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Shaonics6: And there's more of it to come.
Guest: I'll update it soon, have patience. There's ten chapters to read so far.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle or The Elder Scrolls.
The rhythmic sound of hooves was the only noise that filled the air as the trio departed Teirm. There were no meaningful words exchanged, and each of them drifted into their own thoughts. Daemon and Saphira were quietly discussing the possibility of flying later, now that they were out of the city and Daemon could shift into his dragon form without drawing attention. This conversation sparked a memory in Eragon's mind—the encounter with the witch Angela. He recalled her cryptic prophecy, especially the part where she mentioned that someone close to him could share a similar fate. For a brief moment, he wondered if Daemon might be the one she meant. It wasn't a far-fetched thought, given Daemon's explanation that as Dragonborn, his lifespan would match that of a dragon's. Eragon quickly dismissed the idea with a shake of his head. The mystery of his own future was already enough to grapple with; trying to decipher it alone only gave him a headache.
Contemplating his fortune, Eragon once again played the message from Solembum through his head again. What could it mean? Finally, he could contain his curiosity no longer. He turned to Brom, "What are werecats?"
Brom looked surprised at the question. "Why the sudden curiosity?" Daemon looked over, also curious.
"I heard someone mention them in Teirm. They're not real, are they?" said Eragon, pretending ignorance.
"They are quite real. During the Riders' years of glory, they were as renowned as the dragons. Kings and elves kept them as companions—yet the werecats were free to do what they chose. Very little has ever been known about them. I'm afraid that their race has become rather scarce recently."
"Could they use magic?" asked Eragon.
"No one's sure, but they could certainly do unusual things. They always seemed to know what was going on and somehow or another manage to get themselves involved." Brom pulled his hood up to block a chill wind.
"What's Helgrind?" asked Eragon, after a moment's thought.
"You'll see when we get to Dras-Leona."
Eragon nodded, before he looked at Daemon. "Daemon, does Skyrim have werecats?"
"If there are werecats in Tamriel, then they are well hidden for no knowledge of them has been documented." Daemon responded, his thoughts turning to the only were-creatures he had encountered. "But there are similar creatures such as werewolves."
"Werewolves?" Brom looked at him, his eyes alight with curiosity.
Daemon nodded. "Werewolves are the most common type of Lycanthrope found in Tamriel. They are men and women who are capable of turning into beasts, some can do so at will, some do so under the pull of the full moon but that depends on the way they have gained the Beast Blood. Some who transform at will maintain their minds, their human sides, not completely consumed by their predatory instincts. But make no mistake, werewolves are very dangerous creatures. Especially those that give in to their instincts and become beasts forever."
"Have you encountered any?" Eragon asked.
Daemon nodded again. "I have. A few friends of mine happen to be werewolves, but they have a grip on their beast sides. They offered me a chance to become one of them but I declined. Dragon blood is enough for me."
Once Teirm was out of sight, Eragon reached out with his mind, calling, Saphira! His mental shout was so strong that Cadoc flicked his ears in annoyance.
Saphira's response was immediate. In an instant, she sped toward them, her wings cutting through the air with powerful strokes. They watched as a dark blur descended from a cloud, followed by the sound of a deep roar as Saphira spread her wings wide. The sunlight gleamed through the thin membrane, casting intricate shadows on her wings. She landed gracefully, sending a gust of wind rushing through the air.
Eragon tossed the reins of Cadoc to Brom. "I'll join you for lunch." Saphira leaned down to greet Daemon with a nuzzle, while Shadowmere barely seemed to flinch. The shadow horse, in turn, seemed to acknowledge Saphira in his own way, and she responded warmly.
Brom nodded, though his mind seemed elsewhere. "Enjoy your time," he said, glancing at Saphira with a smile. "It's good to see you again."
And you as well. Saphira's voice echoed in their minds, but then she turned to Daemon with a hopeful tone. Daemon, would you care to join us?
Daemon opened his mouth to answer, but then paused. His expression shifted as he turned to Brom. "Actually, I'll pass. There's something I wanted to talk to Brom about." At the mention of Brom's name, the old man raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
Saphira masked her disappointment, though her voice was still gentle. Oh, okay. She hummed softly, then brightened. Perhaps later?
Daemon flashed her a grin. Absolutely. I believe you owe me a rematch, he teased, sending her a mental image of their playful sparring. Saphira's mood lifted instantly, and she gave him a nuzzle in return.
I can't wait.
With a final wave, Eragon said his goodbyes, and Saphira took to the sky. Her powerful wings beat the air as she climbed higher, quickly fading into the distance. Once they were out of sight, Brom turned to Daemon. "So, what did you want to talk about?" he asked as they resumed their journey.
Daemon shifted in his saddle, looking uncertain for a moment. "I'm not sure if it means anything... but I had a strange dream a few nights ago, and I wanted to ask you about it." Brom stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"Hm, dreams can be strange things, especially for those who wield magic. Sometimes, they mean more than they appear. What was it about?"
Daemon let out a long sigh, gathering his thoughts. "That's the thing... There was a dragon..."
The wind howled past Eragon's ears as he and Saphira soared higher into the sky. He couldn't help but let out a joyous whoop as she twisted and rolled through the air. Up here, they ruled their domain. The vast expanse of the sky was their playground, and nothing in the world mattered more to the dragon and her Rider than the freedom to roam wherever they pleased. They flew together, blissful and content, until the sun climbed high above. They would have continued for hours more, but the biting cold of the coastal air soon began to seep into Eragon's bones, and the rumbling in his stomach made itself known.
