Free Riders

Author's Note: I do not own any part of the Inheritance Cycle. The only characters I own are Blaster, Char, and a yet-unnamed dragon (to be named this chapter).

Chapter 5: Names and Strangers.

Blaster and Eragon met that evening and found the two dragons where they had left them. Blaster noticed Eragon walking towards the dragons apprehensively, aware now that they were equals. Blaster too approached them, but not as apprehensively.

Blaster.

"Is that all you can say?" Blaster and Eragon snapped at the same time. Apparently, the sapphire dragon had said Eragon's name as well.

Yes.

"Oh great," Blaster muttered. "They've developed a sense of humor. Lovely."

Apparently, from what Blaster was soon to find out, Roran had told Eragon that he was going to Therinsford to become a miller, and it apparently put Eragon in a foul mood. He got questioning looks about his mood from both dragons and Blaster, so he told them what he had been told. He went over the top, yelling pointlessly into the air, ranting until his emotions were spent and ineffectually punched the ground.

"I don't want him to go, that's all," Eragon finally said, helplessly. The dragons listened and learned from watching Eragon. He finally mumbled a few choice curses and rubbed his eyes, then looked at his dragon thoughtfully. "You need a name. I heard some interesting ones today; perhaps you'll like one." He mentally went through his list, but Blaster had already thought about something important. The gender of the dragon. Eragon didn't care as he finally made a decision. "What do you think of Vanilor or his successor, Eridor? Both were great dragons."

No, his dragon replied, speaking for the first time with Blaster and his dragon. Eragon.

"That's my name; you can't have it," he said, rubbing his chin. "Well, if you don't like those, there are others." He continued through the list, but the sapphire dragon rejected every one he proposed. Blaster and his dragon saw what was wrong after the fourth name in, and it didn't take them long to start laughing at Eragon for something he was clearly missing. "There was Ingothold, he slew the…" Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. Finally, he realized he was trying to give a female dragon a male name.

"Took you long enough," Blaster said. The sapphire dragon folded her wings smugly. Eragon seemed to rifle through all the names in his head, but only one stood out. Blaster knew as well what name he would pick. It was the last name Brom had barely muttered.

"Are you Saphira?" Eragon asked.

Yes. Blaster could feel her satisfaction at the name.

"Okay, your turn," Eragon said. "Let's just hope you have more luck than I do."

"First off, I need to know what gender mine is," Blaster said. He turned to his dragon and asked, "Are you a male?"

No, the dragon replied.

"So, you are a lady," Blaster said. His dragon nodded. "Then I have the perfect name for you." He thought for a second. "Saranya, or Sara for short."

"Saranya?" Eragon asked.

"From where I come from, there are many religions," Blaster said. "One of which is Hinduism, where people believe in reincarnation. Saranya is the Hindu goddess of the dawn and the clouds."

"Where do you come from?" Eragon asked.

"From a land far away," Blaster replied. "I have no idea where you would find it. But, anyway," he turned to his dragon, "Is the name Saranya a fitting enough name for you?"

Yes. Something seemed to click as she expressed her satisfaction.

"Saphira and Sara," Eragon said. "What were the chances of getting two female dragons?"

"Unless there is a greater chance of a dragon giving birth to males than females, our chances were one in four," Blaster replied. Eragon looked at Blaster curiously. "I studied with a scholar a few years back."

Eragon and Blaster smiled as their dragons started humming.

Two weeks later, Eragon saw Roran off. In that time, both he and Blaster had become accustomed to Saphira and Sara, even delving into their character. Saphira once caught an eagle and, instead of eating it, released it, saying, No hunter of the sky should end his days as prey. Better to die on the wing than pinned to the ground. It seemed that Sara had a similar lease on life. However, they both expressed that they were reluctant to be seen, and both Eragon and Blaster agreed, partially out of selfishness. Blaster had heard Eragon muttering about waiting for a sign that it was the right time to reveal the dragons.

Blaster met Roran and Eragon at the edge of the city. Even though he had only met Roran more than a month ago, through Eragon, he was almost like family to Blaster. Dempton, the mill owner in Therinsford, and Horst stood by the blacksmith's forge. Dempton approached the group with a smile beneath his flamboyant red mustache.

"Roran!" The miller said. "I'm glad you came. There's going to be more work than I can handle with my new grindstones. Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," Roran said, hefting his pack. "Do we leave soon?"

"I've a few things to take care of first, but we'll be off within the hour." Eragon shifted his feet as Dempton turned to him, tugging at the corner of his mustache. "You must be Eragon. I would offer you a job too, but Roran got the only one. Maybe in a year or two, eh?" He turned to Blaster. "And you are?"

