Chapter 32: Enemies, Friends, Family
There was a beat of silence where no one moved. The boiling rage he felt towards them for murdering Garrow had simmered and tempered and now was as cool as ice. Eragon gathered that cold fury about him and unslung his bow, sighting down the shaft like he'd done a million times before. Oddly enough, the Ra'zac made no move to make for cover, instead staring contemptuously down his arrowhead.
Eragon loosed his arrow. It zipped down the rows of pews, his aim true. At the last second, the Ra'zac he'd aimed at dodged. Its cape whirled batlike as it moved with the same speed he mentally associated with Arya, Durza, and to a lesser extent: Brom. But where they were all fluid grace and beauty, malevolent though Durza was, the Ra'zac were the exact opposite. Their movements were jerky and unnatural, limbs bending the wrong way or far too far as they approached him over the rows of pews.
Twice more he had time to fire before they were upon him. Neither arrow found its mark and he was forced to stow it and draw his sword, lest he be forced to discard a keepsake of Garrow's in the pressure of battle.
Zar'roc gleamed unnaturally bright red in the dim cathedral. "Eragon!" Saphira exclaimed in his head. "You cannot hope to take on two faster and stronger than you without allies. Brom is being chased out of the city as we speak. Fly! If you are captured, there is not a force in Alagaesia which will save you."
Eragon's face drained of blood. "Where's Brom! What happened? Where shall I meet him?" His sword met the Ra'zac's and a furious sword fight began. The rider had not known how much Harry had been assisting him against Durza until now. These two were undeniably of a lower calibre than the shade, yet every blow caused his arm to jar in pain.
Things went from bad to worse as a battalion of soldiers marched in all their arms and livery through the great doors to the church. Despite their uncomfortable looks at the nature of their allies, the captain made it clear whose side he was on when he leveled his spear at Eragon and shouted to his troops. "He is to be taken alive!"
He decided discretion was the better part of valor and fled. Forwards was not an option–he'd have to slay his way through the battalion while fending off the Ra'zac. That only left deeper in hopes there was an exit behind.
Eragon sprinted as hard as he could towards the pulpit, flinging a door shut behind him as he rushed down the hall. It was completely empty except for the ominous clicking of the Ra'zac's pursuit. The door hardly stalled them, he heard it shatter mere moments after slamming it. I hadn't even locked it!
The dimly lit hallway had doors and halls branching off, but Eragon ignored them. At the very end was a larger set of double doors with light emanating from the cracks. He arrived at the doors well before the Ra'zac, but found them locked. The things had realized it and slowed their pace, relishing the stalking of their prey as they approached menacingly.
Eragon knew he would need every bit of energy he had available to him if he was to get out of this mess, and so cast a spell with the energy reserves in Zar'roc. "Jierda!"
The thick wooden doors splintered. He felt the swell of fatigue characteristic of magic use, but the actual spell took no strength at all. The Ra'zac picked up their pace when he dashed out, cursing as he beheld his surroundings. Eragon was hemmed in by a walled courtyard. The barrier was six feet of masonry tall, with cruel black iron spikes jutting from the top to stop climbers.
Nothing for it. "Audr!" Eragon drew heavily on Zar'roc and arced over the barrier. The Ra'zac hissed angrily behind him and a crossbow bolt barely skimmed his ankle, which erupted in fire. Damn! Seithr oil!
"Harry and the others have already packed and are waiting at the east gate. Brom knows and is heading there, too. He has collected everything from the inn and leads Cadoc with him. Make haste, Eragon." Saphira guided him through the crooked and disorganized streets, relying on a bird's eye view to trace out the best route for her rider. Breathing heavily, Eragon sprinted as hard as he could, sparing no thought except to when Saphira sent him a direction or turn to take.
Despite the superior navigation he was provided, it still took Eragon nearly four minutes to reach Brom, at which point the alarm in Dras-Leona was well and truly raised. "Eragon, come! If they close the gate with us behind it, this situation will go from terrible to unfathomably hopeless." Brom held out Cadoc's reins for him to grasp.
With a practiced motion, Eragon swung himself into the saddle and they both dug their feet into their mounts' flanks. Cadoc and Snowfire were off like a shot, galloping across the cobbles towards the east gate. Brom uttered a foul curse. "They're closing the gates! Faster!"
Eragon bent low over Cadoc. Buildings seemed to blur on each side, and his vision narrowed to only the enormous wrought iron portcullis which was slowly descending in front of him. A line of pikemen filed out and barred their paths, but Eragon was having none of it. "Thrysta!"
They went flying like ragdolls. The magic had very nearly emptied the gem in Zar'roc. He had time for perhaps one last effort, then Brom would have to be the magician between them. As they bore down, Eragon judged the speed of the portcullis's descent and realized, "It's too fast, we're not going to make it! Du grind huildr!"
