Free Riders
Author's Note: Eragon is not mine. Char, Blaster, and Saranya are. Thank you.
Chapter 10: Follow the Trail
The barn's large double doors were open, revealing two long rows of stalls. The far wall was literally covered with saddles, harnesses, other tack, and other paraphernalia. A man with muscular arms stood at the end, brushing a white stallion. He raised a hand and beckoned for them to approach.
As they approached, Brom said, "That's a beautiful animal."
"Yes indeed. His name's Snowfire. Mine's Haberth." Haberth offered a rough palm and shook hand vigorously with Eragon, Blaster, and Brom. There was a polite pause as he waited for their names in return. When they were not forthcoming, he asked, "Can I help you?"
Brom nodded. "We need three horses and a full set of tack for all. The horses have to be fast and tough; we'll be doing a lot of traveling."
Haberth was thoughtful for a moment. "I don't have many animals like that, and the ones I do aren't cheap." The stallion moved restlessly; he calmed it down with a few strokes of his fingers.
"Price is no object. I'll take the best you have," Brom said. Haberth nodded and silently tied the stallion to a stall. He went to the wall and started pulling down saddles and other items. Soon he had three identical piles. Next he walked up the line of stalls and brought out three horses. One was a light bay, the second a roan, the third a chestnut. The bay tugged against his rope.
"He's a little spirited, but with a firm hand you won't have any problems," Haberth said, handing the bay's rope to Brom. Brom let the horse smell his hand; it allowed him to rub its neck. The chestnut allowed Blaster to get close to it and let him rub its neck as well. Blaster entered the mind of the horse, not as clear as his connection to Sara, but he could still communicate with the chestnut. He told it that he was a friend and that he would not harm it.
"We'll take these two," Brom said. He then eyed the roan. "This one, however, I'm not so sure of."
"There are some good legs on him."
"Hmm…" Brom pondered for a second before asking, "What will you take for Snowfire?"
Haberth looked fondly at the stallion. "I'd rather not sell him. He's the finest I've ever bred—I'm hoping to sire a whole line from him."
"If you were willing to part with him, how much would all of this cost me?" Brom asked.
Eragon tried to put his hand on the bay like Brom had, but it shied away. Seconds later, after touching the bay's mind, he was able to calm the horse down. Meanwhile, Haberth used his fingers to add up the price of the purchase.
"Two hundred seventy crowns and no less," he said with a smile, clearly confident that no one would pay that much. Brom silently opened his pouch and counted out the money.
"Will this do?" he asked.
There was a long silence as Haberth glanced between Snowfire and the coins. He sighed, then said, reluctantly, "He is yours, though I go against my heart."
"I will treat him as if he had been sired by Gildintor, the greatest steed of legend," Brom said.
"Your words gladden me," Haberth answered, bowing his head slightly. He helped saddle the horses. When they were ready to leave, he said, "Farewell, then. For the sake of Snowfire, I hope that misfortune does not befall you."
"Do not fear; I will guard him well," Brom promised as they departed. "Here," he said to Eragon, handing Snowfire's reigns to him, "go to the far side of Therinsford and wait there with Blaster."
"Wait, what?" Blaster asked, taking the chestnut's reigns.
"Why?" Eragon asked. However, before either of them could finish asking their questions, Brom had already slipped away. Annoyed, they exited Therinsford with the three horses and stationed themselves beside the road. To the south, they saw the hazy outline of Utgard, sitting like a giant monolith at the end of the valley. Its peak was obscured by the clouds, towering over the lesser mountains surrounding it. Its dark, ominous look made even Blaster's scalp tingle.
Brom returned shortly and gestured for them to follow. They walked until Therinsford was hidden by trees. Then Brom said, "The Ra'zac definitely passed this way. Apparently they stopped here to pick up horses, as we did. I was able to find a man who saw them. He described them with many shudders and said that they galloped out of Therinsford like demons fleeing from a holy man."
