Inutori: I figured I'd try my hand at an Inheritence fanfic, as I normally do only Inuyasha ones. This idea came to me after reading Brisingr, and thus is set after the third book. There are spoilers, so if you haven't read book three, I would recommend turning back now.

Chapter 1
In the Beor Mountains

It was cold, dark, damp, and there was not another living soul within mind-reaching-distance. Barely able to move because of the cramped quarters, she shifted slightly and clenched her jaw as her scales were pulled up from their normal flat position from being dragged along the wall. All-in-all, not a pleasant feeling.

If memory-of-distant-time served her right, it had not been this difficult to enter the dark-hole-opening-in-mountain. Closing both eyelids, she tried to remember why that was. Another consciousness touched on hers, a faint, barely detectable, whisper-in-heart-but-not-out-loud-howling. Alone! and echoing that a few minutes later was Gone! Gone! Gone forever! Startled, she unclenched her feet and felt as her body attempted to droop lower in the damp-inescapable-rock.

A growl rumbled through her chest at the pain that seared through her body because of the forced angle of her scales. All she had to do was remember. Taking a deep breath, she dove into her memories again.

And then she knew what she needed to do. The magic flowed through her veins and pressed on her body. Within seconds, she was shooting up through the confining-dark-wet-cave until her body hit open air. As soon as she was free of the vertical-rock-tube, she let the magic overtake her once again and then unfurled her wings. The air was thin, and each beat of her wings was so labored that she quickly had to land on the rock-with-no-prey and dig her claws into the unbroken-but-slanted terrain.

She eyed the pack that had been tied-around-her-chest-and-sat-on-her-back quickly, confirming that it was still intact and with her, even after her flight-without-using-wings. Everything was as it should be, and now she just needed to fulfill her promise.

Looking around, she saw that the white-moisture-that-collects-in-air was miles below her, and the wing-crushing-ground was even farther below that. With a collective sigh, she resigned herself to walking up the steep-never-ending-mountain, and not being able to fly.

HEARTS BEATING SOUNDLY

Katrina fought against the ropes that kept her bound as she was dragged behind the horses at a brisk jog. They had been at it ever since the soldiers had ambushed the Varden caravan and taken her captive yesterday morning, not even stopping to sleep.

The troop's spellcaster was constantly muttering, and she figured it was probably to throw any would-be pursuers off their tail. She could feel the miles wearing her thin, and the mound of her growing belly gave her as much pain as it once gave her joy.

Would Roran be able to rescue her again? Or was it now up to her to make sure she returned safely to his arms? And what would become of their unborn child if she failed to escape.

Another tug on her tied wrists caused her to stumble and pitch forward, twisting and landing painfully on her side. Her tired mind longed for sleep, but it didn't seem that she was going to get it any time soon. Much to her dismay, the soldiers leading her on at this despicable pace did not even pause when she fell, but came charging forward, allowing the horses to drag her weight across the rocky ground.

"Someone's still following us. They don't seem to be deterred by your spells, Hanmir." One of the soldiers, a man with silver lining in his otherwise dark hair and beard, snapped his words, and Katrina focused her mind on them lest she loose consciousness and not be able to prevent her precious womb from being dragged along the ground as she tossed and turned.

Perhaps it was Roran! Or even Eragon. She could accept being rescued by her cousin if it meant being returned to her one true love.

"Maybe there's some sort of magical tracking device on the woman, but if that isn't it, then I can't explain it!"

"Strip her."

Katrina's heart nearly stopped in her chest. The band of soldiers stopped abruptly, and the two closest to her dismounted. Using their belt knives, they cut her clothing off of her in less than twenty seconds.

"Jewelry too." The captain, as he must have been, spoke again, his dark green eyes piercing hers. And just as quickly as before, the two soldiers ripped the bobbles out of her ears, the beads from her neck, and the rings from her fingers. All of them. The blood from her torn ears dripped down her neck to her shoulders, but she paid it no mind.

