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They lunched at Fasaloft, a bustling lakeside village. It was a charming place set on a rise overlooking the lake. As they ate in the hostel's common room, Eragon listened intently to the gossip and was relieved to hear no rumors of him, Saphira or even Daemon.
The trail, now a road, had grown steadily worse over the past two days. Wagon wheels and iron-shod hooves had conspired to tear up the ground, making many sections impassable. An increase in travelers forced Saphira to hide during the day and then catch up with her companions at night.
For days they continued south along Leona Lake's vast shore. Eragon began to wonder if they would ever get around it, so he was heartened when they met men who said that Dras-Leona was an easy day's ride ahead of them.
Eragon rose early the following morning. His fingers twitched with anticipation at the thought of finally finding the Ra'zac. The three of you must be careful, said Saphira. The Ra'zac could have spies watching for travelers that fit your description.
We'll do our best to remain inconspicuous, he assured her.
She lowered her head until their eyes met. Perhaps, but realize that I won't be able to protect you as I did with the Urgals. I will be too far away to come to your aid, nor would I survive long in the narrow streets your kind favor. She nuzzled him lovingly. Follow Brom's lead in this hunt; he is sensible. And Daemon will look after you.
I know, he said somberly.
Will you go with Brom to the Varden? Once the Ra'zac are killed, he will want to take you to them. And since Galbatorix will be enraged by the Ra'zac's death, that may be the safest thing for us to do.
Eragon rubbed his arms. I don't want to fight the Empire all the time like the Varden do. Life is more than constant war. There'll be time to consider it once the Ra'zac are gone.
Don't be too sure, she warned, gave him another nuzzle, licked Daemon's cheek then went to hide herself until night.
The road was clogged with farmers taking their goods to market in Dras-Leona. Daemon, Brom and Eragon were forced to slow their horses and wait for wagons that blocked the way.
Although they saw smoke in the distance before noon, it was another league before the city was clearly visible. Unlike Teirm, a planned city, Dras-Leona was a tangled mess that sprawled next to Leona Lake. Ramshackle buildings sat on crooked streets, and the heart of the city was surrounded by a dirty, pale yellow wall of daubed mud.
Several miles east, a mountain of bare rock speared the sky with spires and columns, a tenebrous nightmare ship. Near-vertical sides rose out of the ground like a jagged piece of the earth's bone.
Brom pointed. "That is Helgrind. It's the reason Dras-Leona was originally built. People are fascinated by it, even though it's an unhealthy and malevolent thing." He gestured at the buildings inside the city's wall. "We should go to the center of the city first."
As they entered into the city, Daemon caught sight of the largest building in Dras-Leona, the cathedral. It bore a striking resemblance towards Helgrind, especially with its rising towers and arches. "Who do they worship?" Eragon asked.
"Their prayers go directly to Helgrind," Brom said with a grimace, "Their religion is cruel in practice for they mutilate themselves as offerings. It is one of the worst religions ever to grace the lands of Alagaesia."
"That's quite grotesque." Daemon added.
"Indeed, but do not say that to a believer or else you will lose your hand as a sign of insolence."
Soldiers were positioned and patrolled the city streets. They scanned the crowds looking for anyone that may break the Empire's laws. A group of ten soldiers walked directly towards them. The trio moved out of their way and none of them paid the travelers any notice.
So far so good. Daemon thought to himself.
The houses inside the city were tall thin but were extremely crowded. Most of the houses hung over the narrow, winding streets, covering the sky. Daemon was beginning to wonder how people noticed whether if it was night or day while staying in the city. The air reeked of sewer and waste; the streets were filthy. No amount of cleaning would wash away the pollution of this city.
A group of young children ran through the streets, fighting over scraps of thrown-out food. Deformed beggars lay along the sides of the streets asking for alms. Their cries came together and formed a chorus of the dying. This is too cruel.
They traveled deeper into Dras-Leona, leaving the poor and desolate section of the city and took up housing in a tavern called the Golden Globe, which was located near the center. The room in which the tavern keep gave them only had one bed, a table and a small water basin beside it. They unloaded their stuff onto the floor.
"What now?" Eragon asked.
"We get some rest after having some food and ale. Tomorrow we can search for the Ra'zac."
They went down to the local tavern for some food, though Brom and Eragon ended up having too much to drink much to Daemon's amusement... which faded when he realized he'd have to help them back to their rooms and almost groaned. By the time they went back to their room, Daemon supported Eragon in one arm while helping Brom with the other. Once he made it to their room, he managed to place them on the floor and shook his head at them before contacting Saphira to let her know what's going on.
We're going to be here for a few days, but this shouldn't take as long as it did at Teirm. When we discover where the Ra'zac are, you might be able to help us get them. And I've got a bunch of drunk lightweights to deal with, one of which is your Rider.