"Old friend," Blaster lied. "Just come to see Roran off."

"Good, very good," Dempton replied. He began to talk to Roran about how a mill worked when Horst interrupted his conversation.

"They're ready to go," Horst said, gesturing at the table where several bundles rested. "You can take them whenever you want to." He and Dempton shook hands, then Horst left the smithy, beckoning to Eragon and Blaster on the way out.

Both were interested, and immediately followed. They found the smith standing in the street with his arms crossed. Eragon thrust his thumb back toward the miller and asked, "What do you think of him?"

"A good man," Horst rumbled. "He'll do fine with Roran." He absently brushed metal fiilings off his apron, then put a massive hand on Eragon's shoulder. "Lad, do you remember the fight you had with Sloan?"

"If you're asking about payment for the meat, I haven't forgotten."

"No, I trust you, lad. What I wanted to know is if you still have that blue stone."

Blaster could tell Eragon was trying his best not to panic. He kept it under control as he replied, "I do, but why do you ask?"

"As soon as you return home, get rid of it," Horst replied. "Two men arrived here yesterday. Strange fellows dressed in black and carrying swords."

"I carry a sword," Blaster retorted. True, he did carry a sword, but he deliberately left it in his room today.

"True," Horst acknowledged. "But these guys made my skin crawl just by looking at them. Last evening they started asking people if a couple of stones similar to yours had been found." Blaster's heart tensed as well. "One was exactly like yours, but the other was reportedly silver." Now Blaster was trying his best to keep from panicking. "They're at it again today. No one with any sense said anything. They know trouble when they see it, but I could name a few people who will talk."

Dread seemed to fill both Blaster and Eragon at the same time. Whoever had sent the stone that brought Blaster here had finally tracked it down and wanted it back. Or worse, the Empire had somehow learned of Saphira and Sara. Eragon was as casual as ever, taking all of his self-control to do so.

"Thanks for telling me," Eragon said. "Do you know where they are?" Even Blaster was surprised Eragon's voice barely even trembled.

"I didn't warn you because I thought you needed to meet those men!" Horst replied. "Leave Carvahall. Go home."

"All right," Eragon replied, "if you think I should."

"I do," Horst replied. His face softened. "I may be overreacting, but these strangers give me a bad feeling. It would be better if you stay home until they leave. I'll try to keep them away from your farm, though it may not do any good."

Eragon looked at him gratefully. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but kept it too himself. "I'll leave now," he said, and hurried back to Roran.

"Did you say the other one was a silver one?" Blaster asked as soon as Eragon was talking to Roran. Horst nodded, and Blaster silently cursed. "Because I met Eragon seconds after his stone appeared in the Spine, and there was a second, silver one with it. That one I took. But I have not yet rid myself of it."

"Then do so," Horst warned. "I'm sure Sloan might mention you. I'm actually surprised they didn't talk to you earlier."

"Me too," Blaster replied. And why did I not notice this sooner? He thought to himself. Adventuring rule #7: Always remember to observe ALL of your surroundings. He straightened up. "I thank you. As soon as I get the chance, I shall leave Carvahall until such time it is safe for me to return, if at all. Until then, I shall protect Eragon until he gets to the edge of town, then I shall leave town myself."

Horst nodded in agreement, then watched as Eragon walked towards the outskirts. Blaster soon caught up. Eragon then ducked behind a house and sneaked back through the village as soon as the smithy was out of sight. They kept to the shadows, Blaster being a little more cautious than Eragon, each giving their voiceless complaint that they didn't really want to have someone else there, but were glad that, if something went south, they would have someone to help defend each other. They kept their ears peeled, Eragon wishing he had his bow and Blaster wishing he had his sword. They continued until they heard a sibilant voice from around a house. However, even Blaster had to strain to hear what was being said.

"When did this happen?" The words were smooth and oily, seemingly worming their way through the air. Underlying the speech was a strange hiss that made his scalp prickle.

"About three months ago," a voice answered. It didn't take long for them to recognize the voice as Sloan's.

Blaster knew that he was telling them, and resolved to beat the butcher to a pulp next time they met. When a third person spoke, the voice was deep and moist. Images of creeping decay, mold, and other things better left untouched wormed their way into Blaster's mind.

"Are you sure?" it asked. "We would hate to think you had made a mistake. If that were so, it would be most…unpleasant." Blaster shivered, trying not to imagine what they would do. It became obvious that whomever sent the eggs originally might be powerful enough to use force without impunity.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Sloan replied. "He had it then. Brought it in with someone he had found. I'm not lying. Plenty of people know about it. Go ask them." He sounded shaken and said something else neither could catch.