Hold on, Saphira warned, and with a jubilant bugle, she looped through the sky. Eragon laughed wildly, throwing his arms wide and holding on only with his legs as the world spun around them.
I didn't know I could stay on while you did that without being strapped into the saddle, he said, grinning from ear to ear.
Neither did I, Saphira admitted with a mental chuckle that sounded almost like a laugh. Eragon hugged her tightly, and together they leveled off, free and unfettered in the vast sky.
By noon, however, his legs ached from riding bareback, and his hands and face were numb from the cold wind. Though Saphira's scales were warm to the touch, they couldn't shield him from the chill. When they landed for lunch, Eragon quickly tucked his hands inside his clothes and found a sunny patch to sit in. As he, Daemon, and Brom settled down to eat, Eragon sent a thought to Saphira. Do you mind if I ride Cadoc? He had decided he wanted to question Brom further about his past.
No, but tell me what he says, Saphira replied, her voice light and knowing. Eragon wasn't surprised—keeping secrets from her was nearly impossible when their minds were so closely linked. He could feel her excitement as she trotted over to Daemon and gave him a playful growl, her tail flicking with barely contained energy.
Daemon raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, Saphira?"
Without answering, she dropped into a crouch, her tail swishing behind her, continuing her growl. It was an invitation to play. Daemon's lips curled into a smile, and he tried to suppress a laugh. Giving in to her playful demands, he stood up and walked over to her, scratching her chin. "You're not the only eager one here," he teased.
Saphira sat back on her haunches, clearly pleased with herself. Her tail gave an excited wag as she watched Daemon move toward Shadowmere, removing his clothes and carefully placing them in the saddle bags. Now wearing only his pants, Daemon found a clear spot and began focusing. He closed his eyes and visualized his dragon form. Brom and Eragon watched in awe as, before their eyes, Daemon's body shifted. In a matter of moments, the young man was gone, and in his place stood a large black-scaled dragon, stretching his wings wide.
That's more like it, Saphira teased, her mental voice full of delight.
The newly-transformed dragon turned his head toward her, flashing a fanged smile. With a playful growl, he leapt into action. The two dragons began to circle each other, preparing for the chase. Daemon made the first move, his powerful hind legs pushing him off the ground as he lunged toward Saphira. But she was quick—she ducked low to the earth, aiming for his underbelly. Then, realizing she had been tricked, she looked up just in time to see Daemon soaring over her, wings spread wide as he propelled himself into the air. His laughter echoed in their minds as he called out, Ha ha, come on, slowpoke!
With a beat of his wings, Daemon quickly climbed higher into the sky, and Saphira growled playfully in response.
Hey, no fair! I'll get you for that! she roared, her challenge ringing through the air. Without hesitation, she shot upward after him, and the two dragons disappeared over the treetops, their happy roars and shouts filling the air for miles around.
Eragon chuckled. "They make quite a pair."
"Yes, they certainly do," Brom chuckled, his eyes watching as the two faded into dots in the distance. They readied the horses and continued onward. Brom dropped his gaze from the sky and noticed Eragon looking at him with a determined expression. Brom chuckled again, "You two really are more similar than you know." Eragon's look turned into one of puzzlement. "Daemon looked at me the same way when he had something important to discuss with me, so I assume you now have too."
Eragon paused. "There's a lot going on that I don't understand. For instance, who are your 'friends,' and why were you hiding in Carvahall? I trust you with my life—which is why I'm still traveling with you—but I need to know more about who you are and what you are doing. What did you steal in Gil'ead, and what is the tuatha du orothrim that you're taking me through? I think that after all that's happened, I deserve an explanation."
"You eavesdropped on us."
"Only once," said Eragon.
"I see that you have yet to learn proper manners," said Brom grimly, tugging on his beard. "What makes you think that this concerns you?"
"Nothing, really," said Eragon shrugging. "Just it's an odd coincidence that you happened to be hiding in Carvahall when I found Saphira's egg and that you also know so much dragonlore. The more I think about it, the less likely it seems. There were other clues that I mostly ignored, but they're obvious now that I look back. Like how you knew of the Ra'zac in the first place and why they ran away when you approached. And I can't help but wonder if you had something to do with the appearance of Saphira's egg. There's a lot you haven't told us, and Saphira, Daemon and I can't afford to ignore anything that might be dangerous."
Dark lines appeared on Brom's forehead as he reined Snowfire to a halt. "You won't wait?" he asked. Eragon shook his head mulishly. Brom sighed. "This wouldn't be a problem if you weren't so suspicious, but I suppose that you wouldn't be worth my time if you were otherwise." Eragon was unsure if he should take that as a compliment. Brom lit his pipe and slowly blew a plume of smoke into the air. "I'll tell you," he said, "but you have to understand that I cannot reveal everything." Eragon started to protest, but Brom cut him off. "It's not out of a desire to withhold information, but because I won't give away secrets that aren't mine. There are other stories woven in with this narrative. You'll have to talk with the others involved to find out the rest."
"Very well. Explain what you can," said Eragon.
"Are you sure?" asked Brom. "There are reasons for my secretiveness. I've tried to protect you by shielding you from forces that would tear you apart. Once you know of them and their purposes, you'll never have the chance to live quietly. You will have to choose sides and make a stand. Do you really want to know?"
"I cannot live my life in ignorance," said Eragon quietly.