One of the soldiers who had stripped her looked to be in his early forties, and mumbled something about a daughter her age. Without another second to spare, the man grabbed a blanket from the pack horse and draped it around her, tying it like a toga.

"Mount up, we need to keep moving."

The soldiers obeyed, and the man who had given her the blanket picked her up and dumped her on his horse before mounting up behind her. After that, the pace picked up from a brisk walk to an all out gallop, and Katrina counted her blessings that she was no longer on the ground being dragged mercilessly behind. Her bruised body could take no more of that.

But at the same time, tears began streaming down her face as her connection to Roran and Eragon was left behind in the pile of her old attire. She no longer felt the slight pull on her body, telling her exactly where Roran was. The separation finally got to her, and she cried harder, until she couldn't see past the tears clouding her eyes.

That night, the soldiers made camp next to a shallow river, watering their horses and laying out bedrolls so that they could finally rest. She was tied to a tree and one of the men forced her to drink some water, but that was the extent of her treatment. Her only consolation, as it were, was that the soldier who had given her the blanket had none of his own, apparently having sacrificed his bedroll so that she was not naked in front of all of these men.

She tried to scream again, like she had the first day of traveling, but her throat wouldn't obey, too raw and scratched. Hopelessness and despair filled her, and she didn't know if she would be able to hold out and wait to be rescued if this continued much longer.

HANDS NOW TIED

Roran clenched the golden band in his hand, his blood boiling with fury. He had been hot on the trail of the cursed soldiers of Galbatorix that had kidnapped his wife up until they stripped her. The clothes at his feet were battered and torn, no more than mere rags at this point.

Carn came up beside him, placing a hand on the torn leader's shoulder. "I'll follow wherever you lead."

Jaw muscles clenching uncontrollably, Roran knew he had to make a choice. The Varden were about to lay siege to Dras-Leona, and he only had a few hours before he had to go back to lead the way.

As second-in-command of the Varden, and acting commander, it was his duty to make sure the attack went smoothly. After Jörmundur had been slain in the siege of Belatona, Roran has taken over as Nasuada's right hand. Unfortunately, soon thereafter, and just days ago, Nasuada had taken ill from her wounds from the Trial of the Long Knives that had still not healed, leaving Roran in charge of the entire Varden army.

More was at stake here than just Katrina and his unborn child. It took a few minutes for his body to listen to his mind and usher the command, "Turn back, Dras-Leona is waiting for us."

Turning away as he was went against every fiber of his very being. Swallowing his fear, and the tears that were forming in his eyes, Roran mounted Snowfire and headed back towards the marching army of the Varden. He could only pray to whatever gods were listening that no irreparable harm would come to his beloved.

A COLD WIND BLOWS

It had taken much longer than she had expected to reach the summit of the never-ending-rock-that-can't-be-flown-over, and even longer to trek back down its slippery slope. The descent had caused more than a few loose rocks to slide out from beneath her and race down the side of the mountain at a speed-fast-as-a-diving-dragon. With those rocks-that-were-sharper-than-two-legged-swords she had lost a few of the scales that protected her sides and underbelly.

Fortunately, nothing had attacked the dead-cow-skin-carrier that was resting at the juncture where her neck met back and there were no spikes.

Now that she was off the impossible-to-fly-over-mountain, she wasn't sure what it was that she was supposed to do, besides avoid the two-leggers and keep her cargo safe. In front of her, she saw two-legged-creatures-that-squish-easy-but-don't-taste-good picking through a pile of rocks. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of her claw marks on the rocks-that-don't-stay-where-they-are-supposed-to. One of the little creatures picked up a shimmering white disk, and her feet clenched the ground, feeling the pain all over again.

No matter who made her swear to obey their request, she was never scaling the rock-mound-with-no-air-at-the-top EVER again. For that matter, she would never agree to do anything anyone else ever told her unless they said what it was FIRST. She could only hope that her poor scales would grow back quickly, if they even would grow back. The matter wasn't certain, as she had never encountered any of her kind that had lost a scale and lived to tell about it.

