Chapter Thirteen: Chasing Shadows
The morning after their departure, Eragon had stolen away from town, not wanting Saphira to be found out. Brom had intercepted him before he could make any headway and soon joined him, somewhat unwontedly, on his quest. He helped the young rider to make a saddle for his own dragon, Saphira, and helped him on his way out of Palancar Valley. Mariah and Mark had been gone three days from Carvahall when they left.
After passing through Therinsford and gaining a pair of horses, a white stallion called Snowfire and a bay Eragon had named Cadoc, to speed their journey along they headed for Yazuac. Along the way, Brom used their spare time when they had stopped to rest to try and teach Eragon what he could of swordsmanship. Mostly it ended badly with Eragon in a foul mood and covered with bruises.
A week and a half after Aluora had carried Marcus and Mariah out of Carvahall, a fierce thunderstorm emerged between Therinsford and Yazuac. The gales battered Saphira, try as she might to stay grounded. Thankfully, by sunset, the storm had died down and they found she had not been harmed during the squall.
Finally, they passed the Ninor River into Yazuac, following the trail of the Ra'zac. However, as they rose to the center of town, Eragon gripped his bow tighter, blanching. "Gods above," he whispered.
A mountain of bodies rose above them, the corpses stiff and grimacing. Their clothes were soaked in blood, and the churned ground was stained with it. Slaughtered men lay over the women they had tried to protect, mothers still clasped their children, and lovers who had tried to shield each other rested in death's cold embrace. Black arrows stuck out of them all. Neither young nor old had been spared. But worst of all was the barbed spear that rose out of the peak of the pile, impaling the white body of a baby.
Tears blurred Eragon's vision and he tried to look away, but the dead faces held his attention. He stared at their open eyes and wondered how life could have left them so easily. What does our existence mean when it can end like this? A wave of hopelessness overwhelmed him.
Then, the thought of Mariah and Mark flooded over his mind. Brom had said they left before Eragon had been out of bed. He looked around the scene quickly to see if they were among the corpses.
"They either avoided passing through here or came through before the Urgals… the Ra'zac did not do this. This is Urgal work; the spear is of their make. And I do not see a dragon body lying nearby, and that would be difficult to miss."
Eragon swallowed, but felt reassured. A crow dipped out of the sky, like a black shadow, and perched on the spear. It cocked its head and greedily scrutinized the infant's corpse. "Oh no you don't," snarled Eragon as he pulled back the bowstring and released it with a twang. With a puff of feathers, the crow fell over backward, the arrow protruding from its chest. Eragon fit another arrow to the string, but nausea rose from his stomach and he threw up over Cadoc's side.
Brom patted him on the back. When Eragon was done, Brom asked gently, "Do you want to wait for me outside Yazuac?"
"No… I'll stay," said Eragon shakily, wiping his mouth. He avoided looking at the gruesome sight before them.
Brom dismounted Snowfire and walked around, inspecting the trampled ground carefully heknelt and examined a footprint intently. With a curse he ran back to Snowfire and leapt onto him.
"Ride!" he hissed tightly, spurring Snowfire forward. "There are still Urgals here!" Eragon jammed his heels into Cadoc. The horse jumped forward and raced after Snowfire. They dashed past the houses and were almost to the edge of Yazuac when Eragon's palm tingled. He saw a flicker of movement to his right, then a giant fist smashed him out of the saddle. He flew back over Cadoc and crashed into a wall, holding on to his bow only by instinct. Gasping and stunned, he staggered upright, hugging his side.
An Urgal stood over him, face set in a gross leer. The monster was tall, thick, and broader than a doorway, with gray skin and yellow piggish eyes. Muscles bulged on his arms and chest, which was covered by a too small breastplate. An iron cap rested over the pair of ram's horns curling from his temples, and a roundshield was bound to one arm. His powerful hand held a short, wicked sword.
Behind him, Eragon saw Brom rein in Snowfire and start back, only to be stopped by the appearance of a second Urgal, this one with an ax. "Run, you fool!" Brom cried to Eragon, cleaving at his enemy. The Urgal in front of Eragon roared and swung his sword mightily. Eragon jerked back with a startled yelp as the weapon whistled past his cheek. He spun around and fled toward the center of Yazuac, heart pounding wildly.
The Urgal pursued him, heavy boots thudding. Eragon sent a desperate cry for help to Saphira, then forced himself to go even faster. The Urgal rapidly gained ground despite Eragon's efforts; large fangs separated in a soundless bellow. With the Urgal almost upon him, Eragon strung an arrow, spun to a stop, took aim, and released. The Urgal snapped up his arm and caught the quivering bolt on his shield. The monster collided with Eragon before he could shoot again, and they fell to the ground in a confused tangle.
Eragon sprang to his feet and rushed back to Brom, who was trading fierce blows with his opponent from Snowfire's back. Where are the rest of the Urgals? Wondered Eragon frantically. Are these two the only ones in Yazuac? There was a loud smack, and Snowfire reared, whinnying. Brom doubled over in his saddle, blood streaming down this arm. The Urgal beside him howled in triumph and raised his ax for the death blow.
A deafening scram tore out of Eragon as he charged the Urgal, headfirst, drawing a dagger from his side. The Urgal paused in astonishment, then faced him contemptuously, swinging his ax. Eragon ducked under the two-handed blow and clawed the Urgal's side, leaving bloody furrows. The Urgal's face twisted with rage as the jeweled dagger dripped with blood. He slashed again, but missed as Eragon dived to the side and scrambled down an alley, clutching the knife tightly.
