Inheritence Cycle 2 Eldest by Christopher Paolini

Author:Christopher Paolini
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780375840449
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2006-09-25T18:30:00+00:00

BLACK MORNING GLORY

They cleared the table and took the dishes outside, where they cleaned them with sand. Oromis crumbled what remained of the bread around his house for the birds to eat, then they returned inside.

Oromis brought out pens and ink for Eragon, and they resumed his education of the Liduen Kvaedhí, the written form of the ancient language, which was so much more elegant than the humans’ or dwarves’ runes. Eragon lost himself in the arcane glyphs, happy to have a task that required nothing more strenuous than rote memorization.

After hours spent bent over the paper sheets, Oromis waved a hand and said, “Enough. We will continue this tomorrow.” Eragon leaned back and rolled his shoulders while Oromis selected five scrolls from their nooks in the wall. “Two of these are in the ancient language, three are in your native tongue. They will help you to master both alphabets, as well as give you valuable information that would be tedious for me to vocalize.”

“Vocalize?”

With unerring accuracy, Oromis’s hand darted out and plucked a massive sixth scroll from the wall, which he added to the pyramid in Eragon’s arms. “This is a dictionary. I doubt you can, but try to read it all.”

When the elf opened the door for him to leave, Eragon said, “Master?”

“Yes, Eragon?”

“When will we start working with magic?”

Oromis leaned on one arm against the doorway, caving in on himself as if he no longer possessed the will to remain upright. Then he sighed and said, “You must trust me to guide your training, Eragon. Still, I suppose it would be foolish of me to delay any longer. Come, leave the scrolls on the table, and let us go explore the mysteries of gramarye.”

On the greensward before the hut, Oromis stood looking out over the Crags of Tel’naeír, his back to Eragon, his feet shoulder width apart, and his hands clasped in the small of his back. Without turning around, he asked, “What is magic?”

“The manipulation of energy through the use of the ancient language.”

There was a pause before Oromis responded. “Technically, you are correct, and many spellcasters never understand more than that. However, your description fails to capture the essence of magic. Magic is the art of thinking, not strength or language—you already know that a limited vocabulary is no obstacle to using magic. As with everything else you must master, magic relies on having a disciplined intellect.

“Brom bypassed the normal training regimen and ignored the subtleties of gramarye to ensure that you had the skills you needed to remain alive. I too must distort the regimen in order to focus on the skills that you will likely require in the coming battles. However, whereas Brom taught you the crude mechanics of magic, I will teach you its finer applications, the secrets that were reserved for the wisest of the Riders: how you can kill with no more energy than moving your finger, the method by which you can instantaneously transport an item from one point

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