The Hunt Begins

Eragon woke to Garrow shaking his shoulder. His uncle looked worn and pale. Not that Eragon himself felt much better. He groaned as the motion of sitting up sent pain radiating up his legs. He pulled on a clean tunic and made his way slowly into the main living area. To his delight, Brom was sitting at the table. There was no sign of his cousin.

"You're ok!" He exclaimed.

"'Course I am, boy," Brom grunted. "Just a bump on the head and a blow to the pride."

"What happened? Where were you?"

"They caught me snooping around. I fought them off and got this for my efforts. I was unconscious until an hour ago and made my way straight here. Garrow filled me in on your evening. We need to leave. Get you two out of here."

"But where would be go? Carvahall is our home," Eragon stated. Deep down he knew it was the right thing to do, but he felt lost.

"Well, the Ra'zac are going to be informing the king about the pair of you soon enough and you will have a choice to make. Either you serve the king, or you join with the Varden and fight him. Unless you wish to leave Alagaësia forever."

"Of course not!"

"Well, we aren't serving the king," Isabella's voice came from behind him. She emerged from her bedroom and sat down beside him.

"Agreed." Eragon nodded. That wasn't a choice.

"Then, you're only real option is to join the Varden or to try to hide which is unlikely. I did not wish for you to encounter the Varden so soon into your training, but needs must," Brom sighed regretfully.

"You assumed we would choose the Varden? Why don't you want us to go now?" Eragon had so many questions bubbling up inside him, it was difficult to know where to even start. Then another idea struck him. Before he could voice it, Brom spoke.

"So many questions," Brom grunted irritably. "Pack your things and get ready to leave. We can talk on the road."

"We are packed. We can leave now," Isabella stated. Brom nodded.

"Why can't we hunt down the Ra'zac. If we kill them, then they won't be able to tell Galbatorix about us. I know we couldn't beat them, but they caught us off guard. With more training, and you there with us, not to mention our dragons will grow, we can beat them. I know we can," Eragon suggested enthusiastically. If they killed the Ra'zac, then maybe they could come back to Carvahall. Live in peace.

"They have a large head start. And tracking them will be difficult, especially if their steeds are waiting nearby," Brom pointed out, but he didn't dismiss the idea completely.

"We would need to catch them quickly," Isabella stated. "If they head straight to the king, we have maybe a month, likely less than that. That's not enough time to be good enough to beat them. Or were you at a different fight to me last night?"

"We held them off. Without Brom. Without warning and I was already injured. Imagine what we could do at full strength when we're the ones ambushing them." She frowned, considering.

"Maybe you have a point," she conceded. "It would be good to rid the world of that filth."

"You said you'd look after them. Not take them on the trail of monsters," Garrow glared at Brom accusingly.

"They are dragon riders. Safety is simply not a guarantee. Chasing down and killing the Ra'zac would make it safer for everyone in Carvahall." Eragon looked between his uncle and Brom, who were glaring at each other. He could see both of their points. It wasn't safe for anyone while the Ra'zac were alive. They could come back, and use the villagers against him and Isabella. Not to mention they would be constantly hunted down once the king heard about the dragons. But those monsters were incredibly powerful. It was sheer dumb luck that they managed to hold them off the night before.

"Avoid Therinsford, would you?" Garrow requested quietly after several moments of tense silence. "Roran doesn't need to be dragged into this."

"Don't you think he should be warned?" Isabella raised an eyebrow.

"If he knew, he would come back immediately and he needs that job," Garrow said firmly. Brom shook his head like he found Garrow to be incredibly foolish but surprisingly said nothing.

Within ten minutes, the three of them were standing on the porch, packs in hand. Eragon stared morosely at his uncle. This was even harder than saying goodbye to Roran. It wasn't just his cousin leaving. He was leaving behind his entire world, rushing off into deadly adventures to possibly even kill a king. It was just too hard to imagine that one day the king could be gone. And even harder to imagine that he, Eragon, a simple farm boy from Carvahall might have something to do with it. He shook his head to clear his mind. That was a long way off, if it even ever happened and it would do no good to dwell on such things. Not that attempting to track and kill the Ra'zac was a much less terrifying endeavour.

He hugged his uncle tightly, noting worriedly that he could feel every ridge of Garrow's spine under his fingers. He knew Garrow would be too proud to seek out Gertrude by himself. Maybe he could convince Brom to make a stop in Carvahall before they left for good.

