Free Riders
Author's Note: Eragon is not mine. Char, Blaster, and Saranya are. Comment as you see fit. Apologies for not updating last Friday. Normal updating schedule under way.
Chapter 42: History Lesson (AKA Filler)
Eragon and Blaster stretched in the hallway, reliving the stiff muscles they had gotten from sitting so long. The Twins entered the study, closing the door behind them. Eragon looked to Orik and said, "I'm sorry you're in trouble because of me."
"Don't bother yourself," Orik grunted, tugging at his beard. "Ajihad gave me what I wanted."
Even Saphira and Sara were surprised by the statement. "How do you mean?" Eragon asked. "You cannot train or fight, and you are stuck guiding us. How can that be what you wanted?"
Orik eyed Eragon. "Ajihad is a good leader," he said. "He understands how to keep the law yet remain just. Under his command, I have been punished, but I am also a subject of Hrothgar. Under his rule, I'm still free to do what I wish."
Blaster remembered the split power within Tronjheim. He smiled and said, "Ajihad has placed you in a pretty powerful position."
"That he did," Orik chuckled, "and in such a way that the Twins can't complain about it. This will irritate them for sure. Ajihad is a tricky one."
"So I've noticed," Blaster said.
"Come," Orik said, "I'm sure you're hungry. And we have to get your dragons settled in."
Saphira and Sara hissed. "They do have names," Eragon said. "The blue one is Saphira, and the silver one is called Saranya."
"You may call her Sara, for short," Blaster added. Orik bowed.
"My humblest apologies," the dwarf said. "I'll be sure to remember them." He grabbed an orange lantern from the wall and led them down the hallway.
"Are there others in Farthen Dûr who can use magic?" Eragon asked. He struggled to keep up with the dwarf's quick pace, cradling Zar'roc so that the symbol on the sheath was hidden.
"Only a few," Orik said with a shrug. "The ones that we do have can't do much more than heal bruises. They've all had to tend to Arya and Charlotte because of the strength needed to heal them."
"Everyone but the Twins?" Blaster asked.
"Oeí," Orik grunted. "Arya wouldn't want their help anyway, and I doubt your friend Charlotte would either. No, their arts aren't for healing. Their talents lie in scheming and plotting for power, much to everyone else's detriment. Deynor, Ajihad's predecessor, allowed them to join the Varden because he needed their support. You can't oppose the Empire without spellcasters who can hold their own on the field of battle. Yes, they are a nasty pair, but they do have their uses."
"Oh, they're nasty, alright," Blaster muttered.
They entered one of the four main tunnels that split Tronjheim into quarters. Clusters of dwarves and humans strolled through it, voices echoing loudly off the polished floor. Those conversations stopped abruptly when Saphira and Sara entered; dozens of eyes were fixed on them. Orik ignored the spectators and turned left, heading toward one of Tronjehim's distant gates. "Where are we going?" Eragon asked.
"Out of these halls so Saphira and Sara can fly to the dragonhold above Isidar Mithrim, the Star Rose. The dragonhold doesn't have a roof—Tronjheim's peak is open to the sky, like that of Farthen Dûr—so they, that is, you two, Saphira and Sara, will be able to glide straight down into the hold. It is where the Riders used to stay when they visited Tronjheim."
"Won't it be cold and damp without a roof?" Eragon asked.
"Nay," Orik said, shaking his head. "Farthen Dûr protects us from the elements. Neither rain nor snow intrude here. Besides, the walls of the hold are lined with marble caves for dragons, which should provide the necessary shelter. Just beware of the icicles; they've been known to cleave a horse in half when they fall."
I'm sure we'll be fine, Sara said to Blaster. A marble cave is safer than any other place we've stayed thus far.
Perhaps, Blaster replied. He then thought about the beginning of Ajihad's meeting. I want your opinion on something: Do you think that Murtagh will be all right after his meeting with Ajihad?
Ajihad strikes me as an honorable man, Sara replied. Unless Murtagh does something stupid, like try to escape, he'll be just fine.
Eragon crossed his arms, seemingly dazed. Finally, he asked where the horses were, and was told that they would visit them on their way out of Tronjheim in the stables.
