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Shaonics6L I'm saying nothing.
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Eragon stared into the mirror above the wash basin, studying the reflection that stared back at him. His eyes were bloodshot and tired, dark circles beneath them telling of a restless night. A faint redness lingered around his eyes, remnants of the tears he'd shed during the previous evening. He couldn't shake the unease that gnawed at him. This was no ordinary dream—it had affected him in a way that felt... wrong. He had experienced grief before; Roran's departure, Garrow's death, yes. But this was different. This feeling was colder, more suffocating, like a weight pressing down on his chest. He couldn't explain it, but it was as though something had touched a deeper part of him, leaving him in a hollow, desperate state.
And yet, there was one comforting thought—Daemon had been there for him. Thinking of his friend brought his mind back to the plan he had for the day. He had felt awkward crying on Daemon's shoulder, embarrassed by how vulnerable he'd allowed himself to be. Though their bond ran deep, with Daemon often feeling like the older brother he never had, they had never shared such a moment before. Eragon, who prided himself on his composure, felt a twinge of uncertainty. He didn't want to appear weak or needy in front of Daemon.
With a sigh, Eragon splashed cold water on his face, ran a hand through his hair to tame the disarray, and made his way down to the dining room.
Brom and Jeod had already departed, setting off early to investigate the shipping manifests that might lead them to the Ra'zac. Helen, as usual, had shut herself away in her room. Eragon secretly welcomed the peace; their hostess was less than warm at breakfast, and he preferred to avoid testing her nerves. The dining room was quiet save for Daemon, who sat at the table, a scroll unrolled before him, his empty plate pushed aside.
Eragon approached quietly, but as he drew closer, he hesitated. Daemon was engrossed in his reading, unaware of his approach. Eragon knew what he wanted to say but found the words slipping through his mind like sand through his fingers. He drew in a steadying breath and placed a gentle hand on Daemon's shoulder.
"Daemon?"
Daemon looked up with a start, but when he saw Eragon, a warm smile spread across his face. "Eragon, good morning. Sleep any better?"
Eragon shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his friend's gaze. "Actually, I wanted to talk about last night." Daemon gave a subtle nod and gestured to the chair beside him. Eragon took a seat, and Daemon turned his full attention to him.
"I... I owe you an apology," Eragon began, his words stumbling. "For what happened, when I... when I broke down. I didn't mean to..." He trailed off, the blood rushing to his face as he fumbled for an explanation.
Daemon chuckled softly, cutting him off. "Eragon, there's no need to apologize. Really."
Eragon blinked, confused. "But I—"
Daemon leaned in slightly, offering a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. "If this is about last night, forget it. After everything you've been through, I'd be more concerned if you hadn't broken down. Honestly, I'm surprised it took this long."
Eragon raised an eyebrow, his discomfort giving way to curiosity. Daemon continued, his tone light but sincere. "You've carried a heavy burden. More than any person should. But I think we both know we're only at the beginning of this journey. Things will get worse before they get better."
A half-smile tugged at the corner of Daemon's mouth, but his expression softened. "And as for the... well, the crying business between us," he gestured between the two of them, then lightly tapped his own shoulder, "don't worry about it. You're like my little brother, Eragon. Nothing more to say."
Eragon couldn't help but smile, a small chuckle escaping him. The knot of tension in his stomach unraveled, replaced by a warm sense of companionship. Without thinking, the two of them stood and embraced, putting the awkwardness of the moment behind them.
"Thanks, Daemon. I needed that," Eragon said, his voice lighter.
"Anytime, my friend."
Eragon stepped back, feeling the weight lift off him. "I never thought a dream could affect me like that... the way she looked at me. It felt so... real."
Daemon's expression shifted slightly, thoughtful. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Eragon hesitated, then shook his head. "I'm not even sure what it means. It doesn't make sense."
Daemon's eyes lingered for a moment, and then he thought back to his own strange dream. It seemed impossible that they were all connected by coincidence. "Still," he mused, "it can't be a coincidence that all you, Saphira and I had such restless nights. Maybe you should ask Brom. He might know more about this kind of thing."
Eragon nodded, though a part of him felt reluctant to bring up his dreams to the old storyteller. Brom had often said those with magic tended to experience odd dreams, but Eragon wasn't sure if his visions were simply a product of his troubled mind or something more. Still, he agreed that it couldn't hurt to ask. He'd find a way to bring it up when they had the chance, though that wouldn't be until they left Teirm. Brom was still busy with his plans to gain access to the records in the castle, and it would likely be another day before he returned.
