It had taken them two days to traverse the subterranean passage from Farthen Dûr, though it felt longer to Eragon, due to the never-ending dusk that surrounded them and the silence it had imposed upon their group. In all, he could recall only a handful of words being exchanged during their journey.
Eragon had hoped to learn more about Arya while they traveled together, but the only information he had gleaned came simply as a result of observation. He had not supped with her before and was startled to see that she brought her own food and ate no meat. When he asked her why, she said, “You will never again consume an animal’s flesh after you have been trained, or if you do, it will be only on the rarest of occasions.”
“Why should I give up meat?” he scoffed.
“I cannot explain with words, but you will understand once we reach Ellesméra.”
All that was forgotten now as he hurried to the threshold, eager to see their destination. He found himself standing on a granite outcropping, more than a hundred feet above a purple-hued lake, brilliant under the eastern sun. Like Kóstha-mérna, the water reached from mountain to mountain, filling the valley’s end. From the lake’s far side, the Az Ragni flowed north, winding between the peaks until — in the far distance — it rushed out onto the eastern plains.
To his right, the mountains were bare, save for a few trails, but to his left. . to his left was the dwarf city Tarnag. Here the dwarves had reworked the seemingly immutable Beors into a series of terraces. The lower terraces were mainly farms — dark curves of land waiting to be planted — dotted with squat halls, which as best he could tell were built entirely of stone. Above those empty levels rose tier upon tier of interlocking buildings until they culminated in a giant dome of gold and white. It was as if the entire city was nothing more than a line of steps leading to the dome. The cupola glistened like polished moonstone, a milky bead floating atop a pyramid of gray slate.
Orik anticipated Eragon’s question, saying, “That is Celbedeil, the greatest temple of dwarfdom and home of Dûrgrimst Quan — the Quan clan — who act as servants and messengers to the gods.”
Do they rule Tarnag?asked Saphira. Eragon repeated the query.
“Nay,” said Arya, stepping past them. “Though the Quan are strong, they are small in numbers, despite their power over the afterlife. . and gold. It is the Ragni Hefthyn — the River Guard — who control Tarnag. We will stay with their clan chief, Ûndin, while here.”
As they followed the elf off the outcropping and through the gnarled forest that blanketed the mountain, Orik whispered to Eragon, “Mind her not. She has been arguing with the Quan for many a year. Every time she visits Tarnag and speaks with a priest, it produces a quarrel fierce enough to scare a Kull.”
“Arya?”
Orik nodded grimly. “I know little of it, but I’ve heard she disagrees strongly with much that the Quan practice. It seems that elves do not hold with ‘muttering into the air for help.’ ”
Eragon stared at Arya’s back as they descended, wondering if Orik’s words were true, and if so, what Arya herself believed. He took a deep breath, pushing the matter from his mind. It felt wonderful to be back in the open, where he could smell the moss and ferns and trees of the forest, where the sun was warm on his face and bees and other insects swarmed pleasantly.
The path took them down to the edge of the lake before rising back toward Tarnag and its open gates. “How have you hidden Tarnag from Galbatorix?” asked Eragon. “Farthen Dûr I understand, but this. . I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Orik laughed softly. “Hide it? That would be impossible. No, after the Riders fell, we were forced to abandon all our cities aboveground and retreat into our tunnels in order to escape Galbatorix and the Forsworn. They would often fly through the Beors, killing anyone who they encountered.”
“I thought that dwarves always lived underground.”
Orik’s thick eyebrows met in a frown. “Why should we? We may have an affinity for stone, but we like the open air as much as elves or humans. However, it has only been in the last decade and a half, ever since Morzan died, that we have dared return to Tarnag and other of our ancient dwellings. Galbatorix may be unnaturally powerful, but even he would not attack an entire city alone. Of course, he and his dragon could cause us no end of trouble if they wanted, but these days they rarely leave Urû’baen, even for short trips. Nor could Galbatorix bring an army here without first defeating Buragh or Farthen Dûr.”
Which he nearly did,commented Saphira.
Cresting a small mound, Eragon jolted with surprise as an animal crashed through the underbrush and onto the path. The scraggly creature looked like a mountain goat from the Spine, except that it was a third larger and had giant ribbed horns that curled around its cheeks, making an Urgal’s seem no bigger than a swallow nest. Odder still was the saddle lashed across the goat’s back and the dwarf seated firmly on it, aiming a half-drawn bow into the air.
“Hert dûrgrimst? Fild rastn?” shouted the strange dwarf.
“Orik Thrifkz menthiv oen Hrethcarach Eragon rak Dûrgrimst Ingeitum,” answered Orik. “Wharn, az vanyali-carharûg Arya. Né oc Ûndinz grimstbelardn.” The goat stared warily at Saphira. Eragon noted how bright and intelligent its eyes were, though its face was rather droll with its frosty beard and somber expression. It reminded him of Hrothgar, and he almost laughed, thinking how very dwarfish the animal was.
“Azt jok jordn rast,” came the reply.
With no discernible command on the dwarf’s part, the goat leaped forward, covering such an extraordinary distance it seemed to take flight for a moment. Then rider and steed vanished between the trees.
