Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon and everybody else. Christopher Paolini Does.

A/N: The story might be a little similar to the original for a fair bit, don't burn me!


Bloodkin

Chapter 1: The Three Hunters

Brom the storyteller laid back on his chair as his three captive audience watched him in awe. He stroked his beard in amusement. "If Garrow keeps leaving you here every time he and his wife leave for Therinsford, then I will run out of stories to tell before you turn ten years old," he said with a smile. "Now, what do you want to hear about today?"

The three little boys – barely six years old and with so much promise – stared at each other and smiled. The tallest one gave Brom an earnest look with his mahogany-brown eyes that seemed red unless one peered closely. "We want to hear about dragons!"

Brom pursed his lips. King Galbatorix and his remaining Forsworn have forbidden any tales of dragons and their Dragon Riders, unless made them sound like good people. Brom told the truth if he could help it, though. The children before him were to young to hear about it, so he decided to make up something else and kept it close to the truth instead. "There was a young dragon named Saphira…"


Most tales of epic adventures and magic began in dark, stormy nights. True, it was quite cold as winter crept closer but the sky was quite clear and there was not a breath of wind. Three elves rode their noble white horses and made their way through the woods. They moved swiftly and silently – not even their flowing, silvery cloaks made any sound.

The one on the lead looked around. His long hair was as dark as night, framing a beautiful, angular face. He wore no armor, but was armed with his bow and a quiver of arrows. His deep green eyes surveyed the area around him. He had a big pack on his lap and kept checking on it, as if afraid that the contents might suddenly vanish.

The one riding a little to the left was dressed similarly, and was as beautiful as his companion. His silver hair gleamed like starlight and his deep blue eyes seemed distrustful. He wore a helm of amber and gold, and was armed with a graceful spear.

To the right was their new companion, young even by elven standards. She looked like she was in her teens, with raven hair and bright green eyes. She and the leader could have passed as siblings in a heartbeat. She was armed not only with a bow and some arrows – she also had a slim, elegant sword hanging from her belt.

A soft wind began to blow. With it was the stench of creatures and beings that did not belong to the forest. The three elves froze in their place. They stared at each other as their steeds turned the other way in a very fast pace.


Eragon narrowed his eyes. He was kneeling beside tracks that told him about his prey. The herd of deer was there recently, and he would still have time to catch up to them and make it back to his hunting companions' camp. Night was fast approaching, and he was sure that the deer would settle down to sleep soon enough.

It was a cold and clear night, with no signs of impending bad weather. The mountains towered over him in all direction, but not enough to hide a good portion of the starry sky. Streams flowed down nearby and meant that many animals made their way to the area for a drink – and it was an advantage for hunters.

Eragon was fifteen – just a few months short of finally reaching manhood. His messy hair was a reddish-brown shade, and kept falling over his deep blue eyes. He already left his pack in the campsite, and brought only his waterskin, a bow protected by a buckskin tube, and his bone-handle knife. He and his companions were some of the few brave young men from Carvahall that braved the Spine, which was a massive mountain range that bordered Alagaesia.

Many tales of horror and the supernatural persisted around the place and it wasn't helped at all by the fact that some of the Forsworn have been reportedly sighted in some southern locations. To the people like Eragon though, hunting game deep within the area was the only way to survive.

It was bad time for hunting, as he, his brother and their cousin have already felled a number bucks during their three-day trek. Their family had enough to last them through the winter, but it wouldn't hurt to get one more. Maybe they could sell it for some extra money.


The elves didn't make it far. There was a flash of red lights and their helmed companion fell. The black-haired male cried out something in his native tongue as the two remaining elves rode through the dark. A red-haired Shade and a band of ugly, horned Urgals emerged from the trees and ran after them. The elf lord nocked an arrow and shot blindly, hitting one of the Urgals in the eye.

"Get him!" the Shade cried out angrily. "He is the one I want."

The elf lady managed to outpace her companion and looked back in terror. "Letta orya thorna!" she cried out, stopping the Urgals' arrows.

"Ganga!" the elf lord yelled at his companion. He shot a couple of Urgals as they and the Shade began to gain on him.

