three four books written by a young Christopher Paolini and I purchased all four books.
Christopher Paolini tells a thrilling story of Eragon, a farm boy who accidentally discovers he’s a dragon rider. We all love these stories over regular people overcoming their background to do amazing things with their otherwise boring life. It provides us with hope. Hope that maybe one day we’ll get to go on an exciting adventure, one that possible includes mythical creatures, magical powers, foreign lands and lots of new friends.
My only complaint is that the books are longer than the average book I read. Yes, I love books that can be finished in a few weeks instead of books that take me a month. Remember, I’m also balancing work, family, homeschooling, and this blog so my free time to read is very limited. And with Eragon, I keep seeing the book and wanting to read just a few paragraphs which leads me to lose track of time because I get drawn into the story. I really need to work on getting an e-reader. Or better yet, audio books.
I’ll review the remainder of the books when I get to reading them as they aren’t at the top of my ‘To Be Read’ pile due to those fast reads jumping ahead of the longer books.
Eragon: The Excerpt
Eragon slowly crept closer, keeping the bow ready. All his work of the past three days had led to this moment. He took a last steadying breath and—an explosion shattered the night.
The herd bolted. Eragon lunged forward, racing through the grass as a fiery wind surged past his cheek. He slid to a stop and loosed an arrow at the bounding doe. It missed by a finger’s breadth and hissed into darkness. He cursed and spun around, instinctively nocking another arrow.
Behind him, where the deer had been, smoldered a large circle of grass and trees. Many of the pines stood bare of their needles. The grass outside the charring was flattened. A wisp of smoke curled in the air, carrying a burnt smell. In the center of the blast radius lay a polished blue stone. Mist snaked across the scorched area and swirled insubstantial tendrils over the stone.
Eragon watched for danger for several long minutes, but the only thing that moved was the mist. Cautiously, he released the tension from his bow and moved forward. Moonlight cast him in pale shadow as he stopped before the stone. He nudged it with an arrow, then jumped back. Nothing happened, so he warily picked it up.
Nature had never polished a stone as smooth as this one. Its flawless surface was dark blue, except for thin veins of white that spiderwebbed across it. The stone was cool and frictionless under his fingers, like hardened silk. Oval and about a foot long, it weighed several pounds, though it felt lighter than it should have.
Eragon found the stone both beautiful and frightening. Where did it come from? Does it have a purpose? Then a more disturbing thought came to him: Was it sent here by accident, or am I meant to have it? If he had learned anything from the old stories, it was to treat magic, and those who used it, with great caution.
But what should I do with the stone? It would be tiresome to carry, and there was a chance it was dangerous. It might be better to leave it behind. A flicker of indecision ran through him, and he almost dropped it, but something stayed his hand. At the very least, it might pay for some food, he decided with a shrug, tucking the stone into his pack.
Read the first three chapters of Eragon.