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He winced and blinked while his eyes adjusted. Without warning, light flooded Eragon’s eyes, and an onslaught of noise assailed his ears. We cannot maintain this spell for much longer, said Umaroth, his voice tense. His thoughts felt darker, more contorted than Saphira’s, but there was a strength and nobility to him that impressed Eragon. As he did, the red dragon seemed to recoil. It was the first time Eragon had come into contact with Thorn’s mind. Elva was unconscious, and Murtagh nearly so, but they were alive, as were the rest. He touched the minds of everyone around him, checking that he had managed to save them all.
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He could breathe, but the air was stale and lifeless, and when he tried to move, the strain upon his spell increased. And grief clutched at his heart.Įragon felt himself slide to a stop, then … nothing. Then he looked in the direction of the citadel again.
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He spat blood and dirt onto the cobblestones. We have to leave before it falls, he thought. As he waited for his balance to return, he thought of the shelf hanging over them, and it suddenly occurred to him that the whole city might be in danger. “Can you hear me?” he shouted at the archer, the words nothing but a vibration in his mouth and throat.Ī spate of dizziness caused Roran to lean over and prop himself against the block of stone. When he touched his right ear, his fingers came away bloody. Roran opened his mouth several times, trying to clear his ears-which rang and hurt badly-but to no avail. Eragon! Could he and Saphira have survived the explosion? Could anyone who had been close to the heart of such an inferno? They helped each other off the ground, and Roran looked toward where the citadel had been. The man had bitten through his bottom lip blood coated his chin. So, I’m feeling generous with my rating today.Roran glanced at the archer. I could forgive a lot of issues for a bit of an adventure, a few days of escapism. I just so happened to be in the mood for elves, dwarves, and dragons. While I haven’t experienced anything more recent of his, I can only hope that he has improved since this first outing. Paolini’s first work proves that he has the chops, the skill necessary to write good fiction. And, the author hit all of the notes he needed to make for a somewhat decent work of high fantasy. There were real, physical consequences, which I love far more than magic being available just because. I can read a well-written novel of equal length by a great author, such as Brandon Sanderson, in half the time it took me to sloth through this work. A good editor would have used her red pen to slash 100-150 pages worth of words from this book. As is often the case with young writers, Paolini relied too much on describing irrelevant details instead of focusing on the narrative. The pacing made reading a bit more of a chore than it should’ve been. He was the only character that I was invested in. Aside from Murtagh, one of the secondary characters, no one grows. Story is how the characters react and grow because of or in spite of the plot. I’m okay with rehashing plots from existing fantasy works. It’s your classic hero’s journey that crosses vast swathes of land over many months, all culminating in an epic battle in the end. It’s like Star Wars meets Lord of the Rings with a dragon. There’s nothing particularly groundbreaking. An old man teaches him the ways of becoming a dragon rider, the secrets of a gifted few thought to have died out long ago. It follows a teen boy named Eragon and his dragon named Saphira.
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And, I finally made a decision to read it as I dusted it off during my tidying journey.Įragon is standard fantasy. Like most books in my collection, it survived many shelves at the various places I’ve lived. But, it got lost in the steady stream of books through the college years. If I had read it 15 years ago, I may be singing a different tune. Adults who are a bit more well read will see its many flaws. Most readers will love the book if they devoured it at a younger age and it either introduced them to the joy of reading or the world of fantasy. If you’re going to jump into the big kids’ pool, you can’t be wearing your floaties when you do.Įragon is best marketed as a young adult novel. A good editor who could look a kid in the eye and tell him what was wrong. The problem was that Eragon needed an editor who was vicious. I applaud Paolini for his skills at that age. They said it was better fantasy than even seasoned authors were writing.Īt 15, most of us were not writing 500+ pages of epic fantasy. They told me it was written by a teenager. I remember friends and family telling me I must read this book. I remember when Eragon by Christopher Paolini blew up.