I DO NOT OWN THE INHERITANCE CYCLE, CHRISTOPHER POALINI DOES.

Chapter 1

Marina crouched, drawing the huge longbow in her hand even tighter, stretching it taut. She froze, her eyes fixed, her body hidden in the foliage of the trees. Even her breathing was silent.

The injured little doe that she had sighted was right before her, in a clearing, having lagged behind the rest of its herd. This was the chance she had been looking for. The arrow was aimed, ready to hiss through the air and hit its target.

She had been hunting the doe for three days, and now she was deep in the Spine, a dangerous range of mountains running vertically through the land of Alagaesia. It was a wild, untamed place, and few dared enter it. Marina remained the only huntress around Carvahall who did.

But her food was almost half-gone, and she had to return home soon. If she did not catch some animal, her foster family would be forced to buy the meat from the village, and they could not afford that. And yet winter was approaching.

Marina raised her head a bit, making sure the shot would not miss. Her gleaming chestnut hair fell into her dark, intense eyes, and she shook it away. Aged almost fifteen, she was short for her age, five feet three inches. She had a slender build.

Marina drew the bow taut one last time, and released - but as the arrow took flight, it shot not into the doe, but a great explosion that had shattered the night.

The doe had bolted, fear lending it energy. Marina cursed as her best arrow was burned to a crisp in the sudden flame, but she wasted no more time than that.

Whatever ridiculous stories were told about the Spine, everything had a basis, and the Spine was filled with dangerous, mysterious magic. Marina knew that, and respected that, and as the explosion faded, she lunged toward the safety of the dark trees, an arrow drawn almost instinctively.

She watched with hooded eyes as everything became clear again. The unexpected, violent flare had blasted everything within the clearing. The grass was charred, and a burnt smell lingered.

In the center of the clearing, a stone that had not been there before lay serene and unharmed.

Marina's gaze stayed fixed upon the stone, and then scanned the perimeter, making sure nothing else other than the stone had also appeared. Satisfied that all was clear, she slung her bow over her shoulder, and crept forward. One thin, long-fingered hand reached out to take the stone.

It was large and oval and heavy in her hand. The unnaturally smooth surface was a deep, perfect amethyst, a royal amethyst. Spider-thin veins of silver snaked across it. It was both beautiful . . . and frightening.

Magic, everyone knew, had to be treated with caution. Little was known about it by the majority, and anything unknown instantly becomes dangerous. This stone, as any nitwit could see, had clearly appeared by magic.

What to do? Who knows how much trouble bringing this stone into the house would bring.

But it was perhaps of some value, and since she hadn't managed to catch the doe, then maybe the stone would fetch enough money to buy meat for the winter.

Cradling the violet stone in her arms, Marina set for home. She did not need to look at the path, or check the dark sky – she knew the Spine like the back of her hand.