Eldest
Page 177
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Where are they, and why is Jeod with them?demanded Eragon, bewildered.
Diverting the magic, he scryed in quick succession Teirm—shocked to see that the city’s wharfs had been destroyed—Therinsford, Garrow’s old farm, and then Carvahall, whereupon Eragon uttered a wounded cry.
The village was gone.
Every building, including Horst’s magnificent house, had been burned to the ground. Carvahall no longer existed except as a sooty blot beside the Anora River. The sole remaining inhabitants were four gray wolves that loped through the wreckage.
The mirror dropped from Eragon’s hand and shattered across the floor. He leaned against Saphira, tears burning in his eyes as he grieved anew for his lost home. Saphira hummed deep in her chest and brushed his arm with the side of her jaw, enveloping him in a warm blanket of sympathy.Take comfort, little one. At least your friends are still alive.
He shuddered and felt a hard core of determination coalesce in his belly.We have remained sequestered from the world for far too long. It’s high time we leave Ellesméra and confront our fate, whatever it may be. For now, Roran must fend for himself, but the Varden . . . the Varden we can help.
Is it time to fight, Eragon?asked Saphira, an odd note of formality in her voice.
He knew what she meant: Was it time to challenge the Empire head-on, time to kill and rampage to the limit of their considerable abilities, time to unleash every ounce of their rage until Galbatorix lay dead before them? Was it time to commit themselves to a campaign that could take decades to resolve?
It is time.
GIFTS
Eragon packed his belongings in less than five minutes. He took the saddle Oromis had given them, strapped it onto Saphira, then slung his bags over her back and buckled them down.
Saphira tossed her head, nostrils flared, and said,I will wait for you at the field. With a roar, she launched herself from the tree house, unfolding her blue wings in midair, and flew off, skimming the forest canopy.
Quick as an elf, Eragon ran to Tialdarí Hall, where he found Orik sitting in his usual corner, playing a game of Runes. The dwarf greeted him with a hearty slap on the arm. “Eragon! What brings you here at this time of the morn? I thought you’d be off banging swords with Vanir.”
“Saphira and I are leaving,” said Eragon.
Orik stopped with his mouth open, then narrowed his eyes, going serious. “You’ve had news?”
“I’ll tell you about it later. Do you want to come?”
“To Surda?”
“Aye.”
A wide smile broke across Orik’s hairy face. “You’d have to clap me in irons before I’d stay behind. I’ve done nothing in Ellesméra but grow fat and lazy. A bit of excitement will do me good. When do we leave?”
“As soon as possible. Gather your things and meet us at the sparring grounds. Can you scrounge up a week’s worth of provisions for the two of us?”
“A week’s? But that won’t—”
“We’re flying on Saphira.”
The skin above Orik’s beard turned pale. “We dwarves don’t do well with heights, Eragon. We don’t do well at all. It’d be better if we could ride horses, like we did coming here.”
Eragon shook his head. “That would take too long. Besides, it’s easy to ride Saphira. She’ll catch you if you fall.” Orik grunted, appearing both queasy and unconvinced. Leaving the hall, Eragon sped through the sylvan city until he rejoined Saphira, and then they flew to the Crags of Tel’naeír.
Oromis was sitting upon Glaedr’s right forearm when they landed in the clearing. The dragon’s scales gilded the landscape with countless chips of golden light. Neither elf nor dragon stirred. Descending from Saphira’s back, Eragon bowed. “Master Glaedr. Master Oromis.”
Glaedr said,You have taken it upon yourself to return to the Varden, have you not?
We have,replied Saphira.
Eragon’s sense of betrayal overcame his self-restraint. “Why did you hide the truth from us? Are you so determined to keep us here that you must resort to such underhand trickery? The Varden are about to be attacked and you didn’t even mention it!”
Calm as ever, Oromis asked, “Do you wish to hear why?”
Very much, Master,said Saphira before Eragon could respond. In private, she scolded him, growling,Be polite!
“We withheld the tidings for two reasons. Chief among them was that we ourselves did not know until nine days past that the Varden were threatened, and the true size, location, and movements of the Empire’s troops remained concealed from us until three days after that, when Lord Däthedr pierced the spells Galbatorix used to deceive our scrying.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you said nothing of this.” Eragon scowled. “Not only that, but once you discovered that the Varden were in danger, why didn’t Islanzadí rouse the elves to fight? Are we not allies?”
“Shehas roused the elves, Eragon. The forest echoes with the ring of hammers, the tramp of armored boots, and the grief of those who are about to be parted. For the first time in a century, our race is set to emerge from Du Weldenvarden and challenge our greatest foe. The time has come for elves to once more walk openly in Alagaësia.” Gently, Oromis added, “You have been distracted of late, Eragon, and I understand why. Now you must look beyond yourself. The world demands your attention.”
Shamefaced, all Eragon could say was, “I am sorry, Master.” He remembered Blagden’s words and allowed himself a bitter smile. “I’m as blind as a bat.”
