The silence the next morning was glacial. Brom and I didn't even look at each other while we ate a quick breakfast and set out as the sun rose. Our breath misted in the air as we walked down the road, making good progress, and within an hour the road had widened considerably, and I could make out distant wisps of smoke in the sky.
"You'd better tell Saphira to fly ahead and wait for us on the other side of Therinsford. There are too many people here who could notice her if we're not careful," Brom told Eragon.
"Why don't you tell her yourself?" Eragon challenged him. He seemed to be in almost as bad of a mood as we were, not that I really blamed him, having seen the bruises covering his arms this morning.
"It's considered bad manners to interfere with another's dragon," Brom said, his tone stiff with exasperation.
"You didn't have a problem with it in Carvahall," Eragon pointed out, though his eyes flicked to me as he spoke. I looked away, pulling my mind away from Saphira uneasily.
"I did what I had to," Brom said, which made Eragon scowl, but he relayed the message to Saphira anyway. Despite the distance I tried to put between us, his words still echoed faintly in my mind as well. Glancing up, I squinted into the sun, picking out the small blue speck that wheeled off to the west before heading south. I tensed, half expecting Eragon to confront me then about Saphira, but he held his tongue, eyes ahead as signs of the approaching village began to creep up around us. The ruts in the road had deepened, and we passed frequent tracks off both sides, leading to farms in the distance.
The village itself was larger than Carvahall, but not as well planned, with houses scattered randomly around. Even some distance away, I could see that the centre would be practically a warren, the rooftops close together, but without any straight gaps for roads.
"What a mess," Eragon said, in mild disgust, and I grinned as I looked away, though I'd been thinking much the same.
"It's ugly, if nothing else," Brom agreed mildly, squinting a little into the sun. With the village in sight, we picked up the pace a little more, and the sound of rushing water greeted us, the Anora River winding back into sight, running between us and the town. Here, the churning waters had cut a steep bank, and a stout bridge spanned the gap, the stones crumbling and worn with age, but still strong. I lengthened my stride a little, eager to cross, but as I drew ahead, a short man with dirty hair stepped out suddenly from behind a bush.
I reacted instinctively, without thought or pause. My sword sang as I ripped it free of its sheath, the steel glinting fiercely in the sun as the tip came to rest, perfectly still, in the air inches from his throat. The small man's eyes bulged, going crossed as he tried to focus on the point, his mouth snapping shut over crumbling teeth. For a second, none of us moved, then Brom stepped forwards with a scowl, slapping my blade down with the flat of his palm, shooting me a look.
"Sorry," I said gruffly, "roads aren't as safe as they used to be. Can't be too careful." The man grunted, his eyes flicking over the three of us.
"Aye, that they aren't," he said. His voice was slightly muffled, thickened by a rough accent, as if he had trouble remembering which words he'd planned to use. "That's why you've gotta pay," he continued, gesturing to the bridge behind him, though his eyes darted to my blade again, "stops people planning nasty stuff from getting into town, y'know." I stared at him, watching his chest swell with pride, and tried to contain my sniggers.
"Of course," Brom said courteously and I stared at him, "you do the town a great service. How much?"
"Six crowns," the bridge-keeper said. I was ready to laugh and push past him, and Eragon clearly felt the same, opening his mouth to argue. But Brom shot us both looks and pulled out a purse. I watched in disbelief as he counted out the coins and handed them over.
"Thank'ee very much," the bridge-keeper said, grinning broadly as he stepped aside. Brom nodded, smiling as he made to move past, but stumbling on the rough road. I lunged forward to catch him, but he'd already grabbed hold of the bridge-keeper's arm to steady himself.
"Watch it!" he snarled, all pretence of friendliness forgotten as he ripped himself free.
"Sorry," Brom apologised, regaining his footing before continuing over the bridge. Eragon and I followed in silence, though he shot a nasty glance at the bridge-keeper as he sidled back into the bushes.
"Why didn't you haggle?" Eragon exclaimed, as soon as the bridge was behind us and the man out of earshot. "He skinned you alive, 'keeping the town safe', no way! He's probably cheating everyone he can that comes through."
"Probably," Brom agreed, as I slid my sword away.
"Then why did you pay him?" I asked.
"Because you can't argue with all the fools in the world," Brom said, his eyes fixed on me. "Sometimes it's easier to let them think they're getting their way, then trick them when they're not paying attention." Brom held out his hand, letting the sunlight glint off a pile of coins in his hand.
"You cut his purse," Eragon said incredulously. Despite Brom's veiled threat, I couldn't help grinning as I looked away. The old Rider was wilier than I'd expected. There was a sudden howl of anguish from the other side of the river, and I smothered a snigger as we entered Therinsford proper.
