Disclaimer: No, I don't own everyone in this story aside from some OC's in the future
To the anon reviewers (or is it just one?) thank you! I'm not sure if anybody else tried out this angle before and no, I'm not from Australia, sadly. I'm quite far from it though my grandfather used to work there. :D
Chapter 3: Night of the Dragons
The three boys woke up with excitement when Garrow announced the arrival of the traders. They quickly helped him load their excess produce on two wagons. It was a bountiful year, and they might earn a little more than usual. Eragon carefully wrapped the three stones and set them between bags of grain to make sure that they would not fall off if the wagon hits a bump. After harnessing the horses, they made their way to the village.
Carvahall was usually lively, but that day it was happier than usual. On the outskirts of the village, the traders have set up camp. The bright tents and wagons can be easily spotted even from a distance, and Eragon knew that Murtagh was itching to talk to some pretty trader girls. The four troubadour tents were brighter than usual, with torches surrounding them. They would light up brightly that night. Many people were already walking to and from the village. Cooking delicacies made Eragon sniff appreciatively.
"You're always hungry," Roran noted with a smile.
Eragon grumbled as they passed through someone who was offering roasted corn on a cob. They passed through a few more crowds until they reached their destination. The traders looked a little too wary, with torn clothes and weapons slung on their belts. He almost bumped against Roran as they followed their uncle in the search for Merlock, a trader of jewelry and trinkets. They found him displaying some brooches to a group of girls. Katrina, the butcher's daughter, stood behind them with a look of uncertainty.
She turned to look at the newcomers and smiled sadly. She was a pretty girl, and the three boys used to argue over her when they were younger. "I didn't expect you to be here," she said gently.
"Uh, we're actually here to – er – sell something and…" Roran began, eliciting sniggers from his cousins.
At that moment, the group before them finally left. Garrow smiled at Katrina. "Well then, young lady, you better go first. We'll wait here for our turn." He glanced pointedly at Murtagh as he noticed him about to protest.
Katrina flashed them a smile and brought out a stone from the pouch. It wasn't just a stone – it looked like the stones that the boys found in the Spine, except for the fact that it was a vivid silvery shade. She walked towards Merlock – a tall, goateed man. The trader regarded her with a cautions smile.
"Good morning, young lady. Are you looking for an amulet, or maybe a beautiful trinket to complement those lovely eyes?" he asked.
"I'm actually here to – to sell," Katrina said nervously. "It's a stone, a gift from my mother before she left us. My father wishes to have it sold. He wants to forget her." She held out the silver stone with shaky hands.
Merlock raised an eyebrow as he took it. He noticed Garrow and the boys standing nearby. "Oh, and are you here to buy something?" he asked.
"We're actually here to sell too," Garrow said quickly. He eyed the silver stone and motioned for the three boys. "Just some things that my boys here have found."
Roran walked forward, carrying the pack that contained the stones. He opened it and showed them to Merlock. "I think they're similar to what Katrina has shown you," he said quietly.
Merlock gave the pack a thoughtful look as he gave the silver stone back to Katrina. "All of these stones do seem similar. I cannot appraise them here, maybe we should continue this elsewhere. I have some tools that will help us back in my tent."
"That would be fine," agreed Garrow.
"Fine by me," murmured Katrina. She still looked a little uneasy.
Merlock placed his wares inside a chest and locked it quickly. He motioned for the group to follow him, and they wound through the crowd. As they walked, Eragon found himself walking beside his brother and Katrina. "The night when we returned from our hunting trip, you were arguing with Sloan. Is that what it was about?" Murtagh asked bluntly.
"Look, don't tell anybody else – well, maybe except Roran – but my mother is alive. She left father five years ago and recently came to visit only me. She was bringing this stone and gave it to me and then left again." Katrina looked down. "My father was… angry… when he found out."
"And yet, you wanted to keep it." Murtagh gave her a long look.
"It was from my mother." Katrina said it as if it was a highly obvious answer.
At that exact moment, they reach a crimson and black tent that had a few other colors woven in it. There were so many curious items within, such as jeweled daggers and rings on the long table and a vivid green blade lying on the circular bed. Merlock picked up a plain black box and set it down on the table. He picked out some tools and set to work examining the four stones. He weighed them and tried scratched their surfaces with a small, clear stone. Eragon suspected that it was a diamond. Merlock proceeded to tap it lightly with a wooden hammer and then measured its surface. "Do you have an idea about how much these stones are worth?"
"Er, actually, I'm clueless." Katrina blushed and smiled.
