Eragon
Page 76
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“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! . . . Saphira whirled on the monster, roaring savagely. Her talons slashed with blinding speed. Blood spurted everywhere as the Urgal was rent in two.
Saphira snapped her jaws together with finality and returned to Eragon. She gently wrapped her bloody claws around his torso, then growled and jumped into the air. The night blurred into a pain-filled streak. The hypnotic sound of Saphira’s wings put him in a bleary trance: up, down; up, down; up, down. . . .
When Saphira eventually landed, Eragon was dimly aware of Brom talking with her. Eragon could not understand what they said, but a decision must have been reached because Saphira took off again.
His stupor yielded to sleep that covered him like a soft blanket.
V ISION OFPERFECTION
Eragon twisted under the blankets, reluctant to open his eyes. He dozed, then a fuzzy thought entered his mind . . .How did I get here? Confused, he pulled the blankets tighter and felt something hard on his right arm. He tried to move his wrist. It zinged with pain.The Urgals! He bolted upright.
He lay in a small clearing that was empty save a small campfire heating a stew-filled pot. A squirrel chattered on a branch. His bow and quiver rested alongside the blankets. Attempting to stand made him grimace, as his muscles were feeble and sore. There was a heavy splint on his bruised right arm.
Where is everyone?he wondered forlornly. He tried to call Saphira, but to his alarm could not feel her. Ravenous hunger gripped him, so he ate the stew. Still hungry, he looked for the saddlebags, hoping to find a chunk of bread. Neither the saddlebags nor the horses were in the clearing.I’m sure there’s a good reason for this, he thought, suppressing a surge of uneasiness.
He wandered about the clearing, then returned to his blankets and rolled them up. Without anything better to do, he sat against a tree and watched the clouds overhead. Hours passed, but Brom and Saphira did not show up.I hope nothing’s wrong.
As the afternoon dragged on, Eragon grew bored and started to explore the surrounding forest. When he became tired, he rested under a fir tree that leaned against a boulder with a bowl-shaped depression filled with clear dew water.
Eragon stared at the water and thought about Brom’s instructions for scrying.Maybe I can see where Saphira is. Brom said that scrying takes a lot of energy, but I’m stronger than he is. . . . He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. In his mind he formed a picture of Saphira, making it as lifelike as possible. It was more demanding than he expected. Then he said, “Draumr kópa!”and gazed at the water.
Its surface became completely flat, frozen by an invisible force. The reflections disappeared and the water became clear. On it shimmered an image of Saphira. Her surroundings were pure white, but Eragon could see that she was flying. Brom sat on her back, beard streaming, sword on his knees.
Eragon tiredly let the image fade.At least they’re safe. He gave himself a few minutes to recuperate, then leaned back over the water.Roran, how are you? In his mind he saw his cousin clearly. Impulsively, he drew upon the magic and uttered the words.
The water grew still, then the image formed on its surface. Roran appeared, sitting on an invisible chair. Like Saphira, his surroundings were white. There were new lines on Roran’s face—he looked more like Garrow than ever before. Eragon held the image in place as long as he could.Is Roran in Therinsford? He’s certainly nowhere I’ve been.
The strain of using magic had brought beads of sweat to his forehead. He sighed and for a long time was content just to sit. Then an absurd notion struck him.What if I tried to scry something I created with my imagination or saw in a dream? He smiled.Perhaps I’d be shown what my own consciousness looks like.
It was too tempting an idea to pass by. He knelt by the water once again.What shall I look for? He considered a few things, but discarded them all when he remembered his dream about the woman in the cell.
After fixing the scene in his mind, he spoke the words and watched the water intently. He waited, but nothing happened. Disappointed, he was about to release the magic when inky blackness swirled across the water, covering the surface. The image of a lone candle flickered in the darkness, brightening to illuminate a stone cell. The woman from his dream was curled up on a cot in one corner. She lifted her head, dark hair falling back, and stared directly at Eragon. He froze, the force of her gaze keeping him in place. Chills ran up his spine as their eyes locked. Then the woman trembled and collapsed limply.
