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When Eragon's eyes opened, the memory of Garrow's death crashed down on him. He pulled the blankets over his head and cried quietly under their warm darkness. It felt good just to lie there . . . to hide from the world outside. Eventually the tears stopped. He cursed Brom. Then he reluctantly wiped his cheeks and got up.
Brom and Daemon were making breakfast and quietly talking, most likely about Skyrim and Daemon being Dragonborn. Brom looked up at Eragon and said. "Good morning." Eragon grunted in reply. He jammed his cold fingers in his armpits and crouched by the fire until the food was ready. They ate quickly, trying to consume the food before it lost its warmth. When he finished, Eragon washed his bowl with snow, then spread the stolen leather on the ground.
"What are you doing?" Daemon asked curiously as he watched Eragon.
"I'm going to make a saddle for Saphira."
"Mmm," said Brom, moving forward. "Well, dragons used to have two kinds of saddles. The first was hard and molded like a horse's saddle. But those take time and tools to make, neither of which we have. The other was thin and lightly padded, nothing more than an extra layer between the Rider and dragon. Those saddles were used whenever speed and flexibility were important, though they weren't nearly as comfortable as the molded ones."
"Do you know what they looked like?" asked Eragon.
"Better, I can make one."
As the two worked, Daemon finished his task of repairing Eragon's broken pack, and started organizing and stowing supplies for the journey ahead. He lay out everything they had and divided it up as equally as possible, so no one person was stuck playing pack mule. Both tasks consumed most of the day, and the sun was near setting again when Brom finally stepped back to admire their work. The saddle fit Saphira nicely, and work continue to do so in her months of growth ahead.
"You did a good job," Eragon acknowledged grudgingly.
Brom inclined his head. "One tries his best. It should serve you well; the leather's sturdy enough."
Aren't you going to try it out? asked Saphira.
Maybe tomorrow, said Eragon, storing the saddle with his blankets. It's too late now. In truth he was not eager to fly again—not after the disastrous outcome of his last attempt.
Dinner was made quickly. It tasted good even though it was simple. While they ate, Daemon looked over the fire at Eragon and asked, "Will we leave tomorrow?"
"There isn't any reason to stay."
"I suppose not..." Brom said before he shifted. "Eragon, I must apologize about how events have turned out. I never wished for this to happen. Your family did not deserve such a tragedy. If there were anything I could do to reverse it, I would. This is a terrible situation for all of us." Eragon sat in silence, avoiding Brom's gaze.
It was silent for several moments before Daemon said. "You're going to need horses."
"Maybe you two do, but I have Saphira."
Daemon chuckled. "Eragon, there is no horse ever born that could outrun a dragon."
Brom nodded in agreement. "He's right, and Saphira is too young to carry us both. Besides, it'll be safer if we stay together, and riding is faster than walking."
"But that'll make it harder to catch the Ra'zac," protested Eragon. "On Saphira, I could probably find them within a day or two. On horses, it'll take much longer—if it's even possible to overtake their lead on the ground!"
Brom said slowly, "That's a chance you'll have to take if I'm to accompany you."
Eragon thought it over. "All right," he grumbled, "we'll get horses. But you have to buy them. I don't have any money, and I don't want to steal again. It's wrong."
"That depends on your point of view," corrected Brom with a slight smile. "Before you set out on this venture, remember that your enemies, the Ra'zac, are the king's servants. They will be protected wherever they go. Laws do not stop them. In cities they'll have access to abundant resources and willing servants. Also keep in mind that nothing is more important to Galbatorix than recruiting or killing you—though word of your existence probably hasn't reached him yet. The longer you evade the Ra'zac, the more desperate he'll become. He'll know that every day you'll be growing stronger and that each passing moment will give you another chance to join his enemies. You must be very careful, as you may easily turn from the hunter into the hunted."
Eragon was subdued by the strong words. Pensive, he rolled a twig between his fingers. "Enough talk," said Brom. "It's late and my bones ache. We can say more tomorrow." Eragon nodded and banked the fire.
Dawn was gray and overcast with a cutting wind. The forest was quiet. After a quick breakfast, they packed up camp and set out along the road leading away from Carvahall. Both Daemon and Brom had strapped their respective blades on, and Eragon's bow was across his back. Eragon carefully tied Zar'roc onto her back, too, as he did not want the extra weight. Besides, in his hands the sword would be no better than a club.
As they walked, Saphira veered west toward the mountains and out of sight. Eragon felt uncomfortable as he watched her go. Even now, with no one around, they could not spend their days together. She had to stay hidden in case they met a fellow traveler.
