Disclaimer: The Inheritance Cycle belongs only to Christopher Paolini.

Okay, I'm on and off being bedridden lately, so sorry about this short and late chapter. Monsoon season is here and it's not exactly nice.

Chapter 40: Setting Off

Dawn was still far off when Aesyr was roused from her sleep by Brom. The man was dressed for travel, despite the heat that would surely bombard them once the sun rose. A thick sandy brown cloak swathed his entire body, and his pale blue sword sheath glinted even in the darkness.

"Up, girl," he said. "I shall wait outside. We must leave soon."

Groggily, Aesyr sat up, barely even registering that her mentor was already out, and the door was locked behind him. She donned the clothes she prepared during the previous night – the thinnest clothes she could find at such a short notice. She was so sleepy that her brain was barely working when she stumbled out of her room, pack in tow and still pulling her boot onto the wrong foot.

Then she tripped while following Brom, doing their best to be quiet while traversing the maze of corridors. A quiet sense of excitement coursed through her. She thought that she was leaving the world she grew up with when the Varden departed Tronjheim. Now she was leaving the Varden altogether and was going to travel across Alagaesia and even visit the land of the elves.

While she was a bundle of excitement, Brom looked grim, as if he dreaded something. He kept hefting the pouch slung across his body that most probably contained the dragon eggs. They sneaked into the servants' quarters, through the kitchens and out a side door where servants could run in and out easily. Five figures waited outside.

First was Melikir, a warm smile on his face. It contrasted with the brief flash of disappointed that marred his gentle face when he tried to touch the eggs and neither hatched for him. Orrin briefly nodded to them, apparently deep in thought. Next was Selena, who gave Aesyr a firm hug before starting to lecture Brom about taking care of her daughter. Angela gave the girl a brief smile and rolled her eyes toward Selena and Brom.

Standing a little away from the main group was Frederic, who looked both awkward and anxious, the reins of two horses in his hand. The big, boisterous warrior who raised Aesyr as his own daughter gave her a light pat on her shoulder that made her buckle. "You promise me that you will return safe, you hear me?"

"I hear you," Aesyr chirped.

"You have gone a long way. You are not my little daughter anymore. In just a year, you will be a woman. A young one, but still a woman." Frederic broke into a smile. He gave her a book bound in red-dyed leather. "I am so sorry that I was not able to go to you yesterday and celebrate your birthday."

Aesyr threw her arms around the man that she will always know as her father. It didn't matter who truly sired her. "It doesn't matter. At least you remembered. And I am going home safely. Maybe we can even see Alagaesia together after everything is over. We could even convince Eragon and Murtagh to come with us… maybe even their friends."

Frederic laughed –a comforting, booming sound. "I expect nothing less from those young ones. If they do not watch out for you." He handed the reins to the white stallion to Aesyr, and the reins to the bay one to Brom. "I think this stallion belonged to one of your brothers."

Brom rubbed the bay's flank and mounted it. "It is good to see you again, Shesnir," he said with a grim smile.

Aesyr gingerly got on the white stallion, who nickered. She wasn't exactly good with riding. She liked horses, but she was thrown off their backs quite lot of times during the journey from Tronjheim to Surda. Not exactly a pleasant experience. "Take care of Snowfire," Brom said. "He served Eragon well."

Garrow led his men through the docks, where Clovis waited, apparently surprised. After noting their early arrival, the latter introduced the men to Torson and Flint, who were in command of the Merrybell and the Edeline, respectively. Clovis himself was in charge of the Red Boar. He kept drilling into them that they were to be followed.

They then proceeded to divide the men into two – crew hands and guards. Garrow even joined the sailors of the Red Boar in the last leg of the preparations before their departure. He was alert for any sign of trouble or danger, afraid that they might get captured or killed at any moment. He watched the water lapping the sides of the barges.

His breath caught as someone gripped his arm.

A hand on his ax handle, he whirled around to face Clovis. The man remained calm, eyebrow raised curiously. "Why so paranoid?" he asked.

"Nothing. Nothing." Garrow barely let himself relax. He remained tense, coiled like a spring. "We're living in troubled times. We should be ready for anything that might happen." He paused for a while. "Was there something you needed? Forgive me, I was on edge."

Clovis nodded. "Sometimes I fear that our barges would get overrun with pirates, I do. I've been watching you and your men, Deftblade. It sure is interesting to know your tale. Few men could win such loyalty. I myself served with more captains than my poor mind could recall. Not one could command the level of obedience that you do without some threats of bodily harm."

