Christopher Paolini - [Inheritance 01] - Eragon.html

by Eragon (lit)

  For the next hour, Eragon summarized his experiences of the last two and a half months. Angela listened quietly, but when he mentioned Murtagh’s name she sputtered,

  Eragon nodded. told me who he is. But let me finish my story before you make any judgments.He continued with his tale. When it was complete, Angela leaned back in her chair thoughtfully, her reeds forgotten. Without warning, Solembum jumped out of a hiding place and landed in her lap. He curled up, eyeing Eragon haughtily.

  Angela petted the werecat. Galbatorix allied with the Urgals, and Murtagh finally out in the openI’d warn you to be careful with Murtagh, but you’re obviously aware of the danger.

  has been a steadfast friend and an unwavering ally,said Eragon firmly.

  the same, be careful.Angela paused, then said distastefully, then there’s the matter of this Shade, Durza. I think he’s the greatest threat to the Varden right now, aside from Galbatorix. I loathe Shades—they practice the most unholy magic, after necromancy. I’d like to dig his heart out with a dull hairpin and feed it to a pig!

  Eragon was startled by her sudden vehemence. don’t understand. Brom told me that Shades were sorcerers who used spirits to accomplish their will, but why does that make them so evil?

  Angela shook her head. doesn’t. Ordinary sorcerers are just that, ordinary—neither better nor worse than the rest of us. They use their magical strength to control spirits and the spirits’ powers. Shades, however, relinquish that control in their search for greater power and allow their bodies to be controlled by spirits. Unfortunately, only the evilest spirits seek to possess humans, and once ensconced they never leave. Such possession can happen by accident if a sorcerer summons a spirit stronger than himself. The problem is, once a Shade is created, it’s terribly difficult to kill. As I’m sure you know, only two people, Laetri the Elf and Irnstad the Rider, ever survived that feat.

  ’ve heard the stories.Eragon gestured at the room. are you living so high up in Tronjheim? Isn’t it inconvenient being this isolated? And how did you get all this stuff up here?

  Angela threw back her head and laughed wryly. I’m in hiding. When I first came to Tronjheim, I had a few days of peace—until one of guards who let me into Farthen Dr blabbed about who I was. Then all the magic users here, though they barely rate the term, pestered me to join their secret group. Especially those drajl Twins who control it. Finally, I threatened to turn the lot of them into toads, excuse me, frogs, but when that didn’t deter them, I sneaked up here in the middle of the night. It was less work than you might imagine, especially for one with my skills.

  you have to let the Twins into your mind before you were allowed into Farthen Dasked Eragon. was forced to let them sift through my memories.

  A cold gleam leapt into Angela’s eye. Twins wouldn’t dare probe me, for fear of what I might do to them. Oh, they’d love to, but they know the effort would leave them broken and gibbering nonsense. I’ve been coming here long before the Varden began examining people’s mindsand they’re not about to start on me now.

  She peered into the other room and said, This has been an enlightening talk, but I’m afraid you have to go now. My brew of mandrake root and newt’s tongue is about to boil, and it needs attending. Do come back again when you have the time. And please don’t tell anyone that I’m here. I’d hate to have to move again. It would make me veryirritated. And you don’t want to see me irritated!

  ’ll keep your secret,assured Eragon, getting up.

  Solembum jumped off Angela’s lap as she stood. she exclaimed.

  Eragon said farewell and left the room. Solembum guided him back to the dragonhold, then dismissed him with a twitch of his tail before sauntering away.

  * * *

  HALL OF THE MOUNTAIN KING

  A dwarf was waiting for Eragon in the dragonhold. After bowing and muttering, the dwarf said with a thick accent, Awake. Knurla Orik waits for you.He bowed again and scurried away. Saphira jumped out of her cave, landing next to Eragon. Zar’roc was in her claws. What’s that for? he asked, frowning.

  She tilted her head. Wear it. You are a Rider and should bear a Rider’s sword. Zar’roc may have a bloody history, but that should not shape your actions. Forge a new history for it, and carry it with pride.

  Are you sure? Remember Ajihad’s counsel.

  Saphira snorted, and a puff of smoke rose from her nostrils. Wear it, Eragon. If you wish to remain above the forces here, do not let anyone’s disapproval dictate your actions.

