Friday, 16 May 2014

The art of Christopher Paolini


It began with Eragon...
                  
                        ... It ends with Inheritance

There was a time, when Alagaësia was ruled with justice and peace coursed through the veins of the cities. All races, magic or not, lived in harmony. Elves, urgals, dwarves, humans. It was a time when the land flourished with greatness and there was little war. It was a time of Dragon Riders. The riders were known all over the land as the 13 forsworn. But peace does not last, especially with humans. Humans tend to want power. And war broke out in Alagaësia, for the first time in years. One of the Riders, who goes by the name of Galbatorix, betrayed his own kind. He turned against the riders, and, with a few other companions, defeated the riders, and claimed the throne. Since then, Alagaësia has been ruled in times of darkness and sorrow.

***

Eragon, not so long ago, was a poor farm boy working hard to earn a living in the rural area of Carvahall, a town bordered by the Spine, a line of treacherous woods and mountains. But his simple life turned around to what he believed was impossible.

A boy of 17, named Eragon, goes hunting in the spine, hoping to shoot at least one deer to feed his Uncle Garrow and cousin Roran, with whom he lives.
Meanwhile, an elf that goes by the name of Arya rides for her life, accompanied by two elven soldiers and clutching a blue stone, stolen from the king himself. Cornered by Durza, one of the king's most powerful weapon, Arya tries to save herself. But she is no match for Durza, who was once a human, but is now possessed by demonic spirits. He is a Shade, a powerful spellcaster. But before she is captured, the elf composes a spell to send the stone far, far away. After that Arya is subject to inhuman torture in Gil'ead.
Flash. Eragon tries to embed an arrow into the doe he has been stalking quietly in one last futile attempt before it bolts. A blinding flash of light illuminates the forest. Curious, Eragon discovers the source of the light, and in doing so, finds the stone. It is a glimmering sapphire blue color, with light vein patterns coursing on the outside. It is smooth and refined, polished, and it gleams in the moonlight. Excited, Eragon brings the stone to Sloan, the town butcher, in exchange for some meat, but Sloan refuses after he guesses it belongs to the king.
Ergaon goes home and, the next morning, the stone -or should I say- egg hatches to reveal a large, shiny blue lizard, with wings and spikes that run horizontally down its spine. Over the next days, Eragon learns that the creature's name is Saphira, and she is a dragon, and he her rider. The moment he touches her, Eragon recieves a mark on his palm, called a Gedwëy Ignasia. They are bonded for life. Thus begins a time of minor hope, war, and fear throughout the land of Alagaësia. 

One night, Carvahall is attacked and raided by an inhuman species, called the Ra'zac, that have been controlled by Durza to do his bidding. They are black and deadly, and the offspring from the Letharblaka, the adult version. They hatch from eggs. One cut from a Ra'zac's blade or claw, and you are certain to die. Durza and Galbatorix, the cruel ruler of Alagaësia, sense the hatching of the egg and set the Ra'zac out to find and kill Eragon or bring him to the king. 
So Saphira, in an attempt to save Eragon, flies out with him and keeps him close, hidden in the spine throughout the night. Eragon runs away from her and blames her for his Uncle's death, the only family he has apart from Roran, who left to go and marry Sloan's daughter, kind-hearted Katrina. They both survive the Ra'zac's attack. Eragon shouts at Saphira with both his mind and voice, telling her never to come back. Saphira communicates with him by mind, and flies off in rage. She is a very vain dragon, being the last female of her kind. 

Brom, the storyteller of Carvahall, who was, like Galbatorix, a rider in the old days, fled from Carvahall, taking Eragon with him. Eragon was not pleased, but soon he figured out it was for his own good. He called Saphira back with his mind, and asked her to forgive him, which she gratefully did. Together the trio set out for the Beor mountains, where the surviving outcast rebels that fought against Galbatorix's rise to power lived. These folk were known as the Varden, and lived under high security measures, in a region that Galbatorix himself could not precisely pinpoint, even though he was the most powerful magician in Alagaësia. 
Soon, though, Durza managed to retrieve from Arya the information he needed- where she had sent the egg, and to whom it hatched. The King ordered the Shade to prevent Eragon to ever get to the Varden, for he knew that if the Varden or their leader, King Ajihad, knew that a new rider had come to be, they would be hopeful and might wage war against the Empire. 

Eragon could hear Arya in his dreams. He learned her name and that she was being held captive in Gil'ead. And so, although Brom thought it foolish of him, he agreed that they go to Gil'ead, to free Arya. It is a long journey already to the Varden, and an even longer one now that Eragon has chosen to put them off course. Along the way, Brom teaches Eragon how to sparr properly, and also a few words of the Ancient Language, which ties in with magic. Eragon learns the importance of magic, and that it is dangerous, as spells, to function need energy that comes from the spellcaster, and that as a rider, he is entitled to use magic, the gift given to him the moment he touched Saphira. Also, signs that the hunt for Eragon has begun is evident. Urgals raiding villages and killing all who comes across their path. It was a sure sign that Galbatorix knew about recent events. 
Once in Gil'ead, Eragon goes into the fortress, underneath a hooded cape, to obscure his face, as Saphira watches from a large distance, hidden from view in the shadow of rocks and boulders, ready to fly to Eragon, should he need help.
Eragon looks for Arya and manages to set her free from her bonds. But she is not pleased to see him. As Brom had said, Arya was willing to give up her own life so Eragon could make his way safely to the Varden. Before getting out from underground, they encounter Durza briefly, and he tries to kill them. They manage to get out of Gil'ead and back onto their planned route in the forest, but not without being attacked by guards and soldiers as they attempted to flee. They were helped by Saphira, Brom and another man, who was an archer and has dark hair. His name is Murtagh.





