Eragon peered out at the horizon. The rays of the sun crept upwards, marking the change of twilight to daylight. A sea wind rushed up at him, but he was accustomed to the cold climate of the harsh northern reaches of Alagaesia. The bottom half of his long coat whipped around his legs. The silver fur around the collar bristled. He had been particularly proud of the kill he had made to acquire the coat. A massive snow wolf, large enough to take down Cadoc or Snowfire with ease. It's carcass had been used well, as he'd fashioned all manner of things needed to survive in the northern climate he has called home for some time now. He felt a nudge at the back of his mind.
'A good day for hunting sea fowl,' stated Saphira. The ground shook slightly as she alighted next to him. Two years had been kind to her. She was larger than ever, capable of tearing apart a house with ease. Her spines the size of large hogs and claws capable of taking down an elk with a single flick. Eragon nodded.
"Eragon!" He looked over the ledge. Murtagh stood twenty feet below waving. A pair of ospreys were draped over his back. He smirked.
"Good hunting I see. Saphira thinks today would be good for fishing and I agree. That storm we saw when scouting the other day will be upon us by night. We shouldn't let today go to waste." Murtagh nodded.
"Get down here and we'll get everything ready. I'll call for Angela." Murtagh turned and looked back up the ridge, telling the herbalist to come down to shore. Eragon clambered onto Saphira's back. She was not wearing her saddle, but Eragon had no worries. His trousers, fitted and made of padded leather with a thin fur layer of hare and pika on the inside, were hardy and protected him from her abrasive scales which were as rough as newly mined diamond. She unfurled her wings and jumped, gliding to below.
Eragon leaped off of her to the ground and landed lightly, a skill that had taken some time to perfect with too many bruises as a result. He walked to the makeshift lean-to. Murtagh and he had constructed it out of oiled buckskin and timber staves. Underneath they stowed a variety of important items for their seafaring adventures. Eragon pulled out the pieces to assemble their catamaran. Angela had designed it, and Murtagh and he had constructed it for the purpose of navigating the icy waters of the north and to acquire game of their own. It took the pressure off of Saphira to hunt in the sea for others beside herself.
Angela approached, her arms looped through the oddly shaped woolen shawl she wore over her leather covered sailing jacket. Instead of a dress or skirt she wore thick linen leggings and knee high boots. Murtagh was garbed like Eragon, but brown leather and the fur of a bear for his collar that he'd killed their first autumn in the north. "Fabulous," she said with a cheery voice. "Time to get cracking." She began to assemble the ship with Murtagh while Solembum curled up without a word to anyone by the smoldering embers underneath the smoking rack.
They were out to sea before long, while Saphira circled overhead with Solembum in his human form. Their combined keen eyesight had saved all of them many a time from being prey to beast, man, or nature. Sometimes even all three. Angela wielded a whale bone javelin with keen dexterity and precision, spearing as high as six fish at a time. Murtagh used his composite longbow to shoot down more ospreys and other game from the air and then cast out a net to pull it in.
Eragon set his mind to searching the depths, hunting by magic. When he came upon a large enough target he'd invade its mind. Angela had emphasized the importance of various different forms of life. Recently siring offspring or being a female would spare them, while being a healthy adult male who had not sired recently would not. He had become adept at searching many memories of animals. He would usually kill with one of the two words of death taught to him by the herbalist. Angela, being a witch, had taught Eragon a vast array of things from potions, rituals, and incantations. She had even given him two compendiums of knowledge of the ancient language and he treasured them.
'Saphira, do you spot anything from above.' She hummed, a deep vibrating sound. He looked up and saw her neck craning down and tongue flicking about. Finally after a few moments she snapped it up.
'About a fifty feet directly below you, a bull orca.' Eragon thanked her and cast his mind into the icy depths until he found it. He ignored the fear that engulfed him as he invaded the whales mind and sifted through its memories. As he concluded it was a worthy kill he stated his apologies in the ancient language and cast the spell. "Kverst."
When he had first done this he had recoiled at the feeling, but now he didn't even twitch. He picked up a harpoon and, ensorcelling it with accuracy, launched it downward to pierce the end section. He secured the rope to the large mast that hung in the middle of the catamaran, used for buoyancy and to haul catches.
