Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon or related characters, they belong to Christopher Paolini. I can only make a claim to those parts of the plot which are from my imagination and the characters that haven't been mentioned in previous books. Obviously, it would be great if I did, but I don't.
A.N. I hate bringing work home with me, I really should be finishing it but I think you'll all agree with me that a new chapter is infinitely more fun. I'll procrastinate like a good writer a put the boring stuff off until tomorrow.
Updates will slow and probably shorten as I diverge from the book. For now I have ready-made content that only needs a few adjustments or additions to include what I want. You've been warned.
Chapter 4
At dawn, Eragon eagerly rushed out to see the lake in daylight. A white-capped expanse of water rippled with fan-shaped patterns where the wind brushed it. The pure size delighted him. He whooped and ran into the water. Saphira, where are you? Let's have some fun!
The moment Eragon climbed onto her, she jumped out over the water. They soared upward, circling over the lake, but even at that height the opposing shore was not visible. Would you like to take a bath? Eragon casually asked Saphira. Bree is always complaining that we smell bad.
She complains that you smell bad chuckled Saphira's voice in his head. She grinned wolfishly. Hold on! She locked her wings and sank to the waves, clipping the crests with her claws. The water sparkled in the sunlight as they sailed over it. Eragon whooped again. Then Saphira folded her wings and dived into the lake, her head and neck entering it like a lance.
The water hit Eragon like an icy wall, knocking out his breath and almost tearing him off Saphira. He held on tightly as she swam to the surface. With three strokes of her feet she had breached it and sent a burst of shimmering water to the sky. Eragon gasped and shook his hair as Saphira slithered across the lake, using her tail as a rudder.
Ready?
Eragon nodded and took a deep breath, tightening his arms. This time they slid gently under the water. They could see for yards through the unclouded liquid. Saphira twisted and turned in fantastic shapes, slipping through the water like an eel. Eragon felt as if he were riding a sea serpent of legend.
Just as his lungs started to cry for air, Saphira arched her back and pointed her head upward. An explosion of droplets haloed them as she leapt into the air, wings snapping open. With two powerful flaps she gained altitude.
Wow! That was fantastic, exclaimed Eragon.
Yes, said Saphira happily. Though it's a pity you can't hold your breath longer.
Nothing I can do about that, he said, pressing water out of his hair. His clothes were drenched, and the wind from Saphira's wings chilled him. He pulled at his splint – his wrist itched. They circled the lake for a few more minutes before slowly turning back towards the shore and camp.
Bree had followed Eragon down to the shore at more sedate pace. With the dawn had come a warm breeze and she was prepared to take full advantage of it. Setting a blue towel she had found in her pack over a branch by the water, Bree had quickly stripped down to her underwear, a pair of boy shorts and a singlet top. Taking a deep breath she had rushed into water, quickly submerging herself and scrubbing everything she could reach. She lasted perhaps a minute before her teeth began chattering and she had to leave the water. As she wrapped the towel around herself she looked across the lake watching as Saphira dived, skimming the tops of the small waves as she flew over them. Running back up the shore to their camp, Bree used a blanket covered Snowfire as a screen while she changed quickly into green cargo pants and a long sleeved, pale pink shirt.
Flopping onto the ground next to where Brom sat sharpening his sword with a wet stone, she shoved her feet into a pair of soft leather boots she had also found within her pack. A whoop sounded across the water and she smiled. "A boy and his Dragon." Bree said, smiling at the faint grin pulling at Brom's lips. "Aww, the proud Father." She laughed as the grin turned to a look of shock and confusion, before clearing once again into what she beginning to think of as his 'serious Brom' face. He should smile more, she thought.
"You know then." It wasn't a question.
"Yes. You should tell him." She had grown serious as well. "He knows little about Selena, only what his uncle told him and she had been gone for years before turning up on his doorstep. It would do him good to hear more about the two of you."
