throat.

“The battle ended quickly after that. Many of the Imperial soldiers were convinced to lay down their arms and join the people who fought for Alagaesia. Those who refused were killed. In the week that followed the battle, the fallen were given proper burials and the place where the battle had happened became a burial ground. Then those who remained began to work on restoring the splendor to Alagaesia, repairing the damage that had been done the past many, many years. Few had survived the battle, and even fewer of those were the original leaders. Many beautiful souls left Alagaesia that sorrowful day, and those who did will forever remember those they lost.

“Together, the remaining people worked together to restore the land and to implement a new government that would not allow such atrocities to ever happen again. A strange and new system was put into place, developed by the wisest of the land. New peacekeepers were found, combining the power of the Dragon Riders with that of nature, but not limiting the order to those who were blessed with dragons, as that had been proven faulty in the past. Great care was taken not to repeat the mistakes of the past.

“And now, hundreds of years later, we reap the benefits of those who worked hard and selflessly to bring back the Alagaesia that they had once called home. It is a small price for us to pay to keep their legend alive and within our hearts as we go throughout our days in this peaceful land.”

A small child tottered off the storyteller’s lap as the tale was finished, falling into the hands of the many more children who surrounded the woman. The young girl who had fallen pushed her hair roughly out of her face and looked up at the storyteller with awe in her eyes. “Did that really happen?”

“Of course it did, young one,” the storyteller said softly, smiling as she reached down and moved the girl’s hair out of her eyes. “Every last bit of it.”

“Even that boy killing the great king?!” A small, mousy haired boy asked in amazement.

“Even that.” The bard’s smile widened. “In fact, that small boy looked an awful lot like you.” She reached down and touched the boy on the nose, causing him to giggle and bat at her hand.

An older boy, perhaps fifteen or sixteen years of age, who had been sitting on the edge of the group, holding his younger sister on his lap, spoke up. “Ma’am…” He hesitated and looked embarrassed as the bard turned her face to look at him, her dark eyes meeting his bright green ones. She gave him a kind, loving look and he regained his courage, though his words were spoken slightly fast. “Are any of the warrior leaders still living?”

The storyteller’s eyes sparkled and her smile widened. “Those who survived the last battle were already old in age, though not close to death. Many of them left Alagaesia to explore different lands and to help others as they could. There are some who stayed in this land, to help it and its people and nurture it back to health. Very few of the remaining leaders were blessed with life long enough to survive to this day.”

The boy looked slightly crestfallen, as if the answer was not what he was hoping it would be. “Does that mean that none survived this long?”

“I did not say that,” she said softly, “but it is time for rest and sleep now.” A universal sound of disappointment waved through the crowd of children, but they began to stand and disperse, especially as mothers came to collect their children. The older boy who had asked the last question, however, remained. He stood and fell back, but kept his eyes on the bard as she stood and ushered the children away to their mothers.

Once the last child had gone, the bard stood and began to walk away herself, but then she paused. The boy’s eyes widened and he began to turn away, but the bard was quicker. She turned towards him and grasped his shoulder in her hand. She looked down at him, deep into his eyes.

“There are those who survived and are still alive today, but you must be wise and patient. There is no easy way to find them.”

The boy stared at her for a moment and then gasped. “You…?”

The bard smiled mischievously and let go of the boy’s shoulder. Her eyes flashed and for a moment the white disappeared, both of her eyes turning into a fiery orange color before flashing again and reverting back to their normal, dark appearance. With a grin and a wave, Vali twisted around. A flash of orange light covered her, blinding the boy. When he could see again, the bard was gone.

The Letter of Farewell...