Chapter 21
Five Eliksni congregated outside the mouth of the cave. They left Viltrus to watch over the humans; his brother, Viltriks, would relay all that had been said to him later.
Alkris was the first to speak, his voice tinted with good humour. "I like them."
"The humans?" Viltriks asked.
"What else?"
"Their beasts. They look appetizing."
"You only ever think about food, yes?" Paltis poked his side. Viltriks bristled and bared his teeth beneath his helm.
"Enough," Kiphoris sternly said. They quietened and looked to him. He, in turn, turned his attention to Alkris. "You approve of this?"
Alkris shrugged noncommittally. "I enjoy working with them, but that does not mean I think this strategy is wise."
"You don't?"
"I didn't say that either."
"Well, say something!" Paltis snapped. Her mate nearly jumped with fright.
"I, ah, don't know? I'm interested, Captain, to see where the path leads, but I don't know whether an alliance with humans would be to our benefit, if it does bear fruit. This is more likely a waste of our banner's time and resources, which could be better spent building up to oppose Krinok. Even if it was to work, if it is to our advantage, is this the way to do it? Who's to say that these humans represent their kind? What if they are bannerless?"
Melkras grunted. "That is true. They are fleeing others of their kind. The Bone-Pickers had a strong scent of humans on them; they could be aligned with a greater banner."
Kiphoris listened and tried his best to account for where they all stood on the matter. He valued his crew's input. A Captain would be hard pressed to lead if they neglected those who followed them. Still, he was entitled to his own voice and words. "I will not turn on them. I have given them an oath."
"An oath of honour?" Paltis asked.
"It is. Even if it weren't, I would be compelled to see them safe from the Bone-Pickers. They are young and desperate. It is a question of morality."
"What of the Kell?" Viltriks inquired. "If it comes to it, would you choose your humans over the Kell?"
"My oath to the Kell is older and takes precedence, but it will not come to that. Understood?"
The Marauders all nodded.
"What happens when we reach the Skiffs?" Melkras asked. "Will we take them with us to Tarrhis? I do not know if we can fit the blue beast in a Skiff."
Paltis laughed. "That would be a sight!"
Kiphoris rumbled. "I am contemplating the matter."
"Captain, it will not take us much longer. Even at their pace, it wouldn't be much more than a local rotation. We have saved them already. Send them away. Let them go find their own path."
"No. I will not, I have already told you."
"Then I hope you find a solution soon, for we cannot dally with the banner's future at stake."
Kiphoris suppressed a roar of frustration. That would be unseemly. "So be it. I will talk with them, but my solution is thus: I will send them back onto their intended travels with a warrior to guard and guide them."
"I'll do it," Alkris said without a moment's hesitation.
Paltis smacked the back of his helm. "Think, you fool!"
"Ow!" His eyes brightened. "I was thinking!"
"No, you weren't."
"I was!" Alkris defended angrily. "Kiphoris-Captain is right. We cannot waste entire crews on guarding them, yet I do not want to see harm befall them. They are children."
"Not ours."
"No," the Marauder spat bitterly. "Ours was lost to us."
A sombre silence fell over the gathered Eliksni. Paltis was struck speechless.
"We will not have heirs, mine-Paltis." Alkris continued, his tone softening. "Regardless, I will see to it that mine-legacy will not be one of disgrace. When they speak of Alkris, the Gunrunner, they will say this: He was an eliko of honour, he faced his foes without fear, and he honoured his allies. If I do not do this, and the humans fall along their path, I will never recover from the shame."
"So they are your heirs?!" Paltis erupted. Even Kiphoris, largest among them, flinched for the sheer ferocity in her voice. "The humans?! They look like Cabal! They are weak, they are unthinking, they are-"
"Watch your words, Marauder," Kiphoris warned. "I have loved humans as kin. I have seen mighty Kells fall to their strength. I have borne witness to the grand works of their minds, rivaling all we had before the Whirlwind took Riis from us. Watch your words, lest I take them as a challenge."
Paltis bristled, though said nothing. Kiphoris made a note to keep his eyes on her. Petty rages were the seeds of mutiny.
"I do not claim them as heirs," Alkris said carefully. He was treading murky waters. "But I feel sympathy. They worry for their sire, as I worried for mine during our war with Winter. They are lost, just as we were when Taniks murdered our Kell and shattered our banner. They are afraid of being hunted - a fear we knew when the Hive sensed our weakness and sought our end."
"Fine!" Paltis snarled and looked away. "Then I will join you, fool."
Alkris' outer eyes closed in gratitude. He placed a hand over her one of her own. "Thank you, mine-Paltis."
A few moments passed, then Viltriks clacked his mandibles. "Yes, very good, but you will starve."
Melkras groaned. "You ruined it, Stonehopper."
"What?!"
"Enough," Kiphoris ordered. He looked at Alkris. "I will send you off with a converter from a dead Servitor. If you damage it in any way, I will take your arms."
"I will care for it as if it were a hatchling," the Marauder vowed.
"The humans still won't understand their words," Viltriks pointed out. "Only you know their tongue, mine-Captain."
Kiphoris tapped the side of his helmet. "I have a vocal synthesizer to help me speak their tongue. Mine helmet is built to help me speak to them. I will have the High Servitor replicate the function for you both. It will take some time, but the human tongue is not as difficult as the horrid speech of Cabal, so you will learn if you dedicate yourselves."
"I will do that," Alkris promised. A thought seemed to strike the Marauder. "Captain, you speak of previously encountering humans, but it must have been a long time ago. I have been with your crew from near the beginning of your rule and we never encountered any."
The Captain sighed and dropped his head. "Eia, it was a long time ago, when I was of the Wolves."
"What happened?"
"Our Kell challenged humans. The humans won and killed him. Another Kell rose. He was... unworthy, like Krinok, but we followed out of honour and fear. The humans defeated him also, and locked him away. The human Kell became our Kell." He paused. "I was not locked away. I was only a Vandal when it occurred. Those humans were different - cousins of the kind we guard. They had magic, but not Hive-magic. They were unlike anything I had ever seen. They made beautiful homes out of nothing but ruins and rock."
"What happened?" Melkras asked.
"Our old Kell was released. Honour demanded we return to his wrong-rule. And I... had nothing else left." Kiphoris stood. "It does not matter. Let us speak of something else."
Kiphoris shoved the handful of cytogel grains into the wound, but even he knew it was useless. It could stem the bleeding, not patch up a lung.
One of his hands cupped the back of Lima's head. He listened, paralyzed with sheer horror, as she rasped and coughed her last. Her chin was covered in blood.
Her eyes were still bright green, glowing like stars. He could see the smile in them.
"Come, Vandal!" A Captain bellowed, grabbing his shoulder and forced him to his feet.
"But..." He began. He faltered upon seeing her breath stall, her head loll back
"But nothing!" The Wolf Captain yelled at him. "To the ships! Skolas-kel rallies the banner!"
000
"Wake up Eragon." He stirred and groaned. "I need your help. Something is wrong!" Eragon tried to ignore the voice and return to sleep. "Arise!"