After visiting the horses—and grabbing the last of his weaponry from his for Blaster—they exited Tronjheim the same way they had entered. The sun had moved during their meeting with Ajihad so that light no longer entered Farthen Dûr through the opening of the crater. Without that light, the inside of the mountain was velvety black, with the only light coming from Tronjheim. The light coming from the city-mountain was enough to light the ground hundreds of feet away.
Orik pointed to the peak of Tronjheim. "Fresh meat and pure mountain water await you up there," he told Saphira and Sara. "You may stay in any of the caves. Once you've made your choices, bedding will be laid down in them and then no one will disturb you."
"I thought we were going to go together," Eragon protested. "I don't want to be separated."
"Rider Eragon," Orik said, turning to him, "I will do everything to accommodate you, but it would be best if Saphira waits in the dragonhold while you eat. The tunnels to the banqet halls aren't large enough for her to accompany us."
"You could bring food to the hold, right?" Blaster asked.
"It is possible," Orik said. "However, the food is prepared down here and it is a long way to the top. If you wish, a servant could be sent up to the hold with a meal for you so you could eat with Saphira and Sara, but it would take some time to get it to you."
Wow, Blaster thought. He actually means it. He then thought about Saphira and Sara. You will be okay if I go eat with them, right? He asked Sara.
Go, Sara said. This dragonhold sounds to my liking. Once you are done, come to me. We can rest together without the fear of being attacked by wild animals or soldiers.
Unless the Twins come up to slit our throats, Blaster replied. That, however, is a very unlikely outcome. I shall eat down here, but please take most of my weapons with you.
I will, Sara said. She gathered most of his supplies, as well as the saddle that he had taken off, but he kept his two holstered pistols and his bow with him. It is wise for you to keep weapons. Yes, we should trust them, but not to the point of foolishness. And don't worry, I have told Brom that Ajihad requested him. Blaster nodded
"I'm eating down here," Blaster said. Eragon said the same as he gave Zar'roc to Saphira.
The two blasted into the air, the steady whoosh of their flapping wings the only sound heard in the darkness. As they disappeared over the rim of Tronjheim's peak, Orik let out a long breath. "Ah, you have both been blessed. I find a sudden longing in my heart for open skies and soaring cliffs and the thrill of hunting like a hawk. Still, my feet are better on the ground, though I prefer under it." He clapped his hands. "I've been neglectful of my duties as a host. You haven't dined since that pitiful dinner the Twins saw fit to give you. Come. Let us find the cooks and beg meat and bread from them."
Though Eragon had most likely had a better meal than what Blaster had been given before they finally fell asleep, he followed Orik and Blaster back into Tronjheim, and through what appeared to be a labyrinth of corridors. They eventually reached the dining hall, which was a very long room filled with stone tables just high enough for the dwarves. Behind a long counter at the end, fires blazed in the soapstone ovens.
Orik spoke words that neither Eragon nor Blaster would be able to understand to a stout, ruddy-faced dwarf. He promptly handed over stone platters filled with steaming mushrooms and fish. Orik then led them up several flights of stairs to a small alcove carved into the side of Tronjheim's outer wall. After they sat Indian-style, as Blaster remembered it, he and Eragon dug in.
The meal was delicious, with all sorts of savory flavors to take in. It wasn't long before the plates were empty. Orik pulled out a long-stemmed pipe and lit it, reminding them of Brom. He muttered something about washing down the meal with a pint of mead.
"Can't exactly farm here in Farthen Dûr, right?" Blaster said.
"Oeí," Orik said. "There is only enough sunlight for the moss, mushrooms and mold. Tronjheim cannot survive without supplies from the valleys in the Beor Mountains, which is why many of us choose to live elsewhere."
"Then there are other Dwarven cities?" Eragon asked. Blaster groaned. This kid was always full of questions.
"Not as many as we would like," Orik said, taking a drag from his pipe. "And Tronjheim is the greatest of them. You've only seen the lower levels, so it hasn't been apparent, but most of the city is deserted. The farther up you go, the emptier it gets. We have entire floors that haven't been touched in centuries. Most dwarves prefer to dwell under Tronjheim and Farthen Dûr in the caverns and passages littering the rock. Through our extensive tunneling, it is possible to walk from one end of the Beors to the other without even setting foot on the surface."
