Chapter 5: Strangers in Carvahall
Yeah, yeah. The dragon's name is ancient, I know. It means 'burning one' in Greek, for lingual geeks like me!
Miranda and Eragon returned to see the dragons two days later. Miranda approached her dragon cautiously. It was the first time she'd visited the dragon since it had spoken. Miranda. She shivered. Is that all you can say?
Yes.
Now it has a sense of humor. What next? Miranda wondered.
I heard some interesting names today. Perhaps you'll like one of them. She mentally ran through the list she'd overheard from Eragon's conversation with Brom. She picked out a few she liked, making sure that there were both male and female names. What do you think of Eridor, or perhaps Ignothold?
No. Miranda. It seemed to find her efforts amusing. Well, then, if you don't like those ones, there are others. She listed off every male name she could remember, but it rejected every one, seemingly rolling it's eyes laughingly. After running through thirty names, Miranda finally smiled. You're a girl, aren't you?
Yes. After that, she ran through her store of female names. She toyed with Lenora and Miramel, but they didn't really fit. Aadie, Naara, and Alana were also discarded. She gave up, exasperated, then an idea came to her. What if I created a name? She smiled. It was her style- ambitious. Are you Seraphina? The dragon hummed contentedly. Miranda looked to Eragon. He'd figured out his dragon's name long before she had. "What's its name?"
"Her name," Eragon said, "is Saphira. And yours?"
"Her name is Seraphina."
Over the next few weeks, Eragon and Miranda taught Saphira and Seraphina to talk. Soon they understood everything that they said and commented frequently on it. Every conversation revealed new aspects of their personalities. Once, Saphira caught an eagle, and instead of killing it, released it, saying, No hunter of the skies should end their days as prey. Better to die on the wing than pinned to the ground.
The day came for Eragon's cousin, Roran, to leave for the job he'd accepted at Therinsford's mill. When Eragon and Roran came to Horst's smithy, Horst had laid some bundles on the counter and a pleasant-looking man was talking cheerily with him. He turned his attention when Roran and Eragon entered. "Roran! I've been looking forward to working with you. And you must be Eragon. I'd offer you a job as well, but Roran got the only one. Maybe in a year or two, eh?" Eragon only smiled awkwardly and shook the man, Dempton's, hand. Under other circumstances, he would have liked the good-natured miller, but at the present he sourly wished that the man had never come to Carvahall. "Good, good," the man said gruffly. He turned to Roran and proceeded with an enthusiastic lecture on the inner workings of a mill. Horst signaled to Eragon and led him outside. "There were two strangers in Carvahall today asking about a stone like yours. No one with any sense said anything, but I could name a few who will talk. If you want my advice, go home as soon as possible."
"Thanks," Eragon said. "Do you know where they are?"
"I didn't tell you about them so you could go get yourself killed!" Horst exclaimed. "Like I said, go home as soon as possible."
"I'll do that. See you next time I'm in town, Horst."
"Goodbye, Eragon."
Eragon walked down the road until Horst went back inside, and then he changed his stride, treading on silent feet. He moved toward some voices. "When did thisss happen?" asked a smooth, foul voice. "About a month ago. Ask the others, plenty of people know about it!" The voice he identified as Sloan was shaky and nervous. Shade's blood, he's telling them- He resolved to punch Sloan when next they met. "They have been rather..uncooperative. Thank you for your help. We ssshall remember you." This voice reminded Eragon of fetid meat. He looked toward the voices. Two tall men in black cloaks with silver threaded insignias on the chests stood in the street; Sloan must have run off. They looked toward him, and he froze. He commanded his legs to move, but they would not obey. "Eragon!" Brom cried. Eragon tried to warn him about the approaching strangers, but his tongue seemed frozen in place. "Eragon!" Brom said again. The strangers hissed, then ran away. Eragon staggered. "Are you alright, Eragon?"
"I- I'm just feeling a little ill, that's all," Eragon stammered.