"A worthy goal... Very well: there is a war raging in Alagaësia between the Varden and the Empire. Their conflict, however, reaches far beyond any incidental armed clashes. They are locked in a titanic power struggle... centered around you."
"Me?" said Eragon, disbelieving. "That's impossible. I don't have anything to do with either of them."
"Not yet," said Brom, "but your very existence is the focus of their battles. The Varden and the Empire aren't fighting to control this land or its people. Their goal is to control the next generation of Riders, of whom you are the first. Whoever controls these Riders will become the undisputed master of Alagaësia."
Eragon tried to absorb Brom's statements. It seemed incomprehensible that so many people would be interested in him and Saphira. No one besides Brom had thought he was that important. The whole concept of the Empire and Varden fighting over him was too abstract for him to grasp fully. Objections quickly formed in his mind. "But all the Riders were killed except for the Forsworn, who joined Galbatorix. As far as I know, even those are now dead. And you told me in Carvahall that no one knows if there are still dragons in Alagaësia."
"I lied about the dragons," said Brom flatly. "Even though the Riders are gone, there are still three dragon eggs left—all of them in Galbatorix's possession. Actually there are only two now, since Saphira hatched. The King salvaged the three during his last great battle with the Riders."
"So there may soon be two new Riders, both of them loyal to the king?" asked Eragon with a sinking feeling.
"Exactly," said Brom. "There is a deadly race in progress. Galbatorix is desperately trying to find the people for whom his eggs will hatch, while the Varden are employing every means to kill his candidates or steal the eggs."
"But where did Saphira's egg come from? How could anyone have gotten it away from the King? And why do you know all of this?" asked Eragon, bewildered.
"So many questions," laughed Brom bitterly. "There is another chapter to all this, one that took place long before you were born. Back then I was a bit younger, though perhaps not as wise. I hated the Empire—for reasons I'll keep to myself—and wanted to damage it in any way I could. My fervor led me to a scholar, Jeod, who claimed to have discovered a book that showed a secret passageway into Galbatorix's castle. I eagerly brought Jeod to the Varden—who are my 'friends'—and they arranged to have the eggs stolen."
The Varden!
"However, something went amiss, and our thief got only one egg. For some reason he fled with it and didn't return to the Varden. When he wasn't found, Jeod and I were sent to bring him and the egg back." Brom's eyes grew distant, and he spoke in a curious voice. "That was the start of one of the greatest searches in history. We raced against the Ra'zac and Morzan, last of the Forsworn and the King's finest servant."
"Morzan!" interrupted Eragon. "But he was the one who betrayed the Riders to Galbatorix!" And that happened so long ago! Morzan must have been ancient. It disturbed him to be reminded of how long Riders lived.
"So?" asked Brom, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, he was old, but strong and cruel. He was one of the King's first followers and by far his most loyal. As there had been blood between us before, the hunt for the egg turned into a personal battle. When it was located in Gil'ead, I rushed there and fought Morzan for possession. It was a terrible contest, but in the end I slew him. During the conflict I was separated from Jeod. There was no time to search for him, so I took the egg and bore it to the Varden, who asked me to train whomever became the new Rider. I agreed and decided to hide in Carvahall—which I had been to several times before—until the Varden contacted me. I was never summoned."
"Then how did Saphira's egg appear in the Spine? Was another one stolen from the king?" asked Eragon.
Brom grunted. "Small chance of that. He has the remaining two guarded so thoroughly that it would be suicide to try and steal them. No, Saphira was taken from the Varden, and I think I know how. To protect the egg, its guardian must have tried to send it to me with magic.
"The Varden haven't contacted me to explain how they lost the egg, so I suspect that their runners were intercepted by the Empire and the Ra'zac were sent in their place. I'm sure they were quite eager to find me, as I've managed to foil many of their plans."
"Then the Ra'zac didn't know about me when they arrived in Carvahall," said Eragon with wonder.
"That's right," replied Brom. "If that ass Sloan had kept his mouth shut, they might not have found out about you. Events could have turned out quite differently. In a way I have you to thank for my life. If the Ra'zac hadn't become so preoccupied with you, they might have caught me unawares, and that would have been the end of Brom the storyteller. The only reason they ran was because I'm stronger than the two of them, especially during the day. They must have planned to drug me during the night, then question me about the egg."
"You sent a message to the Varden, telling them about me?"
"Yes. I'm sure they'll want me to bring you to them as soon as possible."
"But you're not going to, are you?"
Brom shook his head. "No, I'm not."
"Why not? Being with the Varden must be safer than chasing after the Ra'zac, especially for a new Rider."
Brom snorted and looked at Eragon with fondness. "The Varden are dangerous people. If we go to them, you will be entangled in their politics and machinations. Their leaders may send you on missions just to make a point, even though you might not be strong enough for them. I want you to be well prepared before you go anywhere near the Varden. At least while we pursue the Ra'zac, I don't have to worry about someone poisoning your water. This is the lesser of two evils. And," he said with a smile, "it keeps you happy while I train you... Tuatha du orothrim is just a stage in your instruction. I will help you find—and perhaps even kill—the Ra'zac, for they are as much my enemies as yours. But then you will have to make a choice."
"And that would be...?" asked Eragon warily.
"Whether to join the Varden," said Brom. "If you kill the Ra'zac, the only ways for you to escape Galbatorix's wrath will be to seek the Varden's protection, flee to Surda, or plead for the king's mercy and join his forces. Even if you don't kill the Ra'zac, you will still face this choice eventually."