"Go away," he grumbled.
"Eragon!" A bellow rang in the cave. He bolted upright, fumbling for his bow. Saphira was crouched over Brom, who had rolled off the ledge and was thrashing on the cave floor. His face was contorted into a grimace; his fists were clenched. Eragon rushed over, fearing the worst.
"Help me hold him down!" Tellesa ordered both him and Murtagh, rushing to the elder's side. "He's going to hurt himself!"
Ergon clasped Brom's arm. His side burned sharply as the old man spasmed. Together, they restrained Brom until his convulsions ceased. Then they carefully returned him to the ledge. One of the Eliksni - he didn't know its name - had rushed inside and watched helplessly from a distance. "Das hus di?"
Eragon touched Brom's forehead. The skin was so hot that the heat could be felt an inch away. "Get me water and a cloth," he demanded worriedly. Murtagh brought them, and Eragon gently wiped Brom's face, trying to cool him down. WIth the cave quiet again, he noticed the sun shining outside. "How long did we sleep?" He asked Saphira.
"A good while. I've been watching Brom for most of that time. He was fine until a minute ago when he started thrashing. I woke you once he fell to the floor."
He stretched, wincing as his ribs twinged painfully. A hand suddenly gripped his shoulder. Brom's eyes snapped open and fixed a glassy stare on Eragon. "You," he gasped. "Bring me the wineskin."
"Brom?" Eragon exclaimed, pleased to hear him talk. "You shouldn't drink wine; it'll only make you worse."
"Bring it, boy - just bring it..." Brom sighed. His hand slipped off Eragon's shoulder.
"I'll be right back - hold on." Eragon dashed to the saddlebags and rummaged through them frantically. "I can't find it!" He cried, looking around desperately.
"Here, take mine," Murtagh said, holding out a leather skin.
Eragon grabbed it and returned to Brom. "I have the wine," he said, kneeling. Murtagh retreated to the cave's mouth to allow them privacy. He heard the other boy tell the Eliksni "Ne kra kelisk."
"Das Veskirisk!" It cried, running off.
Brom's next words were faint and indistinct. "Good..." He moved his arm weakly. "Now... wash my right hand with it."
"What-" Eragon started to ask.
"No questions! I haven't time."
Mystified, Eragon unstoppered the wineskin and poured the liquid onto Brom's palm. He rubbed it in, spreading it around the fingers and over the back of the hand. "More," croaked Brom. Eragon splashed wine onto his hand again. He scrubbed vigorously as a brown dye floated off Brom's hand, then stopped, his mouth agape with amazement. There, on Brom's hand, was the gedwëy ignasia.
"You're a Rider?" Tellesa asked incredulously.
A painful smile flickered on Brom's face. "Once upon a time that was true... but not anymore. When I was young... younger than either of you are now, I was chosen... chosen by the Riders to join their ranks. While they trained me, I became friends with another apprentice... Morzan, before he was a Forsworn." Eragon gasped - that had been over a hundred years ago. "But then he betrayed us to Galbatorix... and in the fighting at Dorú Areaba - Vroengard's city - my young dragon was killed. Her name... was Saphira."
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Eragon asked softly.
Brom laughed. "Because... there was no need to." He stopped. His breathing was labored; his hands were clenched. "I am old, Eragon... so old. Though my dragon was killed, my life has been longer than most. You don't know what it is to reach my age, look back, and realize that you don't remember much of it; then to look forward and know that many years still lie ahead of you... After all this time I still grieve for my Saphira... and hate Galbatorix for what he tore from me." His feverish eyes drilled into Eragon as he said fiercely, "Don't let that happen to you. Don't! Guard Saphira with your life, for without her it's hardly worth living."
"You shouldn't talk like this. Nothing's going to happen to her," Eragon stated, worried.
Brom turned his head to the side. "Perhaps I am rambling." His gaze passed blindly over Murtagh, briefly lingered on Tellesa, then focused on Eragon. "I cannot last much longer. This... is a grievous wound; it saps my strength. I have not the energy to fight it. Before I go, will you take my blessing?"
"Everything will be alright," Eragon said, tears in his eyes. "You don't have to do this."
"It is the way of things... I must. Will you take my blessing?" Eragon bowed his head and nodded, overcome with emotion. Brom placed a trembling hand on his brow. "Then I give it to you. May the coming years bring you great happiness." He motioned for Eragon to bend closer. Very quietly, he whispered seven words from the ancient language, then even more softly told him what they meant. "That is all I can give you... Use them only in great need."
The elder brought his gaze back to Tellesa. "Take care of them."
"I will," she promised shakily.
Brom blindly turned his eyes to the ceiling. "And now," he murmured, "for the greatest adventure of all..."
Weeping, Eragon held his hand, comforting him as best he could. His vigil was unwavering and steadfast. A gray pallor crept over Brom, and his eyes slowly dimmed. His hands grew icy; the air around him took on an evil humour. Powerless to help, Eragon could only watch as the Ra'zac's wound took its toll.
When Brom stiffened, Eragon called his name and cried for help, but they could do nothing. As a barren silence dampened the air, Brom locked eyes with Eragon's. Then contentment spread across the old man's face, and a whisper of breath escaped his lips. And so it was that Brom the storyteller died.
Eragon was dimly aware of Tellesa sitting beside him, sharing the burden of mourning. He felt Saphira's presence nearby, feeling the loss as keenly as he did. He didn't even know the Eliksni had returned until a huge shadow fell over him and an inhuman hand softly fell on his shoulder.
"I am sorry," he heard Kiphoris say gruffly, but not unkindly.
With shaking fingers, Eragon closed Brom's eyes and stood. Saphira raised her head behind him and roared mournfully at the sky, keening her lamentation. Tears rolled down Eragon's cheeks as a sense of horrible loss bled through him. Haltingly, he said, "We have to bury him."
"We will," Tellesa replied, looking to the Captain. Kiphoris dipped his head after only a moment. The two of them bore Brom's body out of the cave, along with his sword and staff. The other Eliksni stepped aside and watched in respectful silence. Saphira followed them. "To the top," Eragon said thickly, indicating the crown of the sandstone hill.
"We can't dig a grave out of stone," Murtagh objected.
"I can do it."
Eragon climbed onto the smooth hilltop, struggling because of his ribs. There, Tellesa and Kiphoris lay Brom on the stone.
Eragon wiped his eyes and fixed his gaze on the sandstone. Gesturing with his hand, he said, "Moi stenr!" The stone rippled. It flowed like water, forming a body-length depression in the hilltop. Molding the sandstone like wet clay, he raised waist-high walls around it. He heard rather than saw the Eliksni present exhale sharply through their helmets. Kiphoris said something to the others, and he heard no further complaint from them.
They laid Brom inside the unfinished sandstone vault with his staff and sword. Stepping back, Eragon again shaped the stone with magic. It joined over Brom's motionless face and plowed upward into a tall faceted spire. As a final tribute, Eragon set runes into the stone:
Here lies Brom
Who was a Dragon Rider
And like a father
To me.
May his name live on in glory.