Leg burning in the stirrup where the Ra'zac's bolt had burned him, Eragon rode hard, leaned over and grasping Cadoc's neck for support. The portcullis made a tortured shrieking noise, but ground to a halt regardless. His spell was sapping strength faster than Eragon had ever felt. Zar'roc was already drained and he could see black spots form in his eyes. Brom glanced at his son in concern, but did not slow, instead urging ever more speed from their mounts.
They raced beneath the spiked portcullis, mere inches above their forms which were hunched over their mounts. With a ragged gasp, Eragon released the spell. A tremendous clang sounded as the portcullis slammed shut like it was dropped from the top. He spared no thought for the screams of their pursuers who were cleaved in twain by the colossal guillotine.
Up ahead, Eragon spotted Stupid and Glenwing, each with a rider astride them. Surprisingly, Angela had mounted Stupid, and Harry was nowhere to be seen. They waited until Brom and Eragon were nearly upon them before they turned their mounts and set off at a gallop.
The pair of groups grew level. "Come," Arya called. "We are skipping our next stop and heading to our destination. Information was found which takes precedence over any side trip."
At the first fork in the road, they headed south rather than north, as Eragon expected. Gil'ead was the opposite direction they were heading. He gathered from Arya's words that they were headed directly to the Varden. What could be so urgent that Brom was willing to drop everything and go straight to them? Especially when he didn't even sound all that fond of them!"
Eragon could spare no further thought to that. A column of soldiers had emerged from the now raised gate and thundered after them on their own mounts. "I hope you have a way to outpace them without showing our hand," he called to his father. "I'm too tired to fight and Zar'roc is empty!"
Brom scowled. "Turn here!" The group charged off the gravel road and into a sparse forest which thickened as they went. Thundering hooves grew fainter the further in they galloped, but there was no mistaking the fact that they were being followed. Saphira beat her mighty wings overhead.
"Shall I harry them? I am certain it will slow the column to be immersed in flame."
"Nay. If there are archers among them, it will cost us more to stop and heal you than the distance we might gain from it. Should they catch up, we will have need of your prowess in battle."
Saphira's emotions were turbulent; disagreement, bloodlust, reluctance, but she obeyed, silently keeping up vigil over the column and occasionally calling out their positions. "You are increasing your lead," she noted.
"We need only make it to the Ramr river to make it to safety," Brom huffed. "There, we can use means available to only us to cross, and our pursuers will be forced to retreat. Beyond the eyes of our pursuers, we may employ more rapid methods of travel."
Eragon yanked his reins to avoid crashing headlong into a thick oak. It was terrifying and exhilarating, running for his life in such a way. A single misstep would crash him headlong into a tree. Even should he survive, they would surely be caught. But the thrill of deftly dodging obstacles on horseback was one only surpassed by flying on dragonback.
"I am glad you think so, little one." Smugness radiated off of Saphira.
They rode at a harsh pace until dusk. The herbalist was silent the whole way, but Eragon noticed how at ease she was in battle. Yet another mystery. She rode with great skill, eyes darting about and taking everything in. Minute adjustments of her course skillfully avoided the inelegant lurching dodges Eragon was forced to employ to avoid smearing himself against the trees.
When they stopped to make camp, he glanced about curiously. "Why are we not pitching the tent?"
"It's not safe, son. If we were to go inside, whoever took the watch would be separated from the rest of us. If we all stayed out, it would obviate the point of the tent, besides risking it being captured. I should not need to tell you what kind of disasters would befall Alagaesia should Galbatorix get his hands on everything within."
Eragon felt mutinous, but accepted that. He was sore from riding hard all day and fatigued beyond measure after holding aloft an enormous portcullis with his magic. "Rest, Eragon. I shall watch over you tonight and should any of Galbatorix's men disturb you, it will be the last thing they do." Saphira's voice comforted him and Eragon quickly succumbed to exhaustion, barely able to scarf down a cold meal and set out his bedroll before falling asleep.
Harry practically vibrated with nervous energy. All day, he had been cooped up inside the packed tent. He could probably apparate out with little trouble, but space expansion charms were finicky things and he didn't want to accidentally compact the whole enchantment and spawn a black hole in the heart of a nation. If he thought the wait in Dras-Leona was bad, this was pure torture.
Blinky and him practiced the mind arts incessantly in a futile attempt to distract himself, but it was not enough. Somewhere outside, Harry knew his friends were either running from or fighting for their lives, and he was stuck in here.
It had to be said that he had volunteered to stay behind. They had only four horses, and five riders. Initially, Harry simply wished to avoid riding atop Stupid for a second longer than was absolutely necessary. Then his common sense kicked in and Harry realized he'd rather have sores on his arse and a living friend than to lounge comfortably on a couch while someone ran a sword through Eragon's gut.
His resolve wavered too late, however, and Angela sat astride his accursed steed, riding out of the tent with all the regal poise of Arya. He needed something to distract him. What could he do during this time he had to himself?