Daemon noticed his downcast expression and nudged him, speaking with reassurance. "Don't worry, she'll be fine. Besides, you still have me to talk to, right?"
Despite his mood, Eragon couldn't help but smile back. Yes, he was definitely glad Daemon was with him.
The Ra'zac's footprints were faint on the eroding snow, but Eragon was unconcerned. It was unlikely that they had forsaken the road, which was the easiest way out of the valley, for the wilderness. Once outside the valley, however, the road divided in several places. It would be difficult to ascertain which branch the Ra'zac had taken.
They traveled in silence, concentrating on speed. Eragon's legs continued to bleed where the scabs had cracked. To take his mind off the discomfort, he asked, "So what exactly can dragons do? Both here and in Skyrim?"
Daemon and Brom looked at him before Brom spoke. "Well, I don't know about Skyrim's dragons, but the dragons here I do know about. Unfortunately, it's a pitiful amount compared to what I would like to know. Your question is one people have been trying to answer for centuries, so understand that what I tell you is by its very nature incomplete. Dragons have always been mysterious, though maybe not on purpose."
"No argument there." Daemon said in agreement, having met several dragons that liked to be mysterious.
Brom explained some things he knew about dragons such egg hatching, the eating habits of dragons, to what to do if engaging one in battle though Daemon offered his own expertise on that considering he used to kill dragons. Though Brom warned him that not everyone is going to enjoy that fact, Daemon jut flat out said he didn't care what people thought of him.
"What are Skyrim's dragons like?" Eragon asked, looking at Daemon.
Daemon scoffed a little. "The most bloodthirsty and dangerous creatures you could ever meet in Skyrim. Dragons there sought one thing and that was destruction. However, because I was Dragonborn, I had the power to... absorb a dead dragon's soul, grans me the knowledge they know into my mind, and I learn new things such as their tongue."
"Tongue? The dragons of Skyrim have their own language?" Eragon asked with wide eyes as Brom listened.
"Geh. (Yes.)" He replied in Dovahzul, smirking at their astonished looks. "What I said as yes. Would you like to know more on this language?"
"Yes." Brom nodded, curious. Eragon did the same.
"Alright." Daemon said. "When dragons greet each other, they say three words in their tongue. Drem Yol Lok. Which means Peace Fire Sky. It's how they greet one another. I remember when I could barely speak their language but over time, I learned full sentences and now am fluent in speaking their tongue."
"Could Saphira speak this language?" Eragon asked.
Daemon shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure. The dragons of this land are far different from Skyrim. For one, the dragons in my land speak with their mouths, not their minds. They speak like anyone else, but most of the time it's to insult and prove how superior they are as they would remind you if you ever met one. But their tongue also has it uses with Words of Power."
"Words of Power?" Brom asked.
Daemon nodded before he looked at the sky. "YOL!" A blast of fire shot out of his mouth and into the sky before it disappeared. Daemon turned to his awestruck companions and smirked at their expression before asking. "Would you like to know more?"
Hours passed as Daemon showed them more Shouts, demonstrating his mastery over Dovahzul and the Thu'um.
As night approached, they were near Therinsford. They proceeded to make camp and prepare a meal as Saphira joined them from above. As she settled down next to Eragon, he asked Did you have enough time to hunt for food?
She snorted with amusement. If the three of you were any slower, I would have time to fly across the sea and back without falling behind.
Hey, not all of us are blessed with wings, Daemon said defensively but playfully.
Jealous? She asked, snorting in his face. He merely smirked at her and shook his head as she directed her thoughts to Eragon. But will we be able to catch the Ra'zac? They have a lead of several days and many leagues. And I'm afraid they may suspect we're following them. Why else would they have destroyed the farm in such a spectacular manner, unless they wished to provoke you into chasing them?
I don't know, said Eragon, disturbed. Saphira curled up beside him, and he leaned against her belly, welcoming the warmth. Brom sat on the other side of the fire, whittling two long sticks. He suddenly threw one at Eragon, who grabbed it out of reflex as it whirled over the crackling flames.
Defend yourself!" barked Brom, standing.
Eragon looked at the stick in his hand and saw that it was shaped in the crude likeness of a sword. Eragon looked at Daemon who had an amused smirk before he gestured for him to get up and do as Brom said.
Eragon rose to face Brom, while Daemon and Saphira watched intensely, then Brom charged, swinging his stick. Eragon tried to block the attack but was too slow. He yelped as Brom struck him on the ribs and stumbled backward.