"I guess they left quite the impression," Blaster commented.
"Quite."
Eragon patted the horses. "When we were in the barn, I touched the bay's mind by accident. I didn't know it was possible to do that."
Brom frowned. "It's unusual for one as young as you to have the ability. Most Riders had to train for years before they were strong enough to contact anything other than their dragon." His face was thoughtful as he inspected Snowfire. Then he said, "Take everything from your packs, put them into the saddlebags, and tie the packs on top." Eragon did so, but Blaster did not. He would wait until night had fallen and the other two had fallen asleep to put his weaponry from his pack into the saddlebags. Brom and Blaster then mounted their steeds, Blaster climbing onto the chestnut.
Eragon gazed doubtfully at the bay. It was smaller than both Saphira and Sara, and for a moment, Blaster thought Eragon wouldn't get on because he feared it wouldn't be able to bear his weight. With a sigh, he climbed awkwardly into the saddle. He became nervous and asked, "Is this going to do the same thing to my legs as riding Saphira?"
"How do they feel now?" Brom asked.
"Not too bad, but I think any hard riding will open them up again."
"Then we'll take 'er easy," Blaster promised. Brom gave Eragon a few pointers, then they started off at a gentle pace. Before long, the countryside began to change as the cultivated fields yielded to wider land. Brambles and tangled weeds lined the road, as well as huge rosebushes that clung to their clothes. Tall rocks slanted out of the ground—grey witness to their presence. There was an unfriendly feel in the air, and animosity that resisted intruders.
Above them, growing larger with every step, loomed Utgard, its craggy precipices deeply furrowed with snowy canyons. The black rock of the mountain absorbed light like a sponge and dimmed the surrounding area. Between Utgard and the line of mountains that formed the east side of Palancar Valley was a deep cleft, the only practical way out of the valley. The road led toward it.
The horses' hooves clacked sharply over gravel, and the road dwindled to a skinny trail as it skirted the base of Utgard. Both Eragon and Blaster glanced up at the peak looming over them. They were startled to see a steepled tower perched upon it. The turret was crumbling and in a state of disrepair, but it was still a stern sentinel over the valley. "What is that?" Eragon asked.
Brom didn't look up, but said sadly and with bitterness, "An outpost of the Riders—one that has lasted since their founding. That was where Varel took refuge, and where, through treachery, he was found and defeated by Galbatorix. When Vrael fell, this area was tainted. Edoc'sil, 'Unconquerable,' was the name of this bastion, for the mountain is so steep none may reach the top unless they can fly. After Vrael's death the commoners called it Utgard, but it has another name Ristvak'baen—the 'Place of Sorrow.' It was known as such to the last Riders before they were killed by the king."
Eragon and Blaster both stared at it with awe. Here was a tangible remnant of the Riders' glory, tarnished by the unstoppable force of time. It struck them then just how old the Riders were. A legacy of tradition and heroism that stretched back to antiquity had fallen upon them.
They traveled for long hours around Utgard. It formed a solid wall to their right as they entered the breach that divided the mountain range. Eragon stood on his stirrups; he was impatient to see what lay outside of Palancar, but it was still too far away. For a while they were in a sloped pass, winding over hill and gully, following the Anora River. Then with the sun low behind their backs, they mounted a rise and saw over the trees.
Eragon gasped. On either side were mountains, but below them stretched an enormous plain that extended to the distant horizon and fused into the sky. The plain was a uniform tan, like the color of dead grass. Long, wispy clouds swept by overhead, shaped by fierce winds. Blaster wondered how nasty the weather would be on these plains.
The two younger travelers now understood why Brom had insisted on horses. It would have taken them weeks to months to cover that vast distance on foot. Far above, they say Saphira and Sara circling each other, high enough to be mistaken for birds.
"We'll wait until tomorrow to make the descent," Brom said. "It's going to take most of the day, so we should camp now."