Then he bowed his head and mourned freely. He stood like a living statue until evening, when light faded from the land.
That night he dreamed of the imprisoned woman again.
He could tell that something was wrong with her. Her breathing was irregular, and she shook - whether from cold or pain, he did not know. In the semi darkness of the cell, the only thing clearly illuminated was her hand, which hung over the edge of the cot. A dark liquid dripped from the tips of her fingers. Eragon knew it was blood.
When Eragon woke, his eyes were gritty, his body stiff. The cave was empty except for the horses. The litter was gone; no sign of Brom remained. He walked to the entrance and sat on the pitted sandstone. So the witch Angela was correct - there was a death in my future, he thought, staring bleakly upon the rolling hills of rock and sand. The topaz sun brought a desert heat to the early morning.
A tear slid down his listless face and evaporated in the sunlight, leaving a salty crust on his skin. He closed his eyes and absorbed the warmth, emptying his mind. With a fingernail, he aimlessly scratched the sandstone. When he looked, he saw he had written Why me?
He was still there when Murtagh and Alkris climbed up to the cave, carrying three rabbits and a large bird he didn't recognize. Without a word, the other boy seated himself by Eragon, while the Eliksni carried the catch into the cave.
"How are you?" Murtagh asked.
"Very ill."
Murtagh considered him thoughtfully. "Will you recover?" Eragon shrugged. After a few minutes of reflection, Murtagh spoke up, "I dislike asking at such a time, but I must know... Is your Brom the Brom? The one who helped steal a dragon egg from the king, chased it across the empire, and killed Morzan in a duel? I heard you say his name, and I read the inscription you put on his grave, but I must know for certain. Was that him?"
"It was," Eragon replied softly. A troubled expression settled on Murtagh's face. "How do you know all that? You talk about things that are secret to most, and you were trailing the Ra'zac just as they caught us. Are you one of the Varden?"
Murtagh's eyes became inscrutable orbs. "I'm running away, like you." There was a restrained sadness in his words. "I do not belong in either the Varden or the empire. Nor do I owe allegiance to any man but myself. As for tracking the Ra'zac, I will admit that I've heard whispered tales of a new Rider and reasoned that by following the Ra'zac I might discover if they were true."
"I thought you wanted to kill the Ra'zac," Eragon said.
Murtagh smiled grimly. "I do, but if I had, I never would have met you."
But Brom would still be alive... Eragon didn't have it in him to be angry anymore. I wish he were here. He would know whether to trust Murtagh. Eragon remembered how Brom had sensed a man's intentions in Daret and wondered if he could do the same with Murtagh. He reached for Murtagh's consciousness, but his probe abruptly ran into an iron-hard wall, which he tried to circumvent. Murtagh's entire mind was fortified. How did he learn to do that? Brom said that few people, if any, could keep others out of their mind without training. So who is Murtagh to have this ability? He paused. What of Tellesa? Has she the same? Or the Eliksni? I don't think I should try with them. It might antagonize them if my actions are discovered. Pensive and lonely, Eragon asked, "Where is Saphira?"
"I don't know," Murtagh answered. "She followed me for a time when I went hunting with Alkris, then flew off on her own. I haven't seen her since before noon." Eragon rocked onto his feet and returned to the cave. Murtagh followed. "What are you going to do now?"
They found Alkris sipping a strange liquid from a metallic flask and skinning the kills all at once. "I'm not sure," Eragon replied, stopping to watch for a brief moment. And I don't want to think about it either. He rolled up his blankets and tied them to Cadoc's saddlebags. His ribs hurt. As Eragon shifted things in his bags, he uncovered Zar'roc. The red sheath glinted brightly. He took out the sword and weighed it in his hands.
He had never carried Zar'roc nor used it in combat - except when he had sparred with Brom and Tellesa - because he had not wanted people to see it. That concerned Eragon no more. The Ra'zac had seemed surprised and frightened at once by the sight of it; that was more than enough reason for him to wear it. With shudder he pulled off his bow and belted on Zar'roc. From this moment on, I'll live by the sword. Let the whole world see what I am. I have no fear. I am a Rider now, fully and completely.
He sorted through Brom's bags but found only clothes, a few odd items, and a small pouch of coins. Eragon took the map of Alagaësia and put the bags away, then sat by the fire. Murtagh's eyes narrowed as he looked away from the Eliksni at work. "That sword. May I see it?"
Eragon hesitated, reluctant to relinquish the weapon for even a moment, then nodded. Murtagh examined the symbol on the blade intently. His features darkened. "Where did you get this?"
"Brom gave it to me. Why?"
Murtagh shoved the sword back and crossed his arms angrily. He was breathing hard. "That sword," he growled, "was once as well known as its owner. The last Rider to carry it was Morzan - a brutal, savage man. I thought you were a foe of the empire, yet here I find you bearing one of the Forsworn's bloody swords!"
Alkris gave them a warning growl, but Eragon only stared at Zar'roc with shock. He realized that Brom must have taken it from Morzan after they fought in Gil'ead. "Brom never told me where it came from," he said truthfully. "I had no idea it was Morzan's."
"He never told you?" Murtagh questioned, a note of disbelief in his voice. Eragon shook his head. "That's strange. I can think of no reason for him to have concealed it."
"Neither can I. But then, he kept many secrets," Eragon said. It felt unsettling to hold the sword of the man who had betrayed the Riders to Galbatorix. This blade probably killed many Riders in its time, he thought with revulsion. And worse, dragons! "Even so, I'm going to carry it. I don't have a sword of my own. Until such time as I get one, I'll use Zar'roc."
Murtagh flinched as Eragon said the name. "It's your choice," he muttered.
They were cast into darkness as something large reared up before the mouth of the cave. Kiphoris was forced to duck his head to avoid the edge of his helmet catching onto the rock, just as Saphira was forced to with her horns. The Captain looked between the two, conversed very briefly with Alkris, then marched further in to reach them. Tellesa was behind him, formerly obscured from view by the Eliksni's large frame and heavy cloak.
"We must speak," Kiphoris said. He sat against the cave wall. He looked at Eragon in particular. "How fare you?"
"Not well," he admitted. His hand ghosted over his wound. "I ache, but I will heal in time."
"That is good, yes?"
"Yes," Eragon agreed. The Captain - over all the others - unnerved him the most. It seemed so unbelievable that something that stood and walked like a man could be so large.
Tellesa cleared her throat. Her eyes were red. She had shed her own tears. "We need to discuss what comes next."
Eragon hadn't thought of that. "I have to sell my horse." He said.
"Why not Brom's?" Murtagh asked.
"Snowfire? Because Brom promised to take care of him. Since he... isn't around, I'll do it for him."
Murtagh nodded. "If that's what you want, I'm sure we can find a buyer in some town or village."
"We?" Eragon asked. "You'll continue to travel with us?"
Murtagh looked at him in a calculating way. "You won't want to stay for much longer. If the Ra'zac are nearby, and with enough soldiers to fight the Eliksni, Brom's tomb will be like a beacon for them." Eragon had not thought of that. "And your ribs are going to take time to heal, as you said. You'll need a companion who can lift things and help out," he gave a sideways glance to Kiphoris. "Someone who understands what you say."