Eragon knew the best way to gain sanctuary might be to join the Varden, but he did not want to spend his entire life fighting the Empire like they did. He mulled over Brom's comments, trying to consider them from every angle. "You still didn't explain how you know so much about dragons."
"No, I didn't, did I?" said Brom with a crooked smile. "That will have to wait for another time."
Why me? Eragon asked himself. What made him so special that he should become a Rider? "Did you ever meet my mother?" he blurted.
Brom looked grave. "Yes, I did."
"What was she like?"
The old man sighed. "She was full of dignity and pride, like Garrow. Ultimately it was her downfall, but it was one of her greatest gifts nevertheless. . . . She always helped the poor and the less fortunate, no matter what her situation."
"You knew her well?" asked Eragon, startled.
"Well enough to miss her when she was gone."
As Cadoc plodded along, Eragon tried to recall when he had thought that Brom was just a scruffy old man who told stories. For the first time Eragon understood how ignorant he had been.
Daemon roared as Saphira's claws narrowly missed his belly. He twisted in midair, evading her strike just in time, then dove beneath her, hoping to get the upper hand. Since leaving Eragon and Brom behind, the two dragons had spent hours playing together, neither willing to submit. The sky was their arena, and the fight had been going on for quite some time. Saphira let out another challenge and dove at him once more, but Daemon flared his wings and shot upward, just out of her reach. His impressive agility in the air only fuelled Saphira's frustration. The fact that Daemon, in his third transformation as a dragon, was matching her skill was more than a little irksome.
Come on, Saphira! I don't even think you're really trying, Daemon teased from above, his voice echoing in her mind.
Her temper flared at his words. She would show him who the true master of the sky was. With a sharp roar, she climbed back to his level, feinting toward his belly again. But as he shifted to avoid her, she quickly adjusted her angle and managed to get behind him. In one swift motion, she grabbed onto him, her claws locking around his wings.
Ha! Let's see you get out of this one, hatchling! Saphira growled triumphantly as she forced him downward.
Daemon struggled against her hold, but it was no use. She laughed, her voice full of victory, as they plummeted toward the earth. He fought, twisting in the air, and managed to turn to face her just before they hit the ground. With a final effort, both dragons flared their wings, slowing their descent enough to prevent a brutal crash. They landed hard and rolled down a small hill, their limbs tangled in a mess of wings, tails, and claws.
When they finally came to a stop, Saphira found herself sprawled across Daemon's chest. Their legs and tails were entwined, and for a moment, both dragons lay there in stunned silence, the lingering joy of their play still vibrating between them. Their eyes locked, and the air between them seemed to thicken as they realized just how close they had gotten. A deep, unfamiliar warmth spread through both of them.
Saphira quickly scrambled off Daemon, looking away in embarrassment, her cheeks flushed beneath her blue scales. She focused on the ground, trying to hide the sudden heat she felt from their proximity.
Daemon, equally flustered, rolled onto his side and cleared his throat with an awkward cough. Uh... I guess you won that round, he said sheepishly, avoiding her gaze.
I guess so, Saphira replied quietly, still not looking at him. Her eyes wandered to a patch of shrubs, unable to focus on anything for long. When she finally turned back to meet his eyes, Daemon quickly looked away. A heavy silence settled between them, each dragon unsure of what to say next.
Saphira played with the dirt under her claws, trying to fill the uncomfortable quiet. After a few moments, she hesitated, then broke the silence. Do you... um... do you want to play some more? Her voice was softer than usual, laced with a nervousness she couldn't quite shake. Part of her wanted to continue the sparring, to stay in the comfort of their playful bond. But another part of her—one she didn't want to acknowledge—felt something deeper stirring, something new that made her stomach twist.
Unbeknownst to her, Daemon was battling similar feelings. Being with Saphira was wonderful, but the connection they had felt different. More meaningful. But it didn't mean anything, he told himself. They were friends, nothing more. Yet, the images from his dream—and the feelings they stirred—refused to fade. He had to stop this. He couldn't let things get complicated. Not with Saphira.
With a deep breath, Daemon turned his gaze toward the sky, trying to calm his churning thoughts. Uh... it's getting late. Maybe we should head back to Brom and Eragon... he suggested, his voice awkward.
Saphira felt a wave of relief wash over her, though she quickly hid it from him. Yes, you're right, she replied quickly, eager to put some distance between them. We should head back.
Without another word, the two dragons got to their feet and took to the sky again. But this time, they kept their distance, flying a little further apart than before. The air between them remained heavy, charged with something neither was willing to acknowledge.
When they arrived at the place Eragon and Brom had chosen to make camp, Daemon had wasted no time in changing back to human form and donning his Nightingale armour again. Brom noticed this, and watched as Saphira went to lay down on the other side of Eragon, refusing to look at Daemon. The storyteller looked at Daemon who, for the first time, sat away from Eragon and Saphira. Brom looked away, his lips twitching into a knowing grin that nobody noticed.
Oblivious to this, Eragon asked if their flight had gone well, receiving sharp responses from both of them. The young Rider was puzzled as he looked between his dragon and best friend, sensing that something was amiss between them. He really hoped they didn't have an actual fight, as that was the last thing he needed at the moment with everything Brom had told him.
Deciding to clear his head, Eragon went off in search of water while Brom made dinner. He rubbed his hands together for warmth as he walked in a large circle, listening for a creek or spring. It was gloomy and damp between the trees.
He found a stream a ways from the camp, then crouched on the bank and watched the water splash over the rocks, dipping in his fingertips. The icy mountain water swirled around his skin, numbing it. It doesn't care what happens to us, or anyone else, thought Eragon. He shivered and stood.
