Christopher Paolini - [Inheritance 01] - Eragon.html

by Eragon (lit)

  you allow him to enter unchallenged? Are you so great a fool as to put us all at risk?demanded the bald man. His eyes were feral with loosely chained rage; he looked ready to tear the dwarf into pieces.

  he use magic?

  is—

  he use magic?roared Orik, his deep voice echoing in the room. The bald man’s face suddenly grew expressionless. He clasped his hands behind his back.

  what do you fear? It’s impossible for him to escape, and he can’t work any devilry with all of us here, especially if your powers are as great as you say. But don’t listen to me; ask Ajihad what he wants done.

  The bald man stared at Orik for a moment, his face indecipherable, then looked at the ceiling and closed his eyes. A peculiar stiffness set into his shoulders while his lips moved soundlessly. An intense frown wrinkled the pale skin above his eyes, and his fingers clenched, as if they were throttling an invisible enemy. For several minutes he stood thus, wrapped in silent communication.

  When his eyes opened, he ignored Orik and snapped at the warriors, now!As they filed through the doorway, he addressed Eragon coldly, I was unable to complete my examination, you andyour friend will remain here for the night. He will be killed if he attempts to leave. With those words he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, pale scalp gleaming in the lantern light.

  you,whispered Eragon to Orik.

  The dwarf grunted. ’ll make sure some food is brought.He muttered a string of words under his breath, then left, shaking his head. The bolt was secured once again on the outside of the door.

  Eragon sat, feeling strangely dreamy from the day’s excitement and their forced march. His eyelids were heavy. Saphira settled next to him. We must be careful. It seems we have as many enemies here as we did in the Empire. He nodded, too tired to talk.

  Murtagh, eyes glazed and empty, leaned against the far wall and slid to the shiny floor. He held his sleeve against the cut on his neck to stop the bleeding. you all right?asked Eragon. Murtagh nodded jerkily. Did he get anything from you?

  were you able to keep him out? He’s so strong.

  ’ve I’ve been well trained.There was a bitter note to his voice.

  Silence enshrouded them. Eragon’s gaze drifted to one of the lanterns hanging in a corner. His thoughts meandered until he abruptly said, didn’t let them know who you are.

  Murtagh looked relieved. He bowed his head. you for not betraying me.

  didn’t recognize you.

  you still say that you are Morzan’s son?

  he sighed.

  Eragon started to speak, but stopped when he felt hot liquid splash onto his hand. He looked down and was startled to see a drop of dark blood roll off his skin. It had fallen from Saphira’s wing. I forgot. You’re injured! he exclaimed, getting up with an effort. I’d better heal you.

  Be careful. It’s easy to make mistakes when you’re this tired.

  I know. Saphira unfolded one of her wings and lowered it to the floor. Murtagh watched as Eragon ran his hands over the warm blue membrane, saying, heill, whenever he found an arrow hole. Luckily, all the wounds were relatively easy to heal, even those on her nose.

  Task completed, Eragon slumped against Saphira, breathing hard. He could feel her great heart beating with the steady throb of life. hope they bring food soon,said Murtagh.

  Eragon shrugged; he was too exhausted to be hungry. He crossed his arms, missing Zar’roc’s weight by his side. are you here?

  you really are Morzan’s son, Galbatorix wouldn’t let you wander around Alagafreely. How is it that you managed to find the Ra’zac by yourself? Why is it I’ve never heard of any of the Forsworn having children? And what are you doing here?His voice rose to a near shout at the end.

  Murtagh ran his hands over his face. ’s a long story.

  ’re not going anywhere,rebutted Eragon.

  ’s too late to talk.

  probably won’t be time for it tomorrow.

  Murtagh wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees, rocking back and forth as he stared at the floor. ’s not a—he said, then interrupted himself. don’t want to stopso make yourself comfortable. My story will take a while.Eragon shifted against Saphira’s side and nodded. Saphira watched both of them intently.