  As you wish, he said reluctantly, buckling on the sword. He clambered onto her back, and Saphira flew out of Tronjheim. There was enough light in Farthen Dr now that the hazy mass of the crater walls—five miles away in each direction—was visible. While they spiraled down to the city-mountain’s base, Eragon told Saphira about his meeting with Angela.

  As soon as they landed by one of Tronjheim’s gates, Orik ran to Saphira’s side. king, Hrothgar, wishes to see both of you. Dismount quickly. We must hurry.

  Eragon trotted after the dwarf into Tronjheim. Saphira easily kept pace beside them. Ignoring stares from people within the soaring corridor, Eragon asked, will we meet Hrothgar?

  Without slowing, Orik said, the throne room beneath the city. It will be a private audience as an act of otho—of ‘faith.’ You do not have to address him in any special manner, but speak to him respectfully. Hrothgar is quick to anger, but he is wise and sees keenly into the minds of men, so think carefully before you speak.

  Once they entered Tronjheim’s central chamber, Orik led the way to one of the two descending stairways that flanked the opposite hall. They started down the right-hand staircase, which gently curved inward until it faced the direction they had come from. The other stairway merged with theirs to form a broad cascade of dimly lit steps that ended, after a hundred feet, before two granite doors. A seven-pointed crown was carved across both doors.

  Seven dwarves stood guard on each side of the portal. They held burnished mattocks and wore gem-encrusted belts. As Eragon, Orik, and Saphira approached, the dwarves pounded the floor with the mattocks’ hafts. A deep boom rolled back up the stairs. The doors swung inward.

  A dark hall lay before them, a good bowshot long. The throne room was a natural cave; the walls were lined with stalagmites and stalactites, each thicker than a man. Sparsely hung lanterns cast a moody light. The brown floor was smooth and polished. At the far end of the hall was a black throne with a motionless figure upon it.

  Orik bowed. king awaits you.Eragon put his hand on Saphira’s side, and the two of them continued forward. The doors closed behind them, leaving them alone in the dim throne room with the king.

  Their footsteps echoed through the hall as they advanced toward the throne. In the recesses between the stalagmites and stalactites rested large statues. Each sculpture depicted a dwarf king crowned and sitting on a throne; their sightless eyes gazed sternly into the distance, their lined faces set in fierce expressions. A name was chiseled in runes beneath each set of feet.

  Eragon and Saphira strode solemnly between the two rows of long-dead monarchs. They passed more than forty statues, then only dark and empty alcoves awaiting future kings. They stopped before Hrothgar at the end of the hall.

  The dwarf king himself sat like a statue upon a raised throne carved from a single piece of black marble. It was blocky, unadorned, and cut with unyielding precision. Strength emanated from the throne, strength that harked back to ancient times when dwarves had ruled in Alagawithout opposition from elves or humans. A gold helm lined with rubies and diamonds rested on Hrothgar’s head in place of a crown. His visage was grim, weathered, and hewn of many years’ experience. Beneath a craggy brow glinted deep-set eyes, flinty and piercing. Over his powerful chest rippled a shirt of mail. His white beard was tucked under his belt, and in his lap he held a mighty war hammer with the symbol of Orik’s clan embossed on its head.

  Eragon bowed awkwardly and knelt. Saphira remained upright. The king stirred, as if awakening from a long sleep, a
nd rumbled, Rider, you need not pay tribute to me.

  Straightening, Eragon met Hrothgar’s impenetrable eyes. The king inspected him with a hard gaze, then said gutturally, knurl deimi lanok.‘Beware, the rock changes’—an old dictum of oursAnd nowadays the rock changes very fast indeed.He fingered the war hammer. could not meet with you earlier, as Ajihad did, because I was forced to deal with my enemies within the clans. They demanded that I deny you sanctuary and expel you from Farthen DIt has taken much work on my part to convince them otherwise.

  you,said Eragon. didn’t anticipate how much strife my arrival would cause.

  The king accepted his thanks, then lifted a gnarled hand and pointed. See there, Rider Eragon, where my predecessors sit upon their graven thrones. One and forty there are, with I the forty-second. When I pass from this world into the care of the gods, my hwill be added to their ranks. The first statue is the likeness of my ancestor Korgan, who forged this mace, Volund. For eight millennia—since the dawn of our race—dwarves have ruled under Farthen Dr. We are the bones of the land, older than both the fair elves and the savage dragons.Saphira shifted slightly.