Tellesa huffed. "That would be me."
"Extra help, then." Murtagh bowed his head. "I'm asking to travel with you, at least for the time being. But I must warn you, the empire is searching for me. There'll be blood over it eventually."
Eragon laughed weakly and found himself crying because it hurt so much. Once his breath was back, he said, "I don't care if the entire army is searching for you. I would be glad to have you along, though I have to talk to Tellesa and Saphira about it. But I have to warn you, Galbatorix just might send the entire army after me. You won't be any safer with Saphira and me than if you were on your own."
"I know that," Murtagh said with a quick grin. "But all the same, it won't stop me."
"Good." Eragon smiled with gratitude.
Saphira crawled in, barely squeezing past Alkris. The Eliksni squawked with displeasure, then returned to slicing the meat into portions. The dragon ignored him and greeted Eragon. She was glad to see him, but there was a deep sadness in her thoughts and words. She laid her big blue head on the floor and asked, "Are you well again?"
"Not quite."
"I miss the old one."
"As do I... I never suspected that he was a Rider. Brom! He really was an old man - as old as the Forsworn. Everything he taught me about magic he must have learned from the Riders themselves." Eragon closed his eyes. "He kept more than that secret." He told her about Zar'roc and Murtagh's reaction to it. "I understand now why Brom didn't explain Zar'roc's origins when he gave it to me. If he had, I probably would have run away from him at the first opportunity."
"You would do well to rid yourself of that sword," she said with distaste. "I know it's a peerless weapon, but you would be better off with a normal blade than Morzan's butchery tool."
"Perhaps." He opened his eyes to find Kiphoris watching him closely.
The Captain rumbled, "You have... magic?"
Eragon hesitated. "Saphira, what do I say?"
She turned her head to look Kiphoris in the eye. "I do not know. They have given us little reason to distrust them. I doubt lying will work in any case; they saw you perform already."
He took a breath and rallied his courage. I am a Rider. I must be brave. "I do."
Kiphoris accepted it readily enough. "I have seen magic. Magic of great witches, twin-souls scarred. Do many have magic?"
"No," he answered truthfully. "They do not."
"The king employs spellcasters, but they are few and far between," Tellesa explained. "And the king is a magician - likely the most powerful of all."
"The king?" Kiphoris asked. "You must tell me of who holds power."
Eragon was thankful that Tellesa took over. He doubted he had the energy for it. She explained the empire, the king, the tyranny of the Imperials, and the rebellious movements that culminated into the Varden. She briefly went over the matter of Dragon Riders, and then the rebellion of the Forsworn which gave rise to the current government. The Captain listened without saying a word.
During this time, Eragon decided to risk it all and once more opened up his consciousness, reaching out with his mind to those around him. He was surprised to find that Tellesa - who had never given any indication of understanding magic - had a defense to rival that of Murtagh. It was, perhaps, even more formidable - a solid sphere with a surface upon which he could find no grip.
The mind of Kiphoris was a different matter. Everything was... strange. Nothing made sense. There were measures taken against mental assault, but they were unlike any he had ever known before. It was like a myriad of palisades, walls sprung up to form a complex maze. Eragon could sense within a startling and ancient intelligence, one both primal and sophisticated.
"This king," Kiphoris said slowly. "Galbatorix." He had trouble forming the word. "He is not welcomed by humans?"
"No," Tellesa answered. "He is not."
"This is troubling. Mine-Eliksni do not know where to walk."
"Why are you here?" Murtagh spoke up.
Kiphoris made a clicking sound - like a dozen knives tapping against one another. "War with our own. Usurper rises to take the banner of Kalakhselen. Mine-Baron, leader of mine-oath, swears to restore order. Our great ship was wounded and collapsed nearby. Usurper grasps control of it. Loyal-Eliksni leave to gather, recover, and fight."
"You're fighting a civil war," Tellesa surmised. "What is... kalakh... sel-"
"Kalakhselen is our banner. Our House. Stern sires. We are named the Scars in your tongue."
"Scars... Why?"
"For Scars bear heavy wounds and carry onwards. Scars fight often," Kiphoris explained. He paused. "We are close to mine-crews. We must talk of future."
Eragon thought for a moment. "Saphira, where does our path go from here? With them? Murtagh offered to come with us. I don't know his past, but he seems honest enough. Should we go to the Varden now? Only I don't know how to find them. Brom never told us."
"He told me," Saphira said.
Eragon grew angry. "Why did he trust you, but not me, with all this knowledge?"
Her scales rustled over the dry rock as she stood above him, eyes profound. "After we left Teirm and were attacked by Urgals, he told me many things, some of which I will not speak of unless necessary. He was concerned about his death and what would happen to you after it. One fact he imparted to me was the name of a man, Dormnad, who lives in Gil'ead. He can help us find the Varden. Brom also wanted you to know that of all the people in Alagaësia, he believed you were the best suited to inherit the Riders' legacy."
Tears welled up in Eragon's eyes. This was the highest praise he could ever have received from Brom. "A responsibility I will bear honourably."
"Good."
"We will go to Gil'ead then," he stated, strength and purpose returning to him. "And what of Murtagh? I trust Tellesa, but do you think he too should come with us?"
"He helped us when no one else could." Saphira said. Then, "But even if that weren't so, he has seen both you and me. We should keep him close so he doesn't furnish the empire with our location and descriptions, willingly or not."
"What of the Eliksni?"
"We owe them our lives." She unhappily admitted. "They deserve the truth. Some of it."
"What if the empire catches them?"
Saphira found that idea amusing. "I don't think they will. The Ra'zac feared them; and with good reason. They are strong enough to hold their own and fast enough to make their escape. And they have numbers."
The decision made, Eragon told the others about the plan.
Murtagh said, "If you find this Dormnad and then continue on to the Varden, I will leave you. Encountering the Varden would be as dangerous for me as walking unarmed into Urû'baen with a fanfare of trumpets to announce my arrival."
"We won't have to part anytime soon," Eragon explained. "It's a long way to Gil'ead."
"I do not know this land," Kiphoris said. "What is Gil'ead?"
Tellesa grabbed a map from her pack and rolled it out. "This is Alagaësia. Gil'ead is here," she pointed to a dot in the north of the empire. "And we are around here," this time to seemingly nothing, just the open landscape somewhere between Dras-Leona and Urû'baen.
"It is far. And in the empire." Kiphoris looked to the mouth of the cave. They followed his gaze to Alkris. "It is dangerous. I do not like this danger."
"Why are you concerned about our welfare?" Murtagh asked.
The question caught the Captain by surprise. He took a moment to think before answering. "I met humans before. I am honour-bound to pay debts to them, but they are gone. I will try to repay debts with you." More quietly, "I think she would want that." He stood at his full height, as tall as Saphira was. "I wish to make allies, for mine-banner is unable to leave. We must survive. I do not like this king. He is as terrible as Cabal." Eragon briefly wondered what he meant by that. Kiphoris continued. "I will give warriors to keep you safe to the Varden. I must go to mine-crews and join Tarrhis-Mrelliks for war. They are not far."