  Murtagh’s first sentence was halting, but his voice gained strength and confidence as he spoke. far as I knowI am the only child of the Thirteen Servants, or the Forsworn as they’re called. There may be others, for the Thirteen had the skill to hide whatever they wanted, but I doubt it, for reasons I’ll explain later.

  parents met in a small village—I never learned where—while my father was traveling on the king’s business. Morzan showed my mother some small kindness, no doubt a ploy to gain her confidence, and when he left, she accompanied him. They traveled together for a time, and as is the nature of these things, she fell deeply in love with him. Morzan was delighted to discover this not only because it gave him numerous opportunities to torment her but also because he recognized the advantage of having a servant who wouldn’t betray him.

  when Morzan returned to Galbatorix’s court, my mother became the tool he relied upon most. He used her to carry his secret messages, and he taught her rudimentary magic, which helped her remain undiscovered and, on occasion, extract information from people. He did his best to protect her from the rest of the Thirteen—not out of any feelings for her, but because they would have used her against him, given the chanceFor three years things proceeded in this manner, until my mother became pregnant.

  Murtagh paused for a moment, fingering a lock of his hair. He continued in a clipped tone, father was, if nothing else, a cunning man. He knew that the pregnancy put both him and my mother in danger, not to mention the baby—that is, me. So, in the dead of night, he spirited her away from the palace and took her to his castle. Once there, he laid down powerful spells that prevented anyone from entering his estate except for a few chosen servants. In this way the pregnancy was kept secret from everyone but Galbatorix.

  knew the intimate details of the Thirteen’s lives: their plots, their fights—and most importantly—their thoughts. He enjoyed watching them battle each other and often helped one or the other for his own amusement. But for some reason he never revealed my existence.

  was born in due time and given to a wet nurse so my mother could return to Morzan’s side. She had no choice in the matter. Morzan allowed her to visit me every few months, but otherwise we were kept apart. Another three years passed like this, during which time he gave me thescar on my back.Murtagh brooded a minute before continuing.

  would have grown to manhood in this fashion if Morzan hadn’t been summoned away to hunt for Saphira’s egg. As soon as he departed, my mother, who had been left behind, vanished. No one knows where she went, or why. The king tried to hunt her down, but his men couldn’t find her trail—no doubt because of Morzan’s training.

  the time of my birth, only five of the Thirteen were still alive. By the time Morzan left, that number had been reduced to three; when he finally faced Brom in Gil’ead, he was the only one remaining. The Forsworn died through various means: suicide, ambush, overuse of magicbut it was mostly the work of the Varden. I’m told that the king was in a terrible rage because of those losses.

  before word of Morzan’s and the others’ deaths reached us, my mother returned. Many months had passed since she had disappeared. Her health was poor, as if she had suffered a great illness, and she grew steadily worse. Within a fortnight, she died.

  happened then?prompted Eragon.

  Murtagh shrugged. grew up. The king brought me to the palace and arranged for my upbringing. Aside from that, he left me alone.

  why did you leave?

  A hard laugh broke from Murtagh. is more like it. At my last birthday, when I turned eighteen, the king summoned me to his quarters for a private dinner. The message surprised me because I had always distanced myself from the court and had rarely met him. We’d talked before, but always within earsho
t of eavesdropping nobles.

  accepted the offer, of course, aware that it would be unwise to refuse. The meal was sumptuous, but throughout it his black eyes never left me. His gaze was disconcerting; it seemed that he was searching for something hidden in my face. I didn’t know what to make of it and did my best to provide polite conversation, but he refused to talk, and I soon ceased my efforts.

  the meal was finished, he finally began to speak. You’ve never heard his voice, so it’s hard for me to make you understand what it was like. His words were entrancing, like a snake whispering gilded lies into my ears. A more convincing and frightening man I’ve never heard. He wove a vision: a fantasy of the Empire as he imagined it. There would be beautiful cities built across the country, filled with the greatest warriors, artisans, musicians, and philosophers. The Urgals would finally be eradicated. And the Empire would expand in every direction until it reached the four corners of AlagaPeace and prosperity would flourish, but more wondrous yet, the Riders would be brought back to gently govern over Galbatorix’s fiefdoms.

  ranced, I listened to him for what must have been hours. When he stopped, I eagerly asked how the Riders would be reinstated, for everyone knew there were no dragon eggs left. Galbatorix grew still then and stared at me thoughtfully. For a long time he was silent, but then he extended his hand and asked, ‘Will you, O son of my friend, serve me as I labor to bring about this paradise?’