“What was that?” asked Eragon, amazed.
Orik resumed walking. “A Feldûnost, one of the five animals unique to these mountains. A clan is named after each one. However, Dûrgrimst Feldûnost is perhaps the bravest and most revered of the clans.”
“Why so?”
“We depend upon Feldûnost for milk, wool, and meat. Without their sustenance, we could not live in the Beors. When Galbatorix and his traitorous Riders were terrorizing us, it was Dûrgrimst Feldûnost who risked themselves — and still do — to tend the herds and fields. As such, we are all in their debt.”
“Do all dwarves ride Feldûnost?” He stumbled slightly over the unusual word.
“Only in the mountains. Feldûnost are hardy and sure-footed, but they are better suited for cliffs than open plains.”
Saphira nudged Eragon with her nose, causing Snowfire to shy away.Now those would be good hunting, better than any I had in the Spine or hence! If I have time in Tarnag—
No,he said.We can’t afford to offend the dwarves.
She snorted, irritated.I could ask permission first.
Now the path that had concealed them for so long under dark boughs entered the great clearing that surrounded Tarnag. Groups of observers had already begun to gather in the fields when seven Feldûnost with jeweled harnesses bounded out from the city. Their riders bore lances tipped with pennants that snapped like whips in the air. Reining in his strange beast, the lead dwarf said, “Thou art well-come to this city of Tarnag. By otho of Ûndin and Gannel, I, Thorv, son of Brokk, offer in peace the shelter of our halls.” His accent grumbled and rasped with a rough burr quite unlike Orik’s.
“And by Hrothgar’s otho, we of the Ingeitum accept your hospitality,” responded Orik.
“As do I, in Islanzadí’s stead,” added Arya.
Appearing satisfied, Thorv motioned to his fellow riders, who spurred their Feldûnost into formation around the four of them. With a flourish, the dwarves rode off, guiding them to Tarnag and through the city gates.
The outer wall was forty feet thick and formed a shadowed tunnel to the first of the many farms that belted Tarnag. Five more tiers — each of which was defended by a fortified gate — carried them past the fields and into the city proper.
In contrast to Tarnag’s thickly built ramparts, the buildings within, though of stone, were shaped with such cunning as to give the impression of grace and lightness. Strong, bold carvings, usually of animals, adorned the houses and shops. But even more striking was the stone itself: vibrant hues, from bright scarlet to the subtlest of greens, glazed the rock in translucent layers.
And hung throughout the city were the dwarves’ flameless lanterns, their multicolored sparks harbingers of the Beors’ long dusk and night.
Unlike Tronjheim, Tarnag had been constructed in proportion to the dwarves, with no concession for human, elf, or dragon visitors. At the most, doorways were five feet high, and they were often only four and a half. Eragon was of middling height, but now he felt like a giant transported onto a puppet stage.
The streets were wide and crammed. Dwarves of various clans hurried about their business or stood haggling in and around shops. Many were garbed in strange, exotic costumes, such as a block of fierce black-haired dwarves who wore silver helmets forged in the likeness of wolf heads.
Eragon stared at the dwarf women the most, as he had only caught brief glimpses of them while in Tronjheim. They were broader than the men, and their faces were heavyset, yet their eyes sparkled and their hair was lustrous and their hands were gentle on their diminutive children. They eschewed frippery, except for small, intricate brooches of iron and stone.
At the Feldûnost’s piercing footsteps, the dwarves turned to look at the new arrivals. They did not cheer as Eragon had expected, but rather bowed and murmured, “Shadeslayer.” As they saw the hammer and stars upon Eragon’s helm, admiration was replaced by shock and, in many cases, outrage. A number of the angrier dwarves contracted around the Feldûnost, glaring between the animals at Eragon and shouting imprecations.
The back of Eragon’s neck prickled.It seems that adopting me wasn’t the most popular decision Hrothgar could make.
Aye,agreed Saphira.He may have strengthened his hold on you, but at the cost of alienating many of the dwarves. . We’d better get out of sight before blood is shed.
Thorv and the other guards rode forward as if the crowd was nonexistent, clearing the way through seven additional tiers until only a single gate separated them from the mass of Celbedeil. Then Thorv turned left, toward a great hall pressed against the side of the mountain and protected in fore by a barbican with two machicolated towers.
As they neared the hall, a group of armed dwarves streamed out from between the houses and formed a thick line, blocking the street. Long purple veils covered their faces and draped over their shoulders, like mail coifs.
The guards immediately reined in their Feldûnost, faces hard. “What is it?” Eragon asked Orik, but the dwarf only shook his head and strode forward, a hand on his ax.
“Etzil nithgech!” cried a veiled dwarf, raising a fist. “Formv Hrethcarach. . formv Jurgencarmeitder nos eta goroth bahst Tarnag, dûr encesti rak kythn! Jok is warrev az barzûlegûr dûr dûrgrimst, Az Sweldn rak Anhûin, môgh tor rak Jurgenvren? Né ûdim etal os rast knurlag. Knurlag ana. .” For a long minute, he continued to rant with growing spleen.