An unusual print on the opposing stream bank caught his attention. It was oddly shaped and very large. Curious, he jumped across the stream and onto a rock shelf. As he landed, his foot hit a patch of damp moss. He grabbed a branch for support, but it broke, and he thrust out his hand to break his fall. He felt his right wrist crack as he hit the ground. Pain lanced up his arm.
A steady stream of curses came out from behind his clenched teeth as he tried not to howl. Half blind with pain, he curled on the ground, cradling his arm. Eragon! came Saphira's alarmed cry. What happened?
Broke my wrist... did something stupid... fell.
I'm coming, said Saphira.
No—I can make it back. Don't... come. Trees too close for... wings.
She sent him a brief image of her tearing the forest apart to get at him, then said, Hurry.
Groaning, he staggered upright. The print was pressed deeply into the ground a few feet away. It was the mark of a heavy, nail-studded boot. Eragon instantly remembered the tracks that had surrounded the pile of bodies in Yazuac. "Urgal," he spat, wishing that Zar'roc was with him; he could not use his bow with only one hand. His head snapped up, and he shouted with his mind, Saphira! Urgals! Keep Brom and Daemon safe.
Eragon leapt back over the stream and raced toward their camp, yanking out his hunting knife. He saw potential enemies behind every tree and bush. I hope there's only one Urgal. He burst into the camp, ducking as Saphira's tail swung overhead. "Stop. It's me!" he yelled.
Oops, said Saphira. Her wings were folded in front of her chest like a wall.
"Oops?" growled Eragon, running to her. "You could've killed me! Where's Brom?"
"We're right here," Daemon's voice came from behind Saphira's wings.
"Tell your crazy dragon to release me; she won't listen to us." Brom added.
"Let them go!" said Eragon, exasperated. "Didn't you tell them?"
No, she said sheepishly. You just said to keep them safe. She lifted her wings, and Brom and Daemon stepped forward angrily.
"I found an Urgal footprint. And it's fresh."
Brom immediately turned serious and looked at Daemon. "Saddle the horses. We're leaving." He put out the fire, but Eragon did not move. "What's wrong with your arm?"
"My wrist is broken," he said, swaying.
"Shit." Daemon cursed before he carefully helped Eragon onto Cadoc's saddle before going over to saddle Shadowmere.
Brom, on Snowfire's saddle, looked to Saphira."It's almost dark; you might as well fly right overhead. If Urgals show up, they will think twice about attacking with you so near."
They'd better, or else they won't think again. She leaned in, gave Eragon a quick lick, locked eyes with Daemon, and then took off.
The light was disappearing quickly, and Cadoc and Snowfire were tired while Shadowmere was not, but they spurred them on without respite. Eragon's wrist, swollen and red, continued to throb. A mile from the camp, Brom halted. "Listen," he said.
They heard the faint call of a hunting horn behind them.. "They must have found where we were," said Brom, "and probably Saphira's tracks. They will chase us now. It's not in their nature to let prey escape." Then two horns winded. They were closer. A chill ran through Eragon. "Our only chance is to run," said Brom. He raised his head to the sky, and his face blanked as he called Saphira.
She rushed out of the night sky and landed. "Leave Cadoc. Go with her. You'll be safer," commanded Brom.
"What about you two?" Eragon protested, looking between Daemon and Brom.
"We'll be fine, Eragon. Now go!" Daemon grabbed Eragon and helped him onto Saphira's saddle, then hopped right back onto Shadowmere as Brom lashed Snowfire and they rode away with Cadoc. Saphira flew after them, flapping above the galloping horses.
Eragon clung to Saphira as best he could; he winced whenever her movements jostled his wrist. The horns blared nearby, bringing a fresh wave of terror. Brom and Daemon crashed through the underbrush. The horns trumpeted in unison close behind him, then were quiet.
Minutes passed. Where are the Urgals? wondered Eragon. A horn sounded, this time in the distance. He sighed in relief, resting against Saphira's neck, while on the ground Brom and Daemon slowed their headlong rush. That was close, said Eragon.
Yes, but we cannot stop until— Saphira was interrupted as a horn blasted directly underneath them. Eragon jerked in surprise, and below, Daemon and Brom resumed their frenzied retreat. Horned Urgals, shouting with coarse voices, barreled along the trail on horses, swiftly gaining ground. They were almost in sight of Daemon and Brom; they could not outrun them. We have to do something! exclaimed Eragon.
What?
Land in front of the Urgals!
Are you crazy? demanded Saphira.
Land! I know what I'm doing, said Eragon. There isn't time for anything else. They're going to overtake Daemon and Brom!
Very well. Saphira pulled ahead of the Urgals, then turned, preparing to drop onto the trail. Eragon reached for his power and felt the familiar resistance in his mind that separated him from the magic. He did not try to breach it yet. A muscle twitched in his neck.
As the Urgals pounded up the trail, he shouted, "Now!" Saphira abruptly folded her wings and dropped straight down from above the trees, landing on the trail in a spray of dirt and rocks.
The Urgals shouted with alarm and yanked on their horses' reins. The animals went stiff-legged and collided into each other, but the Urgals quickly untangled themselves to face Saphira with bared weapons. Hate crossed their faces as they glared at her. There were twelve of them, all ugly, jeering brutes. Eragon wondered why they did not flee. He had thought that the sight of Saphira would frighten them away. Why are they waiting? Are they going to attack us or not?