"Goodbye you two," Garrow said gruffly. "Train hard. I expect you both to keep yourselves alive. And you," he glared at Brom, "I expect you to take care of them."

"Eka weohnata ach pömnuria bakka." Brom's reply made them all frown in confusion. Eragon could have sworn he felt…something in Brom's words. Power, maybe.

"What?" Garrow blinked at him, a scowl on his face.

"I will do my best," the storyteller stated.

They will not escape me twice, Saphira declared. Eragon smiled.

Eragon shouldered his pack and led the way towards the Spine. He and Isabella debated whether or not they should obey Garrow and not stop in on Roran. Isabella wanted to tell him. She didn't think he should be left unawares, especially considering that if they failed, the Ra'zac might come back to use Roran against them. She seemed subdued throughout their argument, like her heart wasn't really in it. Nor her mind.

He meant to ask her about it when they stopped to make camp that night, but the thought was driven out of his head completely when Brom threw wooden sticks at the pair of them after supper.

"These again?" Isabella asked in confusion. "We are running out of time. If we are going to be good enough to beat them, we need to train with live steel."

"We'll cut ourselves to ribbons," Eragon protested.

"You will practise the moves I show you with your real weapons to build up your stamina, but for sparring purposes, you will use those." Brom indicated the wooden swords in their hands. Reluctantly she nodded and they felt into the familiar routine. They spent the first hour going over manoeuvres, repeating them over and over until Brom was happy with their form. Not used to the weight of Undbitr, Eragon's arms felt like they were made of water by the time they moved on to the actual sparring.

He failed to parry Brom's first strike, his arms almost collapsing under the force of the strike and his own hilt slammed into the bridge of his nose. His eyes began to stream immediately. Distantly he could hear the odd choking sort of noise that he knew indicated Saphira was laughing. Gritting his teeth, he blinked rapidly to clear his vision and joined the fray once more.

It only took them a day to come within a reasonable distance of Therinsford. Brom was insistent on stopping to buy horses. Travel on foot would take too long and time was of the essence. They found a comfortable place to spend the night and set up camp. Saphira and Volund joined them as dinner was being set on the fire. Did you have time to hunt for food? asked Eragon.

She snorted with amusement. If the two of you were any slower, I would have time to fly across the sea and back without falling behind.

You don't have to be insulting. Besides, we'll go faster once we have horses.

Perhaps. Will it be quick enough? She queried, letting out a puff of smoke.

It will have to be. Saphira huffed her agreement.

The next morning, they travelled swiftly so as to reach Therinsford before noon. After a league, the road widened, and they saw smoke in the distance. "You'd better tell Saphira and Volund to fly ahead and wait for us on the other side of Therinsford," said Brom. "They have to be careful here, otherwise people are bound to notice them."

Neither dragon was happy with this pronouncement. Saphira warned him to be careful but gave less protest than he expected given the roil of emotions he could feel from her. They both took off and Eragon watched until they were out of sight, feeling uneasy.

As the ruts in the road deepened, they noticed more footprints. Farms signalled their approach to Therinsford. The village was larger than Carvahall, but it had been constructed haphazardly, the houses aligned in no particular order.

"What a mess," said Eragon. He could not see Dempton's mill and honestly, they still hadn't reached an agreement on whether to tell Roran or not.

"It's ugly, if nothing else," agreed Brom.

The Anora River flowed between them and the town, spanned by a stout bridge. As they approached it, a greasy man stepped from behind a bush and barred their way. His shirt was too short, and his dirty stomach spilled over a rope belt. Behind his cracked lips, his teeth looked like crumbling tombstones. He demanded payment to use the bridge.

"How much?" asked Brom in a resigned voice, cutting off Isabella who had opened her mouth most likely to protest angrily. He pulled out a pouch, and the bridge keeper brightened.

"Five crowns," he said, pulling his lips into a broad smile. Eragon's temper wasn't the only one that flared at the exorbitant price judging by the look on his cousin's face. They both started to complain hotly, but Brom silenced them with a stern look. The coins were wordlessly handed over. The man put them into a sack hanging from his belt. "Thank'ee much," he said in a mocking tone, and stood out of the way.

As Brom stepped forward, he stumbled and caught the bridge keeper's arm to support himself. "Watch y're step," snarled the grimy man, sidling away. Eragon saw Isabella's outraged expression turn into a wicked smirk. He raised an questioning eyebrow and she shook her head, subtly indicating the bridge keeper.

