“Never turn your back to the enemy!” snapped Brom, then tossed the stick at him and attacked. Eragon retreated around the fire, beneath the onslaught. “Pull your arms in. Keep your knees bent,” shouted Brom. He continued to give instructions, then paused to show Eragon exactly how to execute a certain move. “Do it again, but this timeslowly!” They slid through the forms with exaggerated motions before returning to their furious battle. Eragon learned quickly, but no matter what he tried, he could not hold Brom off for more than a few blows.
When they finished, Eragon flopped on his blankets and groaned. He hurt everywhere — Brom had not been gentle with his stick. Saphira let out a long, coughing growl and curled her lip until a formidable row of teeth showed.
What’s wrong with you?he demanded irritably.
Nothing,she replied.It’s funny to see a hatchling like you beaten by the old one. She made the sound again, and Eragon turned red as he realized that she was laughing. Trying to preserve some dignity, he rolled onto his side and fell asleep.
He felt even worse the next day. Bruises covered his arms, and he was almost too sore to move. Brom looked up from the mush he was serving and grinned. “How do you feel?” Eragon grunted and bolted down the breakfast.
Once on the road, they traveled swiftly so as to reach Therinsford before noon. After a league, the road widened and they saw smoke in the distance. “You’d better tell Saphira to fly ahead and wait for us on the other side of Therinsford,” said Brom. “She has to be careful here, otherwise people are bound to notice her.”
“Why don’t you tell her yourself?” challenged Eragon.
“It’s considered bad manners to interfere with another’s dragon.”
“You didn’t have a problem with it in Carvahall.”
Brom’s lips twitched with a smile. “I did what I had to.”
Eragon eyed him darkly, then relayed the instructions. Saphira warned,Be careful; the Empire’s servants could be hiding anywhere.
As the ruts in the road deepened, Eragon noticed more footprints. Farms signaled their approach to Therinsford. The village was larger than Carvahall, but it had been constructed haphazardly, the houses aligned in no particular order.
“What a mess,” said Eragon. He could not see Dempton’s mill.Baldor and Albriech have surely fetched Roran by now. Either way, Eragon had no wish to face his cousin.
“It’s ugly, if nothing else,” agreed Brom.
The Anora River flowed between them and the town, spanned by a stout bridge. As they approached it, a greasy man stepped from behind a bush and barred their way. His shirt was too short, and his dirty stomach spilled over a rope belt. Behind his cracked lips, his teeth looked like crumbling tombstones. “You c’n stop right there. This’s my bridge. Gotta pay t’ get over.”
“How much?” asked Brom in a resigned voice. He pulled out a pouch, and the bridgekeeper brightened.
“Five crowns,” he said, pulling his lips into a broad smile. Eragon’s temper flared at the exorbitant price, and he started to complain hotly, but Brom silenced him with a quick look. The coins were wordlessly handed over. The man put them into a sack hanging from his belt. “Thank’ee much,” he said in a mocking tone, and stood out of the way.
As Brom stepped forward, he stumbled and caught the bridgekeeper’s arm to support himself. “Watch y’re step,” snarled the grimy man, sidling away.
“Sorry,” apologized Brom, and continued over the bridge with Eragon.
“Why didn’t you haggle? He skinned you alive!” exclaimed Eragon when they were out of earshot. “He probably doesn’t even own the bridge. We could have pushed right past him.”
“Probably,” agreed Brom.
“Then why pay him?”
“Because you can’t argue with all of the fools in the world. It’s easier to let them have their way, then trick them when they’re not paying attention.” Brom opened his hand, and a pile of coins glinted in the light.
“You cut his purse!” said Eragon incredulously.
Brom pocketed the money with a wink. “And it held a surprising amount. He should know better than to keep all these coins in one place.” There was a sudden howl of anguish from the other side of the river. “I’d say our friend has just discovered his loss. If you see any watchmen, tell me.” He grabbed the shoulder of a young boy running between the houses and asked, “Do you know where we can buy horses?” The child stared at them with solemn eyes, then pointed to a large barn near the edge of Therinsford. “Thank you,” said Brom, tossing him a small coin.