The sound of her claws digging through rock and dirt alerted the little creatures-who-taste-like-rock to her presence. Hostilities with these little moles had abated in recent years, what with the war the two-legged-pointy-eared creatures, so she didn't really feel inclined to engage the miniature-sound-makers in a fight that would only end with the taste of dirt in her mouth.

She felt her muscles shiver in excitement as she leaned back onto her haunches and leaped into the air, spreading her wings as soon as she was clear of the smaller-than-was-expected-but-bigger-than-normal-trees. The first few flaps of her wings did little but keep her from crashing into the inedible-green-and-brown-hiding-place-of-delicious-food, but after a few moments, she was able to pull herself away from the forest and go on her first proper flight in who-knows-how-long.

Listening to the shouts of the rock-beaters-who-like-shiny-objects, she smiled and sped across the canopy of trees. A wave of hunger crashed into her unexpectedly, and she quickly remembered that she had not eaten since she started climbing the never-ending-bane-of-her-existence-that-she-would-demolish-if-possible.

Hunger noted, she began scanning the area for anything to eat. The ground passed below her more quickly than she was used to, and again she had to wonder if everything had shrunk while she was on the mountain-that-should-not-exist.

A lake spanned out beneath her, and she felt her confusion build, for she did not remember a big-drinking-hole-that-food-comes-to-so-you-don't-have-to-hunt so close to the tall mountains at her back. But she also didn't remember that there were so many two-legged-creatures everywhere, so it could just be her.

Her gaze landed on a herd of horses with two-legged morsels on top of them. With a grin, she tilted her wings and began her dive. None of her meal noticed her approach until it was far too late to escape.

Grabbing two of the horses with her front claws and snapping up a third in her jaw, she landed. The one two-legged she devoured tasted like metal, a flavor she did not care for. That meant she would not eat any more of the shiny two-legged-...round-ears?

Deciding to think about that later, she quickly killed her prey so it couldn't escape and began stuffing her face. One of the two-legged-creatures-who-rides-a-horse-because-he-can't-run-fast cried out, and she let a jet of fire take care of the sound.

Getting back to her feast, she was surprised to hear a crying whimper about two quick steps away. Looking up, she was met with the sight of a female-two-legged-creature-with-strange-round-ears-and-a-fatter-than-was-normal-torso. The little creature was bleeding, and looked like she had a hole through her side.

The other two-legged-creatures-that-tasted-disgusting must have done it to her. Peering more closely at the round-eared creature, she noticed another, weaker presence. It was with that observation that she realized the creature was carrying an infant-two-legged in its belly. She also noted that the two-legged female was dying.

In approaching, the two-legged tried to sit up, but apparently had lost too much blood to do so.

PAINFUL CRY

Katrina couldn't believe the sight before her. Standing taller than any tree she had ever seen was a silvery-white dragon with eyes that were a pale red. She wasn't certain yet if she should be afraid or relieved at the dragon's presence.

The majestic brilliance of the sun reflecting off of the dragon's scales nearly blinded her, but she was determined to meet the creature's eyes. Pain shot through her side and down through her leg, reminding her that the captain of the band of soldiers had just moments ago run his sword through her stomach. It had probably killed her baby and she could feel the life slipping out of her own limbs quickly as well.

Another awareness pressed on her mind, and an image of an elven baby cradled in her arms appeared, as if a question. The dragon was asking after her child. Trying to concentrate, Katrina formed an image of what she hoped, of a perfect baby resting in her arms, but then of having to bury the broken baby, as the thought crossed her mind that her baby was dead.

No. Not dead. The dragon's voice was smooth and calming, and most definitely female. An image came to her of a healthy baby, as she first pictured hers. A white snout moved towards her and she became aware of the fact that if this dragon so desired, it could swallow Katrina whole without even worrying about chewing. I would not eat you. Two-legged-round-ears do not taste good.

