Chapter 28: Beirland of more trouble

Why is it so dark here?

"Is the man bound tightly?" A cold voice rasped, and another person answered him.

"Yes, sir, I have tied his hands behind his back with the strongest knots I could make, blindfolded him and given him a good mashing up. He won't be groaning for a while, the little tyke." Another voice, which seemed warmer but frightened, replied.

Who are these people, how am I here? The prisoner thought. He strained his mind for any recollection of the incidents in the recent past, and slowly, everything came back to him.

The prisoner was Prince Angrenost, and he had been captured by Freohr at Beirland. But that wasn't where he was right now.

Two weeks had passed since that incident, and now, they were all on a ship, sailing steadily north.

"Is he awake?" The icy voice asked, and the other man replied hurriedly.

"No sir, I don't think so."

"Good, I hope he remains like this till we reach Sharktooth." The voice told the man, and then there was the sound of footsteps going out of the room.

Sharktooth?. . . We are in a boat? . . . We are heading north? Angrenost thought confusedly, then he felt someone untie the blindfold.

"Come on, good prince, wake up." A man said, and Angrenost opened his eyes. He was in the same clothes in which he had come to Beirland, and he was quite filthy. He now had a small beard, his face had several wounds, and was hardly recognizable as the handsome Prince of the Broddring Kingdom.

The man in front of him was fat, sweaty and seemed like a butcher, that's what his pink apron and light blue clothes gave an image of, along with his short black hair and pudgy face. But he wasn't a butcher, he was just the prison keeper, who kept a constant eye on Angrenost.

The past few days had been dark for the Prince. He had been put into an enchanted sleep for a week past, until he had been woken by Freohr, who had charged this fat man to get information out of Angrenost. The man would everyday repeat the same words and ask Angrenost a few questions of the Kingdom, and if Angrenost refused to answer, he would be beaten or worse.

Angrenost was kept in a small room in the ship, which had a bed made of dirty rags, a bucket of water and a plate in which food was served to him. There was no window in the room. A couple of candles illuminated it.

Not much of a Prince now, am I? Angrenost thought sulkily.

He opened his eyes slowly, and stared at the man in mock drowsiness. He was wide awake now, in fact, and was already thinking of anyway to escape. He could tackle this man and run for it, but his hands were bound at the moment, with some rope. If only he could find a way to cut it off, he might win himself a straight ticket out.

But it probably wasn't going to be so easy. Knocking out a man who is twice your weight needs a double checked plan, which Angrenost didn't have.

"Prince, I am going to ask you a few questions right now, and you better answer them. If you don't, I think you will find that your body will get twice the number of scars that I have. And the ones that I have number three and fifty, boy, so think about it." The man said, then drew a small knife. He smiled at it, while Angrenost scowled.

"Tell me, which is the weakest side of your Kingdom. North, south, east or west?" The man asked.

Weakest side? . . . Oh, bother, I'll just tell him the strongest side instead. Angrenost thought.

"North!" Angrenost said, and the man raised an eyebrow. The capital was northernmost city of the Kingdom, and it was supposed to be the strongest city as well.

"Very well, which city has the most idiotic governor?" The man asked, and Angrenost deliberated again.

Narda has the biggest idiot for a governor . . . But the governor of Gil'ead is rather talented . . . Angrenost thought, overcoming the urge to sneer.

"Gil'ead." Angrenost answered with a nod, and the man smiled.

"Last question then . . . do you think I am a fool?" The pudgy man asked, fingering his knife. Angrenost cracked a smile on his face.

I don't think he is a fool, I know he is a fool . . .

"No, I don't think so." Angrenost answered, and the man's smile widened.

"Good, good, I'll report this to Freohr . . . you stay put." The man said and stood up, leaving Angrenost to sit on the bed. Angrenost could have sworn he got a venomous look from the man just before he turned away. He walked towards the door, his heavy feet making the wooden floor protest with loud creaks. The door closed with a loud thud and Angrenost immediately stood up.

There has to be a way for me to cut these ropes . . . there has to be something that I can use in this room. Angrenost thought and looked around.

The room had nothing sharp, the plate was a crude round shape, made of wood. The candles were, of course, made of wax, the bed was made of rags and the bucket was also wooden.

There has to be someway . . . Angrenost persisted.

He looked up at the roof, but only saw wood. There was nothing sharp, the men who had captured him had taken proper precautions considering him.

Angrenost kept on thinking of a way, then thought of brute strength in itself. If he could pull his hands hard enough in opposite directions, he could free himself in the simplest way. But he wasn't thinking straight. If Freohr's men had been clever enough to not place anything that would let Angrenost cut the ropes off, in his room, not even a shard of glass, then they would obviously have ensured that the ropes were thick enough to be able to hold against Angrenost's strength. Angrenost wasn't a very strong person, nor was he too agile. But, he was stronger than people faster than him, so he could fend off most of them, and he was faster than people stronger than him, so he could handle them as well. People meant humans and those who didn't use magic to enhance their physical strengths and speed.