Saphira snorted in amusement, loosing herself in a fit of laughter. I don't envy them in the morning. Daemon agreed and bade her goodnight, to which she did the same while giving him a mental snuggle before retreating from his mind. Daemon sat in the chair, leaned back and closed his eyes to sleep.
When Daemon woke up the next morning, he noticed he was the only one awake since Eragon and Brom were still out of it. He shook his head and went down to get himself some breakfast while speaking with Saphira so he had someone to talk to. After taking a seat at a table in the corner, allowing him to take view of everything, he ordered himself some breakfast and was in the midst of eating it when Eragon and Brom joined him, pained looks on their faces.
"Having a rough morning?" Daemon asked with a smirk.
Brom grumbled under his breath. "Beer soothes the soul but it batters the brain like being kicked by a mule."
You are, as Daemon called you, lightweights. Saphira said with amusement.
"Remind me never to have that much alcohol in one sitting," Eragon said with a groan, rubbing his forehead to try and sooth the headache.
"That's what happens when you get drunk." Daemon said with a chuckle. "Trust me, I've been in a worst state when I first started... never again would I drink that much. So, Brom, what are we doing today?"
The old storyteller took another sip of tea before answering, "I would like to know where the Seithr oil has been delivered and where it was taken from there. We'll stick together this time, I don't want any of us meeting the Ra'zac alone."
They left the Golden Globe and searched for warehouses where the Seithr oil may have been delivered too. Near the center of town was an extravagant palace made of polished granite. It towered above all the other buildings except for the cathedral.
"Who lives there?" asked Eragon?
"Marcus Tàbor, he rules the city. He only answers to the King and his own conceited self."
By midday they learned nothing useful, so they stopped back at the Golden Globe for food. "Bah! This is getting us nowhere," muttered Brom in frustration. "Search on your own and meet back here by dusk." He glowered at them with a serious look. "I'm trusting you not to get yourselves in any trouble."
"What do we look like, children?" Daemon scoffed. "We'll be fine."
They split from there. Throughout the rest of the day, Daemon and Eragon talked with shopkeepers and workers, trying to be as pleasant and charming as they could. Their questions led them from one end of the city to the other and back again. No one seemed to know about the oil. Wherever they went, the cathedral stared down at them. It was impossible to escape its tall spires.
At last they found a man who had helped ship the Seithr oil and remembered to which warehouse it had been taken. They went to look at the building, then returned to the Golden Globe. It was over an hour before Brom came back, slumped with fatigue.
"Did you find anything?" asked Eragon.
Brom brushed back his white hair. "I heard a great deal of interesting things today, not the least of which is that Galbatorix will visit Dras-Leona within the week."
"What?" Eragon and Daemon exclaimed.
Brom slouched against the wall, the lines on his forehead deepening. "It seems that Tábor has taken a few too many liberties with his power, so Galbatorix has decided to come teach him a lesson in humility. It's the first time the King has left Urû'baen in over ten years."
"Do you think he knows of us?" Daemon asked with concern.
"Of course he knows of us, but I'm sure he hasn't been told our location. If he had, we would already be in the Ra'zac's grasp. However, this means that whatever we're going to do about the Ra'zac must be accomplished before Galbatorix arrives. We don't want to be anywhere within twenty leagues of him. The one thing in our favor is that the Ra'zac are sure to be here, preparing for his visit."
"I want to get the Ra'zac," said Eragon, his fists tightening, "but not if it means fighting the King. He could probably tear me to pieces. Daemon, couldn't you-"
"I don't know how powerful the King is, but I can guess." Daemon said, crossing his arms. "If he was able to bring the downfall of the Riders, corrupt a dragon into his servant and do the same to others, he may be a foe that I should not face anytime soon. No, best we avoid encountering him anytime soon."
That seemed to amuse Brom. "Very good: caution. And you're right; you wouldn't stand a chance against Galbatorix. Now tell me what you learned today. It might confirm what I heard."
Eragon shrugged. "It was mostly drivel, but we did talk with a man who knew where the oil was taken. It's just an old warehouse. Other than that, we didn't discover anything useful."
"My day was a little more fruitful than yours. I heard the same thing you did, so I went to the warehouse and talked with the workers. It didn't take much cajoling before they revealed that the cases of Seithr oil are always sent from the warehouse to the palace."
"And that's when you came back here," Daemon concluded.
"No, it's not! Don't interrupt. After that, I went to the palace and got myself invited into the servants' quarters as a bard. For several hours I wandered about, amusing the maids and others with songs and poems—and asking questions all the while." Brom slowly filled his pipe with tobacco. "It's really amazing all the things servants find out. Did you know that one of the earls has three mistresses, and they all live in the same wing of the palace?" He shook his head and lit the pipe. "Aside from the fascinating tidbits, I was told, quite by accident, where the oil is taken from the palace."
