To a comment that I recieved : Any quotes on this chappie are (like I said) for the sake of accuracy (or accidental) and should be few and far between. Anyhow, here's Ch.10 . Enjoy!
Chapter Ten: Horses
The day was an endless trek; Brom and Eragon talked for the majority of it. Miranda was silent, preferring to speak with Seraphina or Windsoul, occasionally Saphira, or just observe the day. They set up camp shortly after dusk, and as was becoming usual, Miranda prepared dinner. As she stirred the stew, she was amused to see Brom tossing another makeshift sword to Eragon. "Not again," the boy complained, but Brom only smiled and beckoned with his stick. Miranda stifled a giggle as she saw Eragon try to match the speed and ease she'd shown the day before. Brom was teaching him some basic moves, and he was trying to move like a master? Now that was funny. When they stopped, Eragon flopped down like a sack of potatoes and groaned. "Eat up; it'll help those bruises to heal," Miranda told him kindly, handing him a bowl of stew. Eragon wordlessly thanked her and began to eat. "Your turn," Brom stated, and tossed Miranda the stick. "This one," she told him, "Will break after two blows." She tossed it in the fire. "You're not getting out of it," Brom informed her.
"I know," Miranda told him. "I'm making it so I can actually fight instead of play." Brom tossed his own stick into the flames. "So what do you propose?" he asked, his eyes narrowed. "That we cut ourselves to ribbons with sharpened weapons?" Miranda ignored him and tossed a wind-sword to him. "Feel that edge," she ordered. Brom's hand passed right through it. "Nothing there," he asserted.
"Ah, but there is," she told him. "It feels like a real sword- speaking of weight and balance- and,"she said, swinging hers at him, "They solidify when they come into contact with you or your sword, thus, they won't cut, but they'll break bones and bruise." Brom blocked her blow with the simplest of defense mechanisms. "So please be careful. I don't want a broken neck."
She fights well, Brom thought, as he deflected a blow to his side, but she also seems to be holding back. But why? She's human- at least, I think so- so she fights with the strength and speed of a trained twelve year old. But she must have something else- her eyes aroused my suspicions last night. Sword down, and- Brom's mind drifted away from trying to wrestle answers from his mind as he started to work harder to deflect blows and deliver them.
Miranda grew bored of toying with her sword. With a deft maneuver, she slipped past Brom's guard and flicked her sword to his throat. Eragon wasn't the only one with bruises, now, but Miranda was still unhurt. "Dead again, Brom," she told him, and their swords dissapated. "Where did you learn to fight?" he asked, curious.
"Maybe I'm improvising."
"No, your movements are those of a trained swordsman."
"Woman. I'm a girl, remember? I'll not say, but she's much better than I am."
"She, huh? Where do you come from, anyway?"
"Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother's house we go!" Miranda sang out. "Miranda, be serious. Where do you come from?"
"I'll not say, but I miss home very much."
"You can be a bother, you know that?" Eragon remarked suddenly. Finishing her stew, Miranda would say nothing more, only took out her panpipes and began to play.
The next day, Eragon woke to find everything ready to go. Brom was eating the mush that he'd made himself for once, and Miranda was loading their packs onto Windsoul. The saddles were already on the dragons. Wordlessly, for once, Miranda handed him a bowl of the same mush Brom was eating. Eragon hurriedly finished.
They stopped when a bridge came up and a greasy-looking man jumped out. "Halt!" he cried. "This is my bridge and you'll have to pay to get over," he told them.
"How much?" Brom inquired. A glint came into the man's dull eyes. "Five crowns," he demanded. Eragon started to rise hotly, but stopped at Brom's glare. He wordlessly took out the money from a pouch at his belt and handed it to the man. As they crossed, Brom stumbled and caught the bridgekeeper's sleeve for balance. "Hey!" the man protested. "Clumsy of me," Brom apologized, then continued across.When they were out of earshot, Eragon burst out, "Why did you pay? He practically skinned you alive and probably doesn't own the bridge, anyway!"