Without thinking, he lunged forward, but Brom easily parried the blow. Eragon whipped the stick toward Brom's head, twisted it at the last moment, and then tried to hit his side. The solid smack of wood striking wood resounded through the camp. "Improvisation—good!" exclaimed Brom, eyes gleaming. His arm moved in a blur, and there was an explosion of pain on the side of Eragon's head. He collapsed like an empty sack, dazed.
A splash of cold water roused him to alertness, and he sat up, sputtering. His head was ringing, and there was dried blood on his face. Brom stood over him with a pan of melted snow water. Daemon was holding his sides, laughing, causing Eragon to give him a glare before he looked at Brom. "You didn't have to do that," said Eragon angrily, pushing himself up. He felt dizzy and unsteady.
Brom arched an eyebrow. "Oh? A real enemy wouldn't soften his blows, and neither will I. Should I pander to your... incompetence so you'll feel better? I don't think so." He picked up the stick that Eragon had dropped and held it out. "Now, defend yourself."
Eragon stared blankly at the piece of wood, then shook his head. "Forget it; I've had enough." He turned away and stumbled as he was whacked loudly across the back. Saphira and Daemon winced at the impact as he spun around, growling.
"Never turn your back to the enemy!" snapped Brom, then tossed the stick at him and attacked. Eragon retreated around the fire, beneath the onslaught. "Pull your arms in. Keep your knees bent," shouted Brom. He continued to give instructions, then paused to show Eragon exactly how to execute a certain move. "Do it again, but this time slowly!" They slid through the forms with exaggerated motions before returning to their furious battle. Eragon learned quickly, but no matter what he tried, he could not hold Brom off for more than a few blows.
When they had stopped, Eragon flopped down to his blankets and groaned. He hurt everywhere. He was about to toss his stick in the fire when Brom stopped him. "Wait, the lesson isn't finished yet." He looked pointedly at Daemon, whose smile at Eragon's misfortune faded quickly, and his eyebrows raised in silent surprise. Brom nodded and beckoned to him tauntingly. "Let's see this skill of yours."
Daemon stood and grabbed Eragon's stick sword. "You don't know who you just challenged, old man."
"Humor me."
Daemon shrugged before he dashed forward and Brom blocked his attack. The two entered a standoff before they backed off and circled one another then Brom charged but Daemon blocked his attack with just one hand holding the stick before he blocked Brom's incoming attacks with just one hand holding the stick before the Dragonborn went on the offensive and pushed Brom back. Daemon showed that he had great skill, and he had faced many challenges that he had overcome. But he could see Brom was skilled, maybe on equal ground as him.
After they finished sparring, Brom said. "Good. You don't need the training as I can see you are a very skilled swordsman."
Daemon collapsed beside Eragon and rolled his shoulders. Saphira let out a low, coughing growl and curled a lip until a row of her formidable teeth showed. Her eyes danced as she looked at her Rider. What's wrong with you? Eragon demanded irritably.
Nothing, she replied. It's funny to see a hatchling like you beaten by the old one. She made the sound again, and Eragon turned red as he realized that she was laughing. Trying to preserve some dignity, he rolled onto his side and fell asleep.
The next day, Eragon felt even worse as he woke up with bruises covering his arms and he was almost too sore to move. Daemon was chuckling as he watched Eragon while Brom gave a small smirk. "How do you feel?" Eragon grunted and bolted down the breakfast.
Once on the road, they traveled swiftly so as to reach Therinsford before noon. After a league, the road widened, and they saw smoke in the distance. "You'd better tell Saphira to fly ahead and wait for us on the other side of Therinsford," said Brom. "She has to be careful here, otherwise people are bound to notice her."
"Why don't you tell her yourself?" challenged Eragon.
"It's considered bad manners to interfere with another's dragon."
"You didn't have a problem with it in Carvahall. And she and Daemon converse often."
Daemon looked at him. "We may talk, Eragon, but I don't tell her what to do as I am not her Rider." He then smirked. "Besides, she wouldn't listen to me even if I tried."
I heard that.
Eragon grunted and looked at Brom pointedly, who's lips twitched into a smile. "I did what I had to."
Eragon eyed him darkly, then relayed the instructions. Saphira warned, Be careful; the Empire's servants could be hiding anywhere.
As the ruts in the road deepened, they noticed more footprints. Farms signaled their approach to Therinsford. The village was larger than Carvahall, but it had been constructed haphazardly, the houses aligned in no particular order.