"And that is... ?" asked Eragon impatiently.
Brom puffed on his pipe and blew a smoke ring. "Out of the city, of course. Every full moon two slaves are sent to the base of Helgrind with a month's worth of provisions. Whenever the Seithr oil arrives in Dras-Leona, they send it along with the provisions. The slaves are never seen again. And the one time someone followed them, he disappeared too."
"I thought the Riders demolished the slave trade," said Eragon.
"Unfortunately, it has flourished under the King's reign."
"So the Ra'zac are in Helgrind," said Eragon, thinking of the rock mountain.
"There or somewhere nearby."
"If they are in Helgrind, they'll be either at the bottom—and protected by a thick stone door—or higher up where only their flying mounts, or Saphira, can reach. Top or bottom, their shelter will no doubt be disguised." He thought for a moment. "If Saphira and I go flying around Helgrind, the Ra'zac are sure to see us—not to mention all of Dras-Leona."
"It is a problem," agreed Brom.
Eragon frowned. "What if you and I took the place of the two slaves? The full moon isn't far off. It would give us a perfect opportunity to get close to the Ra'zac. Daemon and Saphira will hide nearby as backup should anything go wrong."
"Which it most likely will, with our luck." Daemon muttered.
Brom tugged his beard thoughtfully. "That's chancy at best. If the slaves are killed from a distance, we'll be in trouble. We can't harm the Ra'zac if they aren't in sight."
"We don't know if the slaves are killed at all," Eragon pointed out.
"I'm sure they are," said Brom, his face grave. Then his eyes sparkled, and he blew another smoke ring. "Still, it's an intriguing idea. If it were done with Saphira and Daemon hidden nearby and a..." His voice trailed off. "It might work, but we'll have to move quickly. With the King coming, there isn't much time."
"Should we go to Helgrind and look around? It would be good to see the land in daylight so we won't be surprised by any ambushes," said Eragon.
Brom fingered his staff. "That can be done later. Tomorrow I'll return to the palace and figure out how we can replace the slaves. I have to be careful not to arouse suspicion, though—I could easily be revealed by spies and courtiers who know about the Ra'zac."
"I can't believe it; we actually found them," said Eragon quietly. An image of his dead uncle and burned farm flashed through his mind. His jaw tightened.
"The toughest part is yet to come, but yes, we've done well," said Brom. "If fortune smiles on us, you may soon have your revenge and the Varden will be rid of a dangerous enemy. What comes after that will be up to you."
Eragon opened his mind and jubilantly told Saphira, We found the Ra'zac's lair!
Where? He quickly explained what they had discovered. Helgrind, she mused. A fitting place for them.
Eragon agreed. When we're done here, maybe we could visit Carvahall.
What is it you want? she asked, suddenly sour. To go back to your previous life? For Daemon back to his land? You know that won't happen, so stop mooning after it! At a certain point you have to decide what to commit to. Will you hide for the rest of your life, or will you help the Varden? Those are the only options left to you, unless you join forces with Galbatorix, which I do not and never will accept.
Softly, he said, If I must choose, I cast my fate with the Varden, as you well know.
Yes, but sometimes you have to hear yourself say it. A small trickle of amusement passed from her. But if you can't make up your mind, maybe I should just run off with Daemon? His path seems clearer...
Eragon flushed, both of embarrassment and a little anger. She would never leave him, nor would Daemon, but Saphira was subtle in telling him what she wanted to do. He shook his head in amusement, sometimes he wondered who was in charge here.
Eragon and Daemon woke up early the next morning and found a note, from Brom, written on the side of the room with a charcoal stick.
Eragon and Daemon, I will be gone until late tonight. I've left coins for food under the bed. Explore the city and enjoy yourself, but stay unnoticed!
P.S. Do not go anywhere without your weapons.
Eragon wiped the message clean and retrieved the money from under the bed, splitting it between the two. "Well, I don't know about you but I plan on following Brom's order." Eragon said as he strung his bow and belted Zar'roc to his waist.
"Of course I'm with you." Daemon said like it was obvious as he grabbed his sheathed sword and tied it around his waist.
They left the Golden Globe and walked through the streets, stopping whatever interested them. Admitting, Daemon saw some interesting shops but there wasn't one that was as intriguing enough to catch his attention.
They soon came upon an auctioneer rattling off a list of prices. Letting his feet guide him, Daemon found him entering into a wide opening between two buildings. A crowd of people gathered around a waist high platform. Lined up on the platform were several men wearing tattered clothes or nothing at all. Several individuals were dressed in very vibrant colored garments that made them stand out from the rest.
