Brisingr

Roran’s eyebrows met, his lips tightened into a snarl, and he growled, “Stenr rïsa!” with
enough intensity, Eragon half expected the stone to fly out of sight.
Nothing happened.
Scowling even harder, Roran repeated his command: “Stenr rïsa!”
The stone exhibited a profound lack of movement.
“Well,” said Eragon, “keep trying. That’s the only advice I can give you. But”—and here
he raised a finger—“if you should happen to succeed, make sure you immediately come
to me or, if I’m not around, another magician. You could kill yourself and others if you
start experimenting with magic without understanding the rules. If nothing else,
remember this: if you cast a spell that requires too much energy, you will die. Don’t take
on projects that are beyond your abilities, don’t try to bring back the dead, and don’t try
to unmake anything.”
Roran nodded, still looking at the stone.
“Magic aside, I just realized there’s something far more important that you need to
learn.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, you need to be able to hide your thoughts from the Black Hand, Du Vrangr Gata,
and others like them. You know a lot of things now that could harm the Varden. It’s
crucial, then, that you master this skill as soon as we return. Until you can defend
yourself from spies, neither Nasuada nor I nor anyone else can trust you with information
that might help our enemies.”
“I understand. But why did you include Du Vrangr Gata in that list? They serve you and
Nasuada.”
“They do, but even among our allies there are more than a few people who would give
their right arm”—he grimaced at the appropriateness of the phrase—“to ferret out our
plans and secrets. And yours too, no less. You have become a somebody, Roran. Partly
because of your deeds, and partly because we are related.”
“I know. It is strange to be recognized by those you have not met.”
“That it is.” Several other, related observations leaped to the tip of Eragon’s tongue, but
he resisted the urge to pursue the topic; it was a subject to explore another time. “Now
that you know what it feels like when one mind touches another, you might be able to
learn to reach out and touch other minds in turn.”
“I’m not sure that is an ability I want to have.”
“No matter; you also might not be able to do it. Either way, before you spend time
finding out, you should first devote yourself to the art of defense.”
His cousin cocked an eyebrow. “How?”
“Choose something—a sound, an image, an emotion, anything—and let it swell within
your mind until it blots out any other thoughts.”
“That’s all?”
“It’s not as easy as you think. Go on; take a stab at it. When you’re ready, let me know,
and I’ll see how well you’ve done.”
Several moments passed. Then, at a flick of Roran’s fingers, Eragon launched his
consciousness toward his cousin, eager to discover what he had accomplished.
The full strength of Eragon’s mental ray rammed into a wall composed of Roran’s
memories of Katrina and was stopped. He could take no ground, find no entrance or
purchase, nor undermine the impenetrable barrier that stood before him. At that instant,