For Alagaesia: Prologue: Trapped

He was near the mark now. All his work of the past 25 days had led him here. He went into the tavern where his contact in the city had asked him to go. Just as he opened the door, loud noises of men enjoying themselves reached him. He looked around the room. It was all perfect; nothing strange for a tavern. So he had not been led astray by some lunatic who loved seeing people in difficulty. Sighing in relief, he looked for the one table that he was supposed to look. Sure enough there was the parchment that he was supposed to take. He went near the table. But as he approached the table, he became aware of a disturbance in the air. Somebody was running toward him. He was terrified to say the least. He knew what the empire did with spies. He had heard rumours about people's heads scarred and bloodied found in the sewage canals. He made up his mind to never go through such hell. He would rather kill any number of people, good or bad, he didn't care. But as he readied himself in the attacking stance, the man who had been running went past him and caught up with a hound of a man bear hugging him. He let out a strangled breath that he didn't actually know that he was holding till then. He took the parchment and went out of the tavern hastily.

He went to a corner where there weren't any people. He slowly opened the parchment and laid his eyes on the map. He was proud of himself. Proud about the way people were going to look at him. He was going to be a hero. He memorised the map inch by inch and then threw the parchment into the sewer. He was set to go on the mission of his life. Why did people cheer Eragon Shadeslayer and his elves when they can't come anywhere near him in finding Galbatorix's source of power? No, after this he was going to be their hero. Their hero who was going to set up the death knell of Galbatorix. He walked from building to building as silently as humanely possible. At last he reached the building that he was supposed to enter. It was kept open just as promised by his contact. He smiled with glee. He had nearly won. He, a Surdan farmer, had nearly tracked down King Galbatorix's power source. He moved from room to room until when he heard metals clinking in a room and a booming voice that said, "Welcome fool, who thought he could find the King's secrets. Welcome to the King's kind resting room". He knew he was trapped. He wished that Eragon Shadeslayer would be there to help him then. But the one thought that was predominant in his mind and that which was fast replacing all others was: He was doomed.

Author's Notes:

Short prologue. But I think this is needed here because without this prologue some things that follow may seem unreal. A prologue for the fourth book of an established story is unnecessary, I know. But it seemed to be some fun... speaking in the point of view of some common man. And comments will be appreciated.... It will indicate that people are interested in my story.