Chapter 24: Daret

They scarcely traveled two hours before Daret was in view. Harry spent the time in silent contemplation. He was oblivious to the concerned looks he received. Internally, an ethical debate raged. He recognized his own bias on the subject, but eventually concluded that the only way he'd be of any help in Alagaesia is if he mastered the art of entering the minds of others. The way magic here just affected whatever target instantly, Dumbledore himself would get his face mopped by even mediocre magicians in a direct conflict. Magicians in Alagaesia were practically gods.

Harry was of no help to Eragon dead, and Eragon really did need the help. He was up against a truly fearsome foe, a king who had shade servants and other fell creatures to send out with impunity. He chose to help Eragon and he would not go back on his word over some hangups on a dubiously moral skill he probably should learn anyways. He let Blinky know as much and smiled when she returned feelings of gratitude, pride, and determination.

§Tonight we sshall begin,§ she'd returned, §and your enemiess will fall before you.§

Now the party was entering Daret. They came to a cobbled bridge over the Ninor river and made to cross, but were stopped by a scraggly looking man holding a long but poorly made sword with ill-hidden aggression. "This'ere be m'bridge," he grinned maliciously. "Got't pay tha toll t'pass," he held out his left hand and waggled his fingers.

Eragon looked about ready to smite the man when Brom interrupted him. "How much?" he sighed.

The bandit ruminated for a moment before answering. "A crown each," he cackled, showing off yellowed and crooked teeth.

Brom wordlessly withdrew four gold coins from his purse and handed them over without complaint. The bandit accepted them, but eyed Brom's purse suspiciously. "How much you got there?" he asked.

"Some," Brom dismissed the guy, continuing on. The bandit made to open his mouth, but the storyteller feigned tripping on the guy, smacking right into his chest.

Harry spotted a flash of steel, but it vanished as soon as it did. The bandit shoved Brom off him with an ugly sneer. "Watch yer step, fool!" he snarled.

"Apologies," Brom gasped. "I lost my footing, sir."

They walked ahead, leaving the toll man behind. "Why didn't you haggle at all? The man skinned you alive!" Eragon exclaimed. Arya's lips twitched when Brom brought up his free hand. It contained an overflowing fistfull of golden coins.

"You can't argue with every fool in the world," Brom advised. "Better to use them to your advantage," he grinned. Eragon understood and grinned as well.

Brom noticed Harry was quiet during the exchange and asked him about it. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Harry emerged from his thoughts. "I'm just thinking about magic."

"A weighty topic for a simple walk," he observed.

He waved his hand dismissively. "I'm just wondering why some people can and can't use it. There doesn't seem to be any real criteria for why. It's hereditary where I come from, but it also randomly shows up in some families."

Brom stroked his beard. "That would be a topic for the elves. In lieu of the Riders, they have become the greatest thinkers. Though they are closely followed by the Surdans, elves know far more on the topic of magic than any others in Alagaesia."

The wizard sighed. "Who knows when we'll meet the lot of them. I know you have a rather exhaustive itinerary mapped out for us, Brom. It's not overly important anyways, just idle musings."

The old man seemed to agree. "Let us save the sensitive topics for when we are far away from villages as opposed to making the final approach."

Daret at first looked suspiciously empty, but Harry began to pick out signs that it was a different situation from Yazuac. Smoke still rose from some chimneys. The streets were devoid of life, but lacked bloodstains and signs of battle. "The people are around here somewhere," Harry murmured to Brom out of the corner of his mouth.

Brom nodded. "Keep alert, but do not be overly alarmed," he tapped his head. "They do not mean us harm." Harry frowned but accepted that.

Thanks to the warning, they were not overly surprised that when they reached the center square of the village, they were ambushed. Carts were toppled over to barricade them in the center and archers peeked over the lips of the roofs surrounding them, training their arrows on the four of them.

"Halt!" a man called out. He stood atop one of the makeshift barricades holding a drawn sword. "Put your weapons down, you're surrounded by sixty archers. They'll shoot if you move."