He was shocked when the largest Urgal advanced and spat, "Our master wishes to speak with you, human!" The monster spoke in deep, rolling gutturals.
It's a trap, warned Saphira before Eragon could say anything. Don't listen to him.
At least let's find out what he has to say, he reasoned, curious, but extremely wary. "Who is your master?" he asked.
The Urgal sneered. "His name does not deserve to be given to one as low as yourself. He rules the sky and holds dominance over the earth. You are no more than a stray ant to him. Yet he has decreed that you shall be brought before him, alive. Take heart that you have become worthy of such notice!"
"I'll never go with you nor any of my enemies!" declared Eragon, thinking of Yazuac. "Whether you serve Shade, Urgal, or some twisted fiend I've not heard of, I have no wish to parley with him."
"That is a grave mistake," growled the Urgal, showing his fangs. "There is no way to escape him. Eventually you will stand before our master. If you resist, he will fill your days with agony."
Eragon wondered who had the power to bring the Urgals under one banner. Was there a third great force loose in the land—along with the Empire and the Varden? "Keep your offer and tell your master that the crows can eat his entrails for all I care!"
Rage swept through the Urgals; their leader howled, gnashing his teeth. "We'll drag you to him, then!" He waved his arm and the Urgals rushed at Saphira. Raising his right hand, Eragon barked, "Jierda!"
No! cried Saphira, but it was too late.
The monsters faltered as Eragon's palm glowed. Beams of light lanced from his hand, striking each of them in the gut. The Urgals were thrown through the air and smashed into trees, falling senseless to the ground.
Fatigue suddenly drained Eragon of strength, and he tumbled off Saphira. His mind felt hazy and dull. As Saphira bent over him, he realized that he might have gone too far. The energy needed to lift and throw twelve Urgals was enormous. Fear engulfed him as he struggled to stay conscious.
At the edge of his vision he saw one of the Urgals stagger to his feet, sword in hand. Eragon tried to warn Saphira, but he was too weak. No..., he thought feebly. The Urgal crept toward Saphira until he was well past her tail, then raised his sword to strike her neck. No!
Suddenly, a burst of fire came down on the Urgal as Daemon arrived, his sword in his other hand, a dark, fierce expression on his face. It was the last thing Eragon saw before everything went black.
Daemon sheathed his sword as the last Urgal fell to the ground. Several had managed to get away, unable to stand against the Dragonborn's power, especially with the might of a dragon at his side. Making sure that there was none waiting to ambush them, Daemon turned and ran over to where Saphira and Brom were checking on Eragon. The second she saw him, Saphira's mind linked with his own and he felt her despair, so he sent her feelings of warm comfort.
I should have stopped him, she sniffed. Oh, Eragon...Her eyes fell to her Rider's still body, tears streaking down her cheeks.
"How is he?" Daemon asked Brom worriedly.
"He's going to be alright." Brom assured them both. "He just used too much energy. He'll be out for a while, but he'll recover."
This is my fault. Saphira bowed her ear, the tears streaming down her cheeks.
Daemon turned to her. Saphira...
If I had stopped him, if I had just-
Saphira! Overcome by an odd sensation, Daemon grabbed her cheeks and made her look at him. This is not your fault. You couldn't have known what he was going to do and the outcome.
But I-
Stop. Daemon said gently, pulling her head close to press his forehead against her, sending her soothing thoughts and feelings to comfort her.He's still alive. And belive me, when he wakes up, he's getting a lecture for pulling a stunt like that.
He hugged her snout close to his chest. He didn't know what was causing him to do this, but he knew one thing; he did not like seeing Saphira crying. It didn't suit her. He couldn't stomach it.
Now dry your tears, they hide those beautiful eyes of yours. He said, giving her one last stroke on the cheek before he moved to help Brom.
Saphira was frozen, staring at his back as his words rang through her head. He thought her eyes were beautiful? Suddenly, she didn't feel so terrible anymore as a warm feeling touched the pit of her stomach.
At Brom's inquiry, she told them what had happened, leaving no detail. "Idiot boy!" Brom growled, pacing. "We can't let those Urgals get away with news of us. We need to track them down!"
"What do we do?" Daemon said with determination, to which Saphira growled in agreement.
Brom looked at them. "You two will go and track down one half of the party, I'll track the other. With luck, we will kill them all before they can reach where we cannot get them." he looked down at Eragon. "He'll be safe here."
With their plan in mind, Brom went to saddle Snowfire while Daemon climbed onto Saphira's saddle. The issues between the two were forgotten in favour of what was going on.
Eragon twisted underneath the blankets, dreading to open his eyes. He dozed slightly, and as the world became clear, a thought entered his mind, How did I end up here? Eragon laid upon the ground confused before he finally regain the memory of last night's attack. The Urgals! He attempted to sit himself up right but every inch of his body refused, it was extremely exhausted. With extreme effort, he slowly sat forward letting his body hang forward. He surveyed his surroundings.
He lay in a small clearing that was isolated from the world. . In the center was a small bonfire with a pot filled with stew. His bow, quiver, and Zar'roc laid parallel to his bedroll. However, no one was in the camp. Where is everyone? he wondered desperately. He stretched out his mind and tried to call out to Saphira. Eragon worried in alarm when he could not sense her presence. Ravenous hunger gripped him, so he walked over to the pot of stew and helped himself to several bowls.