Garrow chuckled darkly. "Very well, I believe you deserve to know how I did it. I saved them all from slavery, from being burned and eaten."

Incredulity made Clovis' eyebrows shoot up. "Did you now? That'd be a story that I'd like to hear over a healthy helping of ale."

"No, I don't think you would. It is not an amazing tale, not really. And you probably would not believe half of what happened."

At least Clovis considered that. "Maybe 'tis better not to hear it, then." He glanced overboard, his face brightening. "Why hang me, I do believe that we could be on our way sooner than I've thought! Here's my little Galina, as punctual as ever."

The man scrambled away from Garrow and to the gangplank, before alighting onto the docks. He embraced a dark-haired girl maybe a handful of years younger than the Riders, and a woman who was most likely her mother. Clovis ruffled the girl's hair happily. "Now, I'm sure you'll be good while I'm gone, won't you, Galina?"

Garrow watched Clovis bidding his family farewell, and sadness tinged his thoughts. He wondered about the men he killed in Carvahall. Did they have families waiting for them to come home too, as well? Would they pay the price for the failures that the king and the Forsworn might blame upon their husbands, their fathers, their sons, their brothers? He thought that he was going to be sick and looked away. His thoughts strayed to his own family, which saddened him even more.

He turned to observing the men on the barges. Everyone was anxious and on edge. To keep them from losing their nerve, Garrow made sure that they saw him walking around the deck, stretching and simply trying to appear relaxed.

In no time at all, they were setting off, and Clovis was talking about the wind that meant there was no need for them to row. Garrow watched the houses and buildings shrink behind them for a moment, crouched at the rear of the barge with his arms around his knees and his back against the cabins. He watched the sky above him, though his mind didn't really register what he was seeing. He was simply worrying about what they would do once they reached Teirm.

He eventually found his way to the poop deck, where Clovis stood with his hands on the tiller. He was gently guiding their course. "There's something exhilarating 'bout the first day of the voyage, eh? Before long you'll realize that the food is bad and you'll long for home."

After spending two hours explaining exactly what everything in the barge did, Clovis pointed at a narrow peninsula ahead of them. "The cove be on the far side of that place."

Garrow felt anxious. He wanted to be sure that the villagers were safe. He began to crane his neck, leaning off the railing. The red boar rounded the rockly outcrop of land, revealing a sandly white beach at the tip of the cove – and the refugees from Palancar Valley. They all cheered and waved as the barges emerged from the rock.

Clovis cussed behind him. "I shoulda known that something was amiss the moment that I clapped my eyes upon you, Deftblade! Livestock? Pah! You played me like a fool, yes you did!"

"Well, you wrong me," Garrow said, growing tense. He whipped around to face Clovis. "I did not lie. I am the shepherd of that flock. It is within my right to call them 'livestock' if I want."

"Call them what you will, they are still people. I didn't agree to haul people all the way to Teirm. I know why you didn't tell me the true nature of the cargo! The venture that you're in only means trouble and nothing but that! I should toss the entire lot of you overboard and return to Narda."

"Oh, you won't." Garrow feared the coldness in his voice. "I need these barges. I'll do anything – anything! – to keep them. Just honor the bargain. You will have a peaceful trip and get to see Galina and your wife again. If not…" Garrow was not sure that he had it in him to harm or abandon Clovis. Tie him up, maybe, but not kill. He can't.

Clovis turned red and relented. "Fair enough, Deftblade."

Surprised, Garrow turned away and heard a snicking sound. As if by instinct, Garrow stepped back and raised his shield with a twist and a crouch. He was afraid that his arm would break from the force as a belaying pin snapped into two across the shield. He lowered it and stared at Clovis in disappointment. The latter retreated across the deck.

Garrow shook his head, eyes on his opponent all the time. "You can't defeat me, Clovis. I don't think so. Now I will ask again. Will you honor our bargain or not? I will put you ashore if you don't. We will commandeer the barges and press your crew into service. I don't want to harm you and ruin your livelihood unless you force me. Please, simply help us now and this will be a normal, uneventful voyage. We have already paid you."

"No, not for this." Straightening up with all the dignity he could muster, Clovis stared him in the eye. "If I agree, you must do me the courtesy of explaining why you had to get into this ruse. Why are these people here? Where're they from? I don't care about the gold you offer me, if it contradicts my principles then I'm not helping you, not at all. Are you bandits, or the blasted King's men?"

"If I tell you, you'll be in danger."

"Doesn't matter. I insist."

"Very well." Garrow leaned on the railings. "Have you heard of Carvahall? In Palancar Valley?"

