“Yes. I’m sure they’ll want me to bring you to them as soon as possible.”
“But you’re not going to, are you?”
Brom shook his head. “No, I’m not.”
“Why not? Being with the Varden must be safer than chasing after the Ra’zac, especially for a new Rider.”
Brom snorted and looked at Eragon with fondness. “The Varden are dangerous people. If we go to them, you will be entangled in their politics and machinations. Their leaders may send you on missions just to make a point, even though you might not be strong enough for them. I want you to be well prepared before you go anywhere near the Varden. At least while we pursue the Ra’zac, I don’t have to worry about someone poisoning your water. This is the lesser of two evils. And,” he said with a smile, “it keeps you happy while I train you. . Tuatha du orothrim is just a stage in your instruction. Iwill help you find — and perhaps even kill — the Ra’zac, for they are as much my enemies as yours. But then you will have to make a choice.”
“And that would be. .?” asked Eragon warily.
“Whether to join the Varden,” said Brom. “If you kill the Ra’zac, the only ways for you to escape Galbatorix’s wrath will be to seek the Varden’s protection, flee to Surda, or plead for the king’s mercy and join his forces. Even if you don’t kill the Ra’zac, you will still face this choice eventually.”
Eragon knew the best way to gain sanctuary might be to join the Varden, but he did not want to spend his entire life fighting the Empire like they did. He mulled over Brom’s comments, trying to consider them from every angle. “You still didn’t explain how you know so much about dragons.”
“No, I didn’t, did I?” said Brom with a crooked smile. “That will have to wait for another time.”
Why me?Eragon asked himself. What made him so special that he should become a Rider? “Did you ever meet my mother?” he blurted.
Brom looked grave. “Yes, I did.”
“What was she like?”
The old man sighed. “She was full of dignity and pride, like Garrow. Ultimately it was her downfall, but it was one of her greatest gifts nevertheless. . She always helped the poor and the less fortunate, no matter what her situation.”
“You knew her well?” asked Eragon, startled.
“Well enough to miss her when she was gone.”
As Cadoc plodded along, Eragon tried to recall when he had thought that Brom was just a scruffy old man who told stories. For the first time Eragon understood how ignorant he had been.
He told Saphira what he had learned. She was intrigued by Brom’s revelations, but recoiled from the thought of being one of Galbatorix’s possessions. At last she said,Aren’t you glad that you didn’t stay in Carvahall? Think of all the interesting experiences you would have missed! Eragon groaned in mock distress.
When they stopped for the day, Eragon searched for water while Brom made dinner. He rubbed his hands together for warmth as he walked in a large circle, listening for a creek or spring. It was gloomy and damp between the trees.
He found a stream a ways from the camp, then crouched on the bank and watched the water splash over the rocks, dipping in his fingertips. The icy mountain water swirled around his skin, numbing it.It doesn’t care what happens to us, or anyone else, thought Eragon. He shivered and stood.
An unusual print on the opposing stream bank caught his attention. It was oddly shaped and very large. Curious, he jumped across the stream and onto a rock shelf. As he landed, his foot hit a patch of damp moss. He grabbed a branch for support, but it broke, and he thrust out his hand to break his fall. He felt his right wrist crack as he hit the ground. Pain lanced up his arm.
A steady stream of curses came out from behind his clenched teeth as he tried not to howl. Half blind with pain, he curled on the ground, cradling his arm.Eragon! came Saphira’s alarmed cry.What happened?
Broke my wrist. . did something stupid. . fell.
I’m coming,said Saphira.
No — I can make it back. Don’t. . come. Trees too close for. . wings.
She sent him a brief image of her tearing the forest apart to get at him, then said,Hurry.
Groaning, he staggered upright. The print was pressed deeply into the ground a few feet away. It was the mark of a heavy, nail-studded boot. Eragon instantly remembered the tracks that had surrounded the pile of bodies in Yazuac. “Urgal,” he spat, wishing that Zar’roc was with him; he could not use his bow with only one hand. His head snapped up, and he shouted with his mind,Saphira! Urgals! Keep Brom safe.
Eragon leapt back over the stream and raced toward their camp, yanking out his hunting knife. He saw potential enemies behind every tree and bush.I hope there’s only one Urgal. He burst into the camp, ducking as Saphira’s tail swung overhead. “Stop. It’s me!” he yelled.
Oops,said Saphira. Her wings were folded in front of her chest like a wall.
“Oops?” growled Eragon, running to her. “You could’ve killed me! Where’s Brom?”
“I’m right here,” snapped Brom’s voice from behind Saphira’s wings. “Tell your crazy dragon to release me; she won’t listen to me.”
“Let him go!” said Eragon, exasperated. “Didn’t you tell him?”
No,she said sheepishly.You just said to keep him safe. She lifted her wings, and Brom stepped forward angrily.
“I found an Urgal footprint. And it’s fresh.”
Brom immediately turned serious. “Saddle the horses. We’re leaving.” He put out the fire, but Eragon did not move. “What’s wrong with your arm?”
“My wrist is broken,” he said, swaying.
Brom cursed and saddled Cadoc for him. He helped Eragon onto the horse and said, “We have to put a splint on your arm as soon as possible. Try not to move your wrist until then.” Eragon gripped the reins tightly with his left hand. Brom said to Saphira, “It’s almost dark; you might as well fly right overhead. If Urgals show up, they’ll think twice about attacking with you nearby.”
They’d better, or else they won’t think again,remarked Saphira as she took off.
The light was disappearing quickly, and the horses were tired, but they spurred them on without respite. Eragon’s wrist, swollen and red, continued to throb. A mile from the camp, Brom halted. “Listen,” he said.
Eragon heard the faint call of a hunting horn behind them. As it fell silent, panic gripped him. “They must have found where we were,” said Brom, “and probably Saphira’s tracks. They will chase us now. It’s not in their nature to let prey escape.” Then two horns winded. They were closer. A chill ran through Eragon. “Our only chance is to run,” said Brom. He raised his head to the sky, and his face blanked as he called Saphira.
She rushed out of the night sky and landed. “Leave Cadoc. Go with her. You’ll be safer,” commanded Brom.
“What about you?” Eragon protested.
“I’ll be fine. Now go!” Unable to muster the energy to argue, Eragon climbed onto Saphira while Brom lashed Snowfire and rode away with Cadoc. Saphira flew after him, flapping above the galloping horses.
Eragon clung to Saphira as best he could; he winced whenever her movements jostled his wrist. The horns blared nearby, bringing a fresh wave of terror. Brom crashed through the underbrush, forcing the horses to their limits. The horns trumpeted in unison close behind him, then were quiet.
Minutes passed.Where are the Urgals? wondered Eragon. A horn sounded, this time in the distance. He sighed in relief, resting against Saphira’s neck, while on the ground Brom slowed his headlong rush.That was close, said Eragon.
Yes, but we cannot stop until—Saphira was interrupted as a horn blasted directly underneath them. Eragon jerked in surprise, and Brom resumed his frenzied retreat. Horned Urgals, shouting with coarse voices, barreled along the trail on horses, swiftly gaining ground. They were almost in sight of Brom; the old man could not outrun them.We have to do something! exclaimed Eragon.
What?
Land in front of the Urgals!
Are you crazy?demanded Saphira.
Land! I know what I’m doing,said Eragon.There isn’t time for anything else. They’re going to overtake Brom!