Eragon followed up behind him, and had a puzzled look on his face. "Where are the goods being sold?" he asked.
The auctioneer finished his list and motioned for a young man, looking around Eragon's age, step forward. Chains were being dragged across the wooden platform that were bound to his hands and feet. "And here have our first item," proclaimed the auctioneer. "A healthy looking male from the Hadarac Desert, captured just last month, and in excellent condition."
What else the auctioneer said was drowned out. Daemon's anger burned with great intensity. He pointed to the young boy on the stage. "There's your 'goods.'"
The people gawked and laughed at the poor individual as he was forced to turn and show his being to the onlookers. The look on the slave's face was that of hopelessness, defeat, loneliness. If it weren't for Brom's orders to stay unnoticed, Daemon would have destroyed the platform and perhaps the city along with it. But the thought was still there, swirling around his mind. The more he thought about it, the more the temptation grew to the point that he was on the brink of releasing his anger.
Daemon inhaled deeply then exhaled several times, to not cause a scene.
"Let's go." Daemon told Eragon and led him away from the scene. "I can't stand the sight of slavery."
"Isn't there anything we can do, at least?" Eragon asked with a frown.
"Not without causing a scene... and we cannot afford that right now." Daemon said, looking around.
After walking for a bit, they soon found themselves standing before the cathedral. Its twisted spires were covered with statues and scrollwork. Snarling gargoyles crouched along the eaves. Fantastic beasts writhed on the walls, and heroes and kings marched along their bottom edges, frozen in cold marble. Ribbed arches and tall stained-glass windows lined the cathedral's sides, along with columns of differing sizes. A lonely turret helmed the building like a mast.
Recessed in shadow at the cathedral's front was an iron-bound door inlaid with a row of silver script that both recognized as the ancient language. As best they could tell, it read: May thee who enter here understand thine impermanence and forget thine attachments to that which is beloved.
"Cheerful inscription." Daemon remarked sarcastically, glancing up at the building which set him off with a dark, cold feeling. There was something menacing about it, as if it were a predator crouched in the city, waiting for its next victim.
A broad row of steps led to the cathedral's entrance and Eragon took a step up them. He glanced at Daemon, who sighed but nodded and they walked up the steps to the door. Jayden was the one to push the door open and they entered.
The silence of a forgotten tomb filled the empty cathedral. The air was chill and dry. Bare walls extended to a vaulted ceiling that was so high They felt no taller than ants. Stained-glass windows depicting scenes of anger, hate, and remorse pierced the walls, while spectral beams of light washed sections of the granite pews with transparent hues, leaving the rest in shadow.
Between the windows stood statues with rigid, pale eyes. They slowly trod up the center row, afraid to break the quiet. Their boots padded noiselessly on the polished stone floor.
The altar was a great slab of stone devoid of adornment. A solitary finger of light fell upon it, illuminating motes of golden dust floating in the air. Behind the altar, the pipes of a wind organ pierced the ceiling and opened themselves to the elements. The instrument would play its music only when a gale rocked Dras-Leona.
While Daemon remained standing, just turning his head and looking around, Eragon knelt before the alter and began to pray. Not to Helgrind or the terrible worship its people practiced, but to the grand building itself. There was silence, one that Daemon didn't like. Something was wrong.
He turned around and stiffened, grabbing Eragon's shoulder tightly, causing him to look and follow his friend's gaze only to freeze as well.
The Ra'zac stood there in the doorway. Their swords were drawn, keen edges bloody in a crimson light. A sibilant hiss came from the smaller Ra'zac. Neither of them moved.
Eragon... Daemon said mentally to his friend. When I give the signal, we run to that door on our right. It appears to lead to a corridor.
Right... what signal?
You'll know it when you see it.
Daemon inhaled then shouted. "FUS RO DAH!"
The Unrelenting Force Shout exploded from Daemon's mouth, shaking the building and shattering some windows, cracking some, even leaving cracks in the wall. But the energy struck the Ra'zac and sent them off their feet and into a line of the King's soldiers that were making their way up the steps to the building, causing them to tumble.
"RUN!" Daemon shouted and pushed Eragon towards the door on their right. The door was shut, but Daemon just rammed right through it with his shoulder and they sprinted down the corridor fast, almost at inhuman speeds. Daemon then grabbed Eragon and shouted. "WULD KAH KEST!"
With the Whirlwind Shout, they went much faster. Past through several adjacent chambers, dashing aside priests and parishioners alike. Shouts and curses followed them, but they paid no mind.
Skidding to a halt at another door, Eragon desperately tried the handle. "It's locked!" he panicked. The sound of the Ra'zac's footsteps grew closer by the second.