"Hey," Eragon said suddenly, thinking of his dragon and the comfort her words had brought him the night before. "Do you want to go see Saphira? I'm sure she could use the company."
Daemon smiled, his eyes brightening at the thought. "I'd like that."
Together, the two of them made their way out of the dining room, the heaviness of the morning finally starting to lift.
Saphira sat at the edge of the cliff, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon, her thoughts far away. The remains of the deer she'd caught earlier lay beside her, only half consumed. She couldn't shake the lingering feeling that the dream she'd had the night before was somehow important, though its meaning escaped her. She had been lying beside a crackling fire, Eragon's presence a comforting weight against her, but after that, the details grew murky.
There was the shadowy figure beside them, unrecognizable, and the craggy peaks of mountains in the distance. And then... the overwhelming sense of loss. Of something important slipping away. And the frantic feeling of being hunted, chased by forces she could not understand. It was all so fragmented, like a broken puzzle she couldn't solve.
With a huff, Saphira shook her head and flicked her tail, trying to push the thoughts away. Just a dream, she told herself. A flight of fancy. Nothing more. The idea that it might have been caused by the deer Daemon had provided for her dinner yesterday didn't help calm her. Leave it to that hatchling to find the one creature that could keep me up all night, she mused with a quiet, almost fond growl.
She let her thoughts drift, remembering the warmth of the day they had spent together—Daemon's company, the easy camaraderie they shared. The feeling of companionship. Her thoughts softened as she recalled his kindness in keeping her dry during the rain. It was very nice of him... She paused, allowing herself to savor the warmth of those memories before returning to the present.
Her mind wandered again, this time reaching out for the familiar touch of her Rider, seeking the bond they shared. To her surprise, she felt him—and Daemon—already on their way up the cliffside toward her. A wave of affection washed over her as their presence grew stronger. She had missed them both, particularly the bond she shared with Eragon. She had been disappointed when he told her they'd be staying in Teirm for some time. The idea that they could only spend brief moments together before retreating back to the city had left her feeling... distant. She missed the nights spent sleeping near him by a warm fire, the simple pleasure of watching him and Daemon sparring with Brom, and, above all, the thrill of flight. Since their arrival in Teirm, there had been no time for that.
The sound of rocks scraping underfoot pulled her from her thoughts. Eragon and Daemon had nearly reached her. She heard the grunt of effort as they climbed, then a sudden slip, followed by Daemon's voice, exasperated but lighthearted. "I told you not to grab that one!"
Finally, they appeared at her side. Eragon, ever the affectionate one, threw his arms around her neck in a warm embrace. She hummed in contentment, leaning into him. Their minds touched, intertwining in a quiet, shared moment. Daemon stepped forward, reaching out to pat her nose—but she playfully snorted and pushed his hand away. With a soft nudge of her muzzle against his shoulder, she felt a moment of amusement pass between them.
We're friends, Daemon, she thought, sending the words lightly across their bond. I'm not some horse to be patted.
Daemon chuckled at this and gave her a scratch under the chin, his touch gentler this time. That's more like it, she hummed with satisfaction, settling into the comfort of their companionship.
The two boys sat beside her, one on each side, and soon enough, the conversation shifted to their dreams. They exchanged pieces of their dreams, only the fragments they were willing to share. No one asked too many questions; they respected each other's boundaries. They all agreed—dreams were simply a curious tangle of the mind, no deeper meaning to them, no ominous prophecy lurking beneath the surface. It was easier that way. After all, no one needed to dwell on the strange visions they had seen.
Saphira turned her attention to Daemon as they spoke. Will you be able to take dragon form again soon? she asked, her excitement palpable.
Daemon shrugged, a trace of weariness in his voice. "Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after. I can still feel the weight of yesterday's flight." His tone brightened at the thought of it, and Saphira nuzzled him affectionately.
I look forward to it, she replied. The thought of soaring once again through the skies with Daemon at her side filled her with a bubbling joy. Eragon added his own excitement, but Saphira's playful nudge toward Daemon reminded them both that Brom was likely to interfere. Eragon had lessons in literature to begin, and Brom would never allow distractions to get in the way of education. Saphira shared Eragon's disappointment, but they all agreed that the sooner they finished their work in the city, the sooner they could return to their adventures.
As the conversation turned toward Brom's impending lessons, the time slipped away, and before long, it was time for the boys to head back to Teirm. Saphira felt a pang of loneliness at the thought of their departure, but she didn't let it show. Don't worry about me, she told them, her voice gentle in their minds. The sooner you finish, the sooner we can be together again.