Tentatively, she formed thoughts for the dragon, not accustomed to communicating with any but Saphira in this manner. Can you help my baby and I?

The dragon's breath was hot on her face, and she waited for an answer. I cannot save you. Reluctance was in the dragon's thoughts, and Katrina felt her fear build.

But you could save my baby? Despite the knowledge that she would die, Katrina couldn't peacefully handle having Roran's child lost as well.

Katrina's muscles went slack and she could feel her spirit drifting off on her. The seconds dragged on for what seemed an eternity before the dragon answered her plea. I could save the infant from dying today. But I cannot raise your child.

An image of Roran burned in Katrina's mind, and then her feelings came close behind. She loved him with all of her being, and would do anything to make him happy. She would miss him dearly, but he deserved to have their child, if nothing else. My husband, Roran, will take care of our baby.

Where would I find this two-legged man? The world is not small. The dragon pulled its head away, looking down at Katrina with what must have been feelings of superiority. If she didn't act quickly, she knew the dragon would leave and both she and her unborn child would die.

Her mind drifted yet further, and Katrina knew she didn't have much time left. Rather than trying to explain everything, a tumult of thoughts and emotions poured out and over the connection between herself and the white dragon.

I do not know this city, Dras-Leona. But I will try, for the sake of the infant.

Thank you. Katrina's eyes drifted closed and she her last conscious thought was of Roran's face on their wedding day, just months ago.

STARTLING DISCOVERY

Roran looked up as Eragon and Saphira approached and his gaze quickly focused on them. "Ah, Eragon, Saphira. I need to speak with you, in private."

Eragon nodded, and Roran led the pair to the outskirts of camp, looking over Eragon and Saphira in turn.

"I was contacted by one of Orik's spellcasters in Tronjheim with some curious news." He paused slightly, as if searching for words before he would continue. "Apparently, sometime yesterday morning, there was a landslide in the Beor Mountains, and with it were several silvery-white disks, resembling large scales, with remnants of blood and torn flesh on them. The dwarves that found the scales also say that they saw a white dragon the size of which has never been seen before take off not a quarter of a mile away. If they're right, we have a live dragon in the Beor Mountains."

Eragon felt his body become lighter, as his and Saphira's emotions intertwined into something of hope and maybe a little more. After the loss of Glaedr and Oromis, neither had known what they were going to do. But another free dragon?

He felt like leaping for joy, crying out to the world in ecstasy. Saphira beside him clenched and unclenched her claws, trying to restrain her own triumphant roar.

Looking back at Roran, Eragon felt himself being pulled back to reality and to the Varden. "What is it?"

"I don't know. White dragons aren't unheard of, but they have never been common, or so the stories go, even in the time of the Riders. The last known white dragon amongst the Riders was killed over a hundred years before Galbatorix's time. This might be a wild dragon, if it were possible."

Wild? Eragon looked at Saphira, wanting to know her thoughts on the matter.

Wild or bound to a Rider, a dragon is a dragon. I wish we could fly to the tips of the Beor Mountains and greet this unseen dragon!

Eragon could feel the truth of Saphira's thoughts, and concurred wholeheartedly. But the dragons have been dead for a century! Where has this one been hiding?

It makes little difference to me, little one. Saphira let a low growl vibrate through her chest, an excited burst of steam pouring from both nostrils.

A smile lit the corners of his mouth for only a split second longer, as suddenly the feeling of loss overwhelmed him. He looked to Roran beside him, who looked as pale as a ghost.

Eragon realized that Roran was probably remembering Katrina. Only a day ago, towards the end of the siege on Dras-Leona, Roran had collapsed and screamed Katrina's name. Now Roran was convinced that Katrina was dead and he would get his revenge on Galbatorix. They had been lucky no one had been able to get a fatal hit on Roran then, for if they had, the army would be in such disarray, with both Nasuada and Roran down for the count.

But because Roran was still with them, they were already on their way to Urû'baen, barely pausing to ensure their hold on Dras-Leona.