"Are we going with you?" Tellesa questioned.
Kiphoris shook his head. "No. Alkris and Paltis have decided to stay with you and ensure your safety. I ask you to wait while I prepare them. Viltriks and Melkras will watch you while we go on. It will not take long." He stopped moving and looked directly at Tellesa. "We must speak of Sha'ir."
She opened her mouth, closed, then opened it again. A frown crept over her face. "Why?"
"I am honour-bound. I must seek it out."
"You want to kill him."
"Do not die, yes? I am honour-bound. I must know Sha'ir. I must face them. They are too dangerous."
"He's a friend of mine." Tellesa crossed her arms, giving the Eliksni a stern look. The initial fear of the strange creatures - which still held Eragon - had long since disappeared from her. She was bold to deny the Captain, that was for sure.
Kiphoris growled. "It is of honour. Sha'ir and Mraskilaasan fight before. Mine-banner of old must be honoured."
Tellesa glared right back. "You won't beat him."
"Does not matter."
"You're willing to die for honour?"
Without hesitation, "Yes. It is everything-mine."
"I won't give him up."
"Gah!" The Captain stormed away.
"What was that?" Murtagh asked. Tellesa ignored him and marched out of the cave.
000
Kiphoris left the humans with the two Marauders as the bright day fell to darkness and carried onwards. No longer slowed by the humans, the Eliksni raced ahead to rejoin their brethren. Even if they had no radio to receive coordinates, they could have zoned in on the temporary camp by smell alone. The scent of ether, even faint, stood out against all the others in the clean, breathable air.
The crews had settled in a small dusty valley, posting sentries on the low hills to watch for encroaching foes. The rest settled by the three Skiffs landed in an area where large boulders provided adequate cover. Even there Kiphoris could see the gleam of eyes peeking through the scopes of wire rifles, the watchful gazes of even more guards. The Captain nodded to himself - Raksil had done well.
Their arrival went without ceremony, as many were feeding from their shares of the generous amounts of ether. Kiphoris wondered if the living state of the planet they found themselves on contributed to ether production. He had heard - from Kings and Devils who fled Earth - that Servitors on the human homeworld were particularly efficient. He had tasted of the ether from Winter Servitors fed on Venus and found it more potent, so it must have been true. Those who noticed lowered their heads in submission and acknowledged Kiphoris' return. He passed by without responding and headed straight for the ships.
He joined the Baron's heir by the Skiffs. The young warrior, upon seeing him, practically shoved the silver token of Captain back to Kiphoris.
"You had trouble?" Kiphoris asked curiously.
Raksil closed his inner eyes. "No, mine-Captain. They followed my orders. We moved frequently, as you advised."
"Then what is the issue?"
"I do not like commanding outside of battle. I do not like having lives depending on my every decision."
"That is command in its truest form, Raksil-Devoted, and your words are a good sign, yes? A good leader must care for his kin, his people, his crews. Have we heard from others?"
Raksil nodded. "Sundrass sends a message. She has seen smoke from Cabal warship."
"I trust she has not engaged them in war?"
"She has not. There was something else..."
"Oh? What is it?"
Raksil fumbled with the edge of his cloak. "She says, ah, to polish your armour when we next meet."
Kiphoris stopped dead. Then he began grumbling, "Gah, psekiskar."
"Captain?"
"It is nothing. Forget heard-words, Raksil. Better for us all." He exhaled. "We have encountered others."
"You have?" Raksil peered up at him. "What are they?"
"Humans. I do not think they are foes of ours - these few, in any case. I have left them guarded, for they are hunted by unpleasant creatures. Do you recall the tales of the Bone-Pickers?"
Raksil nodded. "Eia, the most wicked of pests. Mine-sire slaughtered the last to bother our banner. You have seen some?"
"I have. They hunt the humans."
"They hunt humans? Are we to take them to safety?"
"They will not stay with us, for their path leads elsewhere. Their journey is full of peril-undeserving. I will see them healthy to their destination."
"But... how will we do that?"
Kiphoris exhaled. "I will send warriors with them. Two have volunteered."
"Will this earn us allies?"
"I do not know, only that they are not enemies and undeserving of slaughter. I will inform our Baron of this decision in my report. I hope that we might benefit from this."
Raksil clicked his mandibles together. "Was it not the humans who brought us down? Was it another?"
Kiphoris shook his head. "Nama, I do not think it was their people. I hardly understand it, but these humans have little in forms of machinery. They are like us from before Elder Days. What flies above is their work, but work of ancestors, of banners-forgotten. I have seen it before. What wounded the Monoliks-Syn is another creature, an angry child of the human mind forged of electricity and processing units." Kiphoris looked up at the clear sky. "I do not know why it ignores us now, but we must not provoke it. Its sibling once shattered an entire Cabal legion and outwitted their Flayers."
"Mighty indeed," Raksil exhaled.
A moment passed. "How fares our Kell?"
"He slumbers." The Vandal growled. "He is the bane of our existence."
"Hatchlings always are. Now, fetch me our High Servitor. I have need of it."
The Captain detached his vocal synthesizer and, when the High Servitor came by to warble at him, he presented it in cupped hands. The machine scanned the data found within, turned about, and opened a valve to push out Glimmer, which it then formed into identical gadgets.
"Be at ease, Obleker, be at ease," Kiphoris said. The High Servitor groaned and connected to the small devices with cables, uploading the information to their small, limited databanks. Once detached, it blinked its singular optic at him, awaiting instruction.
"You may return, Obleker," Kiphoris told it. It hummed and floated away.
He found Paltis and Alkris arguing with the quartermaster over batteries for their rifles. The unfazed Vandal stood back and crossed his arms, not budging an inch. "No more. Not after what you did last time," the quartermaster glared at Paltis.
She hissed.
"I've ordered it." Kiphoris towered over them all, looking at each in turn. "Give them three fusion discs each; it should be enough. And find an ether-converter. They will need it.
The Vandal bowed his head and delved into one of the Skiffs, coming back with the batteries that powered all their Arcarms. The Marauders delicately took them and put them away onto the bandoliers, belts, and pouches on their armour. They were well-armed, bearing a wire rifle and shock sword each, coupled with numerous knives and pistols. Once they were packed, they were allowed to feed, gulping down heavy amounts of ether and grabbing a handful of consumables each. The Splicers among them - who carefully tended to their Servitors - kindly allocated to them blocks of carefully preserved ether bales. The frozen ether wasn't near as pleasant as the fresh kind, but it lasted far longer. It would be necessary if their converter were to malfunction.
000
When Kiphoris returned, Tellesa's breath caught in her throat. Her fists shook by her side. If he pressed for the information, she wouldn't be near as polite as before.
Kiphoris said something to his people. Viltriks and Melkras grabbed their belongings and readied themselves to leave. Then, the Captain turned around to address her. "Alkris and Paltis will guard you. They will see you safely to the Varden and then return to me. The Bone-Pickers will not trouble you, but be wary." He reached back into his cloak and retrieved the form of an object familiar to her.