"They have been…rather uncooperative," the first replied. His words were derisive, and he paused for a few seconds. "Your information has been helpful. We will not forget you." Eragon believed him.

Sloan muttered something, then the two eavesdroppers heard someone hurrying away. Blaster quickly stood atop a crate, and both of them peered around the corner to see what was happening. Two tall men stood in the street, both dressed in long black cloaks that were lifted by sheaths poking past their legs. On their shirts were insignias that were intricately wrought with silver thread. Their faces were hidden by hoods, and gloves covered their hands. Their backs were oddly humped, as though their clothes were stuffed with padding.

Eragon shifted to get a better view while Blaster finally fished out a tiny periscope to get his better view. One of the strangers stiffened and grunted peculiarly to his companion. They both swiveled around and sank into crouches. Eragon's breath caught and mortal fear clenched him. Blaster did the best he could to curb his fear. Their eyes locked onto their hidden faces, but it seemed that Eragon was affected because he was rooted in place. Blaster saw his legs sway, but he didn't move. The strangers stalked towards them with a smooth, noiseless gait. Eragon and Blaster knew that they could see Eragon's face now, but not sure that they could see him. They were almost to the corner, hands grasping at swords…

"Eragon!" He jerked when his name was called, and Blaster too turned. The strangers froze in place and hissed. Brom hurried toward them from the side, head bare and staff in hand. The strangers were blocked from the old man's view, and Blaster could tell that Eragon was trying to warn Brom, but his tongue wouldn't work. Blaster was about to warn Brom as he called for Eragon again, only to have the strangers give Eragon one last look before slipping away between the houses.

Eragon collapsed to the ground, shivering. Blaster jumped down to help the fallen boy. Sweat beaded on his forehead and made his palms sticky. The old man finally arrived and offered Eragon a hand, pulling him up with a strong arm. "You look sick; is all well?" Brom asked.

Eragon gulped and nodded mutely. His eyes flickered around, looking for something unusual. Blaster did the same.

"I just got dizzy all of a sudden…it's passed," Eragon said. "It was very odd—I don't know why it happened."

"You'll recover," said Brom, "but perhaps it would be better if you went home."

"I agree, Eragon," Blaster replied. He then added in a low voice that Brom couldn't hear, "Better to get home before those strangers do."

"I think you're right," Eragon said. "Maybe I'm getting ill."

"Then home is the best place for you," Brom said. "It's a long walk, but I'm sure you'll feel better by the time you arrive. Let me escort you to the road." Eragon did not protest as Brom took his arm and led him away at a quick pace, Blaster in toe. He had promised Horst that he would escort Eragon out of town. Brom's staff crunched in the snow as they passed the houses.

"Why were you looking for me?" Eragon asked.

"Simple curiosity," Brom shrugged. "I learned you were in town and wondered if you had remembered the name of that trader."

Eragon stared blankly; his confusion caught Brom's attention. "No," he said, then amended himself, "I'm afraid I still don't remember." Brom sighed gruffly, as if he had gotten confirmation on something, and rubbed his eagle nose.

"Well, then," Brom said, "if you do, come tell me. I am most interested in this trader who pretends to know so much about dragons." Eragon nodded with a distracted air, and Blaster could see it. They all walked in silence to the road, then Brom said, "Hasten home. I don't think it would be a good idea to tarry on the way." He offered a gnarled hand.

Eragon shook it but as he let go, something in Brom's hand caught on Eragon's mitt and pulled it off. It fell to the ground, and the old man picked it up, apologizing as he did before handing it back. As Eragon took the mitt, Brom's strong fingers wrapped around his wrist and twisted sharply. His palm briefly faced upward, revealing his silvery mark. Brom's eyes glinted, but he let Eragon yank his hand back and jam it into his mit.

"Goodbye," Eragon forced out, perturbed, and hurried down the road. Brom began to whistle a merry tune for a few seconds before Blaster confronted him.

"What was that about?" Blaster asked.

"I had to know," Brom replied. "I find it strange that you and Eragon seem to have a bond. But, I mustn't worry about that." He shook Blaster's hand, but he didn't attempt to remove Blaster's fingerless glove. "You get back to that tavern and pack up, since I heard that you might be the next person those strangers interrogate."

Blaster nodded, then quickly left.

Who are the strangers? What will they do next? How much longer into this story must we wait to see some action? (The answer to that last one is VERY shortly.) Tune in next time for another exciting, riveting, heart-wrenching, terrifying chapter of Free Riders. Check local listings.