Angrenost heaved with all his might, trying to break apart the ropes that held him. He kept on heaving until sweat began to roll down his forehead, but he couldn't even break a thread of the rope. It was too tightly bound and too strong.

Muttering all the foul curses and oaths that he knew, and making some of them up on the spot, Angrenost sat down on the bed again, reduced to hopelessness. He couldn't free himself, nor could he run. He was trapped, imprisoned, and now the seriousness of the situation began to dawn in him.

The Kingdom had a threat, and the threat had come from no-where, and it had the Prince. This was bad, truly bad. And there was nothing Angrenost could about it now, except bide his time and wait, and of course, weep.

I am sorry, father . . . I couldn't do anything.

Lenora . . . those crystals are not of a different color now, are they? Illeria asked.

She and Lenora were flying towards Eoam after two weeks of spending time away from their responsibilities.

Illeria had been frustrated and furious ever since Eragon had refused to accompany her and Lenora to Beirland. She had not journeyed to the Lead Rider just have her request rejected. And the matter had been important as well, wild magic did not change its properties all of a sudden after remaining the same for centuries.

She was still furious, but Lenora had consoled her in the past few days. They had spent the days on the sea shore, west of the Burning Plains, to which they had departed for directly after leaving Kuasta.

Now, they were back in Beirland, but instead of going towards the city first, they had decided to take a look at the crystals to check is they were still the same as before.

No . . . they have been restored to their previous colors again. That's odd . . . Lenora told her, and Illeria stared straight ahead from her dragon's back.

Odd? Its blithering nonsense! We saw that those crystals were of a different color, we saw that those crystals were black, and I saw a face in it as well. And now, they are all back to normal? Illeria asked incredulously.

Illeria, there is no need to get this angry. Calm down. Lenora told her.

It is good that the Lead Rider didn't come with us, we would have seemed quite foolish indeed. Illeria told her as they glided closer to those crystals.

Not just foolish, it would have been embarrassing as well, and a complete waste of time on Eragon's part. Lenora said.

I know . . . though, I don't think he would have been frustrated. Illeria said.

Shall we go to the city then? Lenora asked her, beginning to turn already.

I see no other alternative, let us go. Illeria said.

They flew on towards the city in silence after that, exchanging emotions and feelings rather than words. As they flew past the rocky terrain, Illeria spotted smoke nearby.

Lenora, where is that coming from? Illeria asked her, squinting at the area from where it was arising.

I think . . . I think its coming from the city! Lenora told her in evident surprise, her voice holding back a sudden feeling of panic.

What? The city? . . . Hurry up, Lenora! Illeria said in haste as she herself spotted it, urging her dragon onwards.

They flew faster than any other being on that island, racing with the wind towards Beirland. The city slowly came closer, and Illeria realized that none of the buildings were on fire, but the people of the city were burning some things in several places on the streets, and yelling as well.

What is going on? Lenora asked, and Illeria replied soberly.

We have neglected our duty far too long . . . not a good thing.

As the silver dragon drew closer, the citizens heard the flapping of its wings, and they looked up at then in rage and fear.

"They are back! The monsters are back!" A terrified voice screamed.

In that instant, shrieks of panic and bawls of rage leapt up from the citizens, who grabbed bows, arrows, rocks or anything that they could use to throw at the dragon.

"Kill them! Make them flee!" One man shouted.

"They cannot dominate us anymore! We are not slaves to be eaten by the dragons!" Another fellow yelled.

Soldiers climbed the buildings to reach the rooftops, all wearing a rather awkward armor and wielding weird bows.

"Death to them! Let us give them a gift from death itself!" The soldiers bellowed. Bows twanged in a chorus, which was followed by yells from people as they threw things at Lenora, although none of them reached her.

Lenora roared as a few arrows struck her body, while she guarded her heart with her foreleg. Illeria looked at the city in horror, unable to believe what she was seeing.

The people wanted her and Lenora to leave; they considered them 'monsters' and thought Lenora would eat them.

"We are not monsters!" Illeria screamed at them, and she got a huge retaliation with arrows.

This is insane! . . . Lenora, fly away! We can't go to the city, these people won't listen to us. Illeria told her dragon, who was swerving away as it was.

Lenora didn't reply, she just flew away from the island, while Illeria looked back in surprise. Behind them, curses and oaths of the worst nature were thrown at them along with stones.

The people of Beirland had betrayed Alagaesia, but why? That was a question the dragon and Rider had in their mind at the moment, but both were hell bent on surviving and getting away from Beirland rather than trying to decipher why.

Freohr had left his mark.