The Shade smiled as he began to close the distance. "Böetq istalri!" A massive section of the forest burst into raging flames. The Shade repeated his spell a few more times until the flames circled half a league, giving the Urgals a smaller space to work with.

There were shouts and a blast of light to the east. The Shade ran towards the commotion and found the two elves surrounded. The Urgals leered at them. The elf lord kept a calm face and clutched his pack while the lady gave them a look of disdain. Their noble steed lay dead nearby. The lord held out his hand, as if offering it to the Urgals, and frantically uttered words of power.

In outrage, the Shade bared his teeth and uttered something under his breath. Red light flew toward the elf lord. There was a flash of deep green light and the contents elf lord's pack vanished, except for a green stone that fell down to his feet. The lady grabbed it as the lord fell to the ground and lost consciousness. Before anybody could respond, she let out a piercing shriek. "Jierda theirra kalfis!" The Urgals staggered backward in pain, leaving only the unfazed Shade. The abomination barely showed signs of injury. The elf bounded off into the night.


Eragon found himself in a glen, using the shadows and trees to conceal himself. The sound of flowing water could be heard nearby. The deer were starting to retire for the night. Pleased, Eragon pulled out an arrow and nocked it. He spotted a plump doe at the very edge of the herd and prepared to shoot it, when there was a loud explosion.

The deer bolted off. Cursing, Eragon ran after the deer and ignored the searing hot wind that caressed his cheek. He fired an arrow and missed by a very small margin. The deer bounded into the darkness, leaving him far behind. Angry and disappointed, wheeled around to the source of the explosion while nocking another arrow.

There was a large, charred circle in the center of the area. The grass where the deer lay and the trees that Eragon used for cover have been burnt. Some of the trees survived with just a few burnt off leaves, but many of them were too damaged. His eyes gravitated towards the center of the field, where strange, colorful smoke still danced in the slight breeze. Three polished oval stones sat on the ground. They were of different colors – vibrant blue, shimmering red, and a rich violet.

After making sure that it was perfectly safe, Eragon moved forward cautiously. He used an arrow to poke the blue stone. These objects were not something that nature could have polished. He picked up one of the stones and gazed at it in marvel. The shade was a brighter blue than that of his eyes, with white veins running down its length. It was at least a foot long. He glanced at the other stones and also picked them up. Might as well as bring something interesting to the camp if he had nothing else to bring with him. Maybe they could even trade for meat when they got back home.

He knew his way around the general area but couldn't help checking the stars every now and then. The darkness seemed more sinister after that night and he would feel better once he had company. He stumbled through thickets and crossed a couple of streams as the mone shone above him. He finally reached the camp, and groaned when he realized that his companions were already seated by the fire and tending to it. Did he really take that long?

His twin brother Murtagh and their cousin Roran waited for him with expectant looks. Murtagh stood up. "So what did you shoot today, oh mighty hunter?" he asked with a smile. He looked almost exactly like his brother, except for the fact that he was a little on the lean side and had mahogany-colored eyes that seemed red at first glance.

"Seems like he's empty-handed," their cousin Roran said. He raised an eyebrow as his violet eyes gave him a long look.

Eragon moved nearer and showed them the three stones. "Look here," he said. He set down the oval, foot-long stones for the other two to see and sat beside his brother. "They just… appeared when I was out hunting. Startled the deer too."

"Appeared?" Murtagh crossed his arms and picked up the red one. He passed it over to Roran and checked out the blue one. "Are you talking about magic? Was it that explosion we heard? We were debating about checking it out but Roran here insisted that it might have had nothing to do with you. Seems like we were wrong."

"To be honest, I have no idea what happened. You think I was meant to have it?" Eragon asked.

Roran narrowed his eyes as he put down the red stone and picked up the violet one. "Magic, it must be. I'm sure this has a purpose but you could have found it totally by accident." He narrowed his eyes. "I don't know what these do but we can try selling them."

"Whatever we're supposed to do about those stones, we really have to eat and get some rest already. It's a long way to Carvahall," Murtagh said with a smile.