"How far across the plain?" Eragon asked, still amazed.
"Two or three days to over a fortnight, depending on which direction we go," Brom replied. "Aside from the nomad tribes that roam this section of the pains, it's almost as uninhabited as the Hadarac Desert to the east. So we aren't going to find many villages. However, to the south the plains are less arid and more heavily populated."
They left the trail and dismounted by the Anora River. As they unsaddled the horses, Brom gestured to the bay and the chestnut. "You should name them."
Eragon considered it as he picketed the bay. "Well, I don't have anything as noble as Snowfire, but maybe this will do." He placed a hand on the bay and said, "I name you Cadoc. It was my grandfather's name, so bear it well." Brom nodded in approval, but Eragon felt slightly foolish.
"And I shall name him Samson," Blaster said, placing his hand on the chestnut. "A man of great strength." Seconds later, Saphira and Sara landed. Blaster took one look at Sara and asked, How's it look?
Dull. There's nothing but rabbits and scrub in every direction.
After dinner, Brom stood and barked, "Catch!" Eragon barely had time to raise his arm and grab the piece of wood before it hit him on the head. He groaned as he saw another makeshift sword.
"Not again," he complained. Blaster, however, smirked as he laid back. Brom just smiled and beckoned with one hand. Eragon reluctantly got to his feet. They whirled around in a flurry of smacking wood, and he backed away with a stinging arm. The training session wasn't as long as the first, but it was still long enough for Eragon to accumulate a new collection of bruises. When they finished sparring, he threw down the stick in disgust and stalked away to nurse his injuries.
"Be glad he's using a wooden stick instead of the steel of a sword," Blaster said as Eragon stalked away.
Once everyone was asleep, Blaster unzipped his pack. From it he pulled out all his weapons. One by one, he placed the guns he could fit into the saddle bags into it. After making sure everything was in order, he thrust the AK-47 and the revolver into the saddle bags. The sniper rifle and shotgun remained in the pack, but in places where he could easily pull them out if he needed to. Once all his bags were packed, he heard a beeping coming from his wristband. He pulled out his mini communicator and placed it in his ear.
"Blaster," the alien said into the communicator.
"It's Alice," his ship's computer said. "I found out how to block off sections of your memory without getting rid of it all together. You will still be able to access it, but others won't be able to."
"Great, lemmie hear it," Blaster said.
For the next half hour, Blaster started muttering words in a language that no one but himself knew what those words meant. As he continued to speak, invisible forces started putting up an iron curtain over the memories he wanted hidden from others. Another part of his brain started making up moments of his life to compensate for the hidden memories. As the fire began to die down, he stopped speaking and solidified his new "memories" and the barrier that prevented others from seeing what he truly was.
He disappeared into the forest a few minutes later, drawing his sword as he went. Once he was in a clearing big enough, he started swinging his sword as if he were under attack. Stab at one enemy, then swing around to parry an invisible blow. His sword glinted in the moonlight as Blaster used it again and again to cut down imaginary foes. He gained a familiarity with this weapon for about an hour. Then, he began to use his "magic."
He tossed his sword into his left hand and thrust his right forward. A fireball the size of a baseball erupted from his palm. It struck a tree and lit it on fire. Another flick of his wrist and lightning struck another tree, causing it to burst into flames. He lowered his arm, then raised it again, almost as if he was lifting an invisible weight. Spikes erupted from the ground of solid earth. Another wave of his hand and the spikes toppled over from a gust of wind. The fires were starting to get out of hand, so he thrust his hand out again and a jet of water extinguished the fires.
The sun was beginning to rise when Blaster relaxed and sheathed his sword. Using his powers again, he returned the earth to the way it was, then left the clearing, the two trees still smoldering.
What will happen along the road? Will Blaster be forced to use his powers again? Should I think about having only two questions instead of three here? All questions will be answered next as a special, double-chapter continues in Free Riders.
Please R&R. No Flames. Sorry for delay.