The boys made their way back to Jeod's house, where Brom awaited, preparing for the day's lessons. Daemon, already familiar with the written word, assisted Eragon in the early stages of his education. It was a slow start, but soon enough, Eragon found a strange enjoyment in the challenge of learning to read and write.
And so, Saphira watched them go, knowing that the days of solitude were temporary. Soon enough, they would be reunited, and the bond between them would grow ever stronger. Until then, she would wait, her heart full of the warmth of their friendship.
A routine was quickly established. Every morning, Eragon would get up and eat breakfast before meeting Brom and Daemon in the study for his lessons. They would continue until mid-afternoon, when Brom allowed them to sneak out for a quick visit with Saphira. They would then return to the house, and before dinner was served, practice sparring behind the house, even using their fists.
Eragon was getting better with each bout. Still, Eragon was the one receiving the bruises, not Daemon.
The days passed quickly, and before long, a week had gone by. Eragon's reading skills were rudimentary, but he could now read whole pages without asking for assistance. He read slowly, but he knew that speed would come with time. Brom encouraged him, "No matter, you'll do fine for what I have planned."
That night Brom, Jeod, Eragon, and Daemon discussed their final preparations for invading the citadel and gaining access to the shipping records.
"Here are the final alterations to the plan. Make note of them. First, we all shall ride up to the citadel tomorrow night when the patrol is down. If we time it just right, we may be able to slip by during the changing of the guard. If that doesn't work, Jeod will provide documentation of our visit." Brom said. "Once we have gotten into the citadel, located the documents, we spend as much time as possible to find the seithr oil shipments. As soon as we do, we get out before anyone catches wind of us. Understood?"
Daemon and Eragon nodded in affirmation. The plan was simple and straight forward. However, Daemon had one thing bothering him that he had to get off his chest. "Brom, what happens if we get caught by the guards while we are searching for the seithr oil?"
"That's simple. We run. We can't afford to get caught and have our chances of finding the oil dwindle. Should that come to pass, we escape the citadel and try to find some other method of locating the shipments," answered Brom.
They spent some time going over last minute questioning before Brom ended all discussions – sending them off to bed. They would need their rest for the coming day.
We leave tonight or tomorrow. Eragon told Saphira as he and Daemon lay in their room.
This is unexpected. Will you be safe during this venture? Saphira inquired.
Eragon merely shrugged. I don't know. We may end up fleeing Teirm with soldiers on our heels. They could practically hear her snort of disapproval, and the irritation and worry they received was all to clear. Eragon tried to reassure her. It'll be alright. The three of us can use magic, and we're good fighters.
Of course if that fails, you could just come barging into the city to rescue us, Saphira. Daemon teased with mock innocence. A growl came in response.
Don't tempt me, Daemon.
Eragon woke from his nap to a golden sunset. Red and orange beams of light streamed into the room and fell across the bed. They warmed his back pleasantly, making him reluctant to move but Daemon nudged him, telling him to get up. The sun sank below the horizon, lighting the sea and sky with color.
The Dragonborn was dressed in his Nightingale outfit, his sword sheathed at his side as always.
Eragon slung his bow and quiver on his back, but left Zar'roc in the room; the sword would only slow him, and he was averse to using it. If he had to disable someone, he could use magic or an arrow. He pulled his jerkin over his shirt and laced it securely.
The two waited in their room until the light faded. Then they entered the hallway where Brom soon joined them, carrying his sword and staff.
Jeod, dressed in a black doublet and hose, was waiting for them outside. From his waist swung an elegant rapier and a leather pouch. Brom eyed the rapier and observed, "That toad sticker is too thin for any real fighting. What will you do if someone comes after you with a broadsword or a flamberge?"
"Be realistic," said Jeod. "None of the guards has a flamberge. Besides, this toad sticker is faster than a broadsword."
Brom shrugged. "It's your neck."
The four of them walked casually along the street, avoiding watchmen and soldiers. Eragon was tense and his heart pounded. As they passed Angela's shop, a flash of movement on the roof caught his attention, but he saw no one. His palm tingled. He looked at the roof again, but it was still empty.
Brom led them along Teirm's outer wall. By the time they reached the castle, the sky was black. The sealed walls of the fortress made Eragon shiver. He would hate to be imprisoned there. Jeod silently took the lead and strode up to the gates, trying to look at ease. He pounded on the gate and waited.
A small grille slid open and a surly guard peered out. "Ya?" he grunted shortly. his breath smelling of rum which made Daemon resist the urge to scrunch up his expression.
"We need to get in," said Jeod.
The guard peered at Jeod closer. "Wha' for?"