Daemon kicked the door open and it turned to splinters due the force behind the kick and they eagerly jumped through. The elation was short-lived however, as after a short run through a garden patch, their path ended at a high stone wall. The wall was devoid of handholds to climb it, and there were no other exits.
"What do we do?" Eragon shouted as they drew near the wall.
"This!" Daemon slammed his back against the wall and cupped his hands. Eragon ran, used his friend's hands as a leaping board and Daemon threw him onto the edge of the wall, allowing Eragon to straddle it before he grabbed Daemon's hand when the Dragonborn jumped up to join him. They swung their legs over the edge and dropped down on the other side. "Now run! Run and hide!"
They ran until they found a crowded marketplace and ducked into the crowd until they found somewhere to duck lo and catch their breath. Daemon peaked his head out for any sign of the Ra'zac or the soldiers.
"How did they find us?" Eragon asked.
"Not sure." Daemon said, though he could guess. "We need to get back to Brom. And we need to let Saphira know we've been found."
Eragon nodded and contacted his dragon. The Ra'zac found us. We're all in danger! Check if Brom's all right. If he is, warn him and have him meet us at the inn. And be ready to fly here as fast as you can. We may need your help to escape.
She was silent, then said curtly, He'll meet you at the inn. Don't stop moving; you're in great danger.
Daemon peered out into the marketplace looking for any sign of the black cloaked assassins amongst the people in the market square. "I don't see them. You ready?"
Eragon nodded and with that they sprinted for the inn, quickly packed their belongings, saddled Cadoc and Shadowmere and waited from Brom. He arrived soon with a scowl on his face. He mounted Snowfire, "What happened?"
"The Ra'zc found us." Was all Daemon needed to say.
Brom cursed before he commanded them to move out. They galloped away nearly running down people that clogged the streets. When they finally came to the city gates, they pulled on their horses reins. The gates were beginning to lower and a double line of pikemen blocked their way. Brom swore profusely, "Damnit! The Ra'zac must have warned the guards."
"Those guards will cut us to pieces!" exclaimed Eragon.
"We have no choice!" shouted Daemon.
"I'll deal with the men," said Brom. "You try to keep the gates from closing down us." They dug their heels into the horses. As they neared the soldiers, they dug the pikes into the dirt. Brom raised his hand and spoke, magic struck with precision and the soldiers fell to the side as if their legs had been cut out from underneath them.
The gap between the gates shrank by the second. Hoping that the effort would not prove too much for him, Eragon drew on his power and shouted, "Du grind huildr!"
A deep grating sound emanated from the gates as they trembled, then ground to a stop. The crowd and guards fell silent, staring with amazement. With a clatter of the horses' hooves, Brom and Eragon shot out from behind Dras-Leona's wall. The instant they were free, Eragon released the gates. They shuddered, then boomed shut.
They galloped down the road as heard the sound of alarm trumpets come from the city. Saphira was waiting by the edge of the city behind some trees.
"Go ride her," said Brom. Eragon quickly mounted Saphira and they continued their escape out of sight of Dras-Leona.
Soon darkness forced them to stop. With only the partially lit night sky to guide them, they abandoned the road and took up sanctuary close to the lake. They ate cold food, unable to light a fire without giving up their location.
"How the blazes did they find us?" asked Daemon bluntly. Saphira laid close to him and Eragon, her head placed next to Daemon who was rubbing her neck comfortingly. The dragoness was tense, they all were.
Brom stuffed his pipe and lit it. "I believe that may be my fault. One of the palace servants warned me that there were spies among them. Somehow, word of me and my questioning reached Tàbor and through him the Ra'zac."
"We can't go back, can we? asked Eragon.
"Not for maybe a year or more."
"So what now? We draw them out?"
"If we do that Eragon, then we will have, not only the Ra'zac, but also fifty soldiers to contend with. But now is not the time to discuss this. We have the Ra'zac hunting us and they are most deadly at night. We will have to trade watches until morning."
"Right," said Eragon, standing. He hesitated and squinted. His eyes had caught a flicker of movement, a small patch of color that stood out from the surrounding nightscape. He stepped toward the edge of their camp, trying to see it better.
"What is it?" asked Brom as he unrolled his blankets.
Eragon stared into the darkness, then turned back. "I don't know. I thought I saw something. It must have been a bird." Pain erupted in the back of his head, and Saphira roared. Then Eragon toppled to the ground, unconscious.
A dull throbbing roused Eragon. Every time blood pulsed through his head it brought a fresh wave of pain. He cracked his eyes open and winced; tears rushed to his eyes as he looked directly into a bright lantern. He blinked and looked away. When he tried to sit up, he realized that his hands were tied behind his back.