"What tasty treat do we have for tonight," Angela asked without looking up from her knitting. The two pine boxes next to her were full of fish.
"An orca, which means fertilizer for your herbs," she smiled at this, "and a variety of other goods from bone, meat, oil, and hide." Murtagh grunted in appreciation as he hauled a rather large loon aboard.
"We should get back and start dealing with it right away. The storm will be upon us soon." Eragon looked out and saw the thick opaque clouds on the horizon. He turned and began weaving hand symbols and three glowing glyphs appeared in midair as if spun from starlight. He whistled a tune and the marks flew gently into the sails. They began rushing back to shore and he felt the slight ebb of energy leave him.
Murtagh and Angela gathered their things, steadying themselves as the catamaran rushed for the shore. As they landed Murtagh and Eragon removed their coats and shoes, pulling on thigh high boots of seal skin and treated tree jumped into the water and pulled the catamaran onto shore, glad to avoid the icy waters.
Saphira landed, and Angela and Solembum began to lay out the fish on long boards to prepare them for smoking and storing. Saphira lit the fire till it was roaring. As Eragon and Murtagh, finished emptying the catamaran of it's haul and Saphira waded into the water to retrieve the orca.
'It is young, maybe only a little over twelve feet.' She tugged hard and yanked it out of the water, her wings flapping in large strokes to give her an extra boost. She delicately set the orca down by the lean to. Eragon removed his gloves and threw on a canvas apron, rolling up his sleeves as Murtagh drew out several knives for handling the task of gutting it.
The day had ended with higher winds and the cold biting at their cheeks. They were able to finish just as the first flurries fell. Saphira hauled their things, and then all of them, back up the cliff side. They stole away into the thick pine woods that lined the edge of the shore cliffs. Soon enough they came upon an isolated clearing at the base of The Spine, a waist deep pond set to the right, and a large cabin that was placed before the mouth of a decent sized cave.
Once everything was settled inside Saphira retreated to her cave to feast upon two large elk she had killed. She waited for Eragon and Murtagh to remove several useful items such as fur, hide, and horn from them before tearing in. "Well then," said Angela as she reappeared in a long linen gown and thick woolen socks, "shall we get dinner started." The boys agreed, waiting to bathe their fish scented selves, as they all set upon the kitchen. Soon the smell of a lovely venison stew filled the cabin. They washed it down with mulled juniper wine and crab apple mead, that had grown on them over time and which Saphira willingly drank by the barrel. After finishing their meal Solembum melded back into his werecat form and slunk out to be with Saphira.
Eragon and Murtagh bathed, stripping their soiled clothes, and then joined Angela in the den. The three of them looked into the roaring fire pit. It was made from one large cylinder of stone. It had been molded by Saphira. She had created a depression in the cave, now lined with pads full of feathers made for her by Murtagh last Yuletide, using her fire. She had licked and rolled the almost molten stone into a single shape, forming it into the meter wide pit that now sat at the center of their living space.
"Two years." Angela and Eragon looked up. "And now three," stated Murtagh. The two of them nodded. Three years now they had spent in the North. Eragon was now a young man of nineteen, Murtagh twenty-two, and Angela still refused to tell her age though they knew it was certainly not what it seemed. She hadn't aged a single day.
"Have you come any closer to making a decision?" Eragon looked at Angela and slowly shook his head no. She nodded, as if that confirmed her thoughts. "Well, young shur'tugal, eventually we'll have to leave our little hidey hole. Though even I must admit I have become fond of this place. So many interesting happenings up here! The plants are rather fascinating." The boys both smiled at her, used to her love of the most simple of things such as fascinating plants.
"I must say that when we decided to leave I didn't think we'd make it. Even when we got here I thought we'd sentenced ourselves to a frozen hell. However this place…it has become home." Murtagh sipped from the stout tea Angela always brewed for everyone before bed.
"Yes, but soon I must make a decision and then go from there. Angela, you said you had taught me almost everything you could think of?" His voiced carried a sound of hope, as if he wished for her to say she still had so much more to tell him. The fortune teller turned to him and inspected him with sharp eyes.