"And I'd guess he just found out. If you see any watchmen, tell me," Brom said, his eyes sharp as we passed into the shadows of the buildings.
"I doubt he'd tell them anyway. They'd want to know where he got the money, and however fast of a liar he might be, he wasn't doing anything remotely official," I snorted, and Brom hummed a little in acquiescence before grabbing a passing boy on the shoulder.
"Where can we buy horses?" he asked, holding up a small coin to catch the light. The boy eyed us warily, his gaze flicking to the money, then pointed off to the left, where the roof of a barn was just visible over the tops of the houses. Brom nodded his thanks and flipped the coin into the air. The boy snatched it with a grin and raced off again, disappearing along the twisting alleyways.
The doors of the barn, when we finally left the warren of the town behind, stood open, and I breathed in the familiar smell of horses as we entered, passing two long rows of stalls, where bright, inquisitive eyes watched our progress towards the back of the barn, where a man was grooming a stunning white stallion. He looked up as we approached, putting down the brush as he waved us over.
"That's a beautiful animal," Brom said, his eyes raking the stallion.
"Yes indeed. His name's Snowfire. Mine's Haberth." Haberth shook hands with Eragon, Brom and finally reached me, but I was still watching Snowfire, tracing the slightly familiar shape of his head.
"He's not from Lord Gideon's estate, is he?" I asked, nodding at the horse.
"Good eye," Haberth grunted, looking at me in surprise. Brom and Eragon were wearing similar expressions. "His sire was on the estate, but before Gideon's time." I nodded absently. No doubt Gideon's horses had some of the same bloodlines. I tried not to imagine what Gideon's face would have looked like when his father sold Snowfire's sire. The breeding was practically oozing out of him, yet here he was, hidden away up here in the north.
"So, what can I help you with?" Haberth asked, when I didn't say anything more.
"We need three horses, with full tack," Brom said, "good animals, mind, we'll be doing a lot of travelling." The man's eyes glazed over slightly as he looked past us, down the line of stalls, apparently doing a mental check.
"Don't have many animals like that," he said after a moment, "most of the demand round here is for cart horses and the like. The ones I do have aren't cheap."
"Price is no object. I'll take the best you have," Brom said stubbornly, and Haberth nodded silently. Moving past us, he walked away, down the line of stalls. Brom and Eragon waited by Snowfire, but I traced his steps, wandering idly down the line of stalls. Haberth was right. Most of the animals had the strong, stocky legs of cart horses. One of them, a tall grey horse, with strong shoulders pushed his way forwards as I passed, and I paused with a smile to rub his nose, until the sound of hooves made me turn. Haberth was walking back towards us, leading a bay horse.
"This fella's a bit spirited, but with some firm handling, he'll be fine," Brom nodded, watching the pair approach. I was watching the bay's long legs, noting the way he picked up his feet, and jumped, my whole body tensing, when another horse lunged forwards in a stall two away from me, teeth flashing in the air towards the bay, who shied sideways. Haberth scowled back at the biter as he halted the bay in front of Brom and Eragon. I took a step to the side, watching the golden horse retreat into his stall, ears still flattened back.
"What's his story?" I asked Haberth, taking a cautious step closer, though careful to keep out of range, should the horse lunge again. Haberth grunted.
"Him? Right piece of work. Grumpiest animal I ever met, but a dream to ride."
"May I?" I asked, gesturing closer.
"Sure, just watch your fingers," Haberth grunted, turning away, and stumping off down the stalls again, leaving Eragon holding the bay. I moved along until I was right in front of the stall, eyes fixed on the hooves of the horse half-hidden in shadow at the back. The dim light on his dun coat made it look darker than it really was, as if the animal was made of burnished gold. Clicking my tongue gently, I took another step forward, and he made his move. Lunging forwards, his hooves clattered across the floor, throwing up shavings as he skidded to a halt, neck thrust out, head held high above me. I didn't flinch as he tossed his angry head, his black mane rippling, but his teeth stayed hidden this time, and he eventually grew still. Gently, I blew out, letting my breath tickle across his nose. His nostrils twitched, then he blew back, though with slight caution.
"What's the verdict?" Brom asked, and I glanced back to find him watching me closely.
"Nothing but a few bad manners," I said, taking a few steps closer to the animal and raising a hand to his neck. He snorted a little, and for a moment I thought he would try to bite me, but eventually he just turned his head the other way, ignoring my palm as it came to rest on his shoulder. I took the opportunity to run my eyes over the rest of his body. He was, without doubt, a fine animal, with good strong legs and hindquarters. Looking back to Brom, I nodded, just as Haberth came back round the corner, leading a roan mare. His eyes immediately found me, and he nodded approvingly.
