Chapter 5: The Race Begins
A/N: Its been awhile but the good news is that I have completely planned out his story, start to finish and I got myself a beta reader as well. The amazing Umbridoar. Anyway enjoy the chapter and until next time~The Beagle
Following his conversation with Brom all Dorian wanted to do was finish his mug of warm ale and head upstairs for a few hours of restless sleep. His eyelids refused to obey his orders however, and they slowly closed despite his futile struggle to keep them open. With a resigned sigh he crossed his arms on the rough hewn table in front of him, and gently lowered his head upon them, immediately falling asleep.
Once more he entered a now familiar dreamscape, his confusion now replaced with a feeling of foreboding with a hint of curiosity. These dreams were never fun, but he was learning more and more about his past with each journey into the depths of his mind.
This was just like the other dreams, but this time it was in a densely wooded area, with centuries old forest surrounding a bare clearing. Where only dirt and the destitute husks of once mighty trees remained.
This circle of decay was strangely uniform and seemed to emit from a single yew tree, its height and girth supported by centuries of growth. It stood solitary in the middle of the clearing while Dorian stood in silence, observing. He didnt have to wait for long however, because a strange man walked in from the other side of the grove. He stood around 6ft tall and wore a ragged, threadbare cloak covered in stitches and patches from a long life of wear and tear. It was torn in places and did a very poor job of hiding the massive longbow strung across the his back, along with the full quiver of arrows around his waist.
The man approached the tree cautiously, his steps purposeful and quiet. As he grew closer and closer the beat of Dorians heart grew louder and louder until he was sure it would burst out of his chest. Once the man was close enough a strange energy seemed to leap from the tree, connecting to the man's outstretched hand. He was immediately bathed in an sickly green glow and a ornate bracer appeared on his wrist, while a slow hum emanated from the tree.
"HAHA!" he yelled in glee, ecstatic at finally claiming his prize, "It's mine, all mine! With this I will finally re-"
His frantic speech was cut off as a sleek arrow whizzed out from behind an ancient oak tree, far enough away from the circle so as not to be affected by its insidious energies and buried itself up to the fletching in the strangers back.
He swayed for a moment, as if on the precipice of life and death before collapsing face down. After a moment a lean, and graceful elf revealed herself from her hiding spot and took several steps forward with her bow drawn, keeping it trained on the now prone form of the man in front of her. Cautious and careful she edged as close as possible to the man before loosing her drawn arrow into his head, confirming his death. She then dragged the body out of the clearing, careful to stay as far away from the tree as possible.
Dorian looked on, his lips pursed into a straight line as he watched the brutal slaughter. The elf however seemed undisturbed about the man she had just murdered and continued to slowly drag off the body, before disappearing into the dense forest. The memory faded into darkness and a low mist crept in around Dorian's feet.
"The elves jealously guard their secrets Dorian", a once strange, but now familiar voice whispered in his ear, "Perhaps you could convince them to tell you about your heritage, and that bow you keep strung, but never use".
"Enough games, give me answers!" he yelled into the oppressive darkness, his voice echoing right back into his ears.
"If only it were that easy Dorian of Hearthkeep" the voice breathed into his ear, cackling madly as the fog of his dreams gave way to the harsh reality of the drafty tavern once more.
Dorian blinked slowly, trying his best to focus his muddled thoughts, before reaching out for his unfinished drink. Unfortunately he lacked his usual grace and instead knocked it onto the floor, spilling the precious contents.
He grumbled to himself then sat up in the hardwood chair, his hair lopsided and greasy from the night laying on a table. He stood up straight and turned his neck from side to side, trying to loosen the strained muscles from his unfortunate sleeping position. Before he could do anything to alleviate his annoyance he heard footsteps above him and quickly straightened the mess on his head, before heading over to the bar and slamming himself into one of the stools situated there.
After a minute or so, the slight thud of bare feet treading slowly down the steps reached Dorians trained ears. If it weren't for his extensive experience hunting and specific skill set he never would of heard her coming. Of course he didn't want people to know he could hear them so he continued his charade.
He blindly felt round the bar he was resting on, his hand seeking something to wet his parched throat, still dry after the incident with his mug earlier. With a small sigh of victory he wrapped his hands around what felt like a full flagon. Without opening his eyes he took a gulp, and then swished the mysterious liquid around his mouth. He recognized the taste almost immediately, milk that was still slightly warm. He opened his eyes and was startled to see an elf glaring down at him from across the counter.
"More to your taste?" She questioned, a grim smile briefly crossing her features
"You know, ever since Eragon patched you up I've heard nothin but sass coming from that dainty little mouth Arya" Dorian replied, his own sarcasm rearing its head.
"I have to do something to entertain myself in these trying times, you just happen to be an easy target".