Diverting the magic, he scryed in quick succession Teirm—shocked to see that the city’s wharfs had been destroyed—Therinsford, Garrow’s old farm, and then Carvahall, whereupon Eragon uttered a wounded cry.
The village was gone.
Every building, including Horst’s magnificent house, had been burned to the ground. Carvahall no longer existed except as a sooty blot beside the Anora River. The sole remaining inhabitants were four gray wolves that loped through the wreckage.
The mirror dropped from Eragon’s hand and shattered across the floor. He leaned against Saphira, tears burning in his eyes as he grieved anew for his lost home. Saphira hummed deep in her chest and brushed his arm with the side of her jaw, enveloping him in a warm blanket of sympathy.Take comfort, little one. At least your friends are still alive.
He shuddered and felt a hard core of determination coalesce in his belly.We have remained sequestered from the world for far too long. It’s high time we leave Ellesméra and confront our fate, whatever it may be. For now, Roran must fend for himself, but the Varden . . . the Varden we can help.
Is it time to fight, Eragon?asked Saphira, an odd note of formality in her voice.
He knew what she meant: Was it time to challenge the Empire head-on, time to kill and rampage to the limit of their considerable abilities, time to unleash every ounce of their rage until Galbatorix lay dead before them? Was it time to commit themselves to a campaign that could take decades to resolve?
It is time.
GIFTS
Eragon packed his belongings in less than five minutes. He took the saddle Oromis had given them, strapped it onto Saphira, then slung his bags over her back and buckled them down.
Saphira tossed her head, nostrils flared, and said,I will wait for you at the field. With a roar, she launched herself from the tree house, unfolding her blue wings in midair, and flew off, skimming the forest canopy.
Quick as an elf, Eragon ran to Tialdarí Hall, where he found Orik sitting in his usual corner, playing a game of Runes. The dwarf greeted him with a hearty slap on the arm. “Eragon! What brings you here at this time of the morn? I thought you’d be off banging swords with Vanir.”
“Saphira and I are leaving,” said Eragon.
Orik stopped with his mouth open, then narrowed his eyes, going serious. “You’ve had news?”
“I’ll tell you about it later. Do you want to come?”
“To Surda?”
“Aye.”
A wide smile broke across Orik’s hairy face. “You’d have to clap me in irons before I’d stay behind. I’ve done nothing in Ellesméra but grow fat and lazy. A bit of excitement will do me good. When do we leave?”
“As soon as possible. Gather your things and meet us at the sparring grounds. Can you scrounge up a week’s worth of provisions for the two of us?”
“A week’s? But that won’t—”
“We’re flying on Saphira.”
The skin above Orik’s beard turned pale. “We dwarves don’t do well with heights, Eragon. We don’t do well at all. It’d be better if we could ride horses, like we did coming here.”
Eragon shook his head. “That would take too long. Besides, it’s easy to ride Saphira. She’ll catch you if you fall.” Orik grunted, appearing both queasy and unconvinced. Leaving the hall, Eragon sped through the sylvan city until he rejoined Saphira, and then they flew to the Crags of Tel’naeír.
Oromis was sitting upon Glaedr’s right forearm when they landed in the clearing. The dragon’s scales gilded the landscape with countless chips of golden light. Neither elf nor dragon stirred. Descending from Saphira’s back, Eragon bowed. “Master Glaedr. Master Oromis.”
Glaedr said,You have taken it upon yourself to return to the Varden, have you not?
We have,replied Saphira.
Eragon’s sense of betrayal overcame his self-restraint. “Why did you hide the truth from us? Are you so determined to keep us here that you must resort to such underhand trickery? The Varden are about to be attacked and you didn’t even mention it!”
Calm as ever, Oromis asked, “Do you wish to hear why?”
Very much, Master,said Saphira before Eragon could respond. In private, she scolded him, growling,Be polite!
“We withheld the tidings for two reasons. Chief among them was that we ourselves did not know until nine days past that the Varden were threatened, and the true size, location, and movements of the Empire’s troops remained concealed from us until three days after that, when Lord Däthedr pierced the spells Galbatorix used to deceive our scrying.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you said nothing of this.” Eragon scowled. “Not only that, but once you discovered that the Varden were in danger, why didn’t Islanzadí rouse the elves to fight? Are we not allies?”
“Shehas roused the elves, Eragon. The forest echoes with the ring of hammers, the tramp of armored boots, and the grief of those who are about to be parted. For the first time in a century, our race is set to emerge from Du Weldenvarden and challenge our greatest foe. The time has come for elves to once more walk openly in Alagaësia.” Gently, Oromis added, “You have been distracted of late, Eragon, and I understand why. Now you must look beyond yourself. The world demands your attention.”
Shamefaced, all Eragon could say was, “I am sorry, Master.” He remembered Blagden’s words and allowed himself a bitter smile. “I’m as blind as a bat.”