"He's a grumpy sod, but other than that..." Haberth shrugged.
"We'll take him," Brom said, turning away and watching the roan mare with a slightly more doubtful expression. "She seems quiet."
"Aye, very docile, but a good runner,"
"Mmm..." Brom glanced back over his shoulder. "What will you take for Snowfire?" Haberth's face fell as he looked at the white stallion.
"I'd rather not sell him. Best I've ever owned. I've been hoping to bred from him, get a whole bloodline, y'know."
"If you were willing to part with him," Brom pushed, "how much would it all cost me?" I watched Haberth look from the bay standing by Eragon, to the grumpy dun behind me, to Snowfire.
"Two hundred twenty crowns, no less," Haberth said eventually, smiling apologetically, sure in the knowledge that no-one would pay so much. I agreed with him, expecting Brom to accept the roan. But he did not. Pulling out a purse, Brom began to count out coins. We all watching him in silence, Haberth's face flickering between incredulity and despair.
"Will this do?" Brom asked. Haberth looked from the pile of coins, to Snowfire, and back again.
"Aye," he sighed eventually, "though it goes against my heart. He's yours." Haberth tied the roan to one of the stalls, and stumped up the aisle, taking the bay's rope from Eragon as he passed. "Boy," he said, glancing back to me, "bring him up. But keep him away from the other two." His regret was so palpable, I didn't bother correcting his mistake. He could call me 'boy' if he wanted to. I unhooked the rope across the front of the dun's stall, winding my hand into his mane and leading him up towards Haberth, giving the roan a wide berth. "That's his," Haberth grunted, pointing to the tack on the very end of the back wall. I pulled the dun after me, away from the others, and began to tack him up in silence. Haberth was faster than me, sorting out both the other two, and handing the bay's reins to Eragon, who looked a little over-whelmed, but took them. Haberth hesitated before Brom, stroking Snowfire's nose.
"I'll take care of him," Brom promised gently, "as if he'd be sired by Gildintor himself." Haberth bowed his head slightly, finally holding out the reins.
"Your words gladden me. I hope no misfortune falls upon you, if only for Snowfire's sake."
"I'll look after him," Brom assured him, turning, and leading the white stallion away. Eragon and I followed. At the doors of the barn, I glanced back. Haberth was standing, watching us go and looking a little lost. The dun horse took advantage of my moment of inattention and lunged sideways, trying to nip Eragon's bay on the shoulder. Scowling, I pulled his head away, then swapped sides, so I was walking between the two horses.
"Here," Brom said, causing me to look over as he handed Snowfire's reins to Eragon. "Go to the other side of Therinsford and wait for me there."
"Why?" Eragon asked, but Brom had already disappeared back into the town. Slightly bewildered, Eragon looked round at me, but I just shrugged, and kept walking, and he followed me. It only took us a few minutes to skirt round the edge of Therinsford, and rejoin the road on the other side. I kept walking until we were a good distance away, but still within sight of the last buildings before coming to a halt, Eragon stopping beside me, forcing me to pull the dun back again as his head snaked towards Snowfire's flank. We waited in silence for a couple of minutes, each lost in our own thoughts, before I shook myself, and shrugged off my pack.
"You can put your stuff in the saddlebags," I told Eragon, before following my own advice, carefully packing my things away.
"What's that?" Eragon asked curiously, and I looked up to find him staring at the bow in my hands. I frowned at him.
"It's a bow," I said, a little confused.
"But it's too small," he objected, "and it's curved." With a grin, I passed it over to him.
"It's recurved," I said, "it straightens when you draw it. Makes it powerful without being too big."Eragon pulled back on the string experimentally, watching as the wood flexed, then releasing the tension and handing it back to me.
"Are you a good shot?" he asked, and I shrugged.
"Good enough to feed myself, just about," I said, "but I'm not worth much on a target range, or in a fight. Better with a sword." Eragon scowled at the mention, glancing back towards the town.
"I'm rubbish," he said, and I grinned while he wasn't looking.
"You're doing well," I told him, "you've only just started, and Brom is very good."
"Are you as good as him?"
"I have no desire to find out," I lied.
.
.
Brom returned from the town not long afterwards, his face grim as he strode down the road towards us. I stood up straight, watching his approach, though still keeping an eye on the dun horse, who was eyeing the other two with his ears back. Brom walked past us, reclaiming Snowfire's reins as he led the way down the road, and Eragon and I followed him in expectant silence. Only once Therinsford was hidden behind the trees did Brom speak.
