When Eragon had enough strength, he staggered to his feet, brown eyes growing wide in fear at the sight of the unconscious half-elf nearby. Blood caked her blonde hair to the side of her head in startling red and brown colors. Her long fingers had lost their grip on her bow, she laid in a heap by the wall, skin paled and silver eyes closed.

He rushed to her side as quickly as he could on shaky legs, kneeling beside her with the fear in his eyes only growing, panic spreading through his veins like a lightning strike. "Gods above," he whispered as he carefully lifted her head and checked for signs of life. She was breathing, thank the gods, but… was it just her head, or was she hurt elsewhere?

I did this, Eragon thought to himself with slow dread, like he was watching as a third party instead of feeling like he was in the moment, really holding onto his unconscious best friend. I did this to her… Gods, I didn't mean to…

He snapped himself out of it and lowered Armelle gently back to the ground. He knew better than to think he could carry her in his current state, even lift her to put her on one of the horses—his hands were violently shaking and his movements were jerky and erratic. He pushed to his feet to rush for help. He didn't know what he could do to help her, he needed one of the adults.

He found them just after Cadoc returned to his side. Brom was motionless in the saddle while Devon tended the old storyteller's wound. There was a long gash down the old man's right arm, and it bled profusely, but it didn't seem overly life threatening once they got the bleeding to stop. It wasn't deep or wide.

Devon looked to Eragon with a mix of relief and deeper concern. "Help me get him from the saddle."

Eragon nodded and rushed to help, but his aid did little good. Brom's weight proved too much for the Blue Rider, and Devon was left bearing the weight by himself.

Devon looked at him with critical hazel eyes for a long moment as he knelt to bind Brom's arm. "Where's my daughter?"

Twin cries of rage filled his mind before he could answer. The female dragons dove from the sky like metallic fireballs, Saphira landing in front of him with a furious hiss.

Argenta landed further away with an outward snarl, directed partially at Eragon. You! The silver dragon clawed at the ground, crouching low like she was going to pounce. You hurt her!

Saphira let out a defensive hiss and curled her tail around Eragon.

"It was an accident," Eragon pleaded with large, clearly upset eyes. He was addressing Argenta and Devon. "I didn't mean to. I was trying to save us."

Devon pushed to his feet quickly, grabbing Eragon by the shoulder in an almost bruising grip, the pain of which made Saphira growl at him. "Eragon, where is my daughter?"

Eragon glanced toward the small gap between houses. "I came to get your help."

Devon pushed past him quickly and bolted toward his daughter. He found her where Eragon had left her, and he let out a heartbroken shout, "NO!" as he slid to the ground beside her, carefully lifting her and checking her for other serious injuries. The bleeding head seemed to be the most pressing, but it was not the only serious injury. Her ribs had been cracked on impact, and her shoulder would be badly bruised, but her head was the only one that was immediately life threatening.

He closed his eyes and whispered, "Waíse heill."

The wound on Armelle's head slowly closed, but she didn't regain consciousness yet.

Devon took a deep breath and lifted his daughter, gently carrying her back to the others after planting a soft kiss on her forehead.


Eragon moved to follow him after Brom was tended to and his bleeding had stopped, but he was cut off by a snarling silver dragon. You've done enough, Argenta hissed, her usually gentle voice harder than granite as she outwardly growled at the Blue Rider.

Saphira snaked herself around her Rider and hissed in reply.

Argenta's scales raised slightly like the hackles on a threatened stray, black smoke spilling from her nostrils in a reminder that she was older than Saphira, and it was a fight the blue dragon was not likely to win if it started. Saphira might've been close to her size, but the silver dragon was faster and more agile. Eragon never wanted to know what the results of such a clash would end with.

The huge beasts squared off with snarls until Devon appeared again, carrying his tall daughter in his arms. Some of her color had returned through the healing process, and the wound on her head was closed, but there was still blood staining her hair and she wasn't conscious, so Eragon felt no less nervous and no less guilty as he turned to finish tending to Brom.

