“And what mischief,” asked Orik, “have you two managed to ferret out of Oromis and yon bucolic woods?”
The dwarf alternately chuckled and groaned as Eragon described his training, his misplaced blessing in Farthen Dûr, the Menoa tree, his back, and all else that had filled the past few days. Eragon ended with the topic that was dearest to him at the moment: Arya. Emboldened by the liqueur, he confessed his affection for her and described how she had dismissed his advance.
Wagging a finger, Orik said, “The rock beneath you is flawed, Eragon. Don’t tempt fate. Arya. .” He stopped, then growled and took another gulp of faelnirv. “Ah, it’s too late for thish. Who am I to say what is wisdom and what isn’t?”
Saphira had closed her eyes a while ago. Without opening them, she asked,Are you married, Orik? The question surprised Eragon; he had never stopped to wonder about Orik’s personal life.
“Eta,” said Orik. “Although I’m promished to fair Hvedra, daughter of Thorgerd One-eye and Himinglada. We were to be wed thish spring, until the Urgals attacked and Hrothgar sent me on this accursed trip.”
“Is she of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum?” asked Eragon.
“Of coursh!” roared Orik, pounding his fist on the side of the chair. “Thinkest thou I would marry outside my clan? She’s the granddaughter of mine aunt Vardrûn, Hrothgar’s coushin twice removed, with white, round calves as smooth as satin, cheeks as red as apples, and the prettiesht dwarf maid who ever did exist.”
Undoubtedly,said Saphira.
“I’m sure it won’t be long before you see her again,” said Eragon.
“Hmph.” Orik squinted at Eragon. “Do you believe in giants? Tall giants, shtrong giants, thick and bearded giants with fingers like spadeses?”
“I’ve never seen nor heard of them,” said Eragon, “except in stories. If they do exist, it’s not in Alagaësia.”
“Ah, but they do! They do!” exclaimed Orik, waving the bottle about his head. “Tell me, O Rider, if a fearshome giant were to meet you on the garden path, what might he call you, if not dinner?”
“Eragon, I would presume.”
“No, no. He’d call you a dwarf, for dwarf you’d be to him.” Orik guffawed and nudged Eragon in the ribs with his hard elbow. “See you now? Humans and elvesh are the giants. The land’s full of them, here, there, and everywhere, stomping about with their big feet and casting us in endless shadowses.” He continued laughing, rocking back in his chair until it tipped over and he fell to the floor with a solid thump.
Helping him upright, Eragon said, “I think you’d better stay here for the night. You’re in no condition to go down those stairs in the dark.”
Orik agreed with cheery indifference. He allowed Eragon to remove his mail and bundle him onto one side of the bed. Afterward, Eragon sighed, covered the lights, and lay on his side of the mattress.
He fell asleep hearing the dwarf mutter, “. . Hvedra. . Hvedra. . Hvedra. .”
THENATURE OFEVIL
Bright morning arrived all too soon.
Jolted to awareness by the buzz of the vibrating timepiece, Eragon grabbed his hunting knife and sprang out of bed, expecting an attack. He gasped as his body shrieked with protest from the abuse of the past two days.
Blinking away tears, Eragon rewound the timepiece. Orik was gone; the dwarf must have slipped away in the wee hours of the morning. With a groan, Eragon hobbled to the wash closet for his daily ablutions, like an old man afflicted by rheumatism.
He and Saphira waited by the tree for ten minutes before they were met by a solemn, black-haired elf. The elf bowed, touched two fingers to his lips — which Eragon mirrored — and then preempted Eragon by saying, “May good fortune rule over you.”
“And may the stars watch over you,” replied Eragon. “Did Oromis send you?”
The elf ignored him and said to Saphira, “Well met, dragon. I am Vanir of House Haldthin.” Eragon scowled with annoyance.
Well met, Vanir.
Only then did the elf address Eragon: “I will show you where you may practice with your blade.” He strode away, not waiting for Eragon to catch up.