Before Dorian could retort Eragon and Brom came down the stairs, a little less gracefully then the elf. Eragon immediately sat down before nodding to himself, and making small gestures to no-one in particular, so Dorian immediately assumed he was conversing with Saphira. Brom gave Dorain a hard look before sitting next to Eragon and nudging him with his elbow to get him to focus.
Dorian stood up and placed his hands on his hips before coughing to clear his throat.
"Morning all… Today we ride for petrovya, it should only take us one or two days to get there so I suggest we leave immediately" he paused for a moment before continuing, "since we are on the fringes of the Empire, Saphira shouldn't have to worry as much about being spotted but I would still like for her to keep a low profile, and also no more-" He cut himself off, standing stock still as he listened. "Arya, upstairs now" he pointed to the stairs and he whispered urgently, "you two, keep it quiet"
"Whats happen-" before Eragon could finish his question the sound of heavy boots could be heard just outside the door, Followed by the distinctive ringing of chainmail. The door opened slowly, the creaking of its unoiled hinges incredibly loud in the silence of the main room of the tavern. The first thing they noticed was the black boots polished to a shine thudding on the wooden floor, then they saw the bright gold of Galbatorix's sigil woven into a black padded doublet. The man also wore a heavy greatcoat that gave him an aura of intimidation that seemed to make the whole room a few degrees colder.
Arya was not looking at him however, she was focused on her one goal, making it up those stairs. Once she was out of sight, she was safe from whatever the officer had planned. Unfortunately for her however the officer stood for a moment, and gazed around the room, before noticing Arya trying her best to calmly walk up the steps.
"You there" He shouted across the room, "Girl!"
Arya froze in place before turning around to face the officer, her face set into a hard line.
"Come here for a moment" He then gestured with his arm for her to come closer, a sly grin crossing his aged skin.
She walked towards the officer with a purposeful stride, appearing confident despite her inner turmoil. After what seemed like an eternity she came to a halt in front of him.
He reached up and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "You know… you are quite the exotic beauty" He then paused for a second, before sighing heavily, "Where are you from?"
She was stunned into silence, before she answered with the first thing that came to her head.
"I'm from Carvahall… sir" She answered, trying her best to be meek and forgettable, a defense mechanism that was very effective at deflecting suspicion.
"Oh, well at least you can be comforted by the fact your townsfolk are safe, an occupation force just took control of the town to protect them from urgal incursions"
Out of sight of the officer, Eragon's face set into a hard line, while he held his drink in a white-knuckled grip, and his anger started to bleed through. Just a moment before he was about to explode on the officer, a hand from Brom stopped him in his tracks.
"That is quite the journey, you must be very brave to walk all this way alone" The officer noted, a mocking note entering his voice.
"My uncle, sitting in that middle table there is escorting me" She explained. Then she walked over to Dorian who pretending to snooze and gave him a stout kick in the shin, "Get up uncle, An officer of the king wants to talk to ya" she put on an informal tone, trying to cover up her elven grace with a touch of a country accent.
He grumbled in annoyance, before standing up to face the officer. "Whaddya want?"
"I was in the process of figuring out why you and your niece here would travel so far from home"
"Well, we were on our way to Surda to join up with Varden" Dorian told the soldier, not a hint of humour in his voice,"in fact that boy over there is the last free dragon rider in Alagaesia"
A tense silence filled the room to the brim, and everyone stared at Dorian with looks of surprise on their faces while the officer was frozen in shock.
Before anyone could make a move, Dorian released a chuckle before bending over at his waist with laughter, "The look on your face" he managed to say while wiping a tear from his eye, "Was priceless".
The officer was stunned by his outburst for a moment, before spinning around and leaving, his leather boots slowly fading into the distance.
"Alright, pack your things everyone we leave for Farthen Dur immediately" Dorian told the assembled group, his usual stoic nature returning to his face.
"No, I'm going to Carvahall!" Eragon announced, his face red with barely restrained anger.
"Listen, I understand your anger, but there is more at stake here than you realise-" Dorian tried to explain, before being interrupted by Eragon
"No you listen, those are my friends and family and they are in danger" He continued his rant, "It's my duty as a rider to protect those in danger, so I am going to Carvahall!" He finished, breathing heavily
"Are you done?"
"No in fact-" He tried to continue his rant, before a very angry Dorian interrupted him.
"Do you understand that as the last free rider you have an obligation to all of alagaesia!", Dorian spelled it out very clearly, "every minute you spend in carvahall, is another minute Galbatorix spends consolidating his power and oppressing the very people you are supposed to protect!" Dorian breathed heavily before calming himself down, "I understand your pain Eragon, I really do" Dorian tried to explain, "But there is more at stake here than you know.. So trust me when I say the Varden is yours, and our best hope"
"Alright, fine", Eragon replied, "Let's go"