Eragon [en]

tree, then returned to Carvahall.

Now for food. He went to the tavern, intending to get it there, but then smiled tightly and reversed direction. If he was going to steal, it might as well be from Sloan. He sneaked up to the butcher’s house. The front door was barred whenever Sloan was not there, but the side door was secured with only a thin chain, which he broke easily. The rooms inside were dark. He fumbled blindly until his hands came upon hard piles of meat wrapped in cloth. He stuffed as many of them as he could under his shirt, then hurried back to the street and furtively closed the door.

A woman shouted his name nearby. He clasped the bottom of his shirt to keep the meat from falling out and ducked behind a corner. He shivered as Horst walked between two houses not ten feet away.

Eragon ran as soon as Horst was out of sight. His legs burned as he pounded down an alley and back to the trees. He slipped between the tree trunks, then turned to see if he was being pursued. No one was there. Relieved, he let out his breath and reached into the tree for the leather. It was gone.

“Going somewhere?”

Eragon whirled around. Brom scowled angrily at him, an ugly wound on the side of his head. A short sword hung at his belt in a brown sheath. The hides were in his hands.

Eragon’s eyes narrowed in irritation. How had the old man managed to sneak up on him? Everything had been so quiet, he would have sworn that no one was around. “Give them back,” he snapped.

“Why? So you can run off before Garrow is even buried?” The accusation was sharp.

“It’s none of your business!” he barked, temper flashing. “Why did you follow me?”

“I didn’t,” grunted Brom. “I’ve been waiting for you here. Now where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” Eragon lunged for the skins and grabbed them from Brom’s hands. Brom did nothing to stop him.

“I hope you have enough meat to feed your dragon.”

Eragon froze. “What are you talking about?”

Brom crossed his arms. “Don’t fool with me. I know where that mark on your hand, the gedwey ignasia, the shining palm, comes from: you have touched a dragon hatchling. I know why you came to me with those questions, and I know that once more the Riders live.”

Eragon dropped the leather and meat. It’s finally happened... I have to get away! I can’t run faster than him with my injured legs, but if... Saphira! he called.

For a few agonizing seconds she did not answer, but then, Yes.

We’ve been discovered! I need you! He sent her a picture of where he was, and she took off immediately. Now he just had to stall Brom. “How did you find out?” he asked in a hollow voice.

Brom stared into the distance and moved his lips soundlessly as if he were talking to someone else. Then he said, “There were clues and hints everywhere; I had only to pay attention. Anyone with the right knowledge could have done the same. Tell me, how is your dragon?”

“She,” said Eragon, “is fine. We weren’t at the farm when the strangers came.”

“Ah, your legs. You were flying?”

How did Brom figure that out? What if the strangers coerced him into doing this? Maybe they want him to discover where I’m going so they can ambush us. And where is Saphira? He reached out with his mind and found her circling far overhead. Come!

No, I will watch for a time.

Why!

Because of the slaughter at Doru Areaba.

What?

Brom leaned against a tree with a slight smile. “I have talked with her, and she has agreed to stay above us until we settle our differences. As you can see, you really don’t have any choice but to answer my questions. Now tell me, where are you going?”

Bewildered, Eragon put a hand to his temple. How could Brom speak to Saphira? The back of his head throbbed and ideas whirled through his mind, but he kept reaching the same conclusion: he had to tell the old man something. He said, “I was going to find a safe place to stay while I heal.”

“And after that?”

The question could not be ignored. The throbbing in his head grew worse. It was impossible to think; nothing seemed clear anymore. All he wanted to do was tell someone about the events of the past few months. It tore at him that his secret had caused Garrow’s death. He gave up and said tremulously, “I was going to hunt down the strangers and kill them.”

“A mighty task for one so young,” Brom said in a normal tone, as if Eragon had proposed the most obvious and suitable thing to do. “Certainly a worthy endeavor and one you are fit to carry out, yet it strikes me that help would not be unwelcome.” He reached behind a bush and pulled out a large pack. His tone became gruff. “Anyway, I’m not going to stay behind while some stripling gets to run around with a dragon.”

Is he really offering help, or is it a trap? Eragon was afraid of what his mysterious enemies could do. But Brom convinced Saphira to trust him, and they’ve talked through the mind touch.If she isn’t worried... He decided to put his suspicions aside for the present. “I don’t need help,” said Eragon, then grudgingly added, “but you can come.”

“Then we had best be going,” said Brom. His face blanked for a moment. “I think you’ll find that your dragon will listen to you again.”

Saphira? asked Eragon.

Yes.

He resisted the urge to question her. Will you meet us at the farm?

Yes. So you reached an agreement?

I guess so. She broke contact and soared away. He glanced at Carvahall and saw people running from house to house. “I think they’re looking for me.”

Brom raised an eyebrow. “Probably. Shall we go?”

Eragon hesitated. “I’d like to leave a message for Roran. It doesn’t seem right to run off without telling him why.”

“It’s been taken care of,” assured Brom. “I left a letter for him with Gertrude, explaining a few things. I also cautioned him to be on guard for certain dangers. Is that satisfactory?”

Eragon nodded. He wrapped the leather around the meat and started off. They were careful to stay out of sight until they reached the road, then quickened their pace, eager to distance themselves from Carvahall. Eragon plowed ahead determinedly, his legs burning. The mindless rhythm of walking freed his mind to think. Once we get home, I won’t travel any farther with Brom until I get some answers, he told himself firmly . I hope that he can tell me more about the Riders and whom I’m fighting.

As the wreckage of the farm came into view, Brom’s eyebrows beetled with anger. Eragon was dismayed to see how swiftly nature was reclaiming the farm. Snow and dirt were already piled inside the house, concealing the violence of the strangers’ attack. All that remained of the barn was a rapidly eroding rectangle of soot.

Brom’s head snapped up as the sound of Saphira’s wings drifted over the trees. She dived past them from behind, almost brushing their heads. They staggered as a wall of air buffeted them. Saphira’s scales glittered as she wheeled over the farm and landed gracefully.

Brom stepped forward with an expression both solemn and joyous. His eyes were shining, and a tear shone on his cheek before it disappeared into his beard. He stood there for a long while, breathing heavily as he watched Saphira, and she him. Eragon heard him muttering and edged closer to listen.

“So... it starts again. But how and where will it end? My sight is veiled; I cannot tell if this be tragedy or farce, for the elements of both are here... However it may be, my station is unchanged, and I...”

Whatever else he might have said faded away as Saphira proudly approached them. Eragon passed Brom, pretended he had heard nothing, and greeted her. There was something different between them now, as if they knew each other even more intimately, yet were still strangers. He rubbed her neck, and his palm tingled as their minds touched. A strong curiosity came from her.

I’ve seen no humans except you and Garrow, and he was badly injured, she said.