Disclaimer: I do not own The Inheritance Cycle or The Elder Scrolls series. They belong to Christopher Paolini and Bethesda Studios respectively.
Wake up, Eragon. He stirred and groaned.
I need your help. Something is wrong! Eragon tried to ignore the voice and return to sleep.
Arise!
Go away, he grumbled.
Eragon! A bellow rang in the cave. He bolted upright, fumbling for his bow. Saphira and Daemon were crouched over Brom, who had rolled off the ledge and was thrashing on the cave floor. His face was contorted in a grimace; his fists were clenched. Daemon was doing his best to hold him down. Eragon rushed over, fearing the worst.
"Help me hold him down. He's going to hurt himself!" Daemon told him as Murtagh awakened and saw what was happening. Together they restrained Brom until his convulsions ceased. Then they carefully returned him to the ledge.
Eragon touched Brom's forehead. The skin was so hot that the heat could be felt an inch away. "Get me water and a cloth," he said worriedly. Murtagh brought them, and Eragon gently bathed Brom's face, trying to cool him down. With the cave quiet again, he noticed the sun shining outside. "How long have we been asleep?"
"A while. Saphira was watching over Brom, then when he started thrashing, I woke up and tried to help. Then I told Saphira to wake you up." Daemon said with a sigh.
Eragon stretched, wincing as his ribs twinged painfully. A hand suddenly gripped his shoulder. Brom's eyes snapped opened and fixed a glassy stare on Eragon. "You!" he gasped. "Bring me the wineskin!"
"Brom?" exclaimed Eragon, pleased to hear him talk. "You shouldn't drink wine; it'll only make you worse."
"Bring it, boy—just bring it..." sighed Brom. His hand slipped off Eragon's shoulder.
"I'll be right back—hold on." Eragon dashed to the saddlebags and rummaged through them frantically. "I can't find it!" he cried, looking around desperately.
"Here, take mine," said Murtagh, holding out a leather skin.
Eragon grabbed it and returned to Brom. "I have the wine," he said, kneeling. Murtagh retreated to the cave's mouth so they could have privacy.
Brom's next words were faint and indistinct. "Good..." He moved his arm weakly. "Now... wash my right hand with it."
"What—" Eragon started to ask.
"No questions! I haven't time." Mystified, Eragon unstoppered the wineskin and poured the liquid onto Brom's palm. He rubbed it into the old man's skin, spreading it around the fingers and over the back of the hand. "More," croaked Brom. Eragon splashed wine onto his hand again. He scrubbed vigorously as a brown dye floated off Brom's palm, then stopped, his mouth agape with amazement and Daemon's eyes widened with shock.
There on Brom's palm was the gedwëy ignasia.
"You're a Rider?" Daemon asked incredulously.
A painful smile flickered on Brom's face. "Once upon a time that was true... but no more. When I was young... younger than you are now, I was chosen... chosen by the Riders to join their ranks. While they trained me, I became friends with another apprentice... Morzan, before he was a Forsworn." Eragon gasped—that had been over a hundred years ago. "But then he betrayed us to Galbatorix... and in the fighting at Dorú Areaba—Vroengard's city—my young dragon was killed. Her name... was Saphira."
"Why didn't you tell us this before?" Eragon asked softly.
Brom laughed. "Because... there was no need to." He stopped. His breathing was labored; his hands were clenched. "I am old, my friends... so old. Though my dragon was killed, my life has been longer than most. You don't know what it is to reach my age, look back, and realize that you don't remember much of it; then to look forward and know that many years still lie ahead of you... After all this time I still grieve for my Saphira... and hate Galbatorix for what he tore from me." His feverish eyes drilled into Eragon as he said fiercely, "Don't let that happen to you. Don't! Guard Saphira with your life, for without her it's hardly worth living."
"You shouldn't talk like this. Nothing's going to happen to her," said Eragon, worried.
Brom turned his head to the side. "Perhaps I am rambling." His gaze passed blindly over Murtagh, then he focused on Eragon. Brom's voice grew stronger. "Eragon! I cannot last much longer. This... this is a grievous wound; it saps my strength. I have not the energy to fight it... Before I go, will you take my blessing?"
"Everything will be all right," said Eragon, tears in his eyes. "You don't have to do this."
"It is the way of things... I must. Will you take my blessing?" Eragon bowed his head and nodded, overcome. Brom placed a trembling hand on his brow. "Then I give it to you. May the coming years bring you great happiness... all of you," He looked at Daemon and Saphira for a moment, then motioned for Eragon to bend closer. Very quietly, he whispered seven words from the ancient language, then even more softly told him what they meant. "That is all I can give you... Use them only in great need."
He turned his glassy eyes to Daemon, who understood and leaned close, knowing that whatever Brom wanted to say to him was for him alone. Brom gripped his shoulder as Daemon struggled to keep his composure, feeling the familiar pain of losing someone dear to him. But Brom had become more than just a friend... he was like a father to him, to them all.