"The Ra'zac definitely passed this way. They stopped to pick up horses, like we did. I was able to find a woman who saw them, and she said that they galloped out of town like demons fleeing a holy man."
"How long ago?" I asked.
"Two days," Brom said. Eragon cursed under his breath, but didn't say anything else as Brom mounted Snowfire. I glanced at him before turning to the dun, pulling down the stirrups, and hopping twice on one leg before pushing myself up onto his back. He sidestepped a couple of times, but quickly quietened as I took up the reins. Eragon was far more awkward with his ascent, scrambling clumsily up onto the bay, wincing as he did so.
"This isn't going to do the same thing to my legs as riding Saphira, is it?" he asked in trepidation, and I grimaced in sympathetic remembrance.
"It shouldn't," Brom said. "How do they feel now?"
"Not too bad, but I think they could open up again."
"We'll take it easy," promised Brom, nudging Snowfire forwards, giving Eragon a few pointers as we set out. I kept the dun over to one side of the road as we walked, to stop him trying to bite the other two. Haberth had been right; other than his bad manners, he was a wonderful ride, responsive and alert under the guidance of my hands and knees. I was looking down, trying to lengthen my stirrups without letting the dun wander close enough to strike out at the other horses, when Eragon spoke.
"Who's Gideon?" he asked. I looked up, to find them both watching me.
"Huh? Oh," I hesitated, still fiddling with the leather straps, wondering how much I should say. "He's a noble, his family breeds horses."
"And you know him?" Eragon seemed torn between disbelief and incredulity. I shrugged.
"Not well. He came into the city a few times, but his estate was a little way outside Uru'baen."
"You're from Uru'baen." Brom's tone was full of suspicion and I scowled as I looked across, taking in Eragon's wary expression.
"Yeah. I am," I said shortly.
"Did you ever see the king?" Eragon blurted out, seemingly before he could stop himself. I snorted.
"Heavens, no." There was a slight pause, and I could almost feel the distrust rolling off Brom, but I looked straight back at him.
"Did Gideon teach you about horses?" Eragon broke the tension, and I laughed a little.
"Hardly. I only met him a couple of times. No, my father got me to help out in the stables a bit, and I picked up some stuff there," I explained, "mostly by finding out how to do it wrong. Got thrown a couple of times, and trodden on more than I care to remember."
"Did you have your own horse?"
My hands clenched for a moment on the reins. "Technically, she wasn't mine, but there was one mare I always rode," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. Nara. I could still remember her being led away. I looked down, avoiding Eragon's eyes, and he fell silent.
"What did your father do? Before you left the city?" I scowled a little, refusing to meet Brom's sharp gaze. What is this, question time?
"He was a soldier," I said eventually. It wasn't a lie; my father had been a soldier, but the half-truth still stung me.
"Did he teach you how to fight? You reacted pretty quickly back there by the bridge."
"Yeah," I said, without looking at either of them. "He taught me a bit." They both let the questions drop at that, Brom continuing to coach Eragon, though with far more patience than he'd ever displayed when they fought. I wondered idly if Brom had struggled with horses when he'd first encountered them. The dun tossed his head, prancing a little, and I sighed, eyeing the road ahead, which was quickly taking us away from the fields, back into wilder country.
"I'm gonna go on ahead, see what he can do," I said, nodding to the impatient animal, and Brom nodded, though I could feel his eyes boring into my back as I nudged the dun forward, letting him spring into an easy trot. I rose up and down in the saddle, the familiar motion reassuring to my muscles. We passed huge bramble patches, their snarled branches trying to sneak out into the path, and rounded a corner. I grinned at the sight of the long straight path, and sat deep into the saddle, nudging the dun again. He responded eagerly, leaping forwards into a canter, and I laughed aloud. Haberth had been right, he was wonderful to ride, his strides smooth and even, eating up the ground. I rose up onto the balls of my feet, leaning forwards a little and he went even faster, his black mane rippling over my hands. The corner came up too fast for my liking, but I eased the dun back to a trot, then a walk, letting him stretch his neck out, blowing at the ground.
"Good boy," I murmured, rubbing his neck. "Better away from the others, huh? Not such a grumpy-guts." He snorted, and I laughed, pulling his head up as I nudged him into a trot, looking ahead to where the cleft in the mountains lead out onto the plain beyond. To the right was the looming shadow of Utgard, standing like a beacon of black rock, and I pulled the dun to a halt as I gazed up at it, but he tossed his head, pulling my attention away, and I let him walk on again, soon moving into a trot as we followed the road around Utgard. Every now and then I looked back, sometimes picking out Brom and Eragon on the road far behind me, but most of the time they were hidden by the landscape.