Roran and his troops prepare to besiege the capital of Uru'baen. Meanwhile, Eragon, his dragon Saphira and Glaedr (in eldunari form)   the golden dragon, fly to Vroengard Island from the Varden’s camp to find a secret weapon in the ‘Vault of Souls’, as directed by Solembum, Angela’s werecat. This will be their only hope in defeating Galbatorix and his dragon, Shruikan, and the dozens of Eldunari of dead dragons.  Eragon returns in time to help his cousin Roran in taking down Ur’ubaen, coming back with the Knowledge of his and Saphira’s true names, and with 26 dragon eggs and about 100
Eldunarí. Although the eggs will not hatch in time to see galbatorix’s defeat, the eldunari wil do anything in their power. 



The final battle fought in  Alagaësia will be the golden story to be passed around the land for many centuries to come, but that is the future, and now is now. Now, a shining new era will begin in Alagaësia, an era of rebuilding, and shaping the war-ridden land. But it will also be a new beginning, a time of justice, hope, and freedom. But also a time of peace, when all races - whether they are magical or not, whether they are Urgals or Kull, Elves or Dwarves or Humans, will live in harmony throughout the land of Alagaësia. Hope, and do not fear, for...

... The time of the Dragon Riders has come again.

Sea Foam

I haven't posted here in ages... :/ Okay, here's a short story I wrote. Try and figure out the hidden meaning behind it... It's one of those I-get-an-idea-and-just-have-to-get-it-out-of-my-weird-brain ideas. Anyways, i hope you enjoy it! Leave comments below, too, if you're up for it!
P.S: Wattpad link is here: http://www.wattpad.com/48786932-collection-of-short-stories-and-poetry-the-merman

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He was there, a shimmering figure that moved and talked in a strange, seductive language, with penetrating azure eyes that were rimmed with heavy, dark lashes. And they all watched as if he were a deity, something to be praised and yet he was looked down upon, and from all angles they observed his movements.

There were scientists, politicians, doctors, lawyers, cleaners, waiters, serving-girls and mothers; fathers, sons, daughters and babies, and a good amount of furry plush toys belonging to the children. Those who had graduated from a good university and gotten a well-paid job looked on this specimen, analysing him- the curve of his torso, the formation of his queer legs, the slits at his throat, and with tubes they measured the amount of carbon dioxide, oxygen, hydrogen and nitrogen present in the bubbles which escaped from his mouth.
The limewater turned milky, yes, but the glowing splint burned out and they conducted further tests, stuck him with sensors to re-trace his movements, pioneered a minute camera down his throat for the tiny thing to be engulfed by the peristaltic waves of his muscles as he swallowed.

He was the embodiment of futuristic sciences that were well beyond their reach: or so they thought. He was something that so many had heard of but never believed in- for to all they were naught but pictures and words in a child's story. And all the knowledge these scientists, doctors and politicians held combined together- a hundred or so were attempting to solve this puzzle- could not help them give a rational explanation for the simple- being of this- this creature. This hybrid, this monster.

Contrary to their elders, the children marvelled at the sight of him. The teenage girls swooned at the sight of his muscular torso, but toon reclined as their eyes swept over his lower half. The younger ones, however, danced around him, thinking if such was possible, then all their dreams of unicorns and faeries and other magical beings were real. That this man was the open door to the ultimate faith in their fantasies. Some, for instance, boldly announced to their parents that they would have to quit school for Peter Pan was to soon take them to Neverland; and there they would stay and never need worry about anything related to growing up ever again. Others claimed that by the morn of the first of September they would be in one of London's black taxis on their way to King's Cross station with a Snowy owl perched on their left forearms, with a signed acceptance letter tucked up, folded neatly in a breast pocket.

But all their mothers in the white laboratory coats simply told them it was nonsense. And they all bent befuddled over the railing as they injected anaesthesia into his blood system and, with stopwatches, they measured the time it would take until his movements stilled, and until he hovered there, like a broken marionette- head hung low, strings snapped; a shimmering doll of incomprehensible manner and stuck full of tubes and wires. They calculated the exact time- it was around seven minutes and three-quarters of a minute until he stopped swimming- or for that matter- until her stopped thrashing about and hissing. He beheld a set of jagged teeth behind full, silken lips, which under normal circumstances appeared humanoid- white teeth; flat, normal. But he had crossed the line and pushed too far; through the sea foam that obscured most of his body from above, one could see his wide, electric-blue eyes rolling as he tried to escape from these strange people.

But he had no chance of standing up to these strangers- for they did not understand him; and he had already achieved the feat of scaring them. Fear- yes, fear. It seemed to be his only option- and yet it could not save him.

For they were too rash in decisions, too quick to think, too trusty in their devices that they did not even barely graze the surface of their attempts at comprehending what they had never seen before. The superior race, they called themselves; top of the food chain, dictators of the world, and they denied all which could destroy them as a population.

They would never comprehend, he thought, as he felt his consciousness slowly drifting away, as his eyelids began to close over the goggling, demented faces visible behind the meter-thick glass.