Argenta curled protectively around her Rider and her Rider's father, never turning away from Saphira as rage boiled between the two, so hot the fire in Argenta's belly threatened to jump out several months too early.

Devon? Argenta's voice had softened toward the former Rider as he carefully knelt, still cradling his daughter's head. Her large silver eyes held more concern than he'd seen in a dragon in a very long time. Will she be alright? She still has so much pain…

"I know," Devon whispered without taking his eyes off of his daughter. "Her ribs are broken, and her shoulder is badly bruised. All things that will heal in time, but I don't have the energy to help her now. I'll do what else I can once we're out of this damned village."

We must go quickly, the dragon agreed. There may be more Urgals nearby.

"You'll have to carry her," the former Rider said simply. "I'll trap her into the saddle, and then help Eragon do the same with Brom on Saphira."

Argenta dipper her large head in a nod.

Devon strapped the saddle onto Argenta's back, and the silver dragon carefully knelt as low as she could for the former Rider to deposit his unconscious daughter in the saddle, where he strapped her legs in carefully and snugly.

By the time he turned to help Eragon with the old storyteller, he was in the saddle and blearily rousing up. "Did Saphira and Argenta get here in time?" He asked as he put a hand to his head.

Devon walked their direction and swung into Mordor's saddle, gathering Dana's reins in his hands to lead her alongside.

"I'll explain it later," Eragon promised after shaking his head. "Your arm is injured. I bandaged it as best I could, but you need a safe place to rest."

Brom agreed slowly, clearly still bleary about what exactly was going on at the current time.

The Blue Rider finished tightening the straps on Saphira's saddle as he explained. "Saphira's going to take you and follow Devon and I by air."

That had Brom looked more befuddled. "Will Armelle be on Argenta?" Realization struck the old storyteller. "She wasn't injured, was she?"

Devon cut him a sharp glance that answered the question without words as Eragon's expression was once again flooded with sadness and guilt. "I'll explain later," the teen promised again before Brom tried to protest about riding the dragon that wasn't his.

Eragon didn't take no for an answer, and before long they were off, looking for a safe space to nurse their wounds, and for Eragon to understand exactly what he'd done. He'd used magic! How had he used magic?

After another very quick stop to water the horses and refill their waterskins, the dragons found a secluded clearing in the trees by the Ninor River.

Once he and Devon arrived in the clearing, a small, smokeless fire was burning with Brom sitting next to it as he tended his arm. Armelle had been lowered from the saddle, presumably loosened from the straps holding her in by Brom once they'd landed, and lowered to the ground by Argenta. The silver dragon was curled protectively around the still unconscious Rider, though she was starting to stir.

Devon tied the horses and moved quickly to his daughter's side, carefully brushing her golden hair out of her face as he almost begged any gods that would listen for her to awaken.

After a few more minutes, while Brom and Eragon were eating, silver eyes opened slowly, foggy with drowsiness and confusion. "Father…?"

Devon broke into a soft, relieved smile. "How are you feeling, my dear?"

"Sore," she said softly as her father helped her sit up, which she managed with a soft groan and a few deep breaths.

"Let me get you something to eat," her father said tenderly, kissing her forehead before slipping from under Argenta's protective wing.

Brom raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Hungry?"

Devon only shook his head as he gathered the meal. "She's awake."

Eragon sagged in relief, some of his worry fading and anxiousness growing. "Is she alright?"

"She will be," Devon replied before ducking back under the silver dragon's wing. He handed Armelle the food, which she ate almost delicately, testing how much she could manage without feeling sick.

Once she was finished, and after her father had helped her clean the dried blood from her golden hair, Argenta lowered her wing for the others to see the Silver Rider as Brom asked for what exactly he'd missed while unconscious.

Armelle settled carefully against her dragon's side, glancing between Eragon and Brom as the Blue Rider explained everything without exaggeration.