She grabbed the Tigerspite out of his hands and held it close. It was a relief to see it undamaged. "Thanks," she said awkwardly.
Kiphoris wasn't fazed. He reached for her arm. "You have Corsair-spirit. You inherit-earn this. I ask, last time, for Sha'ir."
Tellesa shook his hand off. "No. I'm not going to betray anyone."
He sighed, but brooked no further argument. Kiphoris left her be and looked to Eragon. "You are strong now, yes?"
The Rider nodded.
The Eliksni looked up. "And what of you? Will you fare well?" He asked Saphira. The dragon narrowed her blue eyes, then lowered her head. The Captain flinched - Tellesa knew that the dragon was speaking directly to his mind. He tentatively reached out and gently placed his hand against Saphira's snout. "Nama... Eia... I am honour-bound. Mine-debts will be paid... Ah, they will fare well. They are strong."
Satisfied, Saphira pulled away. Kiphoris finally turned to Murtagh. "Be watchful, night-thief."
"... I will..." Murtagh muttered, eyeing the Eliksni suspiciously
"Farewell, humans." Kiphoris bowed his helm. He stepped away. Melkras and Viltriks followed him, leaving Paltis and Alkris.
000
"Are you strong enough to travel?" Murtagh asked, frowning.
"I have to do something or I'll go crazy," Eragon said brusquely. "Sparring, practicing magic, or sitting around twiddling my thumbs aren't good options right now, so I choose to ride."
They doused the campfire, packed, and led the horses out of the cave. Eragon handed Cadoc's and Snowfire's reins to Tellesa, saying, "Go on, I'll be right down."
Eragon struggled up the sandstone, resting when his side made it impossible to breathe. When he reached the top, he found Saphira already there. They stood together before Brom's grave and paid their last respects. I can believe he's gone... forever. As Eragon turned to depart, Saphira snaked out her long neck to touch the tomb with the tip of her nose. Her sides vibrated as a low humming filled the air.
The sandstone around her nose shimmered like gilded dew, turning clear with dancing silver highlights. Eragon watched in wonder as tendrils of white diamond twisted over the tomb's surface in a web of priceless filigree. Sparkling shadows were cast on the ground, reflecting splashes of brilliant colours that shifted dazzlingly as the sandstone continued to change. With a satisfied snort, Saphira stepped back and examined her handiwork.
The sculpted sandstone mausoleum of moments before had transformed into a sparkling gemstone vault - under which Brom's untouched face was visible. Eragon gazed with yearning at the old man, who seemed to be only sleeping.
"What did you do?" He asked Saphira with awe.
"I gave him the only gift I could. Now time will not ravage him. He can rest in peace for eternity."
"Thank you." Eragon put a hand on her side, and they left together.
Riding was extremely painful for Eragon - his broken ribs prevented them from going faster than a walk, and it was impossible for him to breathe deeply without a burst of agony. Nevertheless, he refused to stop. Saphira walked alongside them, her mind linked with his for solace and strength.
Murtagh rode confidently beside Snowfire, flowing smoothly with the horse's movements. Eragon watched the grey animal for a while. "You have a beautiful animal. What's his name?"
"Tornac, after the man who taught me how to fight." Murtagh patted the horse's side. "He was given to me when he was just a foal. You'd be hard pressed to find a more courageous and intelligent animal in all of the empire."
"He is a magnificent beast," Eragon agreed admiringly.
Murtagh laughed. "Yes, but Snowfire is as close to his match as I've ever seen."
They weren't covering great distances that day, yet Eragon was glad to be on the move again. It kept his mind off other, more morbid matters. The perfect distraction came in the form of Alkris. The Eliksni lumbered beside the horses, easily keeping up with their relaxed pace just walking upright. He had begun to test out words in common, with some difficulty. Tellesa and Murtagh humoured him with small smiles and corrected any word he had difficulty forming. Eragon saw no reason not to join in.
They rode through unsettled lands. The road to Dras-Leona was several leagues to their left. They aimed to skirt the city by a large margin on the way to Gil'ead, which was almost as far to the north as Carvahall.
They sold Cadoc in a small village. As the horse was led away by his new owner, Eragon regretfully pocketed the few coins he had gained from the transaction. It was difficult to relinquish Cadoc after crossing half of Alagaësia - and outracing the Urgals - on him.
The days rolled by unnoticed as their small group traveled in isolation. Eragon was pleased to find that he and Murtagh shared many of the same interests; they spent hours debating the finer points of archery and hunting. He was glad to see that Saphira - who had once disliked the Eliksni - found some enjoyment in attempting to converse with Alkris and Paltis. Though the latter was short-tempered and aggressive, the former was easily likeable and almost always in high spirits, easily calming his companion. It boded well for the occasions they passed other travelers on the roads or delved into small settlements scattered throughout the empire, so that Saphira had both company and protection when she and the Eliksni had to part from the humans. It had been more than difficult to explain it to the two foreign warriors the first time it was necessary, but they found some semblance of understanding before long.
He found there was one topic he, Tellesa, and Murtagh avoided discussing by unspoken consent: their pasts. Eragon did not explain how he had found Saphira, met Brom, or where he came from, though he knew that Tellesa was familiar with some of that tale. Murtagh was likewise mute as to why the empire was chasing him. Tellesa refused to speak at any length about her past, leaving Eragon to only go on the few hints she had dropped in the past. It was a simple arrangement, but it worked and all were content.
Yet because of their proximity, it was inevitable that they learned about each other. Eragon was intrigued by Murtagh's familiarity with the power struggles and politics within the empire. He seemed to know what every noble and courtier was doing and how it affected everyone else. Eragon listened carefully, suspicions whirling through his mind.
The first week went by without any sign of the Ra'zac, which allayed some of Eragon's fears. It was different without Kiphoris' size and power, and though he feared the Captain, he hadn't known how much the presence of the large Eliksni had comforted him until it was gone. Eragon trusted Alkris and Paltis more readily - they were large, fast, and powerful simply because they were Eliksni, but they carried the same pride and strength their leader possessed. They were, for want of a better term, more like ordinary people.
They kept watches at night. Eragon expected to encounter Urgals on the way to Gil'ead, but they found no trace of them. I thought these remote places would be teeming with monsters, he mused. Still, I'm not one to complain if they've gone elsewhere.
He dreamed of the woman no more. And though he tried to scry her, he saw only an empty cell. Whenever they passed a town or village, he checked if it had a jail. If it did, he would disguise himself and visit it, but she was not to be found. His disguises became more elaborate as he saw notices featuring his name and description - and offering a substantial reward for his capture - posted in various towns.
Their travels forced them north towards the capital, Urû'baen. It was a heavily populated area, which made it difficult to escape notice. Soldiers patrolled the roads and guarded the bridges. It took them several tense, irritable days to skirt the capital.
Once they were safely past the city, they found themselves on the verge of a vast plain. It was the same one that Eragon had crossed after leaving Palancar Valley, except now he was on the opposite side. They kept to the perimeter of the plain and continued north, following the Ramr River.