Eragon concentrated on leading the Urgals away from Brom. He slipped into a narrow passageway between two houses, saw it was a dead end, and slid to a stop. He tried to back out, but the Urgals had already blocked the entrance, he sheathed the dagger back into the embroidered scabbard at his waist, tightening his grip on his bow. They advanced, cursing him in their gravelly voices. Eragon swung his head from side to side, searching for a way out, but there was none.
As he faced the Urgals, images flashed in his mind: dead villagers piled around the spear and an innocent baby who would never grow to adulthood. At the thought of their fate, a burning, fiery power gathered from every part of his body. It was more than a desire for justice. It was his entire being rebelling against the fact of death – that he would cease to exist. The power grew stronger and stronger until he felt ready to burst from the contained force.
He stood tall and straight, all fear gone. He raised his bow smoothly. The Urgals laughed and lifted their shields. Eragon sighted down the shaft, as he had done hundreds of times, and aligned the arrowhead with his target. The energy inside him burned at an unbearable level. He had to release it, or it would consume him. A word suddenly leapt unbidden to his lips. He shot, yelling, "Brisingr!"
The arrow hissed through the air, glowing with a crackling blue light. It struck the lead Urgal on the forehead, and the air resounded with an explosion. A blue shock wave blasted out of the monster's head, killing the other Urgal instantly. It reached Eragon before he had time to react, and it passed through him without harm, dissipating against the houses.
Eragon stood panting, then looked at his icy palm. The gedwëy ignasia was glowing like white-hot metal, yet even as he watched, it faded back to normal. He clenched his fist, then a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He felt strange and feeble, as if he had not eaten for days. His knees buckled, and he sagged against a wall.
When Eragon woke, he went back to help Brom, wrapping a tourniquet around his profusely bleeding arm wound. As they rested, Eragon cautiously explained the magic that he'd performed to protect himself. After a lecture or three, Brom gave Eragon a small pebble to levitate for magic practice. As they traveled, the old man taught the young Rider words in the Ancient Language, establishing a vocabulary he could weave together to perform more detailed magic.
"How far ahead of us are Mark and Mariah?" Eragon asked after yet another lesson.
"They left a good three days ahead of us, did not have to purchase horses, did not have to bear through a storm, and were hopefully not delayed by battles or wounds," Brom said, "They have a far lead on us, and Aluora moves quite fast."
"Are we supposed to meet with them at a certain point?"
"I told them to run hard until they reached somewhere safe. And if we did not meet them on the road within a fortnight, to continue on to Dras-Leona and Belatona before running along the southern coast towards the Beor Mountains."
Eragon blinked, never really having seen a map of Alagaesia before and sighed.
"I am not worried about their safety, if that is what you are questioning," he said, looking over at Eragon. "They too have a dragon to help protect them. Both are fine with a sword and are able to perform magic without too much difficulty, you should worry about yourself first."
"Yes… alright," he nodded, not saying more on the subject as they reached Daret. There, Brom purchased a pair of gloves so Eragon could hide his gedwëy ignasia from sight.
The day after they passed through Daret, Saphira insisted that Eragon ride her. He did so, feeling elated at finally being able to do so properly with a saddle. Saphira agreed to let him ride Cadoc every other day so that he may talk with Brom and improve his knowledge, the other days riding with Saphira to get used to flying. That night, Brom taught Eragon how to dull any blade he was using so that he could practice fight with it, allowing him hold of Zar'roc – the Rider blade that Brom had from a nameless Rider from long ago - so that he might be able to practice with a real sword's full weight instead of a wooden stick.
Eragon stumbled across a flask with the Ra'zac's symbol wrought into a silver insignia. Inside the flash was a liquid – oil from the petals of the Seithr plant, which grows on a small island in the frigid northern seas. When tampered with correctly, it becomes flesh-eating. With a stroke of genius, Eragon figures out that they can track who ever bought the expensive oil and by process of elimination, find the Ra'zac. Brom suggests they start their search in Teirm, since it is the trade controlling center of the coastline, and that he might just know of someone who can help them.
After another week of travel, they finally reached a point where they could see Teirm. When evening fell, they set up camp in the driest sport they could find. As they ate, Brom commented, "You should continue to ride Cadoc until we reach Teirm. It's likely that we'll meet other travelers now that we are out of the Spine, and it will be better if you are with me. An old man traveling alone will raise suspicion. With you at my side, no one will ask questions. Besides, I don't want to show up at the city and have someone who saw me on the trail wondering where you suddenly came from."
"Will we use our own names?" asked Eragon.
Brom thought about it. "We won't be able to deceive Jeod. He already knows my name, and I think I trust him with yours. But to everyone else, I will be Neal and you will be my nephew Evan. If our tongues slip and give us away, it probably won't make a difference, but I don't want our names in anyone's heads. People have an annoying habit of remembering things they shouldn't."
Brisinger - Fire
Gedwëy ignasia - Shining Palm
Yes, this chapter IS the equivalent to a filler episode... but it's always good to know what Eragon's up to. And yes, I copied chunks (very large chunks) from Chris Paolini's Eragon, book one of The Inheritance Cycle and edited pieces a tiny bit to fit the story. Again, it's filler, so readers don't have to run over and grab their copy of Eragon just to remember what happened in between points A and B. - Love, Mariah