"Sorry," apologized Brom, and continued over the bridge with two of them.

"Why didn't you haggle? He skinned you alive!" exclaimed Eragon when they were out of earshot. "He probably doesn't even own the bridge. We could have pushed right past him."

"Of course he doesn't own the bridge," Isabella scoffed. "But he's as stupid as he is arrogant. Did you not see Brom's 'trip'?" The sarcasm in her voice at the word trip made his raise his eyebrow once more.

"No. What did you do? Why pay him?"

"Because you can't argue with all of the fools in the world. It's easier to let them have their way, then trick them when they're not paying attention." Brom opened his hand, and a pile of coins glinted in the light.

"You cut his purse!" said Eragon incredulously.

"Shh," Isabella hissed, looking behind them to see if the bridge keeper had heard. He winced and grinned sheepishly.

Brom pocketed the money with a wink. "And it held a surprising amount. He should know better than to keep all these coins in one place." There was a sudden howl of anguish from the other side of the river. The three of them snickered. "I'd say our friend has just discovered his loss. If you see any watchmen, tell me." He grabbed the shoulder of a young boy running between the houses and asked, "Do you know where we can buy horses?" The child stared at them with solemn eyes, then pointed to a large barn near the edge of Therinsford. "Thank you," said Brom, tossing him a small coin.

"I'm going to speak with Roran. He deserves to know. I'll encourage him to stay here, that the situation is under control. But he doesn't deserve to be blindsided," Isabella stated, staring at Brom as if daring him to argue. Instead, he simply nodded his head.

"Fine. But, while you're in the town, ask around. Discreetly. See if you can find out if they have been in town. Meet us at the edge of town in no more than an hour." She nodded and then disappeared into the crowd. Eragon debated going with her, but Brom had grabbed his arm and was leading him towards the stables.

The barn's large double doors were open, revealing two long rows of stalls. The far wall was covered with saddles, harnesses, and other paraphernalia. A man with muscular arms stood at the end, brushing a white stallion. He raised a hand and beckoned for them to come over.

As they approached, Brom said, "That's a beautiful animal."

"Yes indeed. His name's Snowfire. Mine's Haberth." Haberth offered a rough palm and shook hands vigorously with the pair of them. There was a polite pause as he clearly was waiting for their names in return. When they were not forthcoming, he frowned slightly and asked, "Can I help you?"

Brom nodded. "We need two horses and a full set of tack for both. The horses have to be fast and tough; we'll be doing a lot of traveling." Eragon frowned in confusion. Two horses? There were three of them.

Haberth was thoughtful for a moment. "I don't have many animals like that, and the ones I do aren't cheap." The stallion moved restlessly; he calmed it with a few strokes of his fingers.

"Price is no object. I'll take the best you have," said Brom. Eragon startled at the declaration that price was no object. He honestly couldn't imagine such a thing. How on earth was Brom rich enough to be able to say such a thing. Unless it was a bluff, but that was a foolish bluff to Eragon. Saying there was no limit, was just asking him to put the price up higher. Especially if he didn't want to sell.

Haberth nodded and silently tied the stallion to a stall. He went to the wall and started pulling down saddles and other items. Soon he had two identical piles. Next, he walked up the line of stalls and brought out two horses. One was a light bay, the other a roan. The bay tugged against his rope.

"He's a little spirited, but with a firm hand you won't have any problems," said Haberth, handing the bay's rope to Brom.

Brom let the horse smell his hand; it allowed him to rub its neck. "We'll take him," he said, then eyed the roan. "The other one, however, I'm not so sure of."

"There are some good legs on him."

"Mmm . . . What will you take for Snowfire?"

Haberth looked fondly at the stallion. "I'd rather not sell him. He's the finest I've ever bred—I'm hoping to sire a whole line from him."

"If you were willing to part with him, how much would all of this cost me?" asked Brom.

Eragon tried to put his hand on the bay like Brom had, but it shied away. He automatically reached out with his mind to reassure the horse as he did with the dragons. The contact was not clear or sharp like it was with Saphira, nor even as clear as speaking with Volund, now that the black dragon had stopped deliberately ignoring him. Still, he could communicate with the bay to a limited degree. Tentatively, he made it understand that he was a friend. The horse calmed and looked at him with liquid brown eyes.

