Eragon woke up, streams of sweat falling all over his half naked body like small rivers, drowning in it the bandages Roran had put in him, like if he had just washed out himself in a river.
He felt dizzy, disorientated, his vision unfocused but still working, he could hear Roran's hammer against metal in a room nearby: Filling the night with its sound alongside others; the usual drunk swears, the laughing of the soldiers in the tavern, the crickets sound and the winds howl as it moved the trees like water to small stones; shivering the torches of the patrols, and of those outside the houses.
Eragon trembled as it went swiftly through his window.
He tried to rise from his bed but couldn't, his back still hurt him like if he had been stabbed by multiple knives over and over, his legs numb and unresponsive and his right hand felt as if pierced one twice, thrice, like hours ago.
Eragon gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain trying not to scream as the sweat fell down his eyes; blurring his surroundings.
He cleared it up with his left arm and tried to rise, at the sixth attempt he managed to clumsily sit down, breathing fast like if he had run for hours and hours without rest. Sweating more profusely than before, surrounded by nothing but that like if he had been left in a fire for hours on end without burning but sweating. Despite this Eragon smiled weakely, proud of his small deed and confident by it he tried to rise from his bed.
Grievous mistake; It took him three times the effort more drowned screams than he could count and almost loosing consciousness, as although his legs worked fine they were still numb and clumsy for the great effort he had put them the night before; so were his back and right hand hurting in so many painful ways he slipped from the bed and fell hard to the house's wooden floor
Eragon held his hand in agony, tears of pain falling down his cheeks, trying to drown any scream that wanted to burst out as the soldiers weren't fond of them and didn't mind breaking into others houses to end them with still efficiency or worse.
"Ro… ran, R…o…r…an he…lp m…e" Eragon called weakly from the wooden floor, his hand hurting so badly he wanted to cry out in pain but knew it a bad idea, bitting his lip instead so hard it bleed as he lied in there, unable to do anything but wait drowning in his sweat; reaching his lips, nose, ears uncomfortably, incapable of cleaning it up, flooding the wooden floor below him, forming a pod of red.
He didn't know how long he lied there calling for his cousin, for help, to him it seemed like an eternity, a hell surrounded by heat, a heat that burned him from the inside out, that surrounded him like a nasty cloud as he chocked and cough(Blood) in his own sweat.
The last thing he heard before passing out were hurried steps and a glimpse of Roran's necklace. A third of a flower.
Eragon didn't awoke the next morning or the ones that came after, it took him two weeks to open his eyes and another one to finally earn enough strength to move, thanks to Roran's careful care of his wounds. If not he would be long dead.
But he didn't feel the same, his right hand didn't work properly and everything he took with it fell and shattered before him, just how he felt, shattered and broken. He even tried to pick up his bow but it felt, it hurt so bad to hold anything with his hand it just fell from it.
Roran came up with some theories, maybe it was a venom or the spear had been somehow enhanced disabling the hands of those it pierced, to Eragon seem plausible, possible even, but that just lead him into depression.
How was he supposed to help others now? When that, smithing and thieving were the only things he knew how to do. If he had learned to read when his uncle gave him the chance… He felt loveless, crippled, miserable. Depending on his cousin to feed him, incapable of doing anything of worth.
His back and the other hand, bruises and wounds did improve, they still annoyed him but not as bad as the other hand, Eragon was thankful to his cousin for what he had done, but still he felt… miserable, he had lost his world, everything.
"Are you feeling any better?" Roran asked Eragon concerned, giving him a spoon full of the humble food they could barely afford, vegetables and some meat Roran had traded for in the market. Eragon ate it but said nothing.
It was a sunny day outside, the sun rays going through the window lightening everything of the room they both shared; the straw 'beds', which resembled more giant cages full of it, the cracked wooden floor(Where mice lived) and the little furniture it had. A chair and a table.
The first where Roran was sitting and the second one; used to hold the wooden bowl or to hold smithing tools.
"Eragon, I know how you feel-" Roran began slowly before Eragon cut him up.
"You don't have any idea of how I feel." Eragon snapped, "You have no idea, I lost everything."
Roran left the spoon and bowl in the table.
"I do." Roran continued before Eragon cut him up again.
"No, you don't!" Eragon yelled bitterly, he didn't care anymore "You didn't lose your hand or your only family to the Emperor! You aren't crippled like I am(Stuck) with a useless hand!"