Brom's expression was unreadable. Once Eragon finished, the old storyteller looked to the ground, the camp around them silent outside of the cracking fire. After another moment, Brom spoke. "Have you used this power before?"

"No," Eragon said with a small shake of his head, glancing between Brom and Devon. "Do either of you know anything about it?"

The two men traded nearly indiscernible glances before Brom replied with a thoughtful expression. "A little. It seems I owe all three of you a debt for saving my life. I hope I can return the favor someday." He looked more squarely at Eragon. "You should be proud; few escape unscathed from slaying their first Urgal. But the manner in which you did it was very dangerous. You could've destroyed yourself and the whole town. Just look at the pain it's caused Armelle."

The half-elf didn't like being used as an example, as a reason to blame Eragon for something gone wrong. He hadn't meant to harm her, and she knew that.

That changes nothing, little elf, Argenta said coldly, though the frigid tone wasn't directed at her own Rider. He injured you because he was careless. He must see that.

Armelle knew better than to argue with the stubborn creature, so she just exhaled heavily and settled again.

Eragon flushed, embarrassed and defensive. "It wasn't as if I had a choice. The Urgals were almost upon us. If I had waited, they would have chopped us into pieces!"

Brom frowned at him as he chewed on his pipe stem. "You didn't have any idea what you were doing, and injured your friend and fellow Rider as a result."

"Then tell me," Eragon said in challenge, fuming at the continuous reminder of his mistake. "I've been searching for answers to this mystery, but I can't make sense of it. What happened? How could I have possibly used magic? No one has ever instructed me in it or taught me spells."

Brom's eyes flashed. "This isn't something you should be taught—much less use!"

"Well, I have used it," Eragon argued stubbornly, "and I may need it to fight again. But I won't be able to if you don't help me. What's wrong? Is there some secret I'm not supposed to learn until I'm old and wise? Or maybe you don't know anything about magic!"

"Boy!" Brom roared, all of his composure lost in a raging temper. "You demand answers with an insolence rarely seen. If you knew what you asked for, you would not be so quick to inquire. Do not try me." He relaxed, tone becoming much calmer after he saw Devon's defensive glance as he slid closer to his daughter. The old storyteller turned back to Eragon. "The knowledge you ask for is more complex than you understand."

Eragon, on the other hand, was no calmer. "I feel as though I've been thrust into a world with strange rules that no one will explain."

Armelle, now with a throbbing head from the yelling between the two, was quick to throw a comment back at Eragon. "You have been thrust into a strange world, Eragon. I understand you want to learn about its rules, so do I, but what good is done by losing your temper needlessly?"

Eragon seemed to quiet a little, his expression thoroughly scolded.

"It's late," Devon interrupted, breaking the silence that had fallen around the camp. "We all need to rest, but if it will end your pestering, Eragon, Brom and I will tell you s few things." He glanced at Armelle. She knew some of magic anyway. Being half-elf had her predisposed for magic without the aided fact of being a Dragon Rider. He taught her a few things many years ago. "Magic—yes, that is what you managed to do to stop those Urgals—has very specific rules. If those rules are broken, the penalty is death, without exception. What you can manage to do with said magic is limited by your strength, your vocabulary, and your imagination."

"What do you mean by words?" Eragin asked, almost eagerly.

"More questions!" Brom sounded exasperated. "For a moment I had hoped you were empty of them. But you are quite right in asking. When you shot the Urgals, didn't you say something?"

"Yes, brisingr," Eragon confirmed. The fire they sat around flared, and Eragon shivered.

Armelle recognized the sound, and remembered the blue-flamed shaft of an arrow that struck an Urgal, a painful wave of energy, and then…

Argenta growled lowly, the sound deep in her chest.

Her father put a soft hand on her shoulder.

Armelle leaned into his side.

"I thought so," Brom mused around his pipe after glancing at the half-elf and her metallic dragon. He turned his attention back to teaching. "Brisingr is from an ancient language that all living things used to speak. However, it was forgotten over time and went unspoken for eons in Alaga?sia, until the elves brought it back over the sea. They taught it to the other races, who used it for making and doing powerful things. The language has a name for everything, if you can find it."