Visit my family. The thought struck him. Harry scarcely warned Blinky before he was enshrouded in his cloak and he spun about his heel, vanishing entirely silently, leaving no trace whatsoever to follow.
Harry reached the astral Godric's Hollow with a crack of displaced air. He landed in the park just across the street from his parents' house. A young woman noticed his arrival and beamed. "Welcome back, Harry."
"It's good to be back, Ariana." Dumbledore's sister was barefoot on the verdant dewy grass, wearing a flowery dress and smiling radiantly.
"Your parents have missed you, Harry. It's not often anyone is granted the ability to come and go. You ought to visit more often," she scolded him. Harry grinned.
"I will try my best, Ariana. I'm rather busy down in the land of the living, you know."
Ariana nodded excitedly. "Oh yes, Alagaesia is fascinating, and watching your adventures is a common pastime up here. Why, just yesterday brother and his boyfriend had a theory on how magic was bound to English. You should see the fire in their eyes when they talk about it–you'd think they wanted to implement it here!"
He smiled. It was a bit jarring the first time he spotted Albus Dumbledore chatting affably with Gellert Grindelwald, but then, who was he to judge? After all, Heaven was a place of rest, rebirth, and redemption. Harry wasn't overly familiar with Grindelwald's war (though Binns had thoroughly educated him on the goblin ones,) but he was fairly certain it was nowhere near as brutal as Voldemort's insurrection. Gellert was a legitimate visionary. Tom Riddle was just a terrorist. He could sympathise with the desire for the world to change, he just disagreed with how the previous dark lord went about it.
Harry smelled barbecue coming from behind his parents' house and followed his nose eagerly. He knocked on the front door. Frantic footsteps rushed towards the door which was flung open. Lily flew out with a huge smile on her face and enveloped him in a hug.
"Welcome back, Harry!" she beamed. James emerged from the hallway behind her and smiled over her shoulder.
"We made barbecue in anticipation. The whole gang's here!" His father gave him a mischievous smile and eagerly dragged him through the hall and out to the patio behind the house.
Out back, Sirius was tending to the grill and looking very much in his element. "How do you like your burgers again Moony? Extra extra rare?"
"How very droll," Remus rolled his eyes. "You know very well that Lycanthropy does not follow the dead to the afterlife." Sirius smirked and produced a perfectly grilled burger, tossing together the ingredients over his shoulder and behind his back in flashy maneuvers. "If you drop that you get to eat it," Remus warned, but smiled nonetheless.
A long oval table sat on the grass with the traditional red and white checkered tablecloth tossed over it. Many familiar faces smiled up at him. Harry spotted Nymphadora Tonks, Fred Weasley and his uncles Gideon and Fabian, Alastor Moody, Sirius and Remus of course, Cedric Diggory who rather unfortunately (or fortunately from another perspective) had no family yet passed to hang out with.
Ted Tonks sat next to his daughter who was staring at a silvery mirror, watching a little boy with rapidly cycling hair color knock over a vase and shamelessly blame it on his invisible friend. Surprisingly enough, Amelia Bones was present and it did not take a genius to see who she was here for. The old head of the DMLE and Sirius Black could scarcely stop making mooneyes at each other. James cuffed his friend on the ear.
"Padfoot, your burgers are burning!" Sirius yelped and scrambled for his tongs. "You have all the time in the world after to rail your childhood crush," James teased. Amelia heard and turned away blushing. The Weasley section grinned and made catcalls and whistles over the picnic table.
James lent a hand in finishing up the grilling and the pair churned out delicious burgers like they were going out of style. Harry made his way to the table and sat down next to his mum, who had split off and was chatting with a beautiful blonde woman that looked very familiar…
"Harry! Meet Pandora Lovegood. She was one of Ravenclaw's prefects when I was a first year. You knew her daughter-"
"Luna Lovegood, yes, how could anyone forget her," Harry smiled fondly. "I must say, I am very much looking forward to saving your life and seeing Luna again."
Pandora looked happy. "I appreciate the effort, Harry. Xeno tries his best, but he's really not suited to raise a child on his own. And I missed my moonflower terribly."
Harry waved it off. "It's nothing. Anything for the mother of one of the bravest women I've ever met." Mrs. Lovegood looked like she was about to start crying in joy, so he laid way back on the compliments and engaged her in a discussion about spellcrafting. Pandora was intrigued by his own approach: envisioning a desired effect and attaching an incantation afterwards. Apparently, the traditional method involved working out a definition for the effect with various ancient scripts like Sumerian or Futhorc. She would then use arithmancy to determine which language would work best with the effect, and smooth out the incantation and movements afterwards. He thought it would be an interesting experiment to try and combine their methods.
It was pretty surreal to see Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald chatting affably at a table filled with members of the Order of the Phoenix. The old dark lord garnered a few glares, but he let the looks slide off him like water on a duck's back.