"I do," Roran said calmly, "We all do. You remember the farmer's daughter(Eragon said nothing but looked away)? She was raped and killed because of her looks, how did you think her parents felt when they found her clotheless hanging of a tree? Or the taverner's sons? Who stood against the soldiers' wild behaviour only to get tortured and hanged, and their parents fingers cut for each of them(Eragon still said nothing as Roran continued).Or my father, killed before our eyes because he was trying to help a poor girl, a mother of a young family. And what was his price? A beat-up and hanged off a tree."
"It is not the same." Eragon said.
"It is" Roran said calmly "These people have lost the same if not more than us, they have suffered plenty; loosing everything they cared about or most of it; their bodies crippled, mutilated or humiliated and despite this they keep going. And you know why? Because they believe in a brighter day. So should you."
Eragon remained silent and said nothing.
"And your sister," Roran continued, "She was taken by soldiers not killed, we can still find her, we will find her. Rest for a few hours, go for a walk to the woods, clear your head. You are not special, Eragon, just another victim like those people are."
Eragon did as Roran suggested and slept for a few hours before leaving to the woods of the Spine. He took his bow and quiver(refusing to believe everything was lost), put some new clothes on.
He was greeted by the afternoon Sun whose light blinded him for a moment, rising his hand to stop it. He could hear Roran's hammer against steel as he walked away.
Feeling more childish by each step he took and for what he had said to Roran before, Eragon could hear voices pleading, ropes being pulled, the harsh laughter of soldiers, cries, screams, someone being dragged or just silence. He knew what was happening and ignored it all.
Roran was right, he wasn't special, just another victim of the harsh world he lived in, soon after he reached The Spine. Eragon then began seeking for a place to practice with his without being disturbed or seen. Which he found after a while, a small clear in the middle of nowhere.
Eragon dragged his bow and held it with his left hand as he tried to set an arrow with the right one, it felt from his hand the moment it touched his skin, like fire.
But Eragon refused to give up and took it once again, this time with his left hand, he then began to slowly pass the bow to his right one, slowly but steadily, the moment he got the bow in his hands it burned him like a raging fire but Eragon didn't let go.
He felt a pain like never before, one he couldn't describe, Eragon closed his eyes in an attempt to evade it, refusing to drop the bow. When he opened them once again he found himself face to face with one of the shadow men, caught completely by surprise Eragon fell to the misty ground, feeling that something was off.
His right hand, it didn't hurt, but it was the same colour as the shadows' figure, a dark smoky black colour, made of threads of darkness like the shadow but with red fiery fissures in it.
"What the-"
And suddenly he was in the forest once again, Eragon dropped the bow instantly, like a burning metal, unable to hold it no more, exhausted of it, feeling his hand about to break, shatter into pieces at any second.
His breath uneven, hands in his legs, sweat falling down his chin, playing with his gaze as moments before he could have sworn his hand was black with that red fisures; It wasn't, it was the same as before, covered in bandages, broken beyond repair, useless.
After recovering and cleaning his sweat, Eragon set his bow behind his back and the arrow back in the quiver.
As he went back home, Eragon thought he saw a group of birds around something shiny but he ignored it, too caught up on what had happened to give them any thought. What is wrong with me? Am I going crazy?...
Before reaching Carvahall Eragon stood up over a stone that oversaw the poor village, from affar it looked like any other; Wheat, cereals and other crops combed gracefully by the soft late afternoon winds and lighten by its rays giving away beautiful golden tones resembling the purest of golden hairs. At the East of it were the farms with their many animals: cows, hens, chickens and so many others, while at the centre of Carvahall was the tavern, made of grey wood with a stream of smoke coming from its chimney. Not far from it was his home, with streams of smoke always coming out of, like a river stream and deep inside it a warm heart where heat, metal and water joined together sealed by water.
Eragon sighed, it looked so peaceful so… normal from afar until you got close, and the mirage faded away; The crops were putrid or destroyed, the animals mostly dead or corpses and the ones that remained ate each other or the corpses to survive, the houses; miserable and broken at best with holes everywhere where rats and other animals lived.
This wasn't the worst, once you got closer you could smell the putrid hodor of decomposition of the bodies hanged off Carvahalls' trees and the miserable state of its people; Tears, sorrow, pleas, diseases, the harsh laughter of the soldiers and dead.