He turned lethargically and saw Brom's arms. Eragon was relieved to see that they were bound together. Why was that? He struggled to figure it out until the thought suddenly came to him, They wouldn't tie up a dead man! But then who were "they"? He swiveled his head further, then stopped as a pair of black boots entered his vision.
Eragon looked up, right into the cowled face of a Ra'zac. Fear jolted through him. He reached for the magic and started to voice a word that would kill the Ra'zac, but then halted, puzzled. He could not remember the word. Frustrated, he tried again, only to feel it slip out of his grasp.
Above him the Ra'zac laughed chillingly. "The drug is working, yesss? I think you will not be bothering us again."
There was a rattle off to the left, and Eragon was appalled to see the second Ra'zac fit a muzzle over Saphira's head. Her wings were pinioned to her sides by black chains; there were shackles on her legs. Beside her, Daemon laid, his arms bound and a gag over his mouth. Eragon tried to contact Saphira, but felt nothing.
"She was most cooperative once we threatened to kill you and your young friend." hissed the Ra'zac. Squatting by the lantern, he rummaged through Eragon's bags, examining and discarding various items until he removed Zar'roc. "What a pretty thing for one so... insignificant. Maybe I will keep it." He leaned closer and sneered, "Or maybe, if you behave, our master will let you polish it." His moist breath smelled like raw meat.
Then he turned the sword over in his hands and screeched as he saw the symbol on the scabbard. His companion rushed over. They stood over the sword, hissing and clicking. At last they faced Eragon. "You will serve our master very well, yesss."
Eragon forced his thick tongue to form words: "If I do, I will kill you."
They chuckled coldly. "Oh no, we are too valuable. But you..." One gestured to him and Daemon. "You are disposable." A deep snarl came from Saphira; smoke roiled from her nostrils. The Ra'zac did not seem to care.
Daemon soon made it to his knees and said something, but it was muffled due to the rope in his mouth. One of the Ra'zac went over and pulled it down. probably just to amuse itself. "Let me out of these ropes and I'll show you who's disp-GAH!" he was cut off when the Ra'zac kicked him in the shoulder so hard that it dislocated.
The Ra'zac laughed before it hit Daemon on the back of his head, knocking him out cold. Their attention was diverted when Brom groaned and rolled onto his side. One of the Ra'zac grabbed his shirt and thrust him effortlessly into the air.
"It'sss wearing off." One of them hissed.
"Give him more."
"Let'sss just kill him," said the shorter Ra'zac. "He has caused us much grief."
The taller one ran his finger down his sword. "A good plan. But remember, the King's instructions were to keep them alive."
"We can sssay he was killed when we captured them."
"And what of thisss one?" the Ra'zac asked, pointing his sword at Eragon. "If he talksss?"
His companion laughed and drew a wicked dagger. "He would not dare."
There was a long silence, then, "Agreed."
They dragged Brom to the center of the camp and shoved him to his knees. Brom sagged to one side. Eragon watched with growing fear. I have to get free! He wrenched at the ropes, but they were too strong to break.
"None of that now," said the tall Ra'zac, poking him with a sword. He nosed the air and sniffed; something seemed to trouble him.
The other Ra'zac growled, yanked Brom's head back, and swept the dagger toward his exposed throat. At that very moment a low buzz sounded, followed by the Ra'zac's howl. An arrow protruded from his shoulder. The Ra'zac nearest Eragon dropped to the ground, barely avoiding a second arrow. He scuttled to his wounded companion, and they glared into the darkness, hissing angrily. They made no move to stop Brom as he blearily staggered upright. "Get down!" cried Eragon.
Brom wavered, then tottered toward Eragon. As more arrows hissed into the camp from the unseen attackers, the Ra'zac rolled behind some boulders. There was a lull, then arrows came from the opposite direction. Caught by surprise, the Ra'zac reacted slowly. Their cloaks were pierced in several places, and a shattered arrow buried itself in one's arm.
With a wild cry, the smaller Ra'zac fled toward the road, kicking Eragon viciously in the side as he passed. His companion hesitated, then grabbed the dagger from the ground and raced after him. As he left the camp, he hurled the knife at Eragon.
A strange light suddenly burned in Brom's eyes. He threw himself in front of Eragon, his mouth open in a soundless snarl. The dagger struck him with a soft thump, and he landed heavily on his shoulder. His head lolled limply.
"No!" screamed Eragon, though he was doubled over in pain. He heard footsteps, then his eyes closed and he knew no more.
For a long while, Eragon was aware only of the burning in his side. Each breath was painful. It felt as though he had been the one stabbed, not Brom. His sense of time was skewed; it was hard to tell if weeks had gone by, or only a few minutes. When consciousness finally came to him, he opened his eyes and peered curiously at a campfire several feet away. His hands were still tied together, but the drug must have worn off because he could think clearly again. Saphira, are you injured?
