Between the Dusty Pages{Eragon/Inkheart crossover}

[{Lightspring}]

Be forewarned: If you haven't read at least Eragon, you'll be confused so far. XD I only have one chapter done (workin' on the second) and it's all in Alagaësia. The Inkheart part will probably come in the third chapter. Anyway, critiques are loved dearly, even saying it's horrible, as long as you tell me what I can fix. ^^ Hope ya guys like it! I'll try and keep it updated when I finish the second chapter.

I claim no ownership to anything in this story. Except the plot. That's mine.

To clear up confusion ahead of time:
"This is speaking. Of course."
This is thoughts.
"This is Saphira or the like speaking."

First chapter is solely in Alagaësia, and is based after Brisngr. Please pardon my...Lack of writing skills. D: Any R&R will be appreciated!

Part one: The Finding

The border was in view, a simple sign on the barren road, halfway hidden amongst the cloud of dust that rose with the wind. Surda; it was a tiny place, a small blemish on the Empire, and yet it still stood strong. A lone horse stood out on the plain, it's head bent low in an attempt to gain speed. The stallion's rider, a large, burly man sat hunched in the saddle, his hood pulled over his eyes. The man's pack was stuffed with a few supplies and letters, but his head carried a huge load of information, gathered by his short time wandering the remote villages. It surprised him how much those towns found out. With a grunt, Jeod adjusted his reins, peering to each side nervously. There was no law against him traveling in the Empire…but he did happen to have a decent bounty on his head, which made things a bit difficult. Once he crossed the border, he would be safe. Or, at least, safer than he was now. So intent he was on the ride, the man hardly noticed the stranger until his horse came to a skidding halt, grunting loudly with his ears lain back. Nearly thrown, Jeod leaned forward to rub the spooked animal on its neck.
“Steady Milan, steady,” he murmured softly, then straightened, one hand on the hilt of his sword. Dark eyes narrowed in suspicion, he got a firmer grasp on the reins, edging Milan forward a few steps. “Hail yourself!” he commanded sharply, peering into the bright sunlight in an attempt to see the stranger’s face. “Who are you, and what’s your purpose?“ A strangled wheezing sound came from within the hood, what Jeod could only imagine was supposed to be a laugh. The traveler seemed to be quite old, judging by his posture and a wisp of white hair that blew in the wind.
“What does it matter who I am, my dear friend?” he rasped, putting both hands into the pockets of his cloak. “What really matters is to know who you are.” With another wheezy chuckle, he took a step forward, causing Milan to lay his ears back once more. With hawk-like eyes glinting in the shadows, the man peered intently at the saddlebags. “I see you’ve been busy on your little spying job, eh?” With a startled grunt, Jeod had his broadsword out in an instant, the tip inches from the old man’s chest. The blade, glinting in the noon-day sun, was held nearly stock still, every nerve in the scholars body prepared to drive it though a chest. Still, his voice held steady.
“I haven’t seen the likes of you in Surda, so you cannot claim any ‘friendship’ just yet,” he snarled, one hand still gripping his steed’s reins. “Now I ask you again; what’s your purpose?” Not seeming the least bit worried about the fact that he seemed seconds away from being impaled, the stranger simply shook his head, almost sorrowfully.
“Ah, what times are these that suspicion runs though every thought?” he seemed to mutter to himself. “Why Jeod, even you are hostile and untrusting.” An eerie pause seemed to hang over the dead landscape, even leaving Milan still and silent.
“Who are you?” Jeod finally asked, though it was more of a question than a demand now. Quickly taking back his prompt manner, however, he scowled. “You may know of my name, but many do at this time. How do you plan on proving yourself worthy of life?” With a chuckle, the old man took his eyes away for a moment, rummaging in a bag that hung by his waist. With a noise of satisfaction, he pulled out a tightly wrapped parcel, the twine around it crossing over itself a few times before ending in a small knot.
“I think this should be of some interest to Nasuada,” he said quietly, holding the package out. With a puzzled glare, Jeod peered at it for a moment. Against his better judgment, he lowered the blade slightly and reached forward to grab the bundle, almost expecting it to be filled with snakes. Removing his gaze from the stranger, he lay the broadsword across one knee carefully and took to inspecting the package. Feeling the edges gingerly, the man looked up once more.
“It’s a book…” Cutting off, Jeod whipped around, his eyes wide as he found the road in front of him deserted. With a muttered curse, he peered through the harsh sunlight, expecting to see the ragged form running off in some direction or the other, but found only sand. No normal person would be able to hide themselves in this landscape, though he knew Eragon would have no trouble with it. With a slight shiver, he spurred Milan forward once more, intending to get to Surda before the sun set. If that…man was one of the king’s magicians, he could have a whole patrol on him in minutes. Though if he were a traitor to the Empire…the book could prove to be some worth. Glancing down at the scruffy parcel, Jeod sniffed. A few spell casters could look it over before it went anywhere near Nasuada…