Clovis waved his hand with a quick shrug. "Small village in the middle of nowhere. Of course I've heard of it once or twice. Why?"

"You see all that remains of it now on the beach. Galbatorix's soldiers attacked us without any provocation. We had to fight back until we could, and when we couldn't then we crossed the Spine and followed the coast to Narda. Galbatorix promised that every man, woman and child from Carvahall wil be killed or enslaved. We all believe that reaching Surda will be our only chance of survival." Garrow naturally left out the matter of the Forsworn and the six Riders. It might frighten Clovis into refusal.

As it was, the weathered seaman went gray. "Are they still after you, then?"

"Aye. Luckily the Empire has not yet discovered us. If they do, I will get the worst of it. I was the one who roused the villagers into fighting… and killed the most soldiers." He watched the tense, wide-eyed seaman. "Make your choice. The shore draws ever nearer."

Clovis' shoulders stooped, losing his bravado quickly. "Very well. The plague take you, Deftblade. I am no friend of the king. I'll get you to Teirm and will have nothing to do with you after that."

"Give me your word. You will not attempt to slip away in the night or harm us. No deceptions."

"You have it. I'll help you in my own way to defy the king at least 'till Teirm."

Sand and rocks brushed against the bottom of the Red Boar's hull as the bargs drove themselves up onto the beach. The rythmic crashing of the water agaisnt the land lulled Garrow into a calm. After furling the sails and extending the gangplanks, Torson and Flint clambered into the Red Boar and argued with Clovis while Garrow left him to explain what exactly was going on.

He found the villagers waiting for him, cheering when they realized who exactly was ashore. Horst and Sloan went forward to greet him, the blacksmith grim and the butcher excited.

"We spotted the dragons a few hours ago, but they did not come near to investigate, thank the skies," Horst said. "We need to get everyone on the barges as fast as we can."

Sloan nodded. "I hope you've got everything in Teirm planned out, Deftblade."

Traveling in the incredibly warm plains of Surda, Brom and Aesyr made good distance every day. They kept clear of cities and villages in the small country except when they had to buy more supplies for their trip. They angled for the Beor Mountains and the tunnels that would lead them to Tronjheim. During this time, they forsook the usual lessons that Aesyr had in swordsmanship and archery. They studied more of the elven culture and the ancient language.

"If the elves think so highly of themselves, then what would their reception of five human Riders be?" Aesyr asked one day, as they stayed on the far side of the wide road to avoid a passing group of merchants.

Brom's mouth twitched, obviously displeased. "Some won't mind. A Rider is a Rider, no matter the race. There are some younger elves who will be quite… unpleasant… though."

"I am assuming that unpleasant in this case means hostile."

"Not hostile in the human sense, no." Brom tapped his pipe thoughtfully. Colored smoke rings danced out of it, though the man didn't seem aware of it. "Elves can twist courtesy so much, that they are dealing a blow while still appearing courteous outwardly. And do not trust an elf word for word, unless you are talking to Faolin, Arya, the blacksmith Rhunon, or the Riders' mentors."

Aesyr stared at him. "Elves are strange creatures."

"Many of them have good intentions, but it is difficult to know what it is that they mean to do."

"So you have met elves?"

"I did get to finish tuatha du orothrim, unlike Galbatorix." Brom smiled. "I know many elven major cities, girl. We'll deal with the elves and then we'll be on our way back to Surda before you know it."

Another slow chapter. Erk. Anyway, we'll be back with the Riders next chapter. Hope the person who's complaining that he (or she) hates the non-Rider chapters will be happy. But not for long, kekeke! We'll be catching up with Garrow every now and then, though Aesyr's tale will probably just pick up once they reach Ellesmera or Du Weldenvarden.

With the new eggs that were revealed last chapter, speculations are running high regarding the next five Riders! Sadly Faolin and Melikir are not among the candidates, though they're cool enough without dragons. Brom isn't going to get a new dragon too, sadly. Or at least, not in the way you guys expect. I guess you guys probably know the black and white Riders already, and what do you think are the colors (and fates) of the dragon eggs still in Galby's grasp? You probably know who ends up getting one of them, though...

And yup, this Selena Nightblade is Morzan's "lover" and Brom's lover. Though Aesyr's dad is still up for speculation.

Dragon eggs! Dragon eggs!

I wonder how the dragons and Riders in Ellesmera will react to this news? What will become of Vanir and Nidavel when they find out? Stay tuned, folks!

Read and review, as always! The dragons are waiting for your questions too...