Brom nodded. "One day I will. I do not want him to start thinking of me as a father though, if it means he starts risking his life to protect mine. And his mother and I…we weren't in the kind of relationship approved of by society."
"I understand. But do you really think he wouldn't risk his life for you now anyway?" There was a pause, the only sound from their camp the whinny of the horses and the strokes of the wet stone against the steel of Brom's sword. "He's not going to think less of you, you know. He probably already considers himself somewhat of a bastard child; no-one knew who his father was. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to find out it was you." She had rested her hand on his shoulder as she spoke, standing now as she looked out to the lake. "Here they come." The arrival of the dragon and her Rider put an end to their conversation and heralded the dismantling of the camp.
Once Eragon was dry, he and Brom saddled the horses while Bree kicked dirt over the remnants of their fire, before they started around Leona Lake. Everyone was in high spirits, Saphira playfully diving in and out of the water and Bree thankful that Brom had chosen to take a bath that morning as well: she could hardly smell either of them today, the horses though would be in for a nasty shock if she ever found a bottle of shampoo.
Before dinner, Eragon blocked Zar'roc's edge in preparation for their usual sparring. Sometimes he and Bree would stand off against each other while Brom watched, better to observe and correct their moves and postures, and sometimes he would fight Brom first, Brom instructing Bree after he had inevitably defeated Eragon. Whoever didn't have a sword in their hand was usually watching from the side of the fire where they stirred that night's dinner.
Tonight he would go first against Brom. Neither he nor Brom moved as they waited for the other to strike first. Eragon inspected their surroundings for anything that might give him an advantage. A stick near the fire caught his attention.
Eragon swooped down, grabbed the stick, and hurled it a Brom. The splint got in his way, though, and Brom easily sidestepped the piece of wood causing Bree to shriek "Hey!" as it narrowly missed hitting her in the head. The old man rushed forward, swinging his sword. Eragon ducked just as the blade whistled over his head. He growled and tackled Brom ferociously.
They pitched to the ground, each struggling to stay on top. Eragon rolled to the side and swept Zar'roc over the ground at Brom's shins. Brom parried the blow with the hilt of his sword, then jumped to his feet. Twisting as he stood, Eragon attacked again, guiding Zar'roc through a complex pattern. Sparks danced from their blades as they struck again and again. Brom blocked each blow, his face tight with concentration. But Eragon could tell that he was tiring. The relentless hammering continued as each sought an opening in the other's defences.
Then Eragon felt the battle change. Blow by blow he gained advantage; Brom's parries slowed and he lost ground. Eragon easily blocked a stab from Brom. Veins pulsed on the old man's forehead and cords bulged in his neck from the effort.
Suddenly confident, Eragon swung Zar'roc faster than ever, weaving a web of steel around Brom's sword. With a burst of speed, he smashed the flat of his blade against Brom's guard and knocked the sword to the ground. Before Brom could react, Eragon flicked Zar'roc up to his throat.
They stood panting, the red sword tip resting on Brom's collarbone. A cheer erupted from beside the fire as Bree jumped to her feet and threw her arms around Eragon. "That. Was. Excellent!" she exclaimed giving him a hug. Eragon slowly lowered his arm and backed away. It was the first time he had bested Brom without resorting to trickery. Brom picked up his sword and sheathed it. Still breathing hard, he said, "we're done for today."
"But we just started," said Eragon, startled.
Brom shook his head. "I can teach you nothing more of the sword. Of all the fighters I've met, only three of them could have defeated me like that, and I doubt any of them could have done it with their left hand." He smiled ruefully. "I may not be as young as I used to be, but I can tell that you're a talented and rare swordsman."
"Does this mean we're not going to spar every night?" asked Bree hopefully. It was nice knowing how to defend yourself, but boy, did it make your arms and shoulders sore.