  I knew the history behind his and my father’s rise to power, the dream he had painted for me was too compelling, too seductive to ignore. Ardor for this mission filled me, and I fervently pledged myself to him. Obviously pleased, Galbatorix gave me his blessing, then dismissed me, saying, ‘I shall call upon you when the need arises.’

  months passed before he did. When the summons came, I felt all of my old excitement return. We met in private as before, but this time he was not pleasant or charming. The Varden had just destroyed three brigades in the south, and his wrath was out in full force. He charged me in a terrible voice to take a detachment of troops and destroy Cantos, where rebels were known to hide occasionally. When I asked what we should do with the people there and how we would know if they were guilty, he shouted, ‘They’re all traitors! Burn them at the stake and bury their ashes with dung!’ He continued to rant, cursing his enemies and describing how he would scourge the land of everyone who bore him ill will.

  tone was so different from what I had encountered before; it made me realize he didn’t possess the mercy or foresight to gain the people’s loyalty, and he ruled only through brute force guided by his own passions. It was at that moment I determined to escape him and Ur’baen forever.

  soon as I was free of his presence, I and my faithful servant, Tornac, made ready for flight. We left that very night, but somehow Galbatorix anticipated my actions, for there were soldiers waiting for us outside the gates. Ah, my sword was bloody, flashing in the dim lantern glow. We defeated the menbut in the process Tornac was killed.

  and filled with grief, I fled to an old friend who sheltered me in his estate. While I hid, I listened carefully to every rumor, trying to predict Galbatorix’s actions and plan my future. During that time, talk reached me that the Ra’zac had been sent to capture or kill someone. Remembering the king’s plans for the Riders, I decided to find and follow the Ra’zac, just in case they did discover a dragon. And that’s how I found youI have no more secrets.

  We still don’t know if he’s telling the truth, warned Saphira.

  I know, said Eragon, but why would he lie to us?

  He might be mad.

  I doubt it. Eragon ran a finger over Saphira’s hard scales, watching the light reflect off them. why don’t you join the Varden? They’ll distrust you for a time, but once you prove your loyalty they’ll treat you with respect. And aren’t they in a sense your allies? They strive to end the king’s reign. Isn’t that what you want?

  I spell everything out for you?demanded Murtagh. don’t want Galbatorix to learn where I am, which is inevitable if people start saying that I’ve sided with his enemies, which I’ve never done. These, he paused, then said with distaste, rebels are trying not only to overthrow the king but to destroy the Empireand I don’t want that to happen. It would sow mayhem and anarchy. The king is flawed, yes, but the system itself is sound. As for earning the Varden’s respect: Ha! Once I am exposed, they’ll treat me like a criminal or worse. Not only that, suspicion will fall upon you because we traveled together!

  He’s right, said Saphira.

  Eragon ignored her. isn’t that bad,he said, trying to sound optimistic. Murtagh snorted derisively and looked away. ’m sure that they won’t be—His words were cut short as the door opened a hand’s breadth and two bowls were pushed through the space. A loaf of bread and a hunk of raw meat followed, then the door was shut again.

  grumbled Murtagh, going to the food. He tossed the meat to Saphira, who snapped it out of the air and swallowed it whole. Then he tore the loaf in two, gave half to Eragon, picked up his bowl, and retreated to a corner.

  They ate silently. Murtagh jabbed at his food. ’m going to sleep,he announced, putting down his bowl without another word.

  night, said Eragon. He lay next to Saphira, his arms under his head. She curled her long neck around him, like a cat wrapping its tail around itself, and laid her head alongside his. One of her wings extended over him like a blue tent, enveloping him in darkness.

  Good night, little one.

  A small smile lifted Eragon’s lips, but he was already asleep.