“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! . . . Saphira whirled on the monster, roaring savagely. Her talons slashed with blinding speed. Blood spurted everywhere as the Urgal was rent in two.
Saphira snapped her jaws together with finality and returned to Eragon. She gently wrapped her bloody claws around his torso, then growled and jumped into the air. The night blurred into a pain-filled streak. The hypnotic sound of Saphira’s wings put him in a bleary trance: up, down; up, down; up, down. . . .
When Saphira eventually landed, Eragon was dimly aware of Brom talking with her. Eragon could not understand what they said, but a decision must have been reached because Saphira took off again.
His stupor yielded to sleep that covered him like a soft blanket.
V ISION OFPERFECTION
Eragon twisted under the blankets, reluctant to open his eyes. He dozed, then a fuzzy thought entered his mind . . .How did I get here? Confused, he pulled the blankets tighter and felt something hard on his right arm. He tried to move his wrist. It zinged with pain.The Urgals! He bolted upright.
He lay in a small clearing that was empty save a small campfire heating a stew-filled pot. A squirrel chattered on a branch. His bow and quiver rested alongside the blankets. Attempting to stand made him grimace, as his muscles were feeble and sore. There was a heavy splint on his bruised right arm.
Where is everyone?he wondered forlornly. He tried to call Saphira, but to his alarm could not feel her. Ravenous hunger gripped him, so he ate the stew. Still hungry, he looked for the saddlebags, hoping to find a chunk of bread. Neither the saddlebags nor the horses were in the clearing.I’m sure there’s a good reason for this, he thought, suppressing a surge of uneasiness.
He wandered about the clearing, then returned to his blankets and rolled them up. Without anything better to do, he sat against a tree and watched the clouds overhead. Hours passed, but Brom and Saphira did not show up.I hope nothing’s wrong.
As the afternoon dragged on, Eragon grew bored and started to explore the surrounding forest. When he became tired, he rested under a fir tree that leaned against a boulder with a bowl-shaped depression filled with clear dew water.
Eragon stared at the water and thought about Brom’s instructions for scrying.Maybe I can see where Saphira is. Brom said that scrying takes a lot of energy, but I’m stronger than he is. . . . He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. In his mind he formed a picture of Saphira, making it as lifelike as possible. It was more demanding than he expected. Then he said, “Draumr kópa!”and gazed at the water.
Its surface became completely flat, frozen by an invisible force. The reflections disappeared and the water became clear. On it shimmered an image of Saphira. Her surroundings were pure white, but Eragon could see that she was flying. Brom sat on her back, beard streaming, sword on his knees.
Eragon tiredly let the image fade.At least they’re safe. He gave himself a few minutes to recuperate, then leaned back over the water.Roran, how are you? In his mind he saw his cousin clearly. Impulsively, he drew upon the magic and uttered the words.
The water grew still, then the image formed on its surface. Roran appeared, sitting on an invisible chair. Like Saphira, his surroundings were white. There were new lines on Roran’s face—he looked more like Garrow than ever before. Eragon held the image in place as long as he could.Is Roran in Therinsford? He’s certainly nowhere I’ve been.
The strain of using magic had brought beads of sweat to his forehead. He sighed and for a long time was content just to sit. Then an absurd notion struck him.What if I tried to scry something I created with my imagination or saw in a dream? He smiled.Perhaps I’d be shown what my own consciousness looks like.
It was too tempting an idea to pass by. He knelt by the water once again.What shall I look for? He considered a few things, but discarded them all when he remembered his dream about the woman in the cell.
After fixing the scene in his mind, he spoke the words and watched the water intently. He waited, but nothing happened. Disappointed, he was about to release the magic when inky blackness swirled across the water, covering the surface. The image of a lone candle flickered in the darkness, brightening to illuminate a stone cell. The woman from his dream was curled up on a cot in one corner. She lifted her head, dark hair falling back, and stared directly at Eragon. He froze, the force of her gaze keeping him in place. Chills ran up his spine as their eyes locked. Then the woman trembled and collapsed limply.
