Free Riders
Author's Note: Eragon is not mine. Char, Blaster, and Saranya are. Title reference's Carlos Mencia's skit on Japan calling Al Queida after the 2001 attack. Comment as you see fit.
Chapter 43: You Screw Up, Big Time!
Orik was waiting, pipe in hand, when the two emerged from the baths. He led the two Riders up the stairs back into Tronjheim before exiting the city-mountain. As the two Riders gazed at the peak, they called for their dragons and waited for them. While they were waiting, Eragon, who had been silent, thought it was time to ask another question.
"How do you communicate with people at the top of Tronjheim?" he asked.
Orik chuckled. "A problem we solved ages ago," he replied. "Not that you would notice, but behind the open arches that line each level is a single, unbroken staircase that spirals around the wall of Tronjheim's central chamber. The stairs climb all the way to the dragonhold above Isidar Mithrim. We call it Vol Turin, The Endless Staircase. However, running up and down those stairs isn't swift enough for an emergency, nor convenient enough for casual use. Therefore, we use flashing lanterns to convey messages, though there is another way, albeit seldom used. When Vol Turin was constructed, a polished trough was cut next to it and acts like a slide as high as a mountain."
A small smile grew on Eragon's face. "Is it dangerous?"
"Don't think of trying it," Orik warned. "The slide is built for dwarves and too narrow for a man. If you slipped out of it, you could be thrown onto the stairs, against the arches, or perhaps even into empty space."
Eragon's face momentarily filled with shock, but was erased when Sara and Saphira both landed a stone's throw away, rustling their scales dryly. As they greeted their Riders, a crowd of humans and dwarves trickled out of Tronjheim, gathering around with murmurs of interest. Both Eragon and Blaster felt uneasy, but didn't voice their opinions.
"Go," Oric said, pushing Eragon forward, toward Saphira. "Meet me by this gate tomorrow morning. I'll be waiting."
"How will I know when it's morning?" Eragon asked. Blaster facepalmed.
"I have an alarm clock," he muttered, mounting Sara.
"Someone will come to wake you," Orik added. "Now go!"
Eragon slipped through the group and jumped on Saphira's back. Just before she took to the skies, or even before anyone else could react, an elderly woman stepped forward and grabbed Blaster's foot with a fierce grip. He pulled his foot out of the grip, which was deceptively strong, but put his foot back down. He looked into the woman's eyes, burning grey, surrounded by a lifetime of story-telling wrinkles. A tattered bundle rested in the crook of her left arm, and though she still had her free right hand, she did not attempt to grab Blaster's foot again, out of fear of what he just did.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" Blaster said as kindly as he could given the nature of what was going on. He could tell something was up. He looked down as the woman tilted her arm, allowing a piece of cloth to fall from the bundle, revealing the face of a baby.
"The child has no parents," the woman pleaded, hoarse and desperate. "There is no one to care for her but me, and I am weak. And I grow weaker every day in my old age. Please, bless her with your power, Argetlam. Bless her for luck!"
Blaster looked up, hoping to get some help from Eragon or Orik, but the two were merely watching on with guarded expressions. No one even bothered to visit or ask Eragon to bless their children. The crowd suddenly became silent, awaiting Blaster's response to the woman's continuing pleas. True, Blaster had never even thought about blessing anyone before, aside from that one woman's baby back on Earth just moments after it was born in the empty sewers of what was once West Charlotte, North Carolina. That was more religious than anything else. If he didn't say things in exactly the right way, especially here, a blessing could become a more of a curse, especially if spoken with ill intent or lack of conviction.
Just as Blaster was about to give up and say he was inexperienced, an idea came to him. He thought to use a true blessing, one of power. A blessing spoken in the binding, powerful, ancient language. Bending down, he took the baby in his hands, and, once he had his invocation in his head, he removed his fingerless glove from his right hand and placed his hand on the child's brow.