  Hrothgar leaned forward, his voice gravelly and deep. am old, human—even by our reckoning—old enough to have seen the Riders in all their fleeting glory, old enough to have spoken with their last leader, Vrael, who paid tribute to me within these very walls. Few are still alive who can claim that much. I remember the Riders and how they meddled in our affairs. I also remember the peace they kept that made it possible to walk unharmed from Tronjheim to Narda.

  now you stand before me—a lost tradition revived. Tell me, and speak truly in this, why have you come to Farthen DI know of the events that made you flee the Empire, but what is your intent now?

  now, Saphira and I merely want to recuperate in Tronjheim,Eragon replied. are not here to cause trouble, only to find sanctuary from the dangers we’ve faced for many months. Ajihad may send us to the elves, but until he does, we have no wish to leave.

  was it only the desire for safety that drove you?asked Hrothgar. you just seek to live here and forget your troubles with the Empire?

  Eragon shook his head, his pride rejecting that statement. Ajihad told you of my past, you should know that I have grievances enough to fight the Empire until it is nothing but scattered ashes. More than that, thoughI want to aid those who cannot escape Galbatorix, including my cousin. I have the strength to help, so I must.

  The king seemed satisfied by his answer. He turned to Saphira and asked, what think you in this matter? For what reason have you come?

  Saphira lifted the edge of her lip to growl. Tell him that I thirst for the blood of our enemies and eagerly await the day when we ride to battle against Galbatorix. I’ve no love or mercy for traitors and egg breakers like that false king. He held me for over a century and, even now, still has two of my brethren, whom I would free if possible. And tell Hrothgar I think you ready for this task.

  Eragon grimaced at her words, but dutifully relayed them. The corner of Hrothgar’s mouth lifted in a hint of grim amusement, deepening his wrinkles. see that dragons have not changed with the centuries. He rapped the throne with a knuckle. you know why this seat was quarried so flat and angular? So that no one would sit comfortably on it. I have not, and will relinquish it without regret when my time comes. What is there to remind you of your obligations, Eragon? If the Empire falls, will you take Galbatorix’s place and claim his kingship?

  don’t seek to wear the crown or rule,said Eragon, troubled. a Rider is responsibility enough. No, I would not take the throne in Ur’baennot unless there was no one else willing or competent enough to take it.

  Hrothgar warned gravely, you would be a kinder king than Galbatorix, but no race should have a leader who does not age or leave the throne. The time of the Riders has passed, Eragon. They will never rise again—not even if Galbatorix’s other eggs were to hatch.

  A shadow crossed his face as he gazed at Eragon’s side. see that you carry an enemy’s sword; I was told of this, and that you travel with a son of the Forsworn. It does not please me to see this weapon.He extended a hand. I would like to examine it.

  Eragon drew Zar’roc and presented it to the king, hilt first. Hrothgar grasped the sword and ran a practiced eye over the red blade. The edge caught the lantern light, reflecting it sharply. The dwarf king tested the point with his palm, then said, masterfully forged blade. Elves rarely choose to make swords—they prefer bows and spears—but when they do, the results are unmatched. This is an ill-fated blade; I am not glad to see it within my realm. But carry it if you will; perhaps its luck has changed.He returned Zar’roc, and Eragon sheathed it. Has my nephew proved helpful during your time here?

  Hrothgar raised a tangled eyebrow. my youngest sister’s son. He’s been serving under Ajihad to show my support for the Varden. It seems that he has been returned to my command, however. I was gratified to hear that you defended him with your words.

  Eragon understood that this was another sign of otho, of on Hrothgar’s part. couldn’t ask for a better guide.

  is good,said the king, clearly pleased. Unfortunately, I cannot speak with you much longer. My advisors wait for me, as there are matters I must deal with. I will say this, though: If you wish the support of the dwarves within my realm, you must first prove yourself to them. We have long memories and do not rush to hasty decisions. Words will decide nothing, only deeds.

  will keep that in mind,said Eragon, bowing again.