And the roads, painted of red, of the blood of the people the soldiers' played with, broke, turning them into shallow versions of themselves, of who they once were; left there to rot, to be eaten alive by crows and rats or taken home by their families to die at best, or live a life without one. Like shells, empty, and dead but in their case alive in that emptiness.
Eragon reached Carvahall soon after(Night had come and torches had been lightened) but when he was feet from his home he stopped and hid behind a corner at the sight of Roran speaking to a soldier;
"What do you want?" Roran asked coldly to the soldier.
"Want? I want nothing from you peasant" The soldier answered despectively. "The Emperor on the other hand, he wants."
"Why are you here then?"
The soldier laughed at Roran as the second tightened his fists, "Why do you think I am here peasant?! Haven't you heard of the recruitments?"
"Yes." Roran said simply.
"Welcome to the family!" The soldier said nastily, taking a parchment from his belt that he landed to Roran yet the moment Roran was about to grasp it, when his fingers were about to touch it the soldier let it fall to the muddy ground.
Roran looked coldly at the soldier as he kneeled to take it, and just when Roran had it inches from his hand the soldier kicked him hard in the face, throwing him to the ground as he kicked him over and over in the face and ribs.
"I welcome you to our family, where is my respect!" the soldier cried as he kicked Roran who did his best to protect himself, "Next time I'll have your eyes on a platter." The soldier said as he left.
Eragon was trembling of rage, at that moment he desired nothing more but to kill that soldier for what he had done to Roran, he had a long painful month, Roran too, it was enough, they had enough.
He took an arrow with his left hand as the soldier began to approach the corner he was hiding(Roran had gone inside as best as he could), the soldier was lonely, without his buddies(Probably getting drunk in the tavern) or nothing to aid him, a quick strike would kill him instantly.
But Eragon's eyes settle into something far more valuable while seeking for a weak spot in the armour, a pouch full of money tied to the soldier's belt, Eragon doubted whether to kill him or not as the soldier drew closer and closer, to the point he could hear his steps clearly.
Choosing ultimately not to, he was no killer, but his cousin deserved better, he put his arrow back in its place and went hurriedly out of the corner(facing the ground, so the soldier couldn't recognize him), stumbling with the soldier and with a quick strike of his knife he stole the soldier's money and hid it quickly behind his back.
"I'll have your legs, peasant pest!" the soldier yelled at Eragon.
"I am sorry, sir," Eragon muttered to the soldier, disappearing quickly behind another corner before the soldier could answer back, laughing at his stupidity, he still had it in him, he hadn't lost it, all those years of pickpocketing them definitely proved worth it.
He turned right, then left, a few more corners just in case, and he reached his home.
"I am back," Eragon said as he entered, the coin purse falling up and down in his hand, making the satisfying noise of coins tangling with each other.
"How was it?" Roran asked from the smithing room.
"It was a… rich walk," Eragon answered lightly, a smile on his face, as he approached the room, "It really cleared my head." This was half true.
"That's great," Roran said, "Any problems?"
"None," Eragon said, "No issues"
"You're alright then?"
"Yes" He answered back.
"Is your hand any better?" Roran said loudly above the sound of his hammer against steel.
For an instant Eragon said nothing, caught completely by surprise by the question, the coin pouch almost falling of his left hand but he caught it just in time before it hitted the ground as ha answered hurriedly "Yes way better. How about you?" Eragon asked, hiding the coin purse behind his back.
No answer came, just the hammer's sound, Eragon looked at his cousin from the smithing room entrance; It was a small room with most of the things a blacksmith needed but humbled done to extreme levels, rusty sword moulds and tools, a little, a crafting table a rusty anvil and hammer and some other tools hanging on a table and on the wall with a lot of squirrel pelts behind Roran.
The newly made swords and weapons were left in a bucket, and the heat it was so much you could feel it from the entrance, hitting you like a wave once you came in.
Eragon looked at his cousin, twitching at every strike the hammer did against the hot steel, probably a broken rib, his violet eye and broken nose.
"I took care of the guy that did that to you." Eragon let slip.
The hammering stopped and Roran looked at Eragon between mad and concerned as he asked in a stony tone, "You didn't do anything to him, did you?"
"No, no, no" Eragon said hurriedly, rising his hands "I didn't do anything to the bastard, no that he didn't deserve it, but I got you a present"
"Another squirrel?" Roran asked rising his eyebrow inquisitively a light smile on his face, behind him a wall full of squirrel skins.