Eragon still seemed puzzled. "But what does that have to do with magic?"

"Everything!" Brom scoffed. "It is the basis for all power. The language describes the true nature of things, not the superficial aspects that everyone sees. For example, fire is called brisingr. Not only is that a name for fire, it is the name for fire. If you are strong enough, you can use brisingr to direct fire to do whatever you will. And that is what happened today."

The Blue Rider bubbled with more questions. "Why was the fire blue? How come it did exactly what I wanted, if all I said was fire?"

"The color varies from person to person," Devon said simply. "It only depends on who said the word."

Brom nodded before continuing. "As to why the fire did what you wanted, that's a matter of practice. And it didn't do exactly what you wanted, did it? Unless you intended to throw Armelle into a wall."

Eragon flushed again. That… That was a good point.

Argenta curled a little tighter around the half-elf and her father.

Brom continued to explain, paying the silver beast no mind. "Most beginners have to spell out exactly what they want to happen. As they gain more experience, it isn't as necessary. A true master could just say water and create something totally unrelated, like a gemstone. You wouldn't be able to understand how he had done it, but the master would have seen the connection between water and the gem and would have used that as the focal point for his power. The practice is more of an art than anything else. What you did was extremely difficult."

Saphira's thoughts cut through the minds of the Riders, finding no point in keeping the statement between herself and Eragon. Brom and Devon are magicians! That's how Brom was able to light the fire on the plains, and how Armelle's head injury disappeared. They don't just know about magic; they can use it!

Eragon glanced at Armelle out of the corner of his eye, his eyes widened. Did you know your father could do that?

Yes, Armelle replied simply. It wasn't my place to tell you, so I didn't. But I did not know about Brom.

Ask them about it, Saphira urged Eragon, but be careful of what you say. It is unwise to trifle with those who have such abilities. If Brom is a wizard or sorcerer, who knows what his motives might have been for settling in Carvahall.

Armelle settled again as she watched Eragon slowly bring it up to the old storyteller and the mysterious blonde man that Eragon found to be an even bigger puzzle than Brom. "Saphira and I just realized something. You can use this magic, can't you? Both of you." He looked at Brom. "That's how you started the fire our first day on the plains." He looked to Devon. "And you used it to heal Armelle's head injury."

Brom inclined his head slightly, raising an eyebrow at Devon from across the fire like he was trying to ask him a question before he turned his attention back to answering Eragon. "I am proficient to some degree."

"As am I," Devon confirmed with a small nod.

"Then why didn't you fight the Urgals with it?" He asked of both of them. "In fact, I can think of many times when it would've been useful—you both could've shielded us from the storm and kept the dirt from our eyes."

Brom refilled his pipe before answering, and Devon only shook his head a little at the boy, looking like he could actually chuckle at how little he understood. Armelle nudged her father softly, trying to force him to be kind.

Eragon did not grow up as I did, she reminded him softly. He had no father or mother to teach him the things you taught me. His uncle knew nothing except how to teach the value of hard work from the strength in your back and the sweat of your brow.

I know, my girl, Devon admitted softly, but sometimes it strikes me as amusing that he can feel the spell drain his energy, and still not understand the dangers magic can possess for oneself and those around them.

He is young, she pointed out softly.

So are you, her father retorted quickly.

He's a young boy.

Devon had to fight not to bark a laugh and disrupt Brom's explanations to Eragon, kissing the side of his daughter's head. I am so very glad you understand that.

Argenta snorted softly at them, a gentle puff of smoke surrounding them. Rest, both of you, she urged gently. You both need it. Our travels are just beginning, and the difficulties we face will only grow.

The blonde human kissed his daughter's golden hair and patted Argenta on the side. Indeed they will, he replied softly. But so will the both of you. And you will soon be strong enough and wise enough to face those challenges, as long as you're together.