Haberth used his fingers to add up the price of the purchase. "Two hundred crowns and no less," he said with a smile, clearly confident that no one would pay that much. Brom silently opened his pouch and counted out the money.

"Will this do?" he asked. Eragon's mouth dropped open. He'd never seen so much money in his life. Just who was Brom that a simple storyteller could afford such extravagance, on two horses? It made him acutely aware of how little they still knew about the man who they were trusting with their lives, as well as the lives of their dragons.

There was a long silence as Haberth glanced between Snowfire and the coins. A sigh, then, "He is yours, though I go against my heart."

"I will treat him as if he had been sired by Gildintor, the greatest steed of legend," said Brom.

"Your words gladden me," answered Haberth, bowing his head slightly. He helped them saddle the horses. When they were ready to leave, he said, "Farewell, then. For the sake of Snowfire, I hope that misfortune does not befall you."

"Do not fear; I will guard him well," promised Brom as they departed. Brom held Snowfire's reigns, while he led the bay. Isabella was waiting for them at the gate leading out of town. They walked until Therinsford was hidden by trees.

Then Isabella said, "The Ra'zac definitely passed this way. Apparently, they stopped here to pick up horses, as you did. I was able to find a man who saw them. He described them with many shudders and said that they galloped out of Therinsford like demons fleeing a holy man."

"They left quite an impression then," Eragon muttered.

"They are good at that."

"Take everything from your pack, put it into the saddlebags, and tie the pack on top," Brom instructed. Eragon did so while Brom mounted Snowfire. Isabella seemed to notice there were only two horses.

"Er, you seem to be missing one."

"No. While we travel, one of you should spend some time each day with the dragons. It will help strengthen your bonds as riders." Isabella beamed excitedly, but Eragon felt his stomach twist itself into knots at this statement.

Looking between Saphira and the bay, that for an absurd moment he couldn't help but wonder if the horse could bear his weight. With a sigh, he determinedly got into the saddle. He had only ridden horses bareback and never for any distance, but he was not ready to ride his dragon just yet. "Is this going to do the same thing to my legs as riding Saphira?" he asked.

"How do they feel now?"

"Not too bad, but I think any hard riding will open them up again."

"We'll take it easy," promised Brom.

"Guess I'm going with the dragons then," Isabella grinned. Brom gave Eragon a few pointers as she clambered up onto Volund, then they started off at a gentle pace. Before long the countryside began to change as cultivated fields yielded to wilder land. Brambles and tangled weeds lined the road, along with huge rosebushes that clung to their clothes. Tall rocks slanted out of the ground—gray witnesses to their presence. There was an unfriendly feel in the air, an animosity that resisted intruders.

Above them, growing larger with every step, loomed Utgard, its craggy precipices deeply furrowed with snowy canyons. The black rock of the mountain absorbed light like a sponge and dimmed the surrounding area. Between Utgard and the line of mountains that formed the east side of Palancar Valley was a deep cleft. It was the only practical way out of the valley. The road led toward it.

The horses' hooves clacked sharply over gravel, and the road dwindled to a skinny trail as it skirted the base of Utgard. Eragon glanced up at the peak looming over them and was startled to see a steepled tower perched upon it. The turret was crumbling and in disrepair, but it was still a stern sentinel over the valley. "What is that?" he asked, pointing. He felt Saphira join his mind as he asked the question. Despite not being able to see her, he knew she was listening raptly to Brom's answer.

Brom did not look up, but said sadly and with bitterness, "An outpost of the Riders—one that has lasted since their founding. That was where Vrael took refuge, and where, through treachery, he was found and defeated by Galbatorix. When Vrael fell, this area was tainted. Edoc'sil, 'Unconquerable,' was the name of this bastion, for the mountain is so steep none may reach the top unless they can fly. After Vrael's death the commoners called it Utgard, but it has another name, Ristvak'baen—the 'Place of Sorrow.' It was known as such to the last Riders before they were killed by the king."

Eragon stared with awe. Here was a tangible remnant of the Riders' glory, tarnished though it was by the relentless pull of time. It struck him then just how old the Riders were. A legacy of tradition and heroism that stretched back to antiquity had fallen upon him. He felt Saphira's sorrow on top of his own.

They travelled for long hours around Utgard. It formed a solid wall to their right as they entered the breach that divided the mountain range. Eragon stood in his stirrups; he was impatient to see what lay outside of Palancar, but it was still too far away. For a while they were in a sloped pass, winding over hill and gully, following the Anora River. Then, with the sun low behind their backs, they mounted a rise and saw over the trees.