"You should get home," Brom advised. "Let me walk you to the road." Eragon acquiesced without complaint. At the edge of the road, something snagged to Eragon's mitten and pulled it off. "Clumsy of me," Brom apologized. As he rose to return Eragon's mitten, he grasped the boy's wrist, twisting sharply and revealing the silvery mark. Brom's eyes glinted, but he allowed Eragon to yank back his wrist and pull on his mitten. "Goodbye, Brom," he said, irritated and frightened. Brom walked away whistling a merry tune.
Eragon hurried back to the farm. When Garrow, plowing the fields, was visible, he hesitated. I should talk to Saphira first. He rushed into the forest. When he reached their normal meeting place, he found Miranda there as well, a worried look on her face. He reached out with his mind without comment. Saphira!
I come, was the dim reply. He and Miranda waited, anxious and silent, until the dragons came. Eragon quickly gave Saphira the lowdown. When he came to the strangers, smoke roiled from her nostrils and she lashed her tail. He saw similar things happening between Miranda and Seraphina. Fire! Enemies! Death! Murderers!
What's wrong? he asked, frantic. He put all his strength into the words, but walls of iron surrounded her mind. He winced as she roared deafeningly. Stop it! Garrow will hear!
Oaths betrayed, souls killed, eggs shattered! Concentrating, Eragon blocked out Saphira's thoughts and concentrated on avoiding her and Seraphina's blurring tails. When the opportunity came, he swung into the hollow between her neck spikes where he often rested. He stroked her scales, saying, There's no need to fear. Everything will be alright. Crouching, Saphira's rippling muscles bunched and loosened, throwing them into the air. He yelped and clutched her neck, trying desperately not to purge himself. Below, he saw Miranda clutched in Seraphina's talons. I wonder...He could speak to Saphira with his mind, why couldn't he do it with Miranda? He reached toward her consciousness and found her whispering soothing words of a foreign, rippling language to Seraphina. At the same time, her words seemed pleading. Eragon shuddered. He could feel the very essense of his friend's being.
Miranda? He felt her tense in alarm. That better be you, Eragon.
Aye, it's me. Are you alright?
If you consider clutched in a crazed dragon's talons alright, I suppose. You doing any better?
I guess so. I'm sitting on Saphira.
What are you thinking?! she cried. That'll strip the skin off your legs as easily as if you were skinning a deer!
Panic rushed through his veins, but he managed to keep his thoughts calm. I guess I'm in for it, then. Saphira is the one who's crazed; I can't reach her. He paused. What's that language you were speaking just now? I couldn't help but overhear you speaking to Seraphina in it.
I'll let you figure it out. Think elves. It's about the most obvious riddle in existence, if you ask me. Eragon groaned, but she was right; anyone could tell you that. The Ancient Language?
Correct. Here's another riddle: What herb cures all ailments? Eragon stuck out his tongue mentally; it was a childish thing to do- she knew as well as he did that he hated riddles, while she loved them- but still, she was being irritating. They went on like this for quite a while, and though Miranda said she stuck to the "easy ones", they all just seemed hard for Eragon, since she was quite good at solving them. They started to drift to other subjects when she said, Look down. Eragon gasped. They had reached the Spine faster than he'd thought possible. Finally, they landed, though it was tricky for Seraphina, since her Rider was gripped in her talons. Miranda rolled over, groaning.
Seraphina, don't ever do that to me again! I feel like somebody decided to sit on me for eternity. No reply.
Seraphina?
I hear you.
What bothers you so much about the strangers? Why do they frighten you?
Murderers, she hissed.
Eragon's uncle is in mortal danger, and you and Saphira kidnap both of us on this hare-brained journey! Don't you think you can protect us? Why run? she demanded.
Death is a poison.
Miranda changed her tactic, knowing that further interrogation was useless. My stomach hurts from your claws. It's pretty badly bruised, though Eragon's in worse shape than I am. I won't be able to move very well, so I'll need you to clear away some snow. A pile of pine needles would do.
There is no need, the dragon stated. Seraphina seemed relieved. I will shelter you under my wing and the fire that is in my blood will warm you.
Fine, but I'll need you to clear away the snow. Seraphina cleared several feet of the stuff with two swipes of her tail, then lifted Miranda next to her, rolling on to her side to expose her armored belly. As Seraphina draped her wing over her Rider, Miranda was enveloped by welcome sleep. I hope Garrow and the other villagers live...