"Promise me... promise me that you will protect them... protect her... be what she needs." Daemon stiffened at the meaning and double words, knowing what Brom meant but the old man's grip tightened to draw his attention. "Cherish her... always... look after them both. They need you... this land needs you. Promise me." Daemon shuddered but nodded, saying the next two words in the ancient language.
"I promise."
Brom's hand fell from his shoulder and he blindly turned his eyes to the ceiling. "And now," he murmured, "for the greatest adventure of all..."
Weeping, Eragon held his hand, comforting him as best he could. Daemon gripped Brom's other one. As the long hours passed, a gray pallor crept over Brom, and his eyes slowly dimmed. His hands grew icy; the air around him took on an evil humor. Powerless to help, they could only watch as the Ra'zac's wound took its toll.
The evening hours were young and the shadows long when Brom suddenly stiffened. Eragon called his name and cried for help, but they could do nothing. As a barren silence dampened the air, Brom locked his eyes with Eragon's. Then contentment spread across the old man's face, and a whisper of breath escaped his lips. And so it was that Brom the storyteller died.
With shaking fingers, Daemon closed Brom's eyes and held the old man in his arms, finally letting his tears and cries leave him. Eragon joined him as they held Brom and each other in their grief. Saphira raised her head behind them and roared mournfully at the sky, keening her lamentation.
Finally, Eragon broke the embrace and said. "We have to bury him."
"We might be seen," warned Murtagh.
"We bury him." Daemon insisted strongly, his voice cry and croaked from the crying. "We give him a proper one. With honor and respect. We'll do it at the top."
Together, Daemon and Murtagh lifted Brom's body and took it to the top, Saphira and Eragon following. They laid Brom's body on the stone and stepped back. Eragon wiped his eyes and fixed his gaze on the sandstone.
Gesturing with his hand, he said, "Moi stenr!" The stone rippled. It flowed like water, forming a body-length depression in the hilltop. Molding the sandstone like wet clay, he raised waist-high walls around it.
They laid Brom inside the unfinished sandstone vault with his staff and sword. Stepping back, Eragon again shaped the stone with magic. It joined over Brom's motionless face and flowed upward into a tall faceted spire. As a final tribute, Eragon and Daemon set runes into the stone:
HERE LIES BROM
A Dragon Rider and a Good Man
He was like a Father to Us
His Name shall live on in Glory
They then bowed their heads in respect and mourned freely. Saphira rubbed her head solemnly against her two young friends and they hugged her back. They stood like living statues until the light had faded from the land.
That night, Eragon dreamed of the imprisoned woman again.
He could tell that something was wrong with her. Her breathing was irregular, and she shook—whether from cold or pain, he did not know. In the semidarkness of the cell, the only thing clearly illuminated was her hand, which hung over the edge of the cot. A dark liquid dripped from the tips of her fingers. Eragon knew it was blood.
When Eragon woke the next morning, his body was cold along with his mind. Murtagh was gone along with Saphira but Daemon sat at the foot of the cave, his legs dangling over the edge. He walked over to the entrance and sat on the sandstone next to him. "Morning." Daemon said quietly. Eragon grunted at his comment.
"Where's Murtagh and Saphira?" he asked.
Daemon pointed down to the wilderness. "Murtagh left to find us some food. Saphira followed him, most likely to keep an eye on him."
Eragon looked back into the cave and found that there was no sign of Brom or anything that showed his presence was here. So Angela's fortune was true – there was a death in my future, he thought, staring blankly at the land. A single tear slid down his face and evaporated in the sunlight.
They were still sitting at the mouth of the cave when Murtagh climbed up, carrying a pair of rabbits. He too took a seat beside Eragon and the trio stared off into the horizon. "How are you both feeling?" he asked.
"Exhausted/Very ill," were their responses.
Murtagh considered their thoughts thoughtfully. "Will you two recover?" Eragon shrugged and Daemon remained silent. After a few minutes of silence, Murtagh said, "I dislike asking this at such a time, but I must know… Is your Brom the Brom? The one who helped steal a dragon egg from the King, and killed Morzan? I heard you say his name but when I read the inscription on his grave, I had to know for certain.
"He was," said Eragon softly.
"How do you know of Brom?" Daemon spoke. "You talk of things that are secret to most, and you were trailing the Ra'zac right when we needed help. Are you part of the Varden?"
Immediately Murtagh spoke. "I'm running away, like you. I do not belong to any side, Empire or Varden. As for your rescue, I had heard whispers of a new Dragon Rider and decided to follow the Ra'zac in order to see if the rumors were true."
"I thought you wanted to kill the Ra'zac," said Eragon.
"I do, but if I had, I never would have met you," he smiled grimly.
Pensive and lonely, Eragon asked, "Where is Saphira?"
"I don't know," said Murtagh. "She followed me for a time when I was hunting but then flew off on her own… What are you going to do now?"
"We were just discussing that," said Daemon. Eragon stood and headed back into the cave and started to pack the saddlebags while Murtagh prepared the rabbits. Daemon remained sitting at the edge of the cave staring off into the distance.