The table rattled from a heavily laden platter of burgers. Sirius and James sat down in their places. "It has come to my attention," James announced dramatically, "that my son does not actually realize what we've gathered here today for." Sirius snickered.
"Harry, you can hardly be blamed for not knowing the exact date down in that backwater medieval hole, but if you visited more often, perhaps you might have realized what day it is…"
"And what a tragic day it is," Gideon lamented.
"A real tear-jerker," Fabian agreed affably.
"To have gone this long without 'popping the cherry,' so to speak," Sirius agreed.
"Shut up," James rolled his eyes. "Though I must say, your reluctance has denied many a passed fangirl the chance to be a creepy voyeur, and your poor father the chance to watch you become a man. It is my great pleasure to wish you, Harry James Potter, a very merry…"
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Everyone at the table cheered. Even the unlikely ones like Moody (and wasn't it odd to see him with two legs and two human eyes) and Grindelwald got in on the action. Sparkling fireworks danced across the sky and the guests cheered raucously. Harry felt his heart beating happily in his chest. All these people had come to celebrate his birthday, congregating without even knowing that he'd be here at all. It reminded him of the days before Fleur's wedding, where everyone took the time to celebrate a day Harry had not known the significance of for eight long years.
Blushing, Harry stammered out his thanks. James laughed and slapped him on the back. "If you're this shy around people you know, I wholeheartedly understand why you haven't propositioned to that Arya woman!" Harry was struck speechless at the idea. Yes, of course he liked her and thought she was beautiful–who wouldn't? But she was over a hundred years old and showed no interest besides. His dad continued, "I know you well enough to know you think she is uninterested, but it took Ginny practically bedding all of Hogwarts in an attempt to get you jealous before you noticed."
"Oi!" one of the Prewetts exclaimed in annoyance.
The other shook his head sadly. "Not-so-ickle Gid, you know it's true. She wasn't called the school doorknob for nothing."
"Why is that?" Sirius asked curiously.
"Everybody gets a turn!" Fabian cackled madly. Lily slapped him and his twin wisely stayed silent.
"My son is not some rake to screw anything that moves, Fabian. And I'll thank you," she glared at James who was trying to suppress a laugh, "not to encourage such behavior."
"Why Lily," Pandora suggested airily, "what with the rumors of what Roxanne Greengrass and yourself got up to in the abandoned classroom off the fourth hall of the east wing, one would think you were the last person to take such a stance-"
Lily coughed desperately, cheeks burning as red as her hair. "-thank you, Pandora. I am sure Harry will prove to be the wisest in our family when it comes to placing his heart." Harry froze in mortification at the implication. "Shall we say grace?" His mum abruptly changed the subject.
Alastor scoffed. "Hardly necessary when the absence of the pagan gods was very nearly shoved down our throats when we got here. Did you not watch the orientation film on arrival?" Lily quelled his complaint with a glare. They held each other's hands and she was about to speak when a late arrival strode in and spotted what they were doing.
"Carry on," God said brightly, taking her seat near Harry. "And Alastor, you might very well need to rewatch the orientation film if that's your take away." Suddenly much more nervous, Lily quickly said grace. Harry had no idea that she was religious. The topic had never arisen and no one wanted to wade into the cesspit that was arguing over religion. It was a topic which was rather surprisingly completely absent throughout all of Hogwarts and his time staying at either Sirius's or the Weasleys.
"Wonderful!" God complimented when Lily finished. "I do so appreciate it when my children invite me to share in their meal." The atmosphere had grown rather tense and awkward at the abrupt presence of divinity in their midst. "Why must you all behave like this around me?" she asked curiously. "It is no different than any other moment, living or otherwise. I'm simply wearing a body right now."
James tore his eyes away from her and cleared his throat. "Right. Well, let the feast begin!"
Everyone tore into the food eagerly, Harry especially. There weren't enough cows to really slaughter for meat, and he'd rather refrain from doing so in Arya's presence. It had been years since he had a good old-fashioned burger. People began to form their own conversations. Harry chatted with his close family, Pandora Lovegood, and God herself, discussing his latest experiments, interesting ideas and concepts he wanted to explore, and his plans for the current adventure he was on in Alagaesia. The women present had keen input for him, as well as inspiration and ideas for his own experiments. God refrained from giving him outright answers, instead hinting mysteriously at ideas and concepts which might work best. Harry didn't mind the evasiveness. He was sure if he asked directly she would tell him, but Harry liked to work out his own problems.
They had a rather somber and cathartic discussion about Durza's actions and he was given reassurances that it was not his fault in the slightest for the deaths of the children. God offered to show him where they were staying, but he respectfully declined. Harry didn't think he'd be able to keep his composure around them. Yet the discussion still resulted in the lifting of a weight he had been carrying about him.