"Oh, you're not getting out of it," laughed Brom. "Eragon can go easier now, but you still have a lot to learn." Bree groaned, flopping back to ground. Brom Turned to Eragon, "it's not as important for you if we miss a night here or there." He wiped his brow, taking a seat next to Bree and accepting the bowl of stew she handed him. "Just remember, both of you, if you ever have the misfortune to fight an elf – trained or not, female or male – expect to lose. They, along with dragons and other creatures of magic, are many times stronger than nature intended. Even the weakest elf could easily overpower you. The same goes for the Ra'zac – they are not human and tire much more slowly than we do."
"Is there any way to become their equal?" asked Eragon. He sat cross-legged by Saphira.
Bree tuned out their conversation. She had almost forgotten they were hunting the Ra'zac, had pushed all thoughts of them to the back of her mind. The Ra'zac would find Eragon eventually, being servants of the king, but should they really be seeking them out? Maybe going to Arya would have been the better idea. She shook her head, no, they'd be in the same position but this time with a Shade. She looked to the two talking by the glow of the fire. Brom would know what to do, but could she tell him why they should avoid Dras-Leona? She sighed, re-joining their conversation on fighting with magic.
"Well," Eragon said, leaning on an elbow. "Suppose I was attacked by a Shade. How could I block his magic? Most spells take place instantaneously, which makes it impossible to react in time. And even if I could, how would I nullify an enemy's magic? It seems I would have to know my opponents intentions before he acted." He paused. "I just don't see how it can be done. Whoever attacked first would win."
Brom sighed. "What you are talking about – a 'wizards' duel,' if you will – is extremely dangerous." Bree had a sudden flash of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy duelling it out in the great hall of Hogwarts, the Potion's Master and the Fraud hovering at either end. "Haven't you ever wondered how Galbatorix was able to defeat all of the Riders with the help of only a dozen or so traitors?"
Bree and Eragon shook their heads, Eragon had just supposed there wasn't a vast amount of Riders to begin with and Bree had left it up to the books believing they would explain later, which they had. "I never thought about it," acknowledged Eragon.
"There are several ways. Some you'll learn about later, but the main one is that Galbatorix was, and still is, a master of breaking into people's minds. You see, in a wizards' duel there are strict rules that each side must observe or else both contestants will die. To begin with, no one uses magic until one of the participants gains access to the others mind."
Saphira curled her tail comfortably around Eragon and asked, Why wait? By the time an enemy realises that you've attacked, it will be too late for him to act. Eragon repeated the question out loud for the benefit of Brom and Bree.
Brom shook his head. "No, it won't. If I were to suddenly use my power against you, Eragon, you would surely die, but in the brief moment before you were destroyed, there would be time for a counter-attack. Therefore, unless one combatant has a death wish, neither side attacks until one of them has breached the other's defences."
"Then what happens?" Eragon inquired, both he and Bree had leant forward as Brom had been speaking. You could see why he had chosen to become the storyteller of Carvahall. You couldn't help but listen to what he was saying.
"Brom shrugged and said, "Once you're inside your enemy's mind, it's easy enough to anticipate what he will do and prevent it. Even with that advantage, it's still possible to lose if you don't know how to counteract spells."
Placing his empty bowl on the ground, Brom filled and lit his pipe. "And that requires extraordinarily quick thinking. Before you can defend yourself, you have to understand the exact forces directed at you. If you're being attacked with heat, you have to know whether it is being conveyed to you through air, fire, light, or some other medium. Only once that's known can you combat the magic by, for instance, chilling the heated the material."
"Then you'll find yourself being pelted with shards of ice," joked Bree. At Brom's frown, she continued in a more serious manner. "I know what you're trying to say. It takes the average person three to five seconds to react to something. It sounds like a long time but that's with noticing something is going to hit you, registering where it is in relation to your body, how fast its moving, all that even before you consider you have to add in whether you're going to it or move out of way and how you'll do that."
"It sounds difficult."