The barn’s large double doors were open, revealing two long rows of stalls. The far wall was covered with saddles, harnesses, and other paraphernalia. A man with muscular arms stood at the end, brushing a white stallion. He raised a hand and beckoned for them to come over.
As they approached, Brom said, “That’s a beautiful animal.”
“Yes indeed. His name’s Snowfire. Mine’s Haberth.” Haberth offered a rough palm and shook hands vigorously with Eragon and Brom. There was a polite pause as he waited for their names in return. When they were not forthcoming, he asked, “Can I help you?”
Brom nodded. “We need two horses and a full set of tack for both. The horses have to be fast and tough; we’ll be doing a lot of traveling.”
Haberth was thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t have many animals like that, and the ones I do aren’t cheap.” The stallion moved restlessly; he calmed it with a few strokes of his fingers.
“Price is no object. I’ll take the best you have,” said Brom. Haberth nodded and silently tied the stallion to a stall. He went to the wall and started pulling down saddles and other items. Soon he had two identical piles. Next he walked up the line of stalls and brought out two horses. One was a light bay, the other a roan. The bay tugged against his rope.
“He’s a little spirited, but with a firm hand you won’t have any problems,” said Haberth, handing the bay’s rope to Brom.
Brom let the horse smell his hand; it allowed him to rub its neck. “We’ll take him,” he said, then eyed the roan. “The other one, however, I’m not so sure of.”
“There are some good legs on him.”
“Mmm. . What will you take for Snowfire?”
Haberth looked fondly at the stallion. “I’d rather not sell him. He’s the finest I’ve ever bred — I’m hoping to sire a whole line from him.”
“If you were willing to part with him, how much would all of this cost me?” asked Brom.
Eragon tried to put his hand on the bay like Brom had, but it shied away. He automatically reached out with his mind to reassure the horse, stiffening with surprise as he touched the animal’s consciousness. The contact was not clear or sharp like it was with Saphira, but he could communicate with the bay to a limited degree. Tentatively, he made it understand that he was a friend. The horse calmed and looked at him with liquid brown eyes.
Haberth used his fingers to add up the price of the purchase. “Two hundred crowns and no less,” he said with a smile, clearly confident that no one would pay that much. Brom silently opened his pouch and counted out the money.
“Will this do?” he asked.
There was a long silence as Haberth glanced between Snowfire and the coins. A sigh, then, “He is yours, though I go against my heart.”
“I will treat him as if he had been sired by Gildintor, the greatest steed of legend,” said Brom.
“Your words gladden me,” answered Haberth, bowing his head slightly. He helped them saddle the horses. When they were ready to leave, he said, “Farewell, then. For the sake of Snowfire, I hope that misfortune does not befall you.”
“Do not fear; I will guard him well,” promised Brom as they departed. “Here,” he said, handing Snowfire’s reins to Eragon, “go to the far side of Therinsford and wait there.”
“Why?” asked Eragon, but Brom had already slipped away. Annoyed, he exited Therinsford with the two horses and stationed himself beside the road. To the south he saw the hazy outline of Utgard, sitting like a giant monolith at the end of the valley. Its peak pierced the clouds and rose out of sight, towering over the lesser mountains that surrounded it. Its dark, ominous look made Eragon’s scalp tingle.
Brom returned shortly and gestured for Eragon to follow. They walked until Therinsford was hidden by trees. Then Brom said, “The Ra’zac definitely passed this way. Apparently they stopped here to pick up horses, as we did. I was able to find a man who saw them. He described them with many shudders and said that they galloped out of Therinsford like demons fleeing a holy man.”
“They left quite an impression.”
“Quite.”
Eragon patted the horses. “When we were in the barn, I touched the bay’s mind by accident. I didn’t know it was possible to do that.”