Eragon burst into laughter, "No, no, it isn't. You know I haven't caught any of those in ages"
"What is it then?" Roran asked interested.
"This," Eragon said passing Roran the coin purse, which Roran caught "I think there is enough money in there for a few meals and maybe some new tools, what do you think?"
Eragon saw Roran looking inside the pouch, satisfaction, hesitation and even the light gleam of greed in his eyes, which faded away as fast as it had came, passing Eragon the purse back.
"Thanks brother, but I can't accept it" Roran said, "You should give it to someone that needs it more than us."
Eragon looked at Roran a bit dissapointed before putting the purse on his back and asking with a light smile "Ok, what did that bastard want anyway?"
Roran went back to the hammering before saying as care freely as he could muster "I am going away Eragon, I'll leave in a week or so."
"To the…army," Eragon asked insecurely.
Roran stopped the hammering and said with a sad smile, "Yes."
"How long will you be gone?" Eragon asked as sad, so that was what the soldier meant by 'Welcome to the family'.
"I don't know, maybe a month, a year, twelve" Roran said. "The only thing I know is that I'll be at the capital."
"I will go with you then," Eragon said confidently, "I will join you and we will find my sister"
"You can't Eragon"
"What do you mean?"
"You are too young"
Eragon laughed at this and said,"What about you?, you are just four years older than I am, why can you go, but I can?"
"You are a year short" Roran explained, "It is what the paper says"
"So what?" Eragon said looking at the paper with despise, "I am supposed to stay here doing nothing while people die left and right and you and my sister are the Huntress knows where?
For all I know, I might be waiting for two dead bodies to come back, I might not even be here by the time you come back here. I want to go Roran, I don't want to lose what's left of my family"
"And you won't" Roran assured him, "But joining the army will only get you killed and you will lose any chance of finding Ania."
"What about the Varden?" Eragon asked hopefully, "If we join them and help them, maybe they will help us back."
"No," Roran said, "That's a stupid idea that will only get us killed faster. And you don't know where they are."
"But what if I found them?" Eragon asked nervously, almost irritably, the heat getting to his head, "You wouldn't have to leave, and we could find my sister together."
"No," Roran answered back, cleaning his sweat like Eragon was, "And we better move to another room, the heat might be getting to your head"
Moments after the two where sitting in two chairs near what resembled a small table in a small room lightened by the dim light of a candle, and the scratch of mice in the walls, it had no other furniture whatsoever and the walls like the rest of the house were full of holes.
"Joining the Varden is a bad idea," Roran continued, "You remember the Battle of Besgriud, don't you?"
"Yes, I do,"
"And you remember what happened?"
"Yes," Eragon said tiredly, "But those were just rumours" He tried to counter.
"Rumours or not, you remember what happened to them" Roran continued, "They gathered a massive army and the Emperor defeated it with just one soldier. And you want to join them? You remember how many died that day, don't you? How everything went hell in an army of hundreds of thousands, defeated by just one soldier."
"Yes, I do," Eragon said, "But those were just rumours"
"You keep missing the point" Roran said, "They were defeated, defeated by just one soldier, they can't hold a candle to the Emperor's power."
"So what?" Eragon snapped, "At least they try to do something."
"Yes, they do," Roran conceded, "Sacrificing the lives of hundreds, thousands of families, fathers, mothers, kids, all for something they can't reach. Is that the people you want to join, die before even finding your sister for them?"
"No," Eragon admitted, "But if I have no other choice, I will. I won't be waiting here for my death or you and my sister's corpse to come back."
"You won't," Roran assured him, "Once I am at the capital I'll look for her, try to find her. Try to stay alive, stay out of problems and try not to get killed and go to the South, I'll try to reach you when I get the chance. Head to the capital."
Eragon nodded.
"How will I know if you are alive or if you have found my sister?"
"I'll send you letters," Roran said.
"You know I can't read," Eragon said, " right?"
"I Know," Roran said "That's why each letter will have different sigils, Red; I found your sister, Yellow; I am still alive, Black; I am dead, Orange; I found your sister, Blue; I have a clue. I'll try to aid you whenever I can. Got it, brother?"
"Got it," Eragon said, taking the hand his cousin offered him with a smile.
Eragon paused, "And if you are not there?"
"Pray to the gods," Roran said, "Pray to the gods brother and survive."
Eragon nodded, a sad smile on his face as the candlelight faded away…