Garrow nodded in agreement. "The lass is right, I don't know how much these stones are actually worth."
Merlock clucked his tongue. He set down the red stone that he was holding in disappointment. "Neither do I, unfortunately." He paused thoughtfully as he regarded the five of them. "I'm not sure about what this stone is made of, but it's strong. It can withstand a diamond's scratches and a diamond is very hard, mind you. It might even be made of magic – oh, and it's hollow."
"It's… what?" Eragon blurted out.
"Shush, brother," Roran said in a disappointed voice.
"Well, listen to this." Merlock picked up a small, ruby-adorned dagger and tapped the nearest stone – Katrina's – with its flat edge. A high, clear note resounded for a moment before fading away. Katrina was about to object when Roran held her back and shook his head. Merlock showed them the totally undamaged stone. "It doesn't seem susceptible to any damage."
"Well, our stones appeared in the Spine, as if by magic," Eragon murmured thoughtfully.
Murtagh rubbed his chin. "Yes, these could have been made by magic, but there must be some purpose behind it."
"How much is its worth?" Roran asked bluntly.
"To be truthful, I have no idea," answered Merlock. He scratched his head good-naturedly. "Some people in the southern dwellings will pay a lot for even just one of these though. I could take them with me and find you a buyer but it is not a sure thing and you will not be paid until we return next winter so you may have to find a different buyer. Besides, we might get attacked by bandits and Urgals once again. I might not survive to return next year. Strange things are happening, and these stones may only be one part of a bigger whole."
With that, Merlock bade goodbye to his potential clients. Eragon shared a disappointed look with Murtagh and Roran as they followed their uncle out of the tent. Katrina seemed smugly happy though. Garrow looked disappointed, but not as much as the boys expected him to be. "It can't be helped I guess. Put those stones back to the wagon," he said as he gave the boys some coins to spend. "You can go do what you want afterwards but be sure not to be late for dinner at Horst's, understand?"
The three boys nodded and bounded off to the wagon. Trading was a long, boring affair. It took up a lot of time that could be spent wandering around. With Katrina tagging along with them, they hid the three stones under some empty flour bags and went wandering off.
They spent their time chatting away and spending their meager coins for food. Roran was mostly silent though he shot Katrina a few glances every few minutes. The topics ranged from Merlock's strange words to whether potatoes taste better in pies or in stews. By the time they began to head towards Morn's tavern to check if Brom the storyteller was there, the conversation steered towards Katrina's mother.
"What did happen to her?" Eragon asked. "Why did she leave?"
"She left a few weeks after my tenth birthday." Katrina frowned as she tightened her hold on the pouch containing her silver stone. "She had an argument about my father forgetting his duty or something similar to that."
"What if she joined the Varden? Or became a sorceress?" Eragon asked goofily before his brother thwacked the back of his head. "Hey!"
"Your imagination never fails to amaze me," Murtagh said dryly. "Though it is possible."
"Do you honestly believe that this is made of magic? Like those stones you found in the Spine?" Katrina asked slowly. "I mean, magic. It's something only special people can use and we should stay away from it in particular."
"Maybe they do mean something. They might have a purpose that we can't understand just yet." Roran shrugged, finally breaking his silence. "You know, maybe we should show them to Brom if we find him in the tavern. Maybe he could dig up some folklore related to them. I'm sure he will be good with that."
"Brom always tells the same stories," Eragon complained. "I'm sure he won't find one that can explain these stones. That's why I want to watch the troubadours tonight. Maybe they can even tell us some real stories about Dragon Riders."
Morn's tavern was a little smoky from the candles but was pleasantly warm. Twisted, black Urgal horns were mounted above the door, as long as the Eragon's outstretched arms. They have always fascinated him and wondered if they really were from Urgals. Inside, the oak doors and the bar were crowded with villagers and traders chatting and doing business. Morn, the bartender with a short and slightly mashed-looking face, was wiping a glass behind the bar and smiled at the newcomers. "Good to see the four of you together again! Where's Garrow?"
"He's still busy with buying and selling things," Murtagh said. He grinned at Morn, who used to let him help around in cleaning and brewing. "He'll take a while, we had a lot of harvest this year."
"Oh, that's good to hear," agreed Morn. He nodded to Roran. "Seems like nothing held you back this year."
"No sick animals to tend to this year," agreed Roran. He had always been the one who was good with the animals in the farm. "Last year was torturous, I thought that the chickens wouldn't survive for another few hours."