"Harry," God had said, "Alagaesia is not like your Earth where peaceful conflict resolution and negotiations are the norm. The simple fact is, such a relatively primitive country simply cannot support the sort of civilization you are used to. And that is okay. You will have need to lift your sword against enemies to cast aside Galbatorix's shadow. Some will be coerced enemies, some bound by unbreakable oaths, yet they will need to be swept aside regardless. Take solace in the fact that this," she swept her arm, "is their destination, one which is unquestionably better than where they live now. I sent you to Alagaesia for a reason. Your help in ending Galbatorix's tyranny will result in a golden age for the country, one which will see them quickly advance to near the point of the world you left."
That had helped, a lot. He wondered about the feasibility of an assassination–after all, he had Death's cloak–but was advised against it. "Galbatorix is not the only evil man in need of killing. He is simply the most prominent. You are likely going to be forced to lay siege to every Empire city and slay most of the king's army simply because he extracted unbreakable oaths from everyone he could possibly think of, oaths that will not simply end when he dies. Plus, Eragon makes a very visible icon for peace, one which will last as long as he lives–a very long time indeed."
Surprisingly, it was actually Grindelwald who gave him the best piece of advice. "Revolution has a price exacted in blood. Nothing worthwhile is ever easy–something you will need to remember even beyond Alagaesia. I led the largest war the world had ever seen through proxies and thralls for many years, dedicating my life to an idea which cost me everything to strive for. But I believed in my cause, and so should you. What you are doing is just. Revolution is a long and treacherous path, steel yourself and keep your cause at heart when trials are sent your way."
The celebration wore on long into the night, a curious phenomenon since Harry rather expected Heaven to be eternally day. There was much drinking and merriment and when the horizon began to brighten again, he was sad to leave. "I promise I'll be back as often as time allows," Harry reassured his family and friends. "Thank you for the great birthday party." He waved to the gathered crowd of friends and family and with one last glance over his shoulder, Harry twisted across the immortal realm and back to Alagaesia.
When Harry returned, he extended his mind beyond the tent and noted that they were still moving. Rather than count snowflakes or some other pointless task driven by nervous energy, Harry withdrew his newest sword and set it on a table near the brewery. He could fill the thing with many times more energy with his new biology than before, but it was still drained below where it was prior to fixing up his body.
Soon dozens of cauldrons bubbled away producing that incredible alchemic nutrient powder. The fumes were quickly wicked away by vents Harry purposefully installed. His lab was not ending up like the dingy Hogwarts dungeons: covered in slime and smelling of bad potion fumes.
The white powder was soon finished and Harry wrapped it into plastic bricks. It was mostly to amuse him, but the convenient size was nice, too. Unfortunately, it wasn't very usable in brick format so Harry was forced to break a brick into dozens and dozens of tiny vials, each with a single dose in them.
The emerald in the hilt of Harry's greatsword glowed with intense inner fire, straining against the facets like it was about to explode. His limbs felt like burning lead and every breath he took was labored, but he'd done it. Harry had cracked the mystery to nearly limitless energy. Interfacing was a problem still–it was incredibly harsh on the body to simply ingest the powder and dump it into the gem repeatedly–but it was doable. He would much rather have gotten the same calories from fire, sunlight, or some manner of turbine, but Harry would settle for a clumsy sort of unlimited power over nothing.
Enchantments subtly activated and shifted about, signalling to Harry that someone outside had pitched the tent. Curiously, he slung his sword over his back and made his way up the stairs.
Harry could not help but curse every time the tip of the blade bumped into the stairs below his feet as he climbed. The song of growth he'd done had corrected years of malnutrition and injury, but it left him at the same five foot six height he was prior. He was sure deliberate action could change his height, but he was hesitant to try it. Inconvenient or not, he mentally associated himself with his body and changing it was sure to throw off all his coordination and swordplay skills. Plus, he thought, It will make everyone underestimate me.
Throwing aside the flap, Harry pushed outwards and blinked away the bright sunlight. His fellow travelers all had exhausted and drawn faces, and their mounts looked even worse. He actually felt a pang of concern for Stupid's condition, breathing raggedly. "Had a nice leisurely ride?"
Brom didn't even have the energy to muster a growl, instead simply shooting him a glare and leading Snowfire into the house. I really need to set up another entrance to some stables or something. The rest followed him inside silently, Eragon at the rear. Before he passed inside, the young man called back to him. "Brom told Saphira the route we're taking. He said to collapse the tent and fly with her over the Ramr."
Sure enough, twenty paces away Harry spotted an enormous roaring river. Like most things in Alagaesia, it seemed to be a nature-defying colossal size. Deep and fast, the current raced along to the south, the other bank beyond visibility even to Harry's newfound elvish eyesight. Saphira landed heavily behind him. "I am very happy I will not have to carry those stupid antler-less deer across the whole way." He snickered at the thought of apex predator Saphira hauling frantically struggling horses across the river, contemplating dropping them or having a quick snack the entire way across.
