The next day was easier on them all, Yomir watched and listened and participated in the tests Brom had for Eragon. Due to feeling better, having more magic in his weary body, Eragon managed to answer Brom's questions correctly. After an especially difficult exercise, Eragon mentioned his scrying of a woman he had dreamed of, one that he had no means to otherwise know of.
Brom pulled on his beard. "You say she was imprisoned?"
"Yes." Eragon answered, his voice soft but determined.
"Did you see her face?" asked Brom intently.
"Not very clearly. The lighting was bad, yet I could tell that she was beautiful. It's strange; I didn't have any problem seeing her eyes. And she did look at me."
Brom shook his head. "As far as I know, it's impossible for anyone to know if they're being scryed upon."
"Do you know who she might be?" asked Eragon, his voice brimming with excitement that seemed to shock him.
"Not really," admitted Brom. "If pressed, I suppose I could come up with a few guesses, but none of them would be very likely. This dream of yours is peculiar. Somehow you managed to scry in your sleep something that you'd never seen before—without saying the words of power. Dreams do occasionally touch the spirit realm, but this is different."
"Perhaps to understand this we should search every prison and dungeon until we find the woman," bantered Eragon. '
Brom laughed and rode on.
Yomir sighed. "It is unlikely that we would find her, Eragon. That being said, from what I know about magic, you are likely to find her one day. Dreams like yours tend to be prophetic, it is likely she is a part of your future."
That made Eragon flush, to Yomir's deep pleasure.
'''
Brom's strict training filled nearly every hour as the days slowly blended into weeks. Yomir, with his returned knowledge, outpaced even Brom in terms of sheer talent dominating even his two friends at once due to sheer skill and raw power. Neither could match up to him, with or without his axe. It was a relief to have his old skills back, the years of fighting his fellow slaves and prisoners, it had given him a ruthlessness that he had lacked without those memories.
Eragon improved though and picked up on Yomir's dirty tricks, for one he learned to wield with his left hand after watching Yomir do the same. He knew to use his fists to land dirty hits against a person's diaphragm or thighs or throat. He knew to aim for the hamstrings or painful nerves, places to cripple and disarm your enemy if you could not overcome them in sheer skill or power. It helped level his fights against Yomir ever so slightly.
Brom was not pleased with the dirty fighting but seemed resigned to accept it.
By the time they crossed the Spine and came to the plains, spring had crept over Alagaësia, summoning a multitude of flowers. The bare deciduous trees were russet with buds, while new blades of grass began to push up between last year's dead stalks. Birds returned from their winter absence to mate and build nests. The travelers followed the Toark River southeast, along the edge of the Spine. It grew steadily as tributaries flowed into it from every side, feeding its bulging girth.
When the river was over a league wide, Brom pointed at the silt islands that dotted the water. "We're close to Leona Lake now," he said. "It's only about two leagues away."
That very notion left Yomir with a dry mouth, his hands shaking as the familiar sight of his old home land burned into his very soul. The smells of the city wafted over the lake, bringing the lovely stench of blood and the foulness of human sweat and shit and sadness.
It was the aura of Dras Leona.
"Do you think we can get there before nightfall?" asked Eragon.
"We can try."
Dusk soon made the trail hard to follow, but the sound of the river at their side guided them. When the moon rose, the bright disk provided enough light to see what lay ahead. Leona Lake looked like a thin sheet of silver beaten over the land. The water was so calm and smooth it did not even seem to be liquid. Aside from a bright strip of moonlight reflecting off the surface, it was indistinguishable from the ground. Saphira was on the rocky shore, fanning her wings to dry them.
They set up camp under a stand of trees and were soon asleep.
"""
Before dinner the next day, Eragon blocked Zar'roc's edge in preparation for their usual sparring. Neither he nor Brom moved as they waited for the other to strike first. Yomir watched from his spot at the edge of the camp. Eragon inspected their surroundings for anything that might give him an advantage. A stick near the fire caught his attention. Eragon swooped down, grabbed the stick, and hurled it at Brom.
The piece of wood managed to smash into the man's chest, making him step back in shock and pain. The old man snarled for a moment before he rushed forward, swinging his sword. Eragon ducked just as the blade whistled over his head. He growled and tackled Brom ferociously. They pitched to the ground, each struggling to stay on top. Eragon rolled to the side and swept Zar'roc over the ground at Brom's shins.
Brom parried the blow with the hilt of his sword, then jumped to his feet. Twisting as he stood, Eragon attacked again, guiding Zar'roc through a complex pattern. Sparks danced from their blades as they struck again and again. Brom blocked each blow, his face tight with concentration. But Eragon could tell that he was tiring. The relentless hammering continued as each sought an opening in the other's defenses.
Then Eragon felt the battle change. Blow by blow he gained advantage; Brom's parries slowed and he lost ground. Eragon easily blocked a stab from Brom. Veins pulsed on the old man's forehead and cords bulged in his neck from the effort. Suddenly confident, Eragon swung Zar'roc faster than ever, weaving a web of steel around Brom's sword. With a burst of speed, he smashed the flat of his blade against Brom's guard and knocked the sword to the ground. Before Brom could react, Eragon flicked Zar'roc up to his throat.
They stood panting, the red sword tip resting on Brom's collarbone.
Eragon slowly lowered his arm and backed away. It was the first time he had bested Brom without resorting to trickery./ even the trickery Yomir had impressed on him to learn. Brom picked up his sword and sheathed it. Still breathing hard, he said, "We're done for today."
"But we just started," said Eragon, startled.
Brom shook his head. "I can teach you nothing more of the sword. Of all the fighters I've met, only three of them could have defeated me like that... four, if you count Yomir, but like the Elves he is blessed with speed and power unlike anything I have encountered." He smiled ruefully. "I may not be as young as I used to be, but I can tell that you're a talented and rare swordsman."