With nothing better to do, Eragon rolled up the bedroll and sat against a tall oak tree growing at the edge of the camp. Hours passed and still there was no sign of anyone approaching the campsite – not Brom, Daemon or Saphira. I sure hope that they are okay. As the morning turned into the afternoon, Eragon's apprehension got the better of him. Searching around the perimeter of the encampment, Eragon was hoping he'd find the key to ending his worries. Outside of sight of the camp, Eragon stumbled upon a boulder with a bowl-shaped depression filled with clear water from the morning dew. Finally!
Reflecting back to the travels from Teirm, Eragon remembered Brom's lecture over a special usage for magic: scrying. Scrying is the ability to use magic and observe a person through a clear surface such as water, Eragon thought to himself. It takes a lot of energy to sustain from what Brom said…But I am stronger than he thinks I am.
He breathed deeply and closed his mind. Remembering what Brom said, Eragon formed a picture of Saphira in his mind, making it as life-like as possible. It was mentally taxing, something Eragon was quite surprised about it. With a clear voice he said, "Draumr kópa!" and gazed upon the small pool of water. Its surface completely stood still, frozen by magic. The image of Eragon's reflection disappeared and it shimmered to a picture of Saphira. The landscape around her were clouded by a white fog, the only image visible was his dragon. However, he could see that she was flying and Daemon sat on her back. His face and clothes were covered with blood and grime.
The cost of maintaining the spell was taking its toll on Eragon, his strength was beginning to fade. Eragon quickly let the image fade to preserve his strength. Even though his body was sore beyond belief, they were tense as Eragon worried about his companions. Finally knowing that they were safe, he was able to let his body relax. Leaning back onto the oak tree, Eragon spent a long time sighing in content to just be able to sit and relax. All of a sudden, a crazy idea struck him. What if I scry something I created with my imagination or saw in a dream? He smiled. Maybe I can see what my own consciousness looks like.
There was not force in Alagaesia that could stop the temptation. Eragon spent some time considering certain images but threw them aside when he remembered the dream about the woman in the cell. After fixing on the scene in his mind, he spoke the words and watched the water intently. After several moments, nothing happened. Eragon was half ready to release the magic when the pool of water began to darken. He stared on in disbelief. A single candle flicked in the darkness and illuminated a dark, damp, stone cell. The woman from his dreams was curled up on a cot in one corner and lifted her head, dark hair falling back.
No way…This is impossible! He froze, the force of her gaze kept Eragon in place. Her dark emerald green eyes locked in with his. Then the woman trembled and collapsed onto the cot. The water returned to its original state and Eragon's disbelief was growing. "She can't be real! I've only seen her in my dreams!"
The air around him grew heavy and a vibration shook through it. The rhythmic thump of Saphira's wings interrupted him. Eragon turned and hurried back to the clearing, arriving just in time as Saphira landed. Daemon was still on her back and still covered with dirt and blood. "What happened?" asked Eragon, afraid that Daemon had been injured.
Daemon dismounted from Saphira, climbing down her shoulder. The Dragonborn approached the Rider and produced a serious look. Upon closer inspection, Eragon noticed how tired Daemon looked. It seemed he hardly gotten any sleep. "What were you thinking Eragon?" said Daemon harshly. "Do you truly understand the consequences of your actions?"
"I stopped the Urgals from catching you and Brom," said Eragon, his body was beginning to tremble under the Dragonborn's glare.
"You nearly died!" Daemon snarled. "I'll ask again, what the Oblivion were you thinking?! Brom, Saphira and I have spent the past day searching for the Urgals that escaped. Brom determined that there were twelve that managed to escape." Motioning to himself and Saphira, he continued, "We managed to track down and kill six of them. I hope that Brom managed to find the rest." Daemon returned his attention to Saphira and unbelted her saddle and placed it onto the ground.
Eragon wasn't sure what to say. He didn't fully comprehend the magnitude of the situation. He was only concerned for the storyteller and the Dragonborn. And as such he wanted to protect them… Even if that meant putting Saphira and yourself in harms ways? Eragon slightly began to understand Daemon's words. "I'm sorry," he said. It was the only words Eragon could muster at the moment.
Daemon sighed, leaning his forehead against Saphira's leg for a moment before he turned and regarded Eragon with less anger. "You're young, Eragon. You're still growing into your power and figuring out its limits. But there is always a price with great power, and that's the toll it takes on the body and the mind. Believe me, I know because I did the same when I learned about my power. I wanted to delve into Words of Power that I was not ready for mentally and physically. With the power we hold, we must always think of the outcomes and how we use that power. You made a mistake, you accept that accept and the consequences that followed, now you live with it for the rest of your life. Next time... act before you think, okay? You had me and Saphira worried out of our minds."
He's right you know. Saphira said in his mind.
I know. But I was only worried about them and didn't want them getting into harm. Isn't that a good enough reason to act out in such a way, though?
I understand your concern, Eragon, but even reasons as sincere as that can cause trouble for you. Without thinking and acting solely on impulse, you will get yourself in trouble much like the other night. Daemon is right and you should make sure to always think ahead into the future.
Eragon agreed but felt ashamed of himself. I guess even good reasons can cause strife to others. It was a life lesson that Eragon would take to heart. The camp remained silent for some time, not Eragon, Daemon or Saphira said a word. The afternoon was beginning to turn to evening as the sun began to descend into its last hours of the day. Brom still had yet to return. Finally breaking the silence, Eragon asked, "What happens now?"