"Devonvenire!" The tent folded itself into a roll. Harry withdrew his newest model of broom from his pack and mounted it. "Shall we?"
"We shall." Saphira leapt into the air with a fierce roar and drove her wings against the wind, spiralling at impossible speeds into the sky.
"A race, is it?"
"Yes!" Harry kicked off and bent low across the broom, easily catching up with Saphira who was miraculously still accelerating up and across the river.
Even at their speed, the Ramr stretched very wide. The opposite bank was still shrouded by mist, fog and distance, even to their bird's eye view. They flew high up, but low enough to keep a reasonably close eye on the waters. Halfway across, Harry's sharp eyes spotted a strange rock jutting from the rapids. "Saphira! There's something down there!" he hollered over the wind and the roar of the water.
Harry dove downwards, jacket and jeans flapping wildly in the wind. Saphira circled lower above his head like an enormous glittering falcon scouting her prey. He got close enough to the river that the roaring nearly drowned everything out. Mist and droplets of water churned and flew up from the surface, wetting the wizard as he approached.
The strange rock turned out to be struggling desperately. The man swam desperately upwards, coughing up water and crying out. "Tornac!" Harry followed his gaze and spotted what he was looking at. Downstream, a grey warhorse was being swept along the current. The beast was whinnying and struggling desperately, but its hooves could find no purchase against the relentless waters.
"Saphira! Get the horse, I'll get the human!" The dragon wheeled towards Tornac while Harry descended even further. The mist slicked his grip on the broom handle, which as polished wood, got very slippery indeed. He clutched at the broom with his knees and the footrests, struggling to hold the thing still against the buffeting winds. "Oi! Can you reach up a hand?" He hollered down to the near drowning man.
The head of the man ducked beneath the current momentarily and resurfaced some paces downstream, struggling to stay still. Harry edged closer to the man, hovering mere feet above the rapids. He extended a hand down, which the man seized frantically, scrabbling for a secure grip. Both of them were nearly drenched and the water made their grips treacherous. The stranger's hand began to slip. Damn it all! "Audr!"
Magic gripped the man and threw him skywards with all the subtlety of a battering ram in a china store. A surprised shout trailed behind the man. Harry quickly wheeled his broom around and climbed towards the man. He managed to reach him just as the stranger reached the apex of his flight, nearly panicking at the weightlessness which comes before a fall.
In his element, Harry had little trouble snatching the man from the air and helping him on behind his broom. The guy's mouth and eyes were wide in awe as they lowered to the opposite bank. Saphira had completed her task and Tornac–though panicked–was alive and un-drowned on the shore, running in frantic circles and whinnying loudly. Her patience wore thin and Saphira breathed a cloud of smoke in the horse's face, temporarily shutting it up.
Harry landed heavily and the young man managed to extricate himself surprisingly well also. He supposed it was the horseback riding which apparently everybody did in Alagaesia. Tornac got over his spook and started whinnying again. Saphira glowered at him and roared, a deafening and menacing challenge which thoroughly cowed the beast. He snickered at Tornac nearly trying to hide his head between his legs. "Right, stranger. What's your name? Kind of sad for us to know your horse's name but not yours."
"Murtagh," he gasped out, breathing heavily. "What the hell is going on?" Murtagh had dark brown hair and Selena's eyes. He was shirtless from swimming in the Ramr and Harry spotted a long ropey scar down his back, the same as the man in his vision. The name however gave him a suspicion.
Harry shook Murtagh's hand politely. "Harry. This is going to sound strange and I mean no offense, but is your father by any chance Morzan?"
Bad move. Murtagh stiffened and looked like a cornered animal. His eyes darted between Harry, his broomstick, Saphira, and Tornac. He assumed rightly that there was no way he could flee and tore his steel sword from its scabbard, holding it with the grip of one very familiar with his or her weapon.
"Woah woah woah," Harry placated, backing away with his hands up. "I will not judge your character based on your father. I just wanted to know because you have more family than you thought. And I have a pretty good idea just how terrible a father he was." He gestured to the scar on Murtagh's back. "I've seen the sword that did that, and the man who killed your father, as well as the man who now wields Zar'roc. He is related to you by blood, did you know?" Are you interested in meeting them?"
Murtagh still looked wary and did not sheathe his sword, but he nodded anyways, swallowing heavily. The man backed towards Tornac carefully, but made no move to attack or run, either. Reaching into the horse's saddlebags, Murtagh withdrew a jerkin which he pulled over his shoulders, awkwardly tugging it down around him when the water stuck the material to his chest. "Very well."
He still acted very much like cornered prey, but Harry unfortunately had some experience with abused children and cornered prey. He remembered neither experience fondly. "Saphira, would you commune with our friends and ask if they are willing to entertain a guest?" The great blue dragon dipped her head and assumed a far off gaze. Murtagh looked incredulous.
"She speaks?"