Harry placed a hand on his wand and prepared to draw it. He was fairly confident he could get a shield off before any arrows reached them. Brom however seemed supremely unconcerned. "What do you want?" he asked calmly.

"Why have you come here?" demanded the man.

"To buy supplies and hear the news. Nothing more. We're on the way to my cousin's house in Dras-Leona."

"You're armed pretty heavily."

"So are you," said Brom. "These are dangerous times."

"True." The man looked at him carefully. "I don't think you mean us ill, but we've had too many encounters with Urgals and bandits for me to trust you only on your word.:

"If it doesn't matter what we say, what happens now?" countered Brom. The men on top of the houses had not moved. By their very stillness, Harry was sure that they were either highly disciplined- or scared shitless. He hoped it was the latter.

"You say that you only want supplies. Would you agree to stay here while we bring what you need, then pay us and leave immediately?"

"Yes."

"All right," said the man, lowering his weapon yet keeping it handy. He waved at one of his archers, who slid to the ground and ran over. "Tell him what you want."

Brom recited a short list which had Harry frowning. They didn't need any food. Arya stood still with her arms crossed, wearing her timid human glamor. Humans in this era weren't used to women having spines. Or rights. Harry glowered at the thought, an expression which the man caught.

"-And if you have a pair of gloves for my nephew-" The man interrupted.

"Who's that look for?" he interrupted, indicating the scowling Harry. The wizard rolled his eyes. "Nothing. Brom just forgot to mention I'll buy any exotic seeds or plants you have on hand."

The man eyed him suspiciously, but accepted the feeble excuse. Finally, Brom got to the most important thing. "We need horses." The man looked surprised.

"You have the gold for 'em?" he asked.

Brom wordlessly withdrew his purse, now bulging with the 'donation' of the bandit at the bridge. "Price is no object. We'll take the best you have."

"Haberth!" the man called up to the rooftops. Another man joined the first archer. "These men and women wish to purchase mounts. They claim price is no object. What can you sell them?"

Haberth thought for a moment before reluctantly coming to a conclusion. "You're headed to Dras-Leona?" he clarified. Brom nodded. "It's a long journey. I hesitate to offer, but I have a stallion named Snowfire. He's the best I've bred and he'll cost you a pretty penny, but if you wish to safely reach your destination, you'll need a fast and hardy mount. Him plus tack and gear," Haberth sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. "Two hundred crowns."

Harry wasn't overly familiar with the worth of currency here, but even he knew that was exorbitant. So he was surprised when Brom handed over the coin without complaint, not even bothering to haggle. "We'll take the next three best horses you've got, too."

Haberth sighed. These strangers were going to clear him out of all his good breeding stock. "Very well. Two hundred crowns for the other three plus gear," he stated. Brom once again paid the massive sum. His purse was visibly quite deflated after the purchase. Both Haberth and the archer dashed off to retrieve their respective goods.

"The name's Trevor," said the man standing in front of them. "Normally I'd shake your hand, but under the circumstances, I think I'll keep my distance. Tell me, where are you from?"

Harry let Brom take this one. The storyteller wove bullshit for a living, after all. "North," he said. "But we haven't lived in any place long enough to call it home. Have Urgals forced you to take these measures?"

"Yes," said Trevor, "and worse fiends. Do you have any news from other towns? We receive word from them rarely, but there have been reports that they are also beleaguered."

Brom turned grave, and Harry felt sick. Eragon shifted uncomfortably behind them. "I wish it wasn't our lot to bring you these tidings. Several days ago we passed through Yazuac and found it slaughtered to the last babe. They were piled in the center of the square. We considered giving them a proper burial, but before we could decide either way, a kull attacked."

Shocked, Trevor stepped back and looked down with tears in his eyes. "Alas, this is indeed a dark day. Still, I don't see how a single kull warrior could have defeated all of Yazuac. Even a skilled warrior would fall to the masses. The people there were good fighters–some were my friends."

"There were signs that a band of Urgals had ravaged the town," stated Brom. "I think the one we encountered was a deserter."