No, but you three are. She was crouched over Eragon and his fallen companions, wings spread protectively on either side.
Saphira, you didn't make that fire, did you? And you couldn't have gotten out of those chains by yourself.
No.
I didn't think so. Eragon struggled to his knees and saw a young man sitting on the far side of the fire.
The stranger, dressed in battered clothes, exuded a calm, assured air. In his hands was a bow, at his side a long hand-and-a-half sword. A white horn bound with silver fittings lay in his lap, and the hilt of a dagger protruded from his boot. His serious face and fierce eyes were framed by locks of brown hair. He appeared to be a few years older than Eragon and perhaps an inch or so taller. Behind him a gray war-horse was picketed. The stranger watched Saphira warily.
"Who are you?" asked Eragon, taking a shallow breath.
The man's hands tightened on his bow. "Murtagh." His voice was low and controlled, but curiously emotional.
Eragon pulled his hands underneath his legs so they were in front of him. He clenched his teeth as his side flared with pain. "Why did you help us?"
"You aren't the only enemies the Ra'zac have. I was tracking them."
"You know who they are?"
"Yes."
Eragon concentrated on the ropes that bound his wrists and reached for the magic. He hesitated, aware of Murtagh's eyes on him, then decided it didn't matter. "Jierda!" he grunted. The ropes snapped off his wrists. He rubbed his hands to get the blood flowing. Murtagh sucked in his breath. Eragon braced himself and tried to stand, but his ribs seared with agony. He fell back, gasping between clenched teeth. Murtagh tried to come to his aid, but Saphira stopped him with a growl.
Daemon finally stirred due to the commotion and he groaned as he pushed himself to his knees, then looked at Eragon, Saphira, then Murtagh and frowned before jerking his head at him. "Who's this?"
"A friend, I hope." Eragon said. Daemon grunted in reply and went to where his sword laid, using one hand to grip it and cut through his binds, freeing his arms. However, he hissed when he felt pain in his left arm and looked at it. It was out of place, dislocated, it would need to be pushed back in hard...Daemon walked over to Eragon and fell to his knees, grunting in pain.
"How you feeling?" Daemon asked with a frown.
"My side hurts." Eragon winced and clenched his teeth.
"Let me see, I need to see how bad it might be." Daemon said. Eragon nodded and Daemon helped him remove his shirt, then whistled at the sight he was greeted by. The red, swollen skin was broken in several places and a blotchy bruise covered Eragon's whole side. Daemon put a hand on the bruise and pressed lightly. Eragon yelled, and Saphira whimpered as she stayed close to her two boys, worry and concern coming from her.. "Broken ribs, two for sure... at least you're not hacking up blood."
"Suppose so." Eragon nodded weakly as Daemon grabbed a blanket, then realized he couldn't do much with just one arm, especially in ripping something or tying it. He tossed the blanlet to Murtagh.
"Rip some strips out of that and bind it around his chest." Daemon said as he got to his feet with a grunt. "I need to get my shoulder back in place."
Murtagh nodded and came over, well aware of Saphira watching him warily but the dragoness was also watching Daemon worriedly.
Daemon came up to a tree and took a deep breath as he looked at his arm. He had to force his shoulder back into place or it would get worse if left the way it is. With that in mind, he slammed his shoulder into the tree and yelled in pain, then fought through the pain enough to do so again, causing his shoulder to be put back in place. He felt back from the pai but Saphira caught him and let him lean against her chest.
Stupid boy. She scolded him softly, whimpering at his pain as she nuzzled him, trying to keep his mind off the pain.
"Had to be done." Daemon grunted and patted her neck.
Eragon sidled over to Brom, and saw that Murtagh had cut open the side of his robe to bandage the wound. With trembling fingers, he undid the bandage.
"I wouldn't do that," warned Murtagh. "He'll bleed to death without it."
Eragon ignored him and pulled the cloth away from Brom's side. Daemon came over and winced at the sight. The wound was short and thin, belying its depth. Blood streamed out of it. As he had learned when Garrow was injured, a wound inflicted by the Ra'zac was slow to heal.
He peeled off his gloves while furiously searching his mind for the healing words Brom had taught him. Help me, Saphira, he implored. I am too weak to do this alone.
Saphira crouched next to him, fixing her eyes on Brom. I am here, Eragon. As her mind joined his, new strength infused his body. Eragon drew upon their combined power and focused it on the words. His hand trembled as he held it over the wound. "Waíse heill!" he said. His palm glowed, and Brom's skin flowed together, as if it had never been broken. Murtagh watched the entire process.