"What, did you think that just because the dragons stripped the Forsworn's mounts of their identities that they did it to the rest of their race?" Murtagh's jaw hung open.
"Stripped of their- stripped- what?!"
"For the betrayal of their race, the dragons banded together and removed the names of the Forsworn's dragons. Though all are dead now, the only way the knowledge persists is on paper. The symbols have no significance as pertains to the dragons themselves. It is the base on which the commonfolk's belief that dragons are dumb beasts is built. Saphira is every bit as cunning as a queen, and more ferocious and prideful still." The dragoness preened subtly at the comment. "Vain, too." Harry added.
Murtagh laughed and relaxed slightly when Saphira growled in annoyance. "He says they will join us beyond the prying eyes of the Empire, and to give no information to Murtagh that you do not wish the king to wrest from his mind." The man stiffened momentarily. "She can speak like a magician?"
"Of course," Harry laughed. "How else would we know they were intelligent? Coded growls and roars?"
He guffawed. "Very well. I cannot fault you for your caution, nor can I truly say that any sensitive information would be safe in my mind. I accept your terms. Only, answer me this; why did you save me from the river?"
"I saw this all happen in a dream–or premonition I guess." Murtagh looked doubtful but accepted it.
"We can stop now," Harry called down. Saphira had agreed to let him ride her to keep pace with Tornac and Murtagh. Despite his newfound elvish speed, he found it hard to match speeds with a powerful warhorse. Though if it meant avoiding riding on Stupid… Something to consider.
Saphira landed heavily and Murtagh pulled up on his reins, pausing near a copse of trees adjacent to a small stream. He watched Harry dismount with awe. "I never thought I'd see another dragon rider in my life."
"Saphira is not my dragon," Harry laughed. "That honor goes to your brother."
"She lets you ride her?" Murtagh asked incredulously.
"I am not so foolish as to slow our party out of a petty desire to let only my rider ride me."
Murtagh had some of the strongest mental defenses Harry had ever seen, greater even than Brom and Arya's, but Saphira was able to project her mental voice against his mind loud enough that he could still hear her. "A brother," Murtagh shook his head ruefully. "I had no idea. It must be through Morzan's side, perhaps a bastard from some unspeakable act against a peasant."
Harry held his tongue. "I'll let him tell his story."
They set about making camp. It was rather early still, but Harry had no idea how long Murtagh had been traveling or how long he was fighting the Ramr river. His party was safe beyond the river and if Murtagh wasn't, hopefully the man would voice his concern. As Harry collected dry sticks and brush for a smokeless fire, Murtagh brought out his bedroll and sat atop it crosslegged. "Why did you need to cross the Ramr?" he asked. "Running from the Empire?"
"Yeah, the king wants us bad, mate. Practically destroyed Teirm in an effort to get to us."
Murtagh was shocked. "That was you? Galbatorix's court was buzzing for weeks after. Apparently a shade attacked a couple of swordsmen in the middle of the square!"
Nodding, Harry arranged the sticks in a pyramid. "Yup. Durza just showed up when me and Eragon were sparring behind a friend's house. Most recently, we were ran out of Dras-Leona"
"And you escaped?" Murtagh watched incredulously while Harry struggled with an unfamiliar flint and steel he'd withdrawn from his pack.
"Saphira can fly, Durza cannot." He accepted that and stayed silent.
Harry withdrew some rations from his bag, simple bread, cheese, and jerky. Murtagh accepted the fare gratefully, and they ate their fill in silence, the only sounds the dull roar of the Ramr far behind them, the rustling of leaves in the breeze, and the crackle pop of the fire. "Are you running from the Empire, too?" Harry asked Murtagh.
The man hesitated. "Yes," he finally said. "Because of my father, I grew up in Galbatorix's court. He is mad in the truest sense. When holding court with his nobles, he speaks honeyed words and describes compelling visions of the future, but I fled when I saw beneath the mask. Some Varden rebels stymied one of his projects and he called me in. He said I needed to prove my worth and live up to my father, and ranted and raved about the vile rebels. The king ordered me to make for the village raided and to put every man, woman, and child to the sword. It was then that I learned of his madness. I gathered my things and fled Uru'baen. I tried to cross the Ramr river to flee his soldiers, but the current swept me downstream to where you found Tornac and I earlier," Murtagh finished.
Harry yawned and stretched. "Sahira, do you mind keeping watch tonight?"
"I do not. Sleep well, little wizard."
"Saphira agreed to take watch. I'd bet you need your sleep after fighting the Ramr all day. I'm sure the others will join us tomorrow."
They crawled into their bedrolls and closed their eyes. Murtagh must have been exhausted beyond measure for he fell asleep nigh instantly. When he did, Harry removed the tent from his bag and tossed it out softly. "Eructo," he whispered.