Eragon noticed two unfamiliar traders who were sipping beer while in the middle of telling a story. Some of the villagers were watching them, and a number of them had outright dislike etched on their faces. "Who are they?"
Morn made a face. "Grain traders. Those bastards bought everyone's seed at a ridiculously low price when we need the money to get by another year and the stories they tell are just preposterous. And they expect us to believe them? Bah!"
"Stories?" Eragon glanced at Roran and Murtagh. The looked as curious as he felt.
"Outrageous ones," Morn replied through gritted teeth. He shot the traders a dirty look. "Well, they claim that the Varden has struck a deal with the Urgals and their armies are strong enough to attack us. They say that King Galbatorix and his six Forsworn are the only ones who can protect us. It's not like the king actually cares about our welfare."
"I haven't heard of people who outright support the Empire before," Katrina mused quietly. "I mean, it's like everyone in Carvahall hates the King and his blasted Riders."
"Hush, they might hear you," Roran said quickly. He turned red upon realizing that he was talking to Katrina. "Though to be honest, most of us here would jump at the chance to join the Varden and strengthen the rebellion."
The sun was setting and it would be time to go to Horst's house soon. Eragon sighed. "The Varden constantly raids and attacks the Empire. But I'm sure that they won't strike up a deal with monsters like Urgals."
"Ugly, the way those men keep going," Morn said over the angry voices of villagers against the traders. "If this goes on longer, it will be trouble."
"For us or for them?" Murtagh asked with a smirk.
Morn's face darkened. "Them." As if on cue, the argument in the tavern became violent. The bartender made a face as he strode towards the arguing group.
The four left the tavern as the fight seemed to turn ugly. "That was something," Katrina said in an apparent attempt to hide the fact that she was shaken too.
After the hearty dinner at Horst's where the host and the guests had so much to share, Eragon led the way to the traders' camp. The snow at night felt magical, and Eragon could almost imagine dragons flying in the sky. Since the king and his Forsworn are the only Riders still left, seeing a dragon in the sky would have meant doom. Candle-topped poles circled a clearing and bonfires created beautiful dancing shadows. Villagers have surrounded the circle in excitement and Eragon felt himself shiver.
The first ones to present were the minstrels that accompanied the traders. Accompanied by poems and songs, they wove stories that ranged from the funny to the more wondrous kinds. As the energy began to fade, everybody gave way to Carvahall's storyteller, Brom.
There were rumors that Brom was far older than he seemed. He was tall and proud, with black hair that was graying. His red-brown eyes twinkled merrily as he patted down his cloak and began his tale of the Riders – the war between the dragons and the elf Eragon who became the first of the Riders, the day when humans joined their ranks thanks to the two riders named Murtagh and Roran. Eragon was amazed. It seemed like the brothers and their cousin were actually named after legendary people
As the night wore on, Brom spoke of the Rider named Galbatorix who lost his dragon to an Urgal and learned dark magic from a Shade to steal a black dragon named Shruikan. He, together with thirteen Riders called the Forsworn have decimated the old and revered order and striking down the leader of the Riders, Vrael.
As the story ended, Brom shuffled away with what seemed to be a tear in his eye. Garrow clucked his town disapprovingly behind Eragon. "I've only heard that twice in my life. You're lucky. Brom might not be so. If the Empire catches the news that he spoke of it, he will be executed.
After bidding goodbye to Katrina, the three boys followed their uncle back to their home. They turned in early, setting the stones back to their places in the shelves. They didn't sleep much longer that night though.
In the dead of the night, Eragon was roused from his sleep by Murtagh. He could hear strange squeaking sounds. His twin brother's reddish eyes were wide with fear. He put a finger to his lips, signalling for Eragon to be quiet. Roran stood over the shelves, where the sound was emanating from. The three stones were squeaking and shaking.
In fear that they might fall off, the three boys set the stones down on the floor and knelt by them. The stones began to rock back and forth, as if by unison. "I don't care about what father says, we have to bury those!" Roran hissed.
Once those words escaped his lips, cracks appeared on the smooth surface of the stones. A few minutes passed with the boys standing together in terror and confusion. At the top of the stones, where most of the cracks converged, small pieces wobbled and fell off. After a few long squeaks, creatures began to emerge. The boys realized that they were gazing upon eggs. The creatures finally moved out of their eggs while licking off the membrane around them.
"Goodness," Murtagh breathed in surprise. "Dragons!"
A/N: I'm getting 120+ hits and only 2 reviews? It only takes a few seconds at most, I do appreciate feedback! ;)
