Eragon [en]

Evading the Empire will be harder than ever. There was an edge to her voice that he was unaccustomed to.

I know.

They flew low and fast over the road. Leona Lake receded behind them; the land became dry and rocky and filled with tough, sharp bushes and tall cactuses. Clouds darkened the sky. Lightning flashed in the distance. As the wind began to howl, Saphira glided steeply down to Brom. He stopped the horses and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“The wind’s too strong.”

“It’s not that bad,” objected Brom.

“It is up there,” said Eragon, pointing at the sky.

Brom swore and handed him Cadoc’s reins. They trotted away with Saphira following on foot, though on the ground she had difficulty keeping up with the horses.

The gale grew stronger, flinging dirt through the air and twisting like a dervish. They wrapped scarves around their heads to protect their eyes. Brom’s robe flapped in the wind while his beard whipped about as if it had a life of its own. Though it would make them miserable, Eragon hoped it would rain so their tracks would be obliterated.

Soon darkness forced them to stop. With only the stars to guide them, they left the road and made camp behind two boulders. It was too dangerous to light a fire, so they ate cold food while Saphira sheltered them from the wind.

After the sparse dinner, Eragon asked bluntly, “How did they find us?”

Brom started to light his pipe, but thought better of it and put it away. “One of the palace servants warned me there were spies among them. Somehow word of me and my questions must have reached Tabor... and through him, the Ra’zac.”

“We can’t go back to Dras-Leona, can we?” asked Eragon.

Brom shook his head. “Not for a few years.”

Eragon held his head between his hands. “Then should we draw the Ra’zac out? If we let Saphira be seen, they’ll come running to wherever she is.”

“And when they do, there will be fifty soldiers with them,” said Brom. “At any rate, this isn’t the time to discuss it. Right now we have to concentrate on staying alive. Tonight will be the most dangerous because the Ra’zac will be hunting us in the dark, when they are strongest. We’ll have to trade watches until morning.”

“Right,” said Eragon, standing. He hesitated and squinted. His eyes had caught a flicker of movement, a small patch of color that stood out from the surrounding nightscape. He stepped toward the edge of their camp, trying to see it better.

“What is it?” asked Brom as he unrolled his blankets.

Eragon stared into the darkness, then turned back. “I don’t know. I thought I saw something. It must have been a bird.” Pain erupted in the back of his head, and Saphira roared. Then Eragon toppled to the ground, unconscious.

THE RA’ZAC’S REVENGE

Adull throbbing roused Eragon. Every time blood pulsed through his head it brought a fresh wave of pain. He cracked his eyes open and winced; tears rushed to his eyes as he looked directly into a bright lantern. He blinked and looked away. When he tried to sit up, he realized that his hands were tied behind his back.

He turned lethargically and saw Brom’s arms. Eragon was relieved to see that they were bound together. Why was that? He struggled to figure it out until the thought suddenly came to him, They wouldn’t tie up a dead man! But then who were “they”? He swiveled his head further, then stopped as a pair of black boots entered his vision.

Eragon looked up, right into the cowled face of a Ra’zac. Fear jolted through him. He reached for the magic and started to voice a word that would kill the Ra’zac, but then halted, puzzled. He could not remember the word. Frustrated, he tried again, only to feel it slip out of his grasp.

Above him the Ra’zac laughed chillingly. “The drug is working, yesss? I think you will not be bothering us again.”

There was a rattle off to the left, and Eragon was appalled to see the second Ra’zac fit a muzzle over Saphira’s head. Her wings were pinioned to her sides by black chains; there were shackles on her legs. Eragon tried to contact her, but felt nothing.

“She was most cooperative once we threatened to kill you,” hissed the Ra’zac. Squatting by the lantern, he rummaged through Eragon’s bags, examining and discarding various items until he removed Zar’roc. “What a pretty thing for one so... insignificant. Maybe I will keep it.” He leaned closer and sneered, “Or maybe, if you behave, our master will let you polish it.” His moist breath smelled like raw meat.

Then he turned the sword over in his hands and screeched as he saw the symbol on the scabbard. His companion rushed over. They stood over the sword, hissing and clicking. At last they faced Eragon. “You will serve our master very well, yesss.”

Eragon forced his thick tongue to form words: “If I do, I will kill you.”

They chuckled coldly. “Oh no, we are too valuable. But you... you are disposable. ” A deep snarl came from Saphira; smoke roiled from her nostrils. The Ra’zac did not seem to care.

Their attention was diverted when Brom groaned and rolled onto his side. One of the Ra’zac grabbed his shirt and thrust him effortlessly into the air. “It’sss wearing off.”

“Give him more.”

“Let’sss just kill him,” said the shorter Ra’zac. “He has caused us much grief.”

The taller one ran his finger down his sword. “A good plan. But remember, the king’s instructions were to keep them alive. ”

“We can sssay he was killed when we captured them.”

“And what of thisss one?” the Ra’zac asked, pointing his sword at Eragon. “If he talksss?”

His companion laughed and drew a wicked dagger. “He would not dare.”

There was a long silence, then, “Agreed.”

They dragged Brom to the center of the camp and shoved him to his knees. Brom sagged to one side. Eragon watched with growing fear. I have to get free! He wrenched at the ropes, but they were too strong to break. “None of that now,” said the tall Ra’zac, poking him with a sword. He nosed the air and sniffed; something seemed to trouble him.

The other Ra’zac growled, yanked Brom’s head back, and swept the dagger toward his exposed throat. At that very moment a low buzz sounded, followed by the Ra’zac’s howl. An arrow protruded from his shoulder. The Ra’zac nearest Eragon dropped to the ground, barely avoiding a second arrow. He scuttled to his wounded companion, and they glared into the darkness, hissing angrily. They made no move to stop Brom as he blearily staggered upright. “Get down!” cried Eragon.

Brom wavered, then tottered toward Eragon. As more arrows hissed into the camp from the unseen attackers, the Ra’zac rolled behind some boulders. There was a lull, then arrows came from the opposite direction. Caught by surprise, the Ra’zac reacted slowly. Their cloaks were pierced in several places, and a shattered arrow buried itself in one’s arm.

With a wild cry, the smaller Ra’zac fled toward the road, kicking Eragon viciously in the side as he passed. His companion hesitated, then grabbed the dagger from the ground and raced after him. As he left the camp, he hurled the knife at Eragon.

A strange light suddenly burned in Brom’s eyes. He threw himself in front of Eragon, his mouth open in a soundless snarl. The dagger struck him with a soft thump, and he landed heavily on his shoulder. His head lolled limply.

“No!” screamed Eragon, though he was doubled over in pain. He heard footsteps, then his eyes closed and he knew no more.