With a soft whumph of air, the tent pitched itself and his friends emerged. Angela saw Murtagh's sleeping face and looked surprised. Arya was indifferent, Eragon ignorant, but Brom's reaction to their new guest was the most extreme. The moment he beheld Murtagh's face, the old rider reddened with fury. He strode over angrily, hand on his pommel.
"Brom! What the hell are you doing," Harry whispered harshly.
"Ending Morzan's line. Or did you not know this man's identity?" he challenged angrily.
He caught Brom's arm in an unyielding grip. "Idiot. He is innocent, he has done no wrong. The sins of the father are not the sins of the son," Harry retorted. "You would slay a sleeping man for no wrong than a bad father?"
Brom's eyes were haunted. "You have no idea what Morzan was like, Harry. The world was a brighter place after I slew him."
"I will not argue about how shit a person he was. He was the same at being a father. Have you seen Murtagh's back? The scar which is suspiciously about exactly as long as the sword your son now wields?" The old man's lips lifted into a snarl.
"It does not matter. I will not travel with Morzan's spawn ready to stab us in the back, nor will I permit him to learn our secrets. If he does not die, he does not travel with us."
Hardening his face, Harry glared at Brom. "My secrets. Something you would do well to remember, Brom. I do not need to be here. This world was set on its course well before I got here, and Galbatorix would have died at the end of its events, too. I am here to make this easier for your son. No more, no less. I am disappointed that you are so eager to murder your son's brother."
Eragon whirled on him. "Brother? Brom, of what does he speak?"
"You share a mother, Eragon," Harry said quietly. Murtagh still did not stir. They were fortunate that he was so exhausted, else he feared the man would listen with his eyes closed to the secrets Harry would be forced to kill to protect.
Brom glared hatefully at Harry but held his tongue. "Before sunrise, we have decisions to make. We'll move this discussion to the tent where it is less likely we will unintentionally wake Murtagh."
Harry led the party back into the tent where they took a seat around the living room coffee table. "We have things to discuss. If we want to keep the brooms secret, there can be no flying straight over the Hadarac desert. However, that would cost us weeks of travel time to get to the Varden and we have news which they urgently need to hear. Murtagh does not know how many are in our party, only that you two are in it." He indicated Brom and Eragon. "I propose Angela and Arya take brooms to the Varden and bring them news of the spy and the Urgal mobilization. I don't know for sure that it's where they are all headed, but it seems likely. I'll give you both a bunch of the alchemic powder so you can fly straight the whole way. The three of us can make our way on horseback."
"You want to send away our best fighter?" Brom asked. "Arya is undoubtedly the most proficient swordsman in our party. And that does not factor in if Angela is even willing or able to use the brooms. Your plan has many holes," he challenged.
"The wizard is right," Arya interjected, leaning back on the couch next to Angela. "It is the best course available. He will be suspicious enough of you two appearing out of thin air in the night, two riders father and son. There is little need to further raise his hackles in my presence as an elf."
Brom stroked his beard in thought. "Very well. You and Angela may make for the Varden before daybreak. Is there anything else to discuss?"
"Yes," Harry said. "Whatever supplies we want on hand for crossing the Hadarac must be on hand before morning. Since Arya and Angela are leaving their horses, we have all four available. The three of us can ride three and Glenwing can be a packhorse, so we have a generous weight capacity available to us. If we simply pull necessary supplies from thin air every time they are needed, Murtagh will quickly catch on and through him, we risk the information getting to the king. I nearly gave the game away tonight with my unfamiliarity with a flint and steel. I was forced to conjure it within my backpack. Tonight, you must select what you need from the tent and load it on Arya's saddlebags. Whatever Arya and Angela need for the journey to the Varden they will have to carry on their backs."
"If that is all?" Arya asked, leaning forward to get up.
Brom held up a gnarled hand. "Not quite. Ajihad will want proof. If the egg-bearer shows up without the egg and fanciful tales, there will be some doubt." He retrieved a leather bag. "Bring him this and he will know you speak truth." Within the pouch was the shattered remains of Saphira's egg.
They broke up to prepare for the split. Harry gave Arya a backpack which she quickly and efficiently stocked. Angela simply donned her own enchanted luggage and followed him to a glass-fronted broom rack down in the artifact vault. He left it to Arya to teach the herbalist how to fly one and followed them back upstairs and out the tent.
In the dark, only moon and starlight filtered down through the sparse copse of trees. Arya mounted the broom but did not yet kick off. "If you find the opportunity to leave your companions and fly ahead, it would be appreciated. The Varden badly needs the supplies you have in your tent, yet I cannot ask you to part with it on the dangerous journey through the desert."
"I will," Harry promised. "I'm sure I will miss you in your absence."
Arya blushed. "Me too," she said quietly. She turned away. "Come, Angela. It's just like riding a horse with suspension." With that, they kicked off and disappeared into the night sky, never looking back.
AN: I'm trying to switch to longer chapters. They'll still be frequent, though. I have no beta and I don't reread my chapters, so feedback would be nice. Thanks.