THE ART OF INFILTRATION

Eyeing the army camped in the middle of nowhere once more, she pulled back the cloth of her bundle and looked over the infant's small face once again. The little one hadn't been incubating for nearly long enough when the two-legged-mother had died, and thus she had had to use her own power to speed the poor thing's development along.

It now was at about the developmental stage of what she guessed it would be were it ready to hatch. That would be good enough for placing the babe in the two-leggers' care.

The one flaw in her plan was finding the child's birth father amongst all of the smelly creatures-who-fight-with-sticks-rather-than-tooth-and-nail. Although she could swear that the two-legged-that-died-and-couldn't-take-care-of-her-infant had said the "name" of this husband-that-failed-to-be-where-he-was-supposed-to-be-when-his-mate-was-dying, but she couldn't remember it for the life of her. All she had now was a vague recollection of his face, and even that was sketchy, at best.

In her mind, she could hear the mother-of-her-mother's-mother chiding her for being too soft hearted. No free dragon would allow herself to be bound so. Just eat the two-legged and be done with it.

She was startled as she watched a beautiful young dragon swoop into the midst of the encampment. That wasn't her brother's son, was it? If so, he had betrayed all of their kind to aid the two-leggers, and she would no longer consider him her brother's child. The sun caught on the younger dragon's scales, and she eyed the shimmering blue. It couldn't be her young-kin-who-wanted-to-hatch-and-bond-with-a-two-legged-pointy-eared, then, as he was a deep purple.

So entranced was she with watching the other dragon mingling with the two-leggeds that she didn't even notice the band of soldiers until they were upon her. Making sure she was between the men and her cow-hide-bag, and feeling very vulnerable in this false shape, she stood straight and waited.

The men drew their swords, obviously preparing to cut her down, when the baby in her arms cried out. They were startled by the noise, but didn't drop their guard. Cursing her luck, she cradled the child closer to her chest with one arm and pulled the hood down further on her face.

"Ain't you an elf?" The man closest to her spoke, stepping even nearer as he did so.

Her spine straightened even more, if it was possible, but she kept her chin tucked in.

"She's with Galbatorix, Carn! See the uniform?" Another of the men, who was still mounted, hissed at the first like he was an idiot.

"I see the uniform, but no soldier of Galbatorix lets it get in such disrepair." They were talking about the clothes she was wearing, no doubt. She had removed them from one of the two-legged-round-ears-that-tasted-like-metal after she had saved the infant. It wasn't like she could carry a baby smaller-than-one-of-her-scales in her true form, and she knew that two-leggers always remained robed, unlike her kind.

"Where did you get those clothes from? Answer."

The language was new to her, but she had learned it from the mind of the dying-female-two-legged-whose-infant-she-now-possessed. Lowering her chin further, she spoke out loud in their tongue for the first time. "I needed robes, and these were the first I found. I apologize if this has caused you alarm."

I
Do
Not
Sleep

Inutori: There's a little something for the first chapter. I hope to write more and post it...eventually...

Preview of next chapter:

The female elf the others referred to as "Arya" approached her and spoke in a language that she was more familiar with: the true language of the land. "We do not intend you any harm if you are not our enemy. Let us inspect the pack and your mind, and you will be free to wander as you please."

None could lie while speaking in the true language. But the two-legged-pointy-eared would steal her pack if she revealed what it was. She would protect the pack with her life. Because of that, she wouldn't normally be here, but there was something she had to do among the "Varden" before leaving. "It would mean my life and my honor if another were to look into my pack." It would only do to speak the truth (or as close as she was willing to get to it, anyway). "If you must inspect my mind, so be it, but the pack must not be touched." Responding to Arya in the true language, she could only hope that they didn't pry her further.

Why march to war with puny two-legged creatures when dragons wage war so much better?

Are you ignorant? The dragons are no more! If we could fly to battle with an army of dragons, we would! Galbatorix killed them all!