It was over quickly. As the light vanished, Eragon sat, feeling sick. We've never done that before, he said.
Saphira nodded. Together we can cast spells that are beyond either of us.
Murtagh examined Brom's side and asked, "Is he completely healed?"
"I can only mend what is on the surface. I don't know enough to fix whatever's damaged inside. It's up to him now. I've done all I can." Eragon closed his eyes for a moment, utterly weary. "My... my head seems to be floating in clouds."
"You probably need to eat," said Murtagh. "I'll make soup."
While Murtagh fixed the meal, Daemon and Eragon made a makeshift litter for brom to be carried in by Saphira. After eating some soup, they carefully placed Brom in the litter, where Saphira grasped the saplings and laboriously took flight.
"I never thought I would see a sight like that," Murtagh said, an odd note in his voice.
As Saphira disappeared into the dark sky, Eragon limped to Cadoc and hoisted himself painfully into the saddle. Daemon hopped onto Shadowmere's saddle and patted his horse's side "Thanks for helping us. You should leave now. Ride as far away from us as you can. You'll be in danger if the Empire finds you with us. We can't protect you, and I wouldn't see harm come to you on our account." Eragon told Murtagh.
"A pretty speech," said Murtagh, grinding out the fire, "but where will you go? Is there a place nearby that you can rest in safety?"
Daemon and Eragon shared a look. "No." Eragon admitted.
Murtagh's eyes glinted as he fingered the hilt of his sword. "In that case, I think I'll accompany you until you're out of danger. I've no better place to be. Besides, if I stay with you, I might get another shot at the Ra'zac sooner than if I were on my own. Interesting things are bound to happen around a Rider."
Eragon wavered, unsure if he should accept help from a complete stranger. Yet he was unpleasantly aware that he was too weak to force the issue either way, and Daemon's arm had just been dislocated and put back in place so Eragon doubted he'd do any fighting for a day or two. If Murtagh proves untrustworthy, Saphira can always chase him away. "Join us if you wish." He shrugged.
Murtagh nodded and mounted his gray war-horse. Eragon grabbed Snowfire's reins and rode away from the camp, into the wilderness. An oxbow moon provided wan light, but he knew that it would only make it easier for the Ra'zac to track them.
Though Eragon wanted to question Murtagh further, he kept silent, conserving his energy for riding. After a while of silently riding, Daemon linked his mind with Eragon's to discuss an important matter; his dragon nature. While Murtagh had helped them and seemed to be an ally, Daemon warned Eragon that some people hide behind good intentions with ulterior motives. As such, he decided that they should keep silent on Daemon's Dragonborn nature and that Daemon should not change into his dragon form... not until Murtagh proves to be trustworthy. Eragon agreed, finding it wise.
Near dawn Saphira said, I must stop. My wings are tired and Brom needs attention. I discovered a good place to stay, about two miles ahead of where you are.
They found her sitting at the base of a broad sandstone formation that curved out of the ground like a great hill. Its sides were pocked with caves of varying sizes. Similar domes were scattered across the land. Saphira looked pleased with herself. I found a cave that can't be seen from the ground. It's large enough for all of us, including the horses. Follow me. She turned and climbed up the sandstone, her sharp claws digging into the rock. The horses had difficulty, as their shod hooves could not grip the sandstone. Daemon easily brought Shadowmere up, but Eragon and Murtagh had to pull and shove the animals for almost an hour before they managed to reach the cave.
The cavern was a good hundred feet long and more than twenty feet wide, yet it had a small opening that would protect them from bad weather and prying eyes. Darkness swallowed the far end, clinging to the walls like mats of soft black wool.
"Impressive, Saphira." Daemon commented and patted her side, causing her to hum at his words and touch.
"I'll gather wood for a fire." Murtagh said, going to do just that.
Eragon hurried to Brom. Saphira had set him on a small rock ledge at the rear of the cave. Eragon clasped Brom's limp hand and anxiously watched his craggy face. After a few minutes, he sighed and went to the fire Murtagh had built.
They ate quietly, then tried to give Brom water, but the old man would not drink. Stymied, they spread out their bedrolls and slept.
That's it for this chapter. By the way, I need your opinion on something very important to the story.
While in Ellesméra, the home of the Elves, should Daemon and Saphira have hatchlings or wait until after Galbatorix is defeated?
The reason I'm asking is because would they want to bring children into a land at war, where they would be hunted constantly to be turned into weapons of war by Galbatorix? Even though Daemon has the power of the Thu'um, it is something the two would have to talk about.
But I just want to know what you readers think first. Do you want to see hatchlings in the story earlier or practically at the end?
If yes for seeing them earlier, start sending boy and girls names fit for a dragon.