"Extremely," confirmed Brom. A plume of smoke rose from his pipe. "Seldom can people survive such a duel for more than a few seconds. The enormous amount of effort and skill required condemns anyone without the proper training to a quick death. Once you've progressed, I'll start teaching you the necessary methods. In the meantime, if you ever find yourself facing a wizards' duel, I suggest you run away as fast as you can."
"What about Bree?" asked Eragon. "If they can't access their mind how would the duel work?"
Brom rubbed his chin in thought, looking at Bree as he contemplated Eragon's question. During their journey together across the foot hills of the Spine, it had been determined that no matter how hard they tried neither Brom nor Saphira could gain entry into Bree's mind. Brom had suggested that it may be a result of her switch in realities. Her mind closing itself to the probing of others in order to protect the information it carried about their futures. They had figured though, that the fewer people who knew what she did, the better. "I do not suppose it would work," he mused. "I have neglected to test you for any aptitude for magic, something we will rectify first thing tomorrow, but I would guess that should you learn to infiltrate the minds of your opponents, you would have a clear field from which to make your attack."
Bree was a little shocked. She had never considered the possibility of her being able to perform magic. It wasn't something she would have expected from her old life, but here things seemed to revolve around magic and those wielded it. Knocking pipe against his palm to empty it of burnt tobacco, Brom gestured for Bree to rise. "Now that this old man has had a rest, let us see how you are progressing with the sword." Eragon handed Bree Zar'roc, its edges still dulled from the earlier fight, and she followed Brom to the edge of the firelight.
Brom fought to win. With the sharp-edged blades of the swords dulled using magic, there was little chance of a major injury other that a direct blow from your opponents sword, the things had some mass to them, so Brom did not hold back. Once Bree had mastered the basic techniques of swordplay, she found that Brom gave his all in a fight, forcing her to defend herself as though she were fighting a real enemy.
They slowly circled around the fire; Brom usually had her on the defensive from the beginning, forcing her back a step at a time, Bree only managing the occasional offensive strike. It was all over in just a few minutes, Brom brought his sword down near head and when she blocked the blow the force of it made her knees buckle and she found herself kneeling in the dirt, a sword tip at her throat. "Again," said Brom. Groaning, Bree got to her feet, raising Zar'roc in defensive position. Bree rarely made the first move in a fight, preferring to wait and be prepared for her attacker, so rather than wait for her to attack him, Brom swiftly swung his sword towards her legs. Bree blocked the strike with the blade of her sword, already stepping back to distance herself from Brom.
Bree was not as natural a swordsman as Eragon and it was unlikely she would even come close to either he or Brom. Her best bet in a duel was her speed and her mind, she could block a strike quicker than Eragon could but she didn't have the strength to continuously block and fight back. Her technique was to stay on the defensive, dodging whatever she could and waiting for an opening in which she could make her move. It didn't happen often but Eragon now had a faint scar across the back of his arm where she'd managed to get him as they spared with sticks. It was a lesson for him in not letting your guard down around an opponent. She would also use trickery to her advantage, Eragon might try to distract them with kicks and punches occasionally thrown into a fight, but Bree would take it one step further. Bent over with her hands on her knees, gasping for breath, she waited for Brom to step forward and raise his sword before swinging her own low to ground aiming for his shins. Brom had needed to jump in order to avoid her blade. She took her chance and swung again at his legs curving up at the last minute towards his hip. Brom had moved to block her and easily had his sword in position to deflect her attack. Bringing his blade around to connect with her shoulder, pushing her off balance, he finished the duel with the edge of his sword stopping at her side. A fatal blow if the swords had been sharp.
I know the chapters are very action packed yet, but coming soon, Murtagh the Magnificent, who will be sure to dazzle everyone with his melancholy, depressive attitude. I think the heroine of this story can do something about that though through the use of her womanly wiles. Right, I'm going to bed before I start embarrassing myself.
Review please.