"Atra guliä un ilian tauthr ono un atra ono waíse skölir fra rauthr," Blaster spoke. He felt his energy drain from him, but he still felt as strong as ever, bolstered by his own inherent powers. Before everyone could say anything, he added, "Kai fertuna drah hugan lu." The energy drain from this incantation was a little more than he had anticipated, but still left him stronger than Eragon would have ever been had he been asked to bless the child. "Those words will guide her and protect her through the coming tribulations. It is the best I can give her."
"Thank you, Argetlam," the woman whispered, bowing slightly. She attempted to cover the baby again, but Sara snorted, twisted her long neck so that her head was over the child, and, while the woman was stock still in fear, lowered her head to brush her snout between the eyes of the baby. Blaster was shocked to see that, glowing on the child's forehead, was a star-shaped patch of skin, similar to the gedwëy ignasia.
As the woman looked on, both Saphira and Sara took flight for the dragonhold. The ground shrunk away as Blaster started thinking, What did you do?
I gave her hope, Sara replied. You gave her a future.
Look at me, Sara, Blaster sighed. Haven't so much as been on this world for a year and I have consulted with the leader of a rebellion, pursued by an evil I know little of, traveled with the son of a long-dead enemy, and now I am being sought for blessings? You'd think that it'd be easy for someone who is in his early 50s, but I have little experience in such matters.
You are but a hatchling, even by your people's standards, Sara replied. A hatchling struggling in a world that is not your own. I may be younger in years, but ancient in thoughts. You of all people should know is that wisdom isn't knowledge in it's purest form, but the ability to show others the way to the knowledge they may already know. No army could have given the blessing that you did.
That was nothing compared to the blessings of other people of my home have made, Blaster said.
Nay, it wasn't. That was the beginning of another story, another legend. A child like that would never be content with being a tavern-keeper or a farmer. Especially not when she's been marked by a dragon on her brow and your words hang over her.
I suppose you are right, Blaster said. The thing I hate most is my wyrd, for I hate that my choices might not mean anything if everything I am and will be has been laid out before me.
And I chose you from within my egg, Sara said. You have been given the chance that most would die for. You have done things that we have never seen in our wildest dreams on this planet. Do not ask questions about it, for you will never be able to find the answers.
Yet they bounce around my head like rubber balls. I will not be able to find happiness if I voice them. Believe me, I've tried.
Several mintues later, Eragon and Saphira descended into the hole at the top of Tronjheim that lead to the dragonhold. The floor wasn't just above the Isidar Mithrim, the star sapphire, it was Isidar Mithrim. Below them was the great central chamber. Sara came in after Saphira and, on the silent wings of a glider, they dropped to and landed on Isidar Mithrim with the sharp clacking of claws.
You guys won't scratch it, I hope, Blaster said, worried.
This is no ordinary gem, Sara assured. It is doubtful anything but magic would break it.
Eragon and Blaster slid off their dragons, absorbing as much as they could. It was a circular room, sixty feet wide and sixty feet high, dotted with caves for dragons. Some were grottos no bigger than a man, while others were caverns large enough to fit a whole house. Shined metal rungs lined the marble walls so people could reach the highest caves, and an archway on one side led out of the dragonhold.
The two Riders looked at the giant gem at their feet, with only wavering spots of color and distorted lines glimmering through the stone. Due to the thickness of the gem, however, it was impossible to ascertain anything clearly on the floor of the chamber a mile below them.
"Ah, here you are," Brom's voice echoed. He walked up while the two were looking down through Isidar Mithrim. He walked closer. "How was your day?"
"Blaster performed a blessing," Eragon said. "There was something about it that made me feel a little uneasy about it, though."
"What did you say?" Brom asked, curious. When Blaster told him, he went straight from curious to stunned disbelief in a heartbeat. "Are you sure you used sköliro and not skölir?"
"I said skölir," Blaster said. Eragon was now looking as if Blaster had sprouted a second head. "What is it?"
"You haven't blessed her," Brom replied. "You used 'skölir' instead of 'sköliro' in your blessing, so instead of saying she will be shielded from harm, you said she would be a shield from harm."