  * * *

  THE GLORY OF TRONJHEIM

  Eragon jolted upright as a growl sounded in his ear. Saphira was still asleep, her eyes wandering sightlessly under her eyelids, and her upper lip trembled, as if she were going to snarl. He smiled, then jerked as she growled again. She must be dreaming, he realized. He watched her for a minute, then carefully slid out from under her wing. He stood and stretched. The room was cool, but not unpleasantly so. Murtagh lay on his back in the far corner, his eyes closed.

  As Eragon stepped around Saphira, Murtagh stirred. he said quietly, sitting up.

  long have you been awake?asked Eragon in a hushed voice.

  I’m surprised Saphira didn’t wake you sooner.

  was tired enough to sleep through a thunderstorm,said Eragon wryly. He sat by Murtagh and rested his head against the wall. you know what time it is?

  It’s impossible to tell in here.

  anyone come to see us?

  yet.

  They sat together without moving or speaking. Eragon felt oddly bound to Murtagh. I’ve been carrying his father’s sword, which would have been hishis inheritance. We’re alike in many ways, yet our outlook and upbringing are totally different. He thought of Murtagh’s scar and shivered. What man could do that to a child?

  Saphira lifted her head and blinked to clear her eyes. She sniffed the air, then yawned expansively, her rough tongue curling at the tip. Has anything happened? Eragon shook his head. I hope they give me more food than that snack last night. I’m hungry enough to eat a herd of cows.

  They’ll feed you, he assured her.

  They’d better. She positioned herself near the door and settled down to wait, tail flicking. Eragon closed his eyes, enjoying the rest. He dozed awhile, then got up and paced around. Bored, he examined one of the lanterns. It was made of a single piece of teardrop-shaped glass, about twice the size of a lemon, and filled with soft blue light that neither wavered nor flickered. Four slim metal ribs wrapped smoothly around the glass, meeting at the top to form a small hook and again at the bottom where they melded together into three graceful legs. The whole piece was quite attractive.

  Eragon’s inspection was interrupted by voices outside the room. The door opened, and a dozen warriors marched inside. The first man gulped when he saw Saphira. They were followed by Orik and the bald man, who declared, You have been summoned to Ajihad, leader of the Varden. If you must eat, do so while we march.Eragon and Murtagh stood together,
watching him warily.

  are our horses? And can I have my sword and bow back?asked Eragon.

  The bald man looked at him with disdain. weapons will be returned to you when Ajihad sees fit, not before. As for your horses, they await you in the tunnel. Now come!

  As he turned to leave, Eragon asked quickly, is Arya?

  The bald man hesitated. do not know. The healers are still with her.He exited the room, accompanied by Orik.

  One of the warriors motioned. go first. Eragon went through the doorway, followed by Saphira and Murtagh. They returned through the corridor they had traversed the night before, passing the statue of the quilled animal. When they reached the huge tunnel through which they had first entered the mountain, the bald man was waiting with Orik, who held Tornac’s and Snowfire’s reins.

  will ride single file down the center of the tunnel,instructed the bald man. you attempt to go anywhere else, you will be stopped.When Eragon started to climb onto Saphira, the bald man shouted, No! Ride your horse until I tell you otherwise.

  Eragon shrugged and took Snowfire’s reins. He swung into the saddle, guided Snowfire in front of Saphira, and told her, Stay close in case I need your help.

  Of course, she said.

  Murtagh mounted Tornac behind Saphira. The bald man examined their small line, then gestured at the warriors, who divided in half to surround them, giving Saphira as wide a berth as possible. Orik and the bald man went to the head of the procession.

  After looking them over once more, the bald man clapped twice and started walking forward. Eragon tapped Snowfire lightly on his flanks. The entire group headed toward the heart of the mountain. Echoes filled the tunnel as the horses’ hooves struck the hard floor, the sounds amplified in the deserted passageway. Doors and gates occasionally disturbed the smooth walls, but they were always closed.

  Eragon marveled at the sheer size of the tunnel, which had been mined with incredible skill—the walls, floor, and ceiling were crafted with flawless precision. The angles at the bases of the walls were perfectly square, and as far as he could tell, the tunnel itself did not vary from its course by even an inch.