  Hrothgar nodded regally. may go, then.

  Eragon turned with Saphira, and they proceeded out of the hall of the mountain king. Orik was waiting for them on the other side of the stone doors, an anxious expression on his face. He fell in with them as they climbed back up to Tronjheim’s main chamber. all go well? Were you received favorably?

  think so. But your king is cautious,said Eragon.

  is how he has survived this long.

  I would not want Hrothgar angry at us, observed Saphira.

  Eragon glanced at her. No, I wouldn’t either. I’m not sure what he thought of you—he seems to disapprove of dragons, though he didn’t say it outright.

  That seemed to amuse Saphira. In that he is wise, especially since he’s barely knee-high to me.

  In Tronjheim’s center, under the sparkling Isidar Mithrim, Orik said, blessing yesterday has stirred up the Varden like an overturned beehive. The child Saphira touched has been hailed as a future hero. She and her guardian have been quartered in the finest rooms. Everyone is talking about your ‘miracle.’ All the human mothers seem intent on finding you and getting the same for their children.

  Alarmed, Eragon furtively looked around. should we do?

  from taking back your actions?asked Orik dryly. out of sight as much as possible. Everyone will be kept out of the dragonhold, so you won’t be disturbed there.

  Eragon did not want to return to the dragonhold yet. It was early in the day, and he wanted to explore Tronjheim with Saphira. Now that they were out of the Empire, there was no reason for them to be apart. But he wanted to avoid attention, which would be impossible with her at his side. Saphira, what do you want to do?

  She nosed him, scales brushing his arm. I’ll return to the dragonhold. There’s someone there I want to meet. Wander around as long as you like.

  All right, he said, but who do you want to meet? Saphira only winked a large eye at him before padding down one of Tronjheim’s four main tunnels.

  Eragon explained to Orik where she was going, then said, ’d like some breakfast. And then I’d like to see more of Tronjheim; it’s such an incredible place. I don’t want to go to the training grounds until tomorrow, as I’m still not fully recovered.

  Orik nodded, his beard bobbing on his chest. that case, would you like to visit Tronjheim’s library? It’s quite old and contains many scrolls of great value. You might find it interesting to read a history of Alagathat hasn’t been tainted by Galbatorix’s hand.

  With a pang, Eragon rememb
ered how Brom had taught him to read. He wondered if he still had the skill. A long time had passed since he had seen any written words. let’s do that.

  well.

  After they ate, Orik guided Eragon through myriad corridors to their destination. When they reached the library’s carved arch, Eragon stepped through it reverently.

  The room reminded him of a forest. Rows of graceful colonnades branched up to the dark, ribbed ceiling five stories above. Between the pillars, black-marble bookcases stood back to back. Racks of scrolls covered the walls, interspersed with narrow walkways reached by three twisting staircases. Placed at regular intervals around the walls were pairs of facing stone benches. Between them were small tables whose bases flowed seamlessly into the floor.

  Countless books and scrolls were stored in the room. is the true legacy of our race,said Orik. Here reside the writings of our greatest kings and scholars, from antiquity to the present. Also recorded are the songs and stories composed by our artisans. This library may be our most precious possession. It isn’t all our work, though—there are human writings here as well. Yours is a short-lived—but prolific—race. We have little or nothing of the elves’. They guard their secrets jealously.

  long may I stay?asked Eragon, moving toward the shelves.

  long as you want. Come to me if you have any questions.

  Eragon browsed through the volumes with delight, reaching eagerly for those with interesting titles or covers. Surprisingly, dwarves used the same runes to write as humans. He was somewhat disheartened by how hard reading was after months of neglect. He skipped from book to book, slowly working his way deep into the vast library. Eventually he became immersed in a translation of poems by Dthe tenth dwarf king.

  As he scanned the graceful lines, unfamiliar footsteps approached from behind the bookcase. The sound startled him, but he berated himself for being silly—he could not be the only person in the library. Even so, he quietly replaced the book and slipped away, senses alert for danger. He had been ambushed too many times to ignore such feelings. He heard the footsteps again; only now there were two sets of them. Apprehensive, he darted across an opening, trying to remember exactly where Orik was sitting. He sidestepped around a corner and started as he found himself face to face with the Twins.