Realization dawned on the alien's face. Calmly as he could, he asked Brom and Eragon to hide behind something.
"Why would we do that?" Eragon asked. Blaster, however, started getting angry, and the air around him was beginning to get hot. Saphira and Sara ducked their heads behind their wings as Brom forced Eragon down behind Saphira.
"FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-"
FRFRFRFRFR
Just outside of Tronjheim, many people heard a rumbling, then a jet of fire erupted from the top of the dragonhold, lighting up the immediate area like a miniature sun. The flames continued upwards a good 100 feet above the top of the dragonhold.
FRFRFRFRFR
Blaster stood in the center of the dragonhold, breathing heavily and still looking angry. Flames still licked the area, but dispersed quickly as they had no fuel source. "Way to go, moron!" he shouted to himself. "You screwed up, big time! Why did you have to take care of that blessing? You've doomed her, you idiot!" He slowly began composing himself as Brom and Eragon moved from around Saphira.
"One of the Twins wants to know what the hell just happened," Brom said. "They received reports that Tronjheim is erupting."
"Tell them that I had a little bit of an issue with my magic," Blaster said. "Say I was a little too forceful with brisingr."
"They won't believe it, but it will quell them for now," Brom replied.
"Shol'vas!" Blaster muttered. "Will you be staying long?"
"No," Brom replied. The old Rider sighed. "Your little accusation against the Twins has stirred up Ajihad. He's requesting my opinion on the matter." He looked at the alien Rider. "You really are going to stir up the bee's nest now."
"Don't I know it," Blaster muttered. "I suppose I should try to keep quiet about it."
"Lest the Twins know you're on to them, I would say yes," Brom said. "Eragon, I will expect you to join me in the training arena tomorrow so that the Varden knows of your skills."
"Of course," Eragon said. With that, Brom said goodnight and departed, as he had somewhere else to be. It was quiet for a few moments after Brom left.
One final question, Blaster said as he looked around. Will there be room for me to join you?
Plenty, Sara replied. Would you like to come see?
Saphira and Eragon clambered up to their medium-sized caves, though Saphira and Sara merely jumped in. Sara had taken a similar cave just to the right. The dark-brown interior was deceptively deep, carved, not smoothly like the tunnel to Farthen Dûr, but to look like it was a natural cave all along. The far wall had a cushion big enough for Sara to curl up on. Nearby was a bed carved into the wall right beside it. The only light came from a red lantern, complete with a shutter to darken the room more.
I've heard little from you, Sara, Blaster said to the silver dragon. What is your opinion of Tronjheim and Ajihad?
I have nothing to tell you of my opinions that I haven't already said. Give it time. Blaster sighed. It seems, Blaster, that we are entering a new type of warfare. Swords and claws may be useless, but words and alliances may have the same effect. I especially do not trust the Twins, so we must be on guard for any…duplicities they may attempt.
Like to see how they explain how a Rider got his throat slashed under their watch, Blaster said. Likewise, we should be on guard from the dwarves. They do not trust us, and I fear that the elves may oppose us as well, for they wanted an elven Rider, not human like the Oath-Breaker King. The problem with all this political stress is that, I do not believe we can remain autonomous, independent of the different leaders.
Ajihad supports our freedom, Sara said, curling up on her cushion and shuffling around to get comfortable. Blaster slowly sat beside her, ignoring the bed. She yawned, but added, However, in order to survive, we may be forced to pledge our loyalty to one group or another.
We'll soon find out, Blaster said. Good night, my friend.
Good night, little one, Sara replied. Blaster scoffed at being called little, but didn't press the matter as the two began to rest after their long, forced march from Gil'ead.
Will the two Riders remain autonomous? Can Blaster convince the Twins that he wasn't using magic they will never be accustomed to? Can this story take any longer? Answer to that one is yes, but not much longer. Entering the "home strecth" as we get to the last chapters of