"The boy here left something very valuable in my office. We have to retrieve it immediately." Eragon hung his head, shamefaced.
The guard frowned, clearly impatient to get back to his bottle. "Ah, wha'ever," he said, swinging his arm. "Jus' make sure 'n give 'im a good beating f'r me."
"I'll do that," assured Jeod as the guard unbolted a small door set into the gate. They entered the keep, then Brom handed the guard a few coins.
"Thank'ee," mumbled the man, tottering away. As soon as he was gone, Eragon pulled his bow from its tube and strung it. Jeod quickly let them into the main part of the castle. They hurried toward their destination, listening carefully for any soldiers on patrol. Halfway there, Daemon nudged Eragon, gave Brom a smirk, and then broke off down a side passage where he seemingly blended in with the shadows. Eragon would've called out to him but Brom pulled him along, sending him a look.
At the records room, Brom tried the door. It was locked. He put his hand against the door and muttered a word that Eragon did not recognize. It swung open with a faint click. Brom grabbed a torch from the wall, and they darted inside, closing the door quietly.
The squat room was filled with wooden racks piled high with scrolls. A barred window was set in the far wall. Jeod threaded his way between the racks, running his eyes over the scrolls. He halted at the back of the room. "Over here," he said. "These are the shipping records for the past five years. You can tell the date by the wax seals on the corner."
"So what do we do now?" asked Eragon, pleased that they had made it so far without being discovered.
"Start at the top and work down," said Jeod. "Some scrolls only deal with taxes. You can ignore those. Look for anything that mentions Seithr oil." He took a length of parchment from his pouch and stretched it out on the floor, then set a bottle of ink and a quill pen next to it. "So we can keep track of whatever we find," he explained.
Brom scooped an armful of scrolls from the top of the rack and piled them on the floor. He sat and unrolled the first one. Eragon joined him, positioning himself so he could see the door. The tedious work was especially difficult for him, as the cramped script on the scrolls was different from the printing Brom had taught him.
By looking only for the names of ships that sailed in the northern areas, they winnowed out many of the scrolls. Even so, they moved down the rack slowly, recording each shipment of Seithr oil as they located it.
It was quiet outside the room, except for the occasional watchman. Suddenly, Eragon's neck prickled. He tried to keep working, but the uneasy feeling remained. Irritated, he looked up and jerked with surprise—a small boy crouched on the windowsill. His eyes were slanted, and a sprig of holly was woven into his shaggy black hair.
Do you need help? asked a voice in Eragon's head. His eyes widened with shock. It sounded like Solembum.
Is that you? he asked incredulously.
Am I someone else?
Eragon gulped and concentrated on his scroll. If my eyes don't deceive me, you are.
The boy smiled slightly, revealing pointed teeth. What I look like doesn't change who I am. You don't think I'm called a werecat for nothing, do you?
What are you doing here? Eragon asked.
The werecat tilted his head and considered whether the question was worth an answer. That depends on what you are doing here. If you are reading those scrolls for entertainment, then I suppose there isn't any reason for my visit. But if what you are doing is unlawful and you don't want to be discovered, I might be here to warn you that the guard whom you bribed just told his replacement about you and that this second official of the Empire has sent soldiers to search for you.
Thank you for telling me, said Eragon.
Told you something, did I? I suppose I did. And I suggest you make use of it.
The boy stood and tossed back his wild hair. Eragon asked quickly, What did you mean last time about the tree and the vault?
Exactly what I said.
Eragon tried to ask more, but the werecat vanished through the window. He announced abruptly, "There are soldiers looking for us."
"How do you know?" asked Brom sharply.
"I listened in on the guard. His replacement just sent men to search for us. We have to get out of here. They've probably already discovered that Jeod's office is empty."
"Are you sure?" asked Jeod.
"Yes!" said Eragon impatiently. "They're on their way."
Brom snatched another scroll from the rack. "No matter. We have to finish this now!" They worked furiously for the next minute, scanning the records as fast as they could. As the last scroll was finished, Brom threw it back onto the rack, and Jeod jammed his parchment, ink, and pen into his pouch. Eragon grabbed the torch.
They raced from the room and shut the door, but just as it closed they heard the heavy tramp of soldiers' boots at the end of the hall. They turned to leave, but Brom hissed furiously, "Damnation! It's not locked." He put his hand against the door. The lock clicked at the same time three armed soldiers came into view.
"Hey! Get away from that door!" shouted one of them. Brom stepped back, assuming a surprised expression. The three men marched up to them. The tallest one demanded, "Why are you trying to get into the records?" Eragon gripped his bow tighter and prepared to run.