[{Lightspring}]

Part of the second chapter...x3 I finally found a decent place that I could stop so I can post it. I'm still workin' on this chapter, my brain is simply...in a rut. ;-;

Part Two: The Attempts

“Well sir, it appears to be…just a book.”
Jeod let out a disgruntled sigh, running one hand over his face. That was the fifth time he had heard those words, yet he still couldn’t take it in fully. “You’re sure?” the man said, as he had so many times that day. “You’ve checked for everything? Poisons, scrying methods…any magic at all?” The magician nodded, looking worried as if he assumed he had done something wrong. With another sigh, Jeod picked the tattered book up once more and pressed a few coins into the other man’s hand. “Thank you. The Varden’s lucky to have your service.” The magician bowed slightly before backing out of the tent, allowing a stream of light to drift in, along with some more dust, before the flap fluttered shut once more. The scholar began pacing between a small writing desk set in one corner and his bed on the other wall. Staring at the faded book intently, he ran one finger over the smooth title, as if willing it to share some secret with him. The writing was sharp and blocked, looking nothing like a scribe’s work. What on Earth could have made something so…precise? Plus, he had never before seen a book bound like this. It was so much harder than any cover he had seen, and the man had seen many books in his time. With a heavy sigh, Jeod sat himself down on the small bed, eyes still glued to the book. Inkheart…The script may be strange, but it was still legible.
Tapping his finger on the cover, where an intricate painting of a small village jumped out at him, he ran a mental check list of all the adapt magicians in camp. He had called for every one of them…Except Eragon. He still hesitated before requesting a meeting with him, not only because it was so hard to see the Rider these days, but also because Jeod felt slightly…intimidated by him. The boy looked more elf than human now, even his voice was different, and yet he still acted just like the odd young kid that came to his old house so long ago. Now that he knew of his origins, something that Jeod himself had only learned of recently, Eragon seemed much more at ease, even when discussing his brother--Half brother, he quickly corrected himself. The Rider had insisted, (And it was a very convincing statement with Saphira glaring at them all from behind him.) that Murtagh was to only be referred to as his half brother, if even that. Shaking his head, Jeod brought himself back to the problem at hand. Making up his mind quickly, he stood, tucking the book into it’s bag, then stepping out into the sun, squinting at the sudden brightness. The Varden’s camp was busy, even more so than usual, as they attempted to set off once more. Shading his eyes, Jeod searched the crowd for someone who wasn’t too busy to make a side trip. It wasn’t exactly easy; everyone seemed to have a set destination, carrying bags, tents and loaded horses past him. Finally, his eyes rested on a young boy with very dark skin, almost certainly a citizen of Surda. Catching his attention, the man waved him over, already working on the message he was going to have delivered. Most of the boys knew not to spread messages around, even the simplest ones, but you could never be too careful in times like these. Jeod chuckled softly, realizing how absurd that sounded, especially from him, considering all the battles that he and Brom had charged into without a second thought. A small cough brought him back to the present, and he found the boy standing in front of him, eyes wide and curious.
“You were wantin’ to be seein’ me?” he asked quietly, clasping his hands behind his back in an attempt to appear a bit older. With a smile, Jeod nodded, kneeling to look the boy in the eye.
“I was. What’s your name, son?”
“Jaden…Sir.” The boy quickly amended his slip, obviously not accustomed to using common courtesy.
“Good, good…” Jeod murmured, half to himself. “Now, I assume you’re looking to become a solider, eh Jaden?” The boy nodded in the affirmative.
“Yessir’, my father’s teachin’ me the sword.” The man smiled, clasping Jarden’s shoulder. It was a rare, yet cheerful finding, having a soldiers’ boy his age who still had a father.
“I’m sure you’ll be a great addition to Nasuada’s army. However, I hope it won’t demean you too much to deliver a message for me?” Jaden shook his head fervently, his already ruffled black hair falling into his eyes. He brushed it away impatiently before continuing.
“No, ‘course not…Sir,” he assured the scholar. “If what all them says is true, you’d be Master Jeod, right? Yer pretty famous around here, sir, if ya don’t mind me sayin’.” Jeod chuckled, glancing around at the milling crowd.
“These days, I’m not so sure that’s a good thing,” he commented. “However, it makes it a bit easier. Considering you know of me, I’m sure you know of Eragon, correct?” The boy had to restrain himself to keep from laughing, though a large grin replaced his ‘serious’ look.
“Master Jeod, I don’t reckon there’s nobody alive who don’t know of Shadeslayer. They’re sayin’ he and Saphira could just squash Galbatroix, no need for all this magic type o’ stuff. I haven’t seen him, actually, but it’s kinda hard not to see Saphira, if ya know what I mean.”
“They are a bit formidable, eh?” Jeod chuckled, peering over the tops of the tents in a quick attempt to spot the dragon. “More to the point…” His face changed instantly, to one quite serious. “Look, Jaden…can you keep secrets?”

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