Eragon's sixteenth birthday came and went during this time. At Carvahall a celebration would have been held for his entrance into adulthood, but in the wilderness he did not even mention it to the others.
At nearly six months of age, Saphira was much larger. Her wings were massive; every inch of them was needed to lift her muscular body and thick bones. The fangs that jutted from her jaw were nearly as thick around as Eragon's fist, their points as sharp as Zar'roc.
The day finally came when Eragon unwrapped his side for the last time. His ribs had healed completely, leaving him with only a small scar where the Ra'zac's boot had cut his side. As Saphira watched, he stretched slowly, then with increasing vigor when there was no pain, leaving him pleased. In an earlier time he would have smiled, but after Brom's death, such expressions did not come to him easily.
He tugged his tunic on and walked back to the small fire they had made. Murtagh and Paltis sat next to it, the former whittling a piece of wood. The Eliksni had removed her helmet, revealing a shock of bristly carmine hair running back over the centre of her skull. Her face was marked by plates of exoskeleton over her scalps and around her eye sockets. Most remarkable, however, was her mouth. It was filled with large serrated fangs curving back, designed to rip through flesh. The two mandibles on the lower jaw were tipped with large tusks on the end and likewise lined with fearsome teeth. Her nostrils were located between the inner two eyes, placed above the blue orbs. Her ears were like Saphira's; holes in the side of their skulls. It was as far from human as Eragon thought it could get, but the nervousness had faded some time after he had seen the Eliksni's bare heads.
Eragon drew Zar'roc. Murtagh tensed, though his face remained calm. Paltis didn't give any indication of noticing.
"Now that I am strong enough, would you like to spar?" Eragon asked.
Murtagh tossed the wood to the side. "With sharpened swords? We could kill each other."
"Here, give me your sword," Eragon said. Murtagh hesitated, then handed over his long hand-and-a-half blade. Eragon blocked the edges with magic, the way Brom had taught him. While Murtagh examined the blade, Eragon assuredsaid, "I can undo that once we're finished."
Murtagh checked the balance of his sword. Satisfied, he said, "It will do."
Eragon warded Zar'roc, settled into a crouch, then swung at Murtagh's shoulder. Their swords met in midair. Paltis yelped and glared at them. She moved away as Eragon disengaged with a flourish, then thrusted forward with a riposte that Murtagh parried and danced away from.
He's fast! Eragon thought.
They struggled back and forth, trying to batter each other down. After a particularly intense series of blows, Murtagh started laughing. Not only was it impossible for either of them to gain an advantage, but they were so evenly matched that they tired at the same rate. Acknowledging each other's skill, they fought on until their arms were leaden and sweat poured off their sides.
Finally, Eragon called, "Enough, halt!"
Murtagh stopped mid-blow and sat down with a gasp. Eragon staggered to the ground, his chest heaving. None of his fights with Brom had been this fierce. As he gulped air, Murtagh exclaimed, "You're amazing! I've studied swordplay all my life, but never have I fought one like you. You could be the king's weapon master if you wanted to."
"You're just as good," observed Eragon, still panting. "The man who taught you, Tornac, could make a fortune with a fencing school. People would come from all parts of Alagaësia to learn from him."
"He's dead," Murtagh said shortly.
"I'm sorry."
Paltis grumbled something and clacked her fangs, her displeasure evident. Her hands flew over the strange contraption she and Alkris had brought with them. When the others returned with animals bagged for supper, Alkris joined the other Eliksni and dropped a few items - rocks, some earth, and old bones of wild beasts - into the metal object. Paltis closed it. Not long after, they held cups to a valve on its side, catching a pale bluish liquid with the disposition of water. The two drank it eagerly.
Eragon wanted to ask, but he knew that it wouldn't garner any solid answers, so he stowed the question away for when they could communicate more efficiently.
"Fare?" Alkris asked with a heavy accent, having caught Eragon watching then. His outer two eyes narrowed, and the bright blue glow brightened.
Eragon nodded. "I am well."
Alkris nodded and returned to drinking. The liquid - whatever it was - had a faintly sweet smell, like sugared treats.
It soon became a custom to spar in the evening, which kept them lean and fit. Tellesa would often join too, testing them both against her unorthodox method of combat.
Then, one day, Alkris stood and brushed off his own sword. Eragon studied it and marveled at the workmanship. It was single edged, and curved at the tip. The grip had a large guard for the fingers and a wrapping of leather around the handle so that it wouldn't slip from the bearer's grasp. It appeared sturdy and practical, not quite as versatile or elegant as Zar'roc.
"Fight?" Alkris asked. Eragon accepted his challenge and guarded the edges of the blades, while the Eliksni watched on in amazement.
However, Eragon soon learned that it might have been more merciful to leave it unwarded. Each strike from Alkris was like a hammer blow; inhumanely powerful and unrelenting. Eragon was forced to move fast, lest the Eliksni shatter his bones, but Alkris was quicker still. He even tossed the blade to his other hands to mix it up, which Eragon was hard pressed to defend against.
It became very clear that Alkris could not be beaten. Not by any human, by Eragon's reckoning. He wondered whether Brom's bold claim about the skill of elven swordcraft could be applied to Eliksni. It certainly seemed like it. So, when Alkris knocked Eragon down, he knew that there was no other option than to admit defeat. The Eliksni helped him up and would test him and the others on occasion, though none of them could ever hope to beat him.
With his return to health, Eragon also resumed practicing magic. Murtagh was curious about it and soon revealed that he knew a surprising amount about how it worked, though he lacked the precise details and could not use it himself. Whenever Eragon practiced speaking in the ancient language, Murtagh would listen in quietly, sometimes asking what a word meant.
On the outskirts of Gil'ead they stopped, horses side by side. It had taken them nearly a month to reach it, during which time spring had finally nudged away the remnants of winter. Eragon had felt himself changing during the trip, growing stronger and calmer. He still thought about Brom and spoke about him with Sapira and Tellesa, but for the most part he tried not to awaken painful memories.
From a distance they could see the city was a rough, barbaric place, filled with log houses and yapping dogs. There was a rambling stone fortress at its centre. The air was hazy with wood smoke. The place seemed more like a temporary trading post than a permanent city. Five miles beyond it was the hazy outline of Isenstar Lake.
They decided to camp two miles from the city, for safety. While their dinner simmered, Murtagh said, "I'm not sure you should be the one to go into Gil'ead."
"Why? I can disguise myself well enough," Eragon argued. "And Dormnad will want to see the gedwëy ignasia as proof that I really am a Rider."
"Perhaps," Murtagh replied. "But the empire wants you much more than me."
"And they don't want me at all," Tellesa rolled her eyes. "I'll go."
"Hold on. Did the Ra'zac see your face?"
"They..." The colour drained from Tellesa. "Damn. But that doesn't mean..."