"Well, if you have so much unused space, why not just abandon the city?" Blaster suggested.
"Some have argued to do that because of the drain on our resources, but it does perform one invaluable task."
"And what would that be?" Eragon asked.
"In times of misfortune, it can house our entire nation," Orik proclaimed. "In our history, there have only been three times when we've been forced to that extreme, but it has saved us those times from certain and utter destruction. For that reason, it is always kept garrisoned and ready to use. We must always be prepared."
"It is magnificent," Eragon said. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like it."
"I'm glad you find it so," Orik said with a smile. "It took generations to build Tronjheim, and our lives are much longer than those of men. Unfortunately, few outsiders are allowed to see its glory because of that cursed Empire."
"Well, since we know there are few dwarves here compared to how many could be here, how many humans are here?" Blaster asked.
Orik exhaled and spurt out a small puff of smoke that curled around his head. "Only about four thousand of your kin are here," he said. "But that is a poor indicator of what you want to know. Only people who wish to fight come here. The rest of them are under the protection of King Orrin of Surda."
Blaster let out a low whistle. So few had escaped, and if what Eragon and Brom said were true, the royal army alone was sixteen thousand men strong when fully marshaled. And that was ignoring the Urgals. If Galbatorix had enough soldiers to effectively close the Empire's borders, then he'd have to have hundreds of thousands of men at his disposal. I've killed hundreds of thousands, but most have been abominations, Blaster thought. I've never stood before hundreds of thousands of men before now. The most was nearly a thousand.
"Why doesn't Orrin fight the Empire himself?" Eragon asked.
"That would mean openly declaring war, which would result in Galbatorix crushing him," Orik said. "As it is, Galbatorix withholds that destruction because he only considers Surda a minor threat, which is a mistake. Through Surda and Orrin's assistance, the Varden have most of their weapons and supplies. Without him, we'd be hard-pressed to resist the Empire.
"But, never fret, for even though the number of humans here in Tronjheim is few by comparison, there are many dwarves here—many more than you have seen—that will fight when the time comes. Orrin has promised troops for when we take the battle to Galbatorix, and the elves have promised their aid as well."
They were left to let that information sink in. Then, Eragon mentioned the helmet and the symbol on it, to which Orik explained that it was the symbol of his clan, Ingietum, who were metalworkers and master smiths. The same symbol was on Tronjheim's floor as it was the symbol of their founder Korgan, as well as the symbol of their political structure: one clan to rule, and twelve surrounding them. "King Hrothgar is Dûrgrimst Ingietum as well and has brought my house much glory and honor," Orik boasted.
After dinner was done, they returned the plates to the cook, but passed a dwarf in the hall that stopped before Eragon and Blaster and said, in a respectful tone, "Argetlam."
"What did he say?" Eragon asked once out of earshot.
"It's an elven word used to refer to the Riders," Orik said. "It means 'silver hand.'" Eragon and Blaster glanced at their concealed gedwëy ignasia. "Do you wish to return to your dragons?"
"I would," Blaster said, "but I'm in need of a good shower or bath. Don't worry about my clothes, for I will wash them as well."
Orik nodded, then led the two Riders to the baths through red-lit tunnels barely 5-foot tall. "So the light doesn't blind you when you enter or leave a dark cavern," Orik explained when asked about the lights. Once in the bath room, Eragon and Blaster disrobed and quickly entered the door into a room that was completely dark, though Blaster was able to barely make out the edge of the shallow pool. Using soap and brushes, the two Riders washed quickly in the warm, mildly salty water. Blaster, who had also brought in his clothes, quickly washed them with the soap.
Once they were done, they toweled off in the adjacent room and redressed; Eragon ended up donning some new clothes that fit him reasonably well and Blaster in his newly-washed and dried outfit, both of them ready to rest after the long day they had just had.
How long will they rest? Will the Twins, unknowingly found out by Blaster, come up to slit the Rider's throats as they sleep? Can the healers fully heal both Arya and Char? Find out next time on Free Riders. Updating Tuesdays and Fridays.