Eragon pulled out Zar'roc and examined the blade. From this moment on, I'll live by the sword. Let the whole world see what I am. I have no fear. I am a Rider now.
Returning to the fire, Eragon sat down but Murtagh gave him a questioning look. "That sword. May I see it?" he asked, wiping his hands of all the blood and fur from skinning the rabbits.
Eragon hesitated, reluctant to give up the weapon but nodded. Murtagh examined the symbol on the blade intently. His face darkened and his voice became cold. "Where did you get this?"
"Brom gave it to me. Why?"
Murtagh shoved the sword back and crossed his arms angrily. "That sword," he said with strong emotions, "was once as well-known as its owner. The last Rider to carry it was Morzan. Here I thought you were a foe of the Empire, yet here I find you bearing one of the Forsworn's bloody weapons!"
"Brom never told me where he got it from," He said truthfully. Eragon never realized that Brom must have taken the sword when he killed Morzan many years ago. "I had no idea it was Morzan's."
"Brom never told you?" Murtagh said in disbelief.
Eragon shook his head. "No. And until such a time I have a sword of my own. I will carry Zar'roc." Murtagh flinched as Eragon said the name.
"It's your choice," he said. He returned to preparing the meal.
After Murtagh had served the food and they ate vigorously, Saphira had returned. She gave Daemon a warm nuzzle, then lay her head down next to Eragon. Are you well again?
Not quite. Replied Eragon.
I miss the old one.
As do I… Saphira, where does our path go from here? Should we go to the Varden now? Only I don't know how to find them. Brom never told us.
He told me, said Saphira.
Eragon grew angry. Since his travels from Carvahall, Brom had always kept secrets from him. The truth about magic, about Brom's life, about Zar'roc, and many more things. Why did he trust you, but not me, with all this knowledge?
Her scales rustled over the rock as she stood above him, her eyes profound. After we left Teirm and were attacked by the Urgals, he told me and Daemon many things, some of which we are not to speak of unless necessary. He was concerned about his own death and what would happen to you after it. One fact he imparted to us was the name of a man, Dormnad, who lives in Gil'ead. He can help us find the Varden. Brom also wanted you to know that of all the people in Alagaësia, he believed you were the best suited to inherit the Riders' legacy.
Tears grew in Eragon's eyes. This was the highest praise Brom had ever bestowed upon him. A responsibility I will bear honorably.
Good.
"So what do we do now?" Murtagh asked, drawing their attention.
"We?" Daemon raised an eyebrow.
Murtagh glanced at him. "You won't want to stay here for much longer. If the Ra'zac are nearby, Brom's tomb will be like a beacon for them. And Eragon's ribs are going to take time to heal. I know you can defend yourself with magic, and Daemon seems like a skilled fighter himself, but a second pair of hands couldn't hurt. I'm asking to travel with you, at least for the time being. But I must warn you, the Empire is searching for me. There'll be blood over it eventually."
"Welcome to our life, blood follows us wherever we go." Daemon scoffed darkly. He looked at Eragon and they spoke mentally for a bit before they shared a small nod.
Eragon looked at Murtagh. "I don't care if the entire army is searching for you. You're right. We do need help. We would be glad to have you along. But I have to warn you, Galbatorix just might send the entire army after us. You won't be any safer with us than if you were on your own."
"I know that," said Murtagh with a quick grin. "But all the same, it won't stop me."
"Good." Eragon smiled with gratitude.
"Welcome aboard then." Daemon added with a small smile that Murtagh returned.
As they readied themselves for leaving, Eragon mentally told Saphira and Daemon about his dream of the imprisoned woman. He told them of the state she was in, and feared that the next dream of her will be a grave. They decided to go north, to Gil'ead, and told Murtagh of their destination. He told them he would accompany them until they encountered the Varden, then he would leave because the Varden is just as dangerous for him.
They doused the fire, packed and led the horses out of the cave. Before they left, Eragon, Daemon and Saphira went to the top, to Brom's grave, to pay their respects one last time and say goodbye. Saphira snaked out her long neck to touch the tomb with the tip of her nose. Her sides vibrated as a low humming filled the air.
The sandstone around her nose shimmered like gilded dew, turning clear with dancing silver highlights. Daemon and Eragon watched in wonder as tendrils of white diamond twisted over the tomb's surface in a web of priceless filigree. Sparkling shadows were cast on the ground, reflecting splashes of brilliant colors that shifted dazzlingly as the sandstone continued to change. With a satisfied snort, Saphira stepped back and examined her handiwork.
The sculpted sandstone mausoleum of moments before had transformed into a sparkling gemstone vault—under which Brom's untouched face was visible. They gazed with yearning at the old man, who seemed to be only sleeping.
"What did you do?" Daemon asked Saphira with awe.
I gave him the only gift I could. Now time will not ravage him. He can rest in peace for eternity.
Daemon and Eragon placed a hand on either side of her, then they left together as one.
And that's it for this chapter.