"They know you're traveling with Eragon now. They'll send word out. And, like it or not, a woman traveling by herself is sure to cause some suspicion," Murtagh pointed out. "If I'm captured, I could eventually escape. But if either of you are taken, they'll drag you to the king, where you'll be in for a slow death by torture - unless you join him." He looked at Eragon. "Plus, Gil'ead is one of the army's major staging points. Those aren't houses out there; they're barracks. Going in there would be like handing yourself to the king on a gilded platter."
Eragon asked Saphira for her opinion. She lowered her head to sniff at the air. "You shouldn't have to ask me; he speaks sense. There are certain words I can give him that will convince Dormnad of his truthfulness. And Murtagh's right; if anyone is to risk capture it should be him, because he would live through it."
Eragon grimaced. "I don't like letting others put themselves in danger for us." He sighed reluctantly. "Alright, you can go. But if anything goes wrong, we're coming after you."
Murtagh laughed. "That would be fit for a legend: how a lone Rider took on the king's army single-handedly. Is there anything I should know before going?"
"Shouldn't we rest and wait until tomorrow?" Eragon asked cautiously.
"Why? The longer we stay here, the greater the chance that we'll be discovered. If this Dormnad can take you to the Varden, then he needs to be found as quickly as possible. Neither of us should remain near Gil'ead longer than a few days."
"Again wisdom flies from his mouth," Saphira commented. She told Eragon what should be said to Dormnad, and he relayed the information to Murtagh. Then they informed Paltis, who looked at Murtagh for a few seconds and then nodded. The Eliksni were quick learners, and now had a very rudimentary understanding of the human language. Alkris was still away hunting, but was expected back shortly.
"Very well," Murtagh said, adjusting his sword. "Unless there's trouble, I'll be back within a couple of hours. Make sure there's some food left for me." With a wave of his hand, he jumped onto Tornac and rode away. Eragon sat by the fire, tapping Zar'roc's pommel apprehensively.
Hours passed, but Murtagh did not return. The Eliksni chittered worriedly among themselves. Saphira watched Gil'ead attentively, while Eragon and Tellesa cleaned up after the meal.
"Look!" Saphira rose up.
Eragon swiveled toward Gil'ead, alert. He saw a distant horseman exit the city and ride furiously toward their camp. "I don't like this," he told her. "Be ready to fly."
"I'm prepared for more than that."
"Is it him?" Tellesa whispered.
As the rider approached, Eragon recognized Murtagh bent low over Tornac. No one seemed to be pursuing him, but he did not slow his reckless pace. He galloped into the camp and jumped to the ground, drawing his sword.
"What's wrong?" Tellesa asked him. The Eliksni snarled and looked ready for war.
Murtagh scowled. "Did anyone follow me from Gil'ead?"
"We didn't see anyone," Eragon told him.
"Good. Then let me eat before I explain. I'm starving." He seized a bowl and began eating with gusto. After a few sloppy bites, he spoke through a full mouth, saying "Dormnad has agreed to meet us outside Gil'ead at sunrise tomorrow. If he's satisfied you really are a Rider and that it's not a trap, he'll take you to the Varden."
"Where are we supposed to meet him?" Eragon asked.
Murtagh pointed west. "On a small hill across the road."
"So what happened?"
Murtagh spooned more food into his bowl. "It's a rather simple thing, but all the more deadly because of it: I was seen in the street by someone who knows me. I did the only thing I could and ran away. It was too late, though; he recognized me."
It was unfortunate, but Eragon was unsure how bad it really was. "Since I don't know him, I have to ask: Will he tell anyone?"
Murtagh gave a strained laugh. "If you had met him, that wouldn't need answering. His mouth is loosely hinged and hangs open all the time, vomiting whatever happens to be in his mind. The question isn't whether he will tell people, but whom he will tell. If word of this reaches the wrong ears, we'll be in trouble."
"I doubt that soldiers will be sent to search for you in the dark," Eragon pointed out. "We can at least count on being safe until morning, and by then, if all goes well, we'll be leaving with Dormnad."
Murtagh shook his head. "No. As I said before, I won't go to the Varden."
Eragon stared at him unhappily. He wanted Murtagh to stay. They had become friends during their travels, and he was loath to tear that apart. He glanced at Tellesa, but she only offered a helpless shrug. Eragon started to protest, but Saphira hushed him and said gently, "Wait until tomorrow. Now is not the time."
"Very well," he replied glumly. They talked until the stars were bright in the sky, then slept as Saphira and Alkris took the first watch.
Eragon woke many hours before dawn, his palm tingling. Everything was still and quiet, but something sought his attention, like an itch in his mind. He buckled on Zar'roc and stood, careful not to make a sound. Saphira looked at him, her large eyes bright. Beside her, Alkris had removed his helm, his forked tongue shooting out briefly to taste the air. He appeared troubled.
"What is it?" Saphira asked.
"I don't know," Eragon answered. He saw nothing amiss.
Alkris inhaled through is nostrils. He hissed quietly and stood straighter. "Ride-beasts," he said quietly. "Not us. Bad."
"Trouble," Saphira surmised. She stood up as silently as she could.
Eragon crept to Tellesa and shook her shoulder. She awoke with a start, hand reaching for her sword, but calmed upon seeing it was him. "What is it?" She asked.
"Horses nearby," Eragon whispered. He moved onto Murtagh. The other boy, once awake, drew his weapon. Paltis was already up by then, roused by the low sounds of the other Elksni. All of them held weapons and looked about. A nearby squirrel chittered, startling Eragon.
Then an angry snarl from behind made him spin around, sword held high. A broad-shouldered Urgal had crept to the edge of their camp, carrying a mattock with a nasty spike. Where did it come from? We haven't seen their tracks anywhere! Eragon thought. The Urgal roared and waved his weapon, but did not charge. Alkris growled right back.
"Brisingr!" Eragon barked, stabbing out with magic. The Urgals' face contorted with terror as he exploded in a flash of blue light. Blood splattered across the grass, and a heap of burnt flesh littered the ground.
Behind him, Saphira cried out with alarm and reared. Eragon twisted around. While he had been occupied with the first Urgal, a group of them had run up from the side. Of all the stupid tricks to fall for!
Steel clashed loudly as the Eliksni threw themselves at their new foes, brutally tearing into whichever Urgal was reckless enough to come close. Eragon tried to join them, but found himself suddenly blocked by four of the monsters. The first swung a sword at his shoulder. He ducked beneath the blow and killed the attacker with magic. He caught a second in the throat with Zar'roc, wheeled wildly, and pierced a third through the heart. As he did, the fourth rushed at him, swinging a heavy club.
Eragon saw it coming and tried to lift his sword, but it caught on the dead Urgal's ribs and was a second too slow. As the club came down on his head, he screamed, "Fly, Saphira!"
A burst of light filled his eyes and he lost consciousness.
AN: Next trio of chapters is going to focus on Ikharos and the trouble brewing there. After that, I'm going to stop making three-part sections and turn to more individual chapters to allow me that bit more flexibility in writing, starting with one on the Cabal side of things.
I appreciate all the compliments and nice things people have to say. I am truly grateful for it.
Also, huge thanks to Nomad Blue for the edits and suggestions. I'd be screaming with horror at the glaring mistakes I've made without him.