Eragon gasped. On either side were mountains, but below them stretched a huge plain that extended to the distant horizon and fused into the sky. The plain was a uniform tan, like the colour of dead grass. Long, wispy clouds swept by overhead, shaped by fierce winds.

He understood now why Brom had insisted on horses. It would have taken them weeks or months to cover that vast distance on foot. Far above he saw Saphira and Volund circling, high enough to be mistaken for a bird.

"We'll wait until tomorrow to make the descent," said Brom. "It's going to take most of the day, so we should camp now."

"How far across is the plain?" Eragon asked, still amazed.

"Two or three days to over a fortnight, depending on which direction we go. Aside from the nomad tribes that roam this section of the plains, it's almost as uninhabited as the Hadarac Desert to the east. So, we aren't going to find many villages. However, to the south the plains are less arid and more heavily populated."

They left the trail and dismounted by the Anora River. The dragons landed as they unsaddled the horses. Isabella clambered down and joined them in setting up camp. Brom gestured at the bay. "You should name him."

Eragon glanced at his cousin. She shrugged. "You can name him." He considered it as he picketed the bay. "Well, I don't have anything as noble as Snowfire, but maybe this will do." He placed his hand on the bay and said, "I name you Cadoc. It was my grandfather's name, so bear it well." Brom nodded in approval, but Eragon felt slightly foolish. He glanced towards Isabella who was also smiling, indicating her own approval which made him feel a bit better.

"What of Roran?" He asked while Brom cooked. The question had been nagging at him all day.

"He's worried of course. He agreed to stay in Therinsford for now, but I honestly don't know how long he will. If he thinks for one second anyone in Carvahall is in danger, namely Garrow or Katrina, he'll be back there as soon as possible. Other than he seems well."

"Good. I miss him."

"He misses you too. He's quite annoyed we kept the news about the dragons from him."

"You told him about the dragons?" Brom barked in annoyance.

"Of course I did. He is our cousin."

"Anyone could have heard you. He could tell someone by accident. Foolish!" He growled.

"Roran won't tell anyone. He knows exactly how much danger he would be putting Eragon and I in if he blabs," she retorted. Brom glowered but said no more on the matter.

After dinner, he stood and barked, "Catch!" Eragon barely had time to raise his arm and grab the piece of wood before it hit him on the head. He knew exactly what it would be and sighed heavily as Isabella caught her own stick that was lobbed in her direction.

"Not again," he complained without any real heat. He knew it was a necessity. Brom just smiled and beckoned with one hand. Eragon reluctantly got to his feet. They whirled around in a flurry of smacking wood, and he backed away with a stinging arm.

The training session was shorter than the first, given that it was the first time they'd been able to have lessons back-to-back, and Eragon was already dreading the days to come.

As they lay down to get some sleep, Eragon scooted close to his cousin. She eyed his curiously from her place under Volund's wing. In hushed tones, he explained what had happened in the stables, how Brom had spent, been able to afford to spend, two hundred crowns on the horses. How he had even indicated that price was no object. "Why would he do that?" He demanded in a furious whisper. Isabella looked pensive.

"I don't know. We already knew he wasn't an average storyteller, he admitted that himself. But to be able to afford two hundred crowns? After spending the last decade and a half being nothing but a simple storyteller in Carvahall. Maybe he came from money originally?"

"But then why would he settle in Carvahall of all places?"

"And why spend so much money helping us?" Isabella chewed on her lip as they considered the puzzle that was their teacher and guide. "I mean, I know we're dragon riders and all that, and one of the horses was for Brom himself, but I'm still uncomfortable with all this. I hadn't really thought about the expenses that come with a trek across half the world, and I like relying on Brom even less."

"Maybe we could hunt some game and sell it in the next town. At least help earn our keep in a way," Eragon suggested, glad he wasn't the only one who hadn't even thought about money, and buying supplies on the way. Whenever he and Isabella hunted, they just caught their own food and used their own things. It was enough. But they had only been on hunts that last a few days, a week at the absolute most.

"That's a good idea. It's not like the dragons don't have time to do plenty of hunting and it'll help them keep up their skills."

"Yeah. Ok."

"Get some sleep. I think we're going to need it," she said dryly. He had to agree with that.