"Probably," Brom agreed. "But you can't argue with all of the fools of the world. It's easier to go along with them, then play the trickster when they aren't looking," he continued, and opened his hand to reveal the glint of coins. "You cut his purse!" Eragon exclaimed incredulously. "And it held a surprising amount," Brom remarked, pocketing it with a wink. Miranda eyed the money with distaste. As they heard a wounded yell, they hurried into Therinsford.
They arrived at a barn with healthy horses after getting instructions from a small boy. A broad-shouldered man stood inside, grooming a white stallion. "That's a beautiful animal," Brom complimented. "Thank you," the man responded. "His name's Snowfire. Mine's Haberth. What can I do for you?"
"We need horses, and a full set of tack for each," Brom replied smoothly. Haberth looked disdainfully at Miranda. He seemed to hope he wouldn't have to sell an animal for her to ride. Then his gaze fell upon Windsoul- his first reaction was relief, and his second immense interest. Before he commented, however, he asked, "How many?"
"Two," was the flat reply. "They need to be fast and tough; we're traveling far." Haberth thought for a moment. "I don't have many horses like that, but..." He trailed off, jogging to a stall, leading out a roan and a light bay, after forming two piles of supplies. "He's a little spirited," he told them, gesturing toward the bay. "We'll take him," Brom assented, "but I'm not sure of the other one."
"He's got some good legs."
"Mmm...What will you take for Snowfire?" Haberth looked at the stallion lovingly. "I'd rather not sell him. He's the finest I've ever bred; I'm hoping to sire a whole line from him. That mare would make a good partner," he added, glancing back at Windsoul.
"She's not mine to sell," Brom told him tartly. Haberth glanced at Eragon, who gestured at Miranda. Haberth pursed his lips and turned to Miranda. "Will you sell her, then, girl?" he asked, in a honeyed voice. "You know, if you want someone to sell to you, you shouldn't act like they're inferior to yourself. Besides, she's a filly, not even four summers old. Oh, don't even start!" she exclaimed, as Haberth opened his mouth to complain. "I wouldn't sell Windsoul, anyway. I've had her since she was a foal." Her tone indicated that the discussion was over. Haberth made a face, turning back to Brom. "If you were willing to part with Snowfire, how much would all of this cost us?" Brom continued his bargain steadily. His opponent thought for a moment. "Two hundred crowns and no less," he declared confidently. "And," he raised a finger, as Brom began to remove his pouch, "if Snowfire were to breed with Windsoul, I would require their first foal." Brom looked pleadingly at Miranda. How like a parent he looks! Miranda thought, amused.
I wouldn't breed with that... mute, anyway. I'm not saying he's dumb, just...
Windsoul has a beau! How sweet.
I do not! Miranda smiled and broke contact. The filly snorted and pushed her back with her nose. "Very well," she consented. Haberth pretended not to hear her. "I said, alright!" she yelled. Eragon winced, he knew that particular tone. She was more than annoyed- she was mad. Really mad. She hated it when she was treated as inferior because of her gender. The man winced; she'd yelled in his ear. "I heard you." Turning to Brom, he added, "I wish you safety and luck, for Snowfire's sake. I hope to receive a foal soon."
" We'll treat them well, as though their sire was Gildentor. Thank you, and goodbye," Brom replied. Haberth began to groom the roan. When Miranda, Brom, Eragon, and the horses reached the edge of town, Brom ordered his companions to stay put with the horses. The stallions were close to Windsoul, eying her curiously. This is irritating. What would Windfire say? The filly fretted.
Oh, so you do have a beau! The filly rolled her eyes and shoved the other two horses away. The stallions knew better than to mistake it for teasing!
Brom returned after a half hour with disturbing news. "The Ra'zac were definitely here," he stated. That was the name for the horrid creatures they were hunting. "They stopped here to buy horses, like we did, and left quite a mark, too," Brom continued. "The man I spoke to said they fled town like demons fleeing a holy man."
"Ai, I feel sorry for those horses," Miranda remarked.
"Ai! What kind of a word is that?" Eragon teased.
"It's an exclamation, not a word," Miranda replied irritably. "And I actually do. Let's get out of here."
"No argument there," Eragon agreed, and they left.
What I don't mention in my story later on is that after the war ended, Haberth did receive a fine foal... a black one, so he knew it wasn't Snowfire's!