Daemon, who had eaten some of the stew, replied, "We wait for Brom to return. We agreed that we each would search for the Urgals until the sun sets on the second day of our pursuit. I've only met with him once during our pursuit to update each other on our progress. My guess is that once he returns, and mostly likely scold you, we will set out for Dras-Leona. We've lost precious time that could have been spent on the road. I suggest, you come up with a way to apologize to Brom."
It wasn't long before Brom did return on Snowfire. His face was contorted; the edges of his beard stained red. His blade was laid upon his lap and it too was coated in blood. As soon as Brom saw Eragon, his face boiled to a deep red, much like the blood that coated his body and he roared out in anger. "You boy are in for a world of pain! I've been trying to clean up your mess!" He dismounted from Snowfire and tethered the horse around a tree. Slashing out in the air with his sword, the blood was flung off the cool steel. "Do you truly understand the trouble you put us through last night? Do you?"
Eragon was prepared for Brom's tantrum and venting thanks to Daemon's warning. As he sat stroking Saphira, Eragon developed an explanation for his rash behaviour. He came up one that would hopefully show his remorse. "I do. Even though I was concerned for both you and Daemon, I acted without thinking of the consequences. I put not only my life but Saphira's as well. And that's something I feel horrible about; I would never put Saphira, in danger willingly. And this experience just shows me that I am not fit to call myself a Dragon Rider…. I am sorry – all of you…" Eragon humbly bowed so his upper body was parallel to the ground to Brom.
Brom was left speechless, his mouth wide open and his face still red as an apple. What tirade he had, died when Eragon gave his apology. He looked down at the boy with rage filled eyes, but slowly, the fire began to dwindle slightly. Releasing a defeated growl, Brom said, "Get up Eragon." Eragon rose back to full height and a hand patted his back lightly. "Daemon, next time do not warn Eragon about my need to scold him for his recklessness. If anyone is going to give him a firm tongue lashing, it will be from me. Got it!"
Daemon rolled his eyes. "He deserved a tongue lashing from the both of us. He made a mistake, he accepts that and the consequences. Now we move on. Did you get the rest of the Urgals?"
"I managed to find and disposed of four of them but two escaped." Brom's voice grew solemn. "Please tell me that you managed to find the rest."
"We left none alive." Daemon said darkly, and Saphira gave an equally dark growl in agreement.
Shivering, Eragon asked softly, "What happens now?"
There was an uncomfortable pause. "Your arm is going to take at least a couple of weeks to heal. That time would be well spent forging some sense into you. I suppose this is partially my fault. I've been teaching you how to do things, but not whether you should. It takes discretion, something you obviously lack. All the magic in Alagaësia won't help you if you don't know when to use it."
"But we're still going to Dras-Leona, right?" asked Eragon.
Brom rolled his eyes. "Yes, we can keep looking for the Ra'zac, but even if we find them, it won't do any good until you've healed. For now, we'll rest for the remainder of the day."
Eragon went over to where Daemon and Saphira were, sitting down. Saphira wrapped her tail around her Rider comfortingly. I'm just glad you are alright, little one. You had me so worried, she nuzzled him softly.
I'm sorry Saphira. Believe me, I don't plan on doing it again.
See that you don't, she chided him. She lay her head on her paws as the three lapsed into companionable silence.
A thought lingered in Saphira's mind. The night before, when she had been overwhelmed with emotion, Daemon had been there for her in a way she hadn't expected. His comfort had been real, his concern genuine. The care he showed was no illusion, and she was deeply grateful for his support. Just a month ago, something like that would have been unimaginable between them. But now, she couldn't deny that things were changing.
The feelings they had shared, that brief moment lying together in the forest—those feelings of closeness and the embarrassment that followed—had only been the beginning. She knew their bond had evolved into something more than simple friendship. Friends didn't share those intimate, vulnerable moments. What was developing between them, she couldn't say for certain.
She shifted slightly, her thoughts turning to him. Daemon?
Yes, Saphira? His voice was soft, responsive.
A hesitation gripped her. She wasn't sure if she wanted an answer to the question she was about to ask. What if the truth made things more complicated? But she couldn't stop herself. Last night... what you said... about my eyes. Did you mean it? Do you really think my eyes are beautiful?
Daemon stiffened at her words, his eyes darting away almost instinctively. He hadn't meant to say it. He hadn't even known why the words had come out, but all he had wanted was to ease her pain, to stop her tears. He knew, too, that something between them had shifted. It had started just before Teirm, but especially after Yazuac. Could it be…?
No, he thought suddenly, there's no way I could be falling for Saphira. Not like this.
But was he? Was it truly affection, or was it just his instincts as a dragon, because she was female?
The uncertainty gnawed at him. It was that question that troubled him the most—was it truly love, or just the pull of his nature?
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he replied honestly. I did mean it. And yes, your eyes are beautiful.
Saphira's stomach fluttered. Th-Thank you... she managed, a soft warmth blooming within her.
You're welcome, Daemon said simply, the silence falling between them once more.
They both sat in that quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. It was clear now—whatever they were, they were no longer just friends. But did that mean there was something more between them? Neither of them was sure. They had no romantic feelings toward each other—at least, that's what they told themselves—but something stirred in the air between them.
Then it struck them both at the same time. Daemon was the only other dragon Saphira had known, and he was male. He, too, had not encountered another dragon in years, not since leaving Skyrim. Could this strange connection between them simply be a bond of kindred spirits? Surely that was all it was. After all, it was only natural to grow close to the only other member of your species.
Yes, they were more than friends now. But for now, that's all they would be. And perhaps that was enough—for now.
And that's it for this chapter, folks. Let me know what you think in the reviews.