"And here I thought Windhelm wasn't a pretty place." Daemon commented. as they came to a bridge crossing the Anora River.. Eragon and Brom both grunted in reply, and then stopped as their path was blocked by a greasy man who emerged from the bushes.
Behind his cracked lips, his teeth looked like crumbling tombstones. "You c'n stop right there. This's my bridge. Gotta pay t' get over."
"How much?" asked Brom in a resigned voice. He pulled out a pouch, and the bridgekeeper brightened.
"Five crowns," he said, pulling his lips into a broad smile. Eragon's temper flared at the exorbitant price, and he started to complain hotly, but Brom silenced him with a quick look. The coins were wordlessly handed over. The man put them into a sack hanging from his belt. "Thank'ee much," he said in a mocking tone, and stood out of the way.
As Brom stepped forward, he stumbled and caught the bridgekeeper's arm to support himself. "Watch y're step," snarled the grimy man, sidling away.
"Sorry," apologized Brom, and continued over the bridge with Eragon.
"Why didn't you haggle? He skinned you alive!" exclaimed Eragon when they were out of earshot. "He probably doesn't even own the bridge. We could have pushed right past him."
"Probably," agreed Brom.
"Then why pay him?"
"Because you can't argue with all of the fools in the world. It's easier to let them have their way, then trick them when they're not paying attention." Brom opened his hand, and a pile of coins glinted in the light.
"You cut his purse!" Eragon gasped incredulously.
"Yes and it held a surprising amount. He should know better than to keep all these coins in one place."
"So true." Daemon grinned as he held up a pouch of coins. "He may want to keep his coins hidden when round a former thief who was part of a guild of thieves."
Brom gave a small chuckle while Eragon stared at his companions with a drop jaw. There was a sudden howl of anguish from the other side of the river. "I'd say our friend has just discovered his loss. If you see any watchmen, tell us."
Brom grabbed the shoulder of a young boy running between the houses and asked, "Do you know where we can buy horses?" The child stared at them with solemn eyes, then pointed to a large barn near the edge of Therinsford. "Thank you," said Brom, tossing him a small coin.
The barn's large double doors were open, revealing two long rows of stalls. The far wall was covered with saddles, harnesses, 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 come over.
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 hands vigorously with them. There was a polite pause as he waited for their names in return. When they were not forthcoming, he asked, "Can I help you?"
Nodding Brom spoke again, "We need two horses and a full set of tack for each. The horses will have to be fast and tough; we'll be doing a lot of traveling."
Daemon leaned over to the old man and whispered. "I have a horse of my own, I'll show you when we leave." Brom nodded.
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 with a few strokes of his fingers.
"Price is no object. I'll take the best you have," said Brom. 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 two identical piles. Next, he walked up the line of stalls and brought out two horses. One was a light bay, the other a roan. The bay tugged against his rope.
"He's a little spirited, but with a firm hand you won't have any problems," said Haberth, handing the bay's rope to Brom.
Brom let the horse smell his hand; it allowed him to rub its neck. "We'll take him," he said, then eyed the roan. "The other one, however, I'm not so sure of."
"There are some good legs on him."
"Mmm... 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?" asked Brom. Meanwhile, Eragon was having difficulty in getting his horse to trust him. He reached out with his mind and found he could feel the horse's mind I return. Not as clear a contact as with Saphira, but enough to convince the bay that he was a friend.
Haberth used his fingers to add up the price of the purchase. "Two hundred 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. A sigh, then, "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," said Brom.
"Your words gladden me," answered Haberth, bowing his head slightly. He helped them 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," promised Brom as they departed. "Here," he said, handing Snowfire's reins to Eragon and addressed the two, "go to the far side of Therinsford and wait there." Before either Daemon or Eragon could protest, Brom had slipped away.
They exited Therinsford with the two horses and stationed themselves beside the road. Brom returned shortly and gestured for them to follow him. He told them that the Ra'zac had indeed been here to procure mounts of their own. Not before leaving a nasty lasting impression on the townsfolk though, which meant they were definitely on the right track.
Brom then looked at Daemon. "So, where's your horse?"
Daemon smirked before he gave a sharp whistle. There was a horse's neigh before out of the shadows of the woods came a horse as black as night with red eyes, startling Brom and Eragon who backed off as the horse approached Daemon and bowed its head as Daemon patted the horse gently.
"This is Shadowmere." Daemon said softly as he kept his hand on the horse's snout. "He's been my friend though many dangers."
Saddling Shadowmere, Daemon followed Brom and Eragon...
And that's it for this chapter everyone.