"Or a rearguard," Harry murmured under his breath. Trevor caught that and paled.

"How many do you think were there?"

Brom fiddled with his backpack for a second. "Large enough to obliterate Yazuac, small enough to travel through the countryside relatively unnoticed. Between fifty and one hundred. Even prepared, your village cannot hope to stand against such numbers." Trevor wearily agreed. "You should consider leaving," Brom continued. "This area has become far too perilous for anyone to live in peace."

"I know," the man agreed. "But the people here refuse to consider moving. This is their home–as well as mine, though I have only been here a couple years–and they place its worth above their own lives." Trevor looked at him seriously. "We have repulsed individual Urgals, and that has given the townspeople a confidence far beyond their abilities. I fear that we will all wake up one morning with our throats slashed"

The archer who had fetched their goods hurried out of an alley with a pile of goods in his arms. He set them next to the horses, and Brom paid him. "I brought you two exotic plants, a local flower which grows on the banks of the Ninor- it can be made into purple dye or used in healing poultices, and a collection of herbs from one of our herb gardens," the man huffed out of breath. He rattled off the prices for the stuff and then gave the total, which Brom paid. As the man left, Brom asked, "Why did they choose you to defend Daret?"

Trevor shrugged. "I was in the king's army for some years."

Brom dug through the items, handed Eragon a pair of leather gloves, and stowed the rest of the supplies into their packs. Just then, Haberth led four beautiful horses down the center lane. Harry supposed they wouldn't fit through the alley. A group of archers hauled the wagon in his path back up behind the houses.

The storyteller inspected the steeds with a practiced eye. "Thank you, Haberth," he thanked. "Well," said Brom, "as I promised, we will go now."

Trevor nodded. "When you enter Dras-Leona, would you do us this favor? Alert the Empire to our plight and that of the other towns. If word of this hasn't reached the king by now, it's cause for worry. And if it has, but he has chosen to do nothing, that too is cause for worry."

"We will carry your message. May your swords stay sharp," said Brom.

"And yours."

The wagons were tipped back up by heaving men, and they rode from Daret into the trees along the Ninor river.

Brom pulled at his beard as they rode out on fresh horses. "The Empire is in worse condition than I had imagined. When the traders visited Carvahall, they brought reports of unrest, but I never believed that it was this widespread. With all these Urgals around, it seems that the Empire itself is under attack, yet no troops or soldiers have been sent out. It's as if the king doesn't care to defend his domain."

Harry had a dark look on his face. "I scryed the urgal village I visited this spring," Brom glanced at him. "It was completely deserted. There was no one left behind. And the totem in the middle of the village was glowing red."

"You suspect magic?" Brom clarified.

He nodded. "Did you notice the eyes of the kull in Yazuac?" he asked rhetorically. "They were the same shade of red. The same color of Durza's eyes. And now they mobilize for the first time in decades in any force?"

Eragon looked concerned. "You survived visiting an urgal village?" he asked. "Why did they not kill you?"

Harry shot him a look. "Urgals are honorable. I saved the life of their chieftain when I was hunting for the pelt I formed the tent out of. We both had bad injuries, and after I healed him I passed out. He could have killed me, but he helped out instead. Once we recovered, he took me to his village and they named me a friend."

Eragon looked doubtful. "But they're beasts," he protested. "All they do is murder and pillage their way through defenseless villages!"

Harry awkwardly turned in the unfamiliar saddle to face Eragon. "I will not contest that. They are a war loving race, and the stories they tell make their stance on humans clear; they believe us evil and greedy. But they are more honorable than any save the dwarves from what I've heard. Their culture revolves around strength and combat prowess, but they have stayed in their villages for the most part." His face darkened. "If you are to be the future of a generation of peacekeepers, you cannot hold grudges against entire races. The urgals told me stories of what the riders of old would do; razing their villages to keep their population in line. I hope you understand that while they are no allies of the king now, if you decide they all need to die, they may very well remember what your predecessors have done and reevaluate."

Arya did not comment on it, but her face was shadowed. Brom kept silent, but he also looked disagreeable.