The sparring yard was dotted with elves of both sexes fighting in pairs and groups. Their extraordinary physical gifts resulted in flurries of blows so quick and fast, they sounded like bursts of hail striking an iron bell. Under the trees that fringed the yard, individual elves performed the Rimgar with more grace and flexibility than Eragon thought he would ever achieve.
After everyone on the field stopped and bowed to Saphira, Vanir unsheathed his narrow blade. “If you will guard your sword, Silver Hand, we can begin.”
Eragon eyed the inhuman swordsmanship of the other elves with trepidation.Why do I have to do this? he asked.I’ll just be humiliated.
You’ll be fine,said Saphira, yet he could sense her concern for him.
Right.
As he prepared Zar’roc, Eragon’s hands trembled with dread. Instead of throwing himself into the fray, he fought Vanir from a distance, dodging, sidestepping, and doing everything possible to avoid triggering another fit. Despite Eragon’s evasions, Vanir touched him four times in rapid succession — once each on his ribs, shin, and both shoulders.
Vanir’s initial expression of stoic impassivity soon devolved into open contempt. Dancing forward, he slid his blade up Zar’roc’s length while at the same time twirling Zar’roc in a circle, wrenching Eragon’s wrist. Eragon allowed Zar’roc to fly out of his hand rather than resist the elf’s superior strength.
Vanir dropped his sword onto Eragon’s neck and said, “Dead.” Shrugging off the sword, Eragon trudged over to retrieve Zar’roc. “Dead,” said Vanir. “How do you expect to defeat Galbatorix like this? I expected better, even from a weakling human.”
“Then why don’t you fight Galbatorix yourself instead of hiding in Du Weldenvarden?”
Vanir stiffened with outrage. “Because,” he said, cool and haughty, “I’m not a Rider. And if I were, I would not be such a coward as you.”
No one moved or spoke on the field.
His back to Vanir, Eragon leaned on Zar’roc and craned his neck toward the sky, snarling to himself.He knows nothing. This is just one more test to overcome.
“Coward, I say. Your blood is as thin as the rest of your race’s. I think that Saphira was confused by Galbatorix’s wiles and made the wrong choice of Rider.” The spectating elves gasped at Vanir’s words and muttered among themselves with open disapproval for his atrocious breach of etiquette.
Eragon ground his teeth. He could stand insults to himself, but not to Saphira. She was already moving when his pent-up frustration, fear, and pain burst within him and he whirled around, the tip of Zar’roc whistling through the air.
The blow would have killed Vanir had he not blocked it at the last second. He looked surprised by the ferocity of the attack. Holding nothing in reserve, Eragon drove Vanir to the center of the field, jabbing and slashing like a madman — determined to hurt the elf however he could. He nicked Vanir on the hip with enough force to draw blood, even with Zar’roc’s blunted edge.
At that instant, Eragon’s back ruptured in an explosion of agony so intense, he experienced it with all five senses: as a deafening, crashing waterfall of sound; a metallic taste that coated his tongue; an acrid, eye-watering stench in his nostrils, redolent of vinegar; pulsing colors; and, above all, the feeling that Durza had just laid open his back.
He could see Vanir standing over him with a derisive sneer. It occurred to Eragon that Vanir was very young.
After the seizure, Eragon wiped the blood from his mouth with his hand and showed it to Vanir, asking, “Thin enough?” Vanir did not deign to respond, but rather sheathed his sword and walked away.
“Where are you going?” demanded Eragon. “We have unfinished business, you and I.”
“You are in no fit condition to spar,” scoffed the elf.
“Try me.” Eragon might be inferior to the elves, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of fulfilling their low expectations of him. He would earn their respect through sheer persistence, if nothing else.
He insisted on completing Oromis’s assigned hour, after which Saphira marched up to Vanir and touched him on the chest with the point of one of her ivory talons.Dead, she said. Vanir paled. The other elves edged away from him.
Once they were in the air, Saphira said,Oromis was right.