"I'm afraid we lost our way." The strain was evident in Jeod's voice. A drop of sweat rolled down his neck.
The soldier glared at them suspiciously. "Check inside the room," he ordered one of his men.
Eragon held his breath as the soldier stepped up to the door, tried to open it, then pounded on it with his mailed fist. "It's locked, sir."
The leader scratched his chin. "Ar'right, then. I don't know what you were up to, but as long as the door's locked, I guess you're free to go. Come on." The soldiers surrounded them and marched them back to the keep.
I can't believe it, thought Eragon. They're helping us get away!
At the main gates, the soldier pointed and said, "Now, you walk through those and don't try anything. We'll be watching. If you have to come back, wait until morning."
"Of course," promised Jeod.
As they passed through the gates, Eragon heard the leader address his men once more. "Okay boys, lets go check out the east wing. Someone reported noises from the administrator's office."
The moment the gates closed, Eragon felt elation surge through him. He almost jumped in the air, but Brom growled and told him to wait until they were back at the house. Then suddenly, out of the shadows lining the great wall, Daemon appeared and fell into step with them, a large bulging pack resting on his shoulder. Eragon tried to ask where was, but another sharp look from Brom and Jeod silenced him. The four of them adopted a stoic demeanor, and quickly made their way to Jeod's house. Once safely inside, Eragon couldn't hold it in any longer. "We did it!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, but now we have to determine if it was all worth it." Brom stated as he and Jeod examined a map of Alagaesia. As they did this, Daemon removed the large pack from his shoulder and began sorting the various items within. Brom noticed this, and with a sarcastic tone inquired, "And just where were you as we were doing all the hard work?"
"Packing for the road." Daemon casually answered.
This drew a puzzled look from the three around him and Jeod moved over to see inside, pulling back with a small gasp. Eragon looked on in wonder as Daemon revealed food, supplies and equipment that they would have needed when they started back on the road again. Brom asked incredulously, "Where did you get all this?"
"A big storeroom in the east wing." Daemon smirked at them.
Jeod gaped at him. "You robbed the administrator's personal stores?"
Daemon shrugged. "I ran a thieves guild back home, I have a talent for it. Plus, the storeroom had too much stuff. The administrator will be happy to see it go if he isn't trying to make himself fat."
"But that room is locked!"
"It was locked." Daemon gave a wink. He so enjoyed picking locks, especially with the Skeleton Key that Nocturnal had granted him for his service to her, provided he didn't do what Mercer Frey did to which Daemon had assured her he won't.
Eragon chuckled at Jeod's gobsmacked expression. Daemon never ceased to amaze or astound people. He crouched down and started helping his friend arrange the supplies that they'll need for the road while Jeod and Brom examined a map of the land. Once Daemon and Eragon were finished with the supplies, they joined the older men at the table and started going over the locations.
They debated each location that was a possible place for the Ra'zac to go to, ruling out Urû'baen which was the center of the Empire and where Galbatorix ruled with his dragon. They hoped the Ra'zac would not go there, or else this hunt would be over with. In the end, they eventually came down to Dras-Leona as the Ra'zac's hiding spot, more specifically Helgrind which was close by Dras-Leona.
With their destination clear, Daemon and Eragon went off to their room and connected to Saphira's mind to recount their day and what they have found.
In the morning Daemon, Eragon and Brom retrieved their saddlebags from the stable and prepared to depart. Jeod greeted Brom while Helen watched from the doorway. With grave looks, the two men clasped hands. "I'll miss you, old man," said Jeod.
"And you I," said Brom thickly. He bowed his white head and then turned to Helen. "Thank you for your hospitality; it was most gracious." Her face reddened. Eragon thought she was going to slap him. Brom continued, unperturbed, "You have a good husband; take care of him. There are few men as brave and as determined as he is. But even he cannot weather difficult times without support from those he loves." He bowed again and said gently, "Only a suggestion, dear lady."
They watched as indignation and hurt crossed Helen's face. Her eyes flashed as she shut the door brusquely. Sighing, Jeod ran his fingers through his hair. Eragon thanked him for all his help, then mounted Cadoc. Daemon gave the man a nod, letting him know he had given him some supplies from the administrator's office, before he saddled Shadowmere. With the last farewells said, the companions departed Teirm.
Their next destination; Dras-Leona, and hopefully the Ra'zac.
And that's it for this chapter, folks. Also, if you're enjoying this, then you'll enjoy Alagaesia's Silver Fury. I'm intending on updating both this and that story at the same time, as I have been working on several chapters for both stories these past few days.