"As you know Eragon there are secrets I possess and hold onto dearly. That said...you have progressed far in your training and I am glad to have been a part of it. However, yes I have almost finished with what I can think to teach you at this time. There is still much for you to learn, but you have mastered most of everything I can think of. What I could teach you of tuatha du orothrim was finished a year ago and since then it's been my own subject matter. Only a proper teacher could finish your education and even then I'm sure it wouldn't take long. Then again, you;ll be learning all your life" Eragon nodded. He felt Saphira listening in.
"What do you think," he asked out loud. She projected her voice into the room. 'The harsh winter's might will soon be upon us. If that occurs, we would not be able to move far from here until it is done. So, Eragon and I must make a decision. Soon we must decide.' Eragon mulled the words over. As always Saphira made sense. He had known for a while, from their conversations and from his feelings for her personally, that she believed for a while that their path was clear. He didn't feel the same way, but hadn't voiced it until now. 'I don't know if I'm ready.'
'You are ready, little one. We are ready. We chose this path to ensure our ability to survive and we have. Now the time has come to reappear in the world. Our goals for this endeavor are coming to a close. You have been taught well and have grown. Just as I have. Now is the time to reflect…and prepare for the journey ahead.'
Eragon awoke slowly, his thoughts gathering in strength and form. He slipped from bed, shivering in the chill as he pulled a thick throw blanket around himself. He looked around his room. It was sumptuous. The house, a two story affair, was built of pale northern ash and his room held a soapstone basin for washing, with a hollowed area underneath for burning goals to sit and keep the water warm. A large writing desk, a gift from Murtagh, sat in the opposite corner with a matching chair. The window, made from sand Saphira had melted into glass, let in the pale twilight and showed the ground covered in at least a few feet of snow. His large four poster bed was covered in a bearskin comforter and soft sheets. Two large armoires to the left of his bed held most of his clothing and possessions. He lit the two small oil lamps on his night stands with a mumbled, "brisingr."
There was a large chest at the foot of his bed and he waved his hands over it. Glyphs shone for a second and the latches came undone and the top flew open. Within were his most prized possessions. He withdrew some of them and laid them out on the bed. He turned and took two earthenware jugs from beside the basin and left the room. He made four trips and filled the tub with frigid ice water. He had had to crack the surface of the lake to get to it. He took coals from the armoire, made of charcoal and creosote from pine. Despite the fact that it left a thick tar like substance after burning, the creosote helped suffuse the air with a pleasant scent.
He brought the fire to a good level, safe enough for the room, and waited as the water heated. Once it was warm enough he bathed, rubbing himself down with a horse hair brush made from excess hairs cut from Tornac, Murtagh's faithful war-horse. After he was dry he observed his possessions. Undergarments and a tunic of creamy white, made from the fibers of a northern reed called veil willow, a pair of black hide trousers, and thick woolen socks. He dressed himself and pulled on his greaved boots. A jerkin of padded leather, black with a sewn in harness to attach his weapons to, completed his ensemble. He pulled on his gloves and left the room.
Angela, Murtagh, and Solembum were already gathered. The herbalist was always the first to awake. Steaming mugs of coffee in earthenware cups in the shape of owls with a tin cream cup sat on the side of the large fire pit. He greeted them both and sipped his coffee, his morning ritual when waking up.
"So," said Murtagh as three sets of eyes trained on him, "we have a large quantity of things to trade. I assumed that by now we'd be looking to apply all of this to trading for our journey."
"I've thought so as well...but if it isn't, if we decide to remain some more, there are quite a few odds and ends I'd like to purchase." Angela was always procuring the most ridiculous items or supplies that ended up being dreadfully useful. Eragon continued to look at the fire that warmed the center of their home. He sat in contemplation till Solembum dug his claw into his leg. He looked at the werecat and scowled.
"What," he snapped. Solembum looked at him with haughty derision, which Angela called a classic cat look. Solembum blinked.
'It is time Oh Dragon Rider. Time to set out on the next step of your journey. It was I who decided to follow you and Angela came with. For three years you have grown and so has Brightscales. Now is the time to begin the next step.' He spoke in the Ancient Language. He spoke what he felt was the truth.
"Saphira," he said out loud. Her mind touched everyone. They could sense finality with an underlying sense of obviousness emanating through her.
'I have always known our path Little One. It is time.' A great weight settled upon Eragon. 'So…it is indeed time to leave.'
Next Chapter: The five companions begin their fellowship. Eragon becomes troubled and an interesting event occurs as they near their first stop in their journey south.