.
.
I crested the hill of the mountain pass mid-afternoon, and came to a halt, staring out across the world. Somewhere out there was my father, and Murtagh. All I had to do was find them. The dun tossed his head, pulling at the bit, eager to move on, but I held him back, twisting in my saddle to look behind me. It would be so easy to just carry on, to keep going on my own. Glancing up, it took me only a second to locate the tiny speck that was Saphira in the sky, so far above me. Transferring the reins to my right hand, I pulled up the left leg of my trousers, running my fingers over my burn as I thought. I hadn't made him any promises, I'd just said we were going in the same direction. Heaving a huge sigh, I sat up again, the dun instantly pricking up his ears, though he baulked a little as I pulled his head to the side. Only when we were a way from the path, out of easy sight, did I slip down from his back, tethering him lightly to a tree and letting his head drop down to graze as I pulled my sword from its sheath.
.
.
The sun was low in the sky when I heard their approach, the sound of hooves striking rock reaching my ears before their low voices. I was ready for them in seconds, splashing a bit of water over my short hair to dribble down my face and neck, sliding my sword away as I pulled myself back up onto the dun's back, patting his neck as I turned him back towards the road. By the time Brom and Eragon came into view, we were standing at the edge of the road, waiting. The dun pulled his ears back at the sight of the other horses, but I twitched the reins, and he lowered his head grudgingly. Brom's eyes were fixed on me as they drew level, and I returned the gaze steadily, but Eragon gasped as they crested the rise, his eyes sweeping over the plain, wonder clear on his face.
"It's so big," he breathed. "How far across is it?"
"Two or three days, to over a fortnight, depending on which direction you go," Brom said. "We'll wait until tomorrow to make the descent." I felt a flare of mild irritation. I'd assumed we would have gone further, or I could have been setting up camp this afternoon, between practising. Brom lead the way off the trail, picking a path through the trees to eventually emerge by the Anora River, where we all dismounted, and began setting up camp.
"You should give him a name." I looked up to see Brom nodding at the bay horse Eragon had been riding, whose saddle Eragon was just pulling off. There was a slight pause as Eragon eyed the animal thoughtfully.
"Well," he said eventually, "I don't have anything as noble as Snowfire, but maybe this will do." With surprising gravitas, he placed a hand on the bay's neck. "I name you Cadoc. It was my grandfather's name, so bear it well."
"It's a name," I told him, amused, "not a lordship." Eragon blushed and scowled at the same time.
"What about yours?" he said, jerking his chin at the dun, his face still a little pink. I looked at the grumpy animal. It was a question I'd been pondering for most of the afternoon, and as we stared at each other, it was like the horse was daring me to pick wrongly.
"Samir," I said decisively, and his ears flickered. Any possible comments were lost as Saphira landed close by, making all three animals toss their head nervously. Cadoc shuffled around his picket, tail clamped down as he put as much distance as possibly between them, but Samir and Snowfire both held their ground, though neither of them looked particularly happy about it.
How do the plains look? Eragon asked her.
Dull, she replied, nothing but rabbits and scrub in every direction.
.
.
After dinner, as the last of the light faded from the sky, Brom stood. Eragon barely caught the makeshift sword as it flew through the air towards his head. I scowled, but held my tongue as he groaned, but his complaints fell on deaf ears and he reluctantly got to his feet. I watched, my eyes following their every move as they danced, carefully cataloguing Brom's every move. They didn't spar for as long as last time, but there was still plenty of rough curses from Eragon as Brom's stick connected solidly with his arms, or legs, or ribs, or back. Yet, whether from luck, or Brom's restraint, he didn't take a single hit to the head. Other than a couple of bad decisions, he did reasonably well, though against Brom he looked like a child flailing around, and he threw down his stick in disgust when they finished, clearly aware of just how outmatched he was. Brom didn't turn away, instead reclaiming the stick from the ground and turning to face me.
"Your turn," he said grimly, throwing the stick through the air. Years of training made me step to the side, catching it neatly on the end, though I regretted it as Brom's gaze flared. Eragon had paused, looking back over his shoulder at us. I met Brom's stare with one of my own.
"I don't think so," I said. I didn't give him a chance to argue, snapping the stick over my knee and turning away. I listened to Eragon grumbling to Saphira about how I could get out of it when he couldn't as I drifted off to sleep, and I knew Brom wouldn't let me go so easily again.
A/N: Onoheiwa is still the most awesom-est person ever, and continues to save me from embarrassment with every single chapter. All reviews are most welcome, and make me very, very happy. Just saying.