"Does this mean we're not going to spar every night?" asked Eragon.
"Oh, you're not getting out of it," laughed Brom. "But we'll go easier now. It's not as important if we miss a night here or there." He wiped his brow. "Just remember, if you ever have the misfortune to fight an elf—trained or not, female or male—expect to lose. They, along with dragons and other creatures of magic, are many times stronger than nature intended. Even the weakest elf could easily overpower you. The same goes for the Ra'zac—they are not human and tire much more slowly than we do." Then he stopped. "Consider it like fighting Yomir, your skill only matters so much when compared to his raw physical power."
"Is there any way to become their equal?" asked Eragon. He sat cross-legged by Saphira.
'You fought well' she said. He smiled.
Brom seated himself with a shrug. "There are a few, but none are available to you now. Magic will let you defeat all but the strongest enemies. For those you'll need Saphira's help, plus a great deal of luck. Remember, when creatures of magic actually use magic, they can accomplish things that could kill a human, because of their enhanced abilities."
"How do you fight with magic?" asked Eragon.
"What do you mean?"
"Well," he said, leaning on an elbow. "Suppose I was attacked by a Shade. How could I block his magic? Most spells take place instantaneously, which makes it impossible to react in time. And even if I could, how would I nullify an enemy's magic? It seems I would have to know my opponent's intention before he acted." He paused. "I just don't see how it can be done. Whoever attacked first would win."
Brom sighed. "What you are talking about—a 'wizards' duel,' if you will—is extremely dangerous. Haven't you ever wondered how Galbatorix was able to defeat all of the Riders with the help of only a dozen or so traitors?"
"I never thought about it," acknowledged Eragon.
"There are several ways. Some you'll learn about later, but the main one is that Galbatorix was, and still is, a master of breaking into people's minds. You see, in a wizards' duel there are strict rules that each side must observe or else both contestants will die. To begin with, no one uses magic until one of the participants gains access to the other's mind."
Saphira curled her tail comfortably around Eragon and asked, Why wait? By the time an enemy realizes that you've attacked, it will be too late for him to act. Eragon repeated the question out loud.
Brom shook his head. "No, it won't. If I were to suddenly use my power against you, Eragon, you would surely die, but in the brief moment before you were destroyed, there would be time for a counterattack. Therefore, unless one combatant has a death wish, neither side attacks until one of them has breached the other's defenses."
"Then what happens?" Eragon inquired.
Brom shrugged and said, "Once you're inside your enemy's mind, it's easy enough to anticipate what he will do and prevent it. Even with that advantage, it's still possible to lose if you don't know how to counteract spells." He filled and lit his pipe. "And that requires extraordinarily quick thinking. Before you can defend yourself, you have to understand the exact nature of the forces directed at you. If you're being attacked with heat, you have to know whether it is being conveyed to you through air, fire, light, or some other medium. Only once that's known can you combat the magic by, for instance, chilling the heated material."
"It sounds difficult."
"Extremely," confirmed Brom. A plume of smoke rose from his pipe. "Seldom can people survive such a duel for more than a few seconds. The enormous amount of effort and skill required condemns anyone without the proper training to a quick death. Once you've progressed, I'll start teaching you the necessary methods. In the meantime, if you ever find yourself facing a wizards' duel, I suggest you run away as fast as you can."
Having been listening quietly, Yomir leaned forward. "What about wards? Or mental defense training? I noticed it before but you've never taught him how to do much more then simple defense. I am a master mind breaker, since we are going to be worrying about sword fighting less, I could teach him what I know about mental defense. Things even you couldn't fathom, tricks and secrets that held back even Durza and the multiple minds he carries as one infused with spirits."
Eragon all but crowed, excited to hear of this from his friend. "That would be helpful, but I thought it was wrong to enter the mind of others, Brom? And what are wards?"
Brom sighed. "It is, but he is right. Just because it is wrong, improper even, to prey on the minds of others you need to master this skill. Yomir is no doubt more skilled at this then I am, in both areas. It would be proper for him to teach this to you, if only as a last resort... as for Wards... those are complex and I want you to master more of the Ancient Language before we reach those. It would not due for you to die because you did more then you are ready for."
" I know of some wards... interesting ones." Yomir smirked deeply. "I used to be able to practice magic like any other, I was taught wards that protect from quite a bit. Even some of the Death words."
Brom's eyes widened. " How powerful were you?"
"As powerful as I needed to be, but not as much as I would have liked... I could do more then your average Wizard or Sorcerer, I knew how to harness Spirits in theory though I never used this kind of magic. I could heal most common injuries, cast simple wards,... things of that nature. I was not a master, by any means. Durza is a monster but a powerful teacher, I learned a great deal from him. It is a pity I lost that power when he changed me to... well, whatever I am now. The Urgals called me Grim Hunter, so I suppose that name could work if nothing else."
Despite his loathing of the Urgals, Eragon could not help but agree with their title for Yomir. Grim Hunter indeed, it fit him well.
"When do we start, training with our minds?" Eragon asked, unable to mask his curiosity.
Yomir smirked something that genuinely frightened Eragon before the terrifying feel of the boy's mind over took him. It wasn't like Brom's mind, aggressive but clearly human, it was unyielding and bloodthirsty and rang with a frightening power. A song danced in the background, high pitched like a birds only haunting and wailing. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced and yet it reminded him some how of Saphira, just as bloodthirsty and self assured and powerful.
And it was with this feeling that he spent his night, trying to fight against it for what felt like hours.
Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.
This was fun to write, I love this story.
Love, your Ninja Overlord,
Mika.