The Inheritance Cycle - Brisingr Part 26

The next thing Eragon saw was a swath of Saphira's neck scales an inch or two in front of his nose. The scales shone like cobalt-blue ice. Eragon was dimly aware of someone reaching out to his mind from across a great distance, their consciousness projecting an intense sense of urgency. As his faculties returned, he recognized the other person as Arya. She said: End the spell, Eragon! It will kill us all if you keep it up. End it; Murtagh is too far away! Wake up, Eragon, or you will pa.s.s into the void End the spell, Eragon! It will kill us all if you keep it up. End it; Murtagh is too far away! Wake up, Eragon, or you will pa.s.s into the void.

With a jolt, Eragon sat upright in the saddle, barely noticing that Saphira was crouched amid a circle of King Orrin's hors.e.m.e.n. Arya was nowhere to be seen. Now that he was alert again, Eragon could feel the spell he had cast on Murtagh still draining his strength, and in ever-increasing amounts. If not for the aid of Saphira and Arya and the other elves, he would have already died.

Eragon released the magic, then looked for Thorn and Murtagh on the ground.

There, said Saphira, and motioned with her snout. Low in the northwestern sky, Eragon saw Thorn's glittering shape, the dragon winging his way up the Jiet River, fleeing toward Galbatorix's army some miles distant. said Saphira, and motioned with her snout. Low in the northwestern sky, Eragon saw Thorn's glittering shape, the dragon winging his way up the Jiet River, fleeing toward Galbatorix's army some miles distant.

How?

Murtagh healed Thorn again, and Thorn was lucky enough to land on the slope of a hill. He ran down it, then took off before you regained consciousness.

From across the rolling landscape, Murtagh's magnified voice boomed: "Do not think you have won, Eragon, Saphira. We shall meet again, I promise, and Thorn and I shall defeat you then, for we shall be even stronger than we are now!"

Eragon clenched his s.h.i.+eld and his falchion so tightly, he bled from underneath his fingernails. Do you think you can overtake him? Do you think you can overtake him?

I could, but the elves would not be able to help you from so far away, and I doubt we could prevail without their support.

We might be able-Eragon stopped and pounded his leg in frustration. Blast it, I'm an idiot! I forgot about Aren. We could have used the energy in Brom's ring to help defeat them. Blast it, I'm an idiot! I forgot about Aren. We could have used the energy in Brom's ring to help defeat them.

You had other things on your mind. Anyone might have made the same mistake.

Maybe, but I still wish I had thought of Aren sooner. We could still use it to capture Thorn and Murtagh.

And then what? asked Saphira. asked Saphira. How could we keep them as prisoners? Would you drug them like Durza drugged you in Gil'ead? Or do you just want to kill them? How could we keep them as prisoners? Would you drug them like Durza drugged you in Gil'ead? Or do you just want to kill them?

I don't know! We could help them to change their true names, to break their oaths to Galbatorix. Letting them wander around unchecked, though, is too dangerous.

Arya said, In theory, you are right, Eragon, but you are tired, Saphira is tired, and I would rather Thorn and Murtagh escape than we lose the two of you because you were not at your best. In theory, you are right, Eragon, but you are tired, Saphira is tired, and I would rather Thorn and Murtagh escape than we lose the two of you because you were not at your best.

But- But we do not have the capabilities to safely detain a dragon and Rider for an extended period, and I do not think killing Thorn and Murtagh would be as easy as you a.s.sume, Eragon. Be grateful we have driven them off, and rest easy knowing we can do so again when next they dare to confront us. So saying, she withdrew from his mind. So saying, she withdrew from his mind.

Eragon watched until Thorn and Murtagh had vanished from sight, then he sighed and rubbed Saphira's neck. I could sleep for a fortnight. I could sleep for a fortnight.

As could I.

You should be proud; you outflew Thorn at nearly every turn.

Yes, I did, didn't I? She preened. She preened. It was hardly a fair compet.i.tion. Thorn does not have my experience. It was hardly a fair compet.i.tion. Thorn does not have my experience.

Nor your talent, I should think.

Twisting her neck, she licked the upper part of his right arm, the mail hauberk tinkling, and then gazed down at him with sparkling eyes.

He managed a ghost of a smile. I suppose I should have expected it, but it still surprised me that Murtagh was as fast as me. More magic on the part of Galbatorix, no doubt I suppose I should have expected it, but it still surprised me that Murtagh was as fast as me. More magic on the part of Galbatorix, no doubt.

Why did your wards fail to deflect Zar'roc, though? They saved you from worse blows when we fought the Ra'zac.

I'm not sure. Murtagh or Galbatorix might have invented a spell I had not thought to guard against. Or it could just be that Zar'roc is a Rider's blade, and as Glaedr said- -the swords Rhunon forged excel at- -cutting through enchantments of every kind, and- -it is only rarely they are- -affected by magic. Exactly. Eragon stared at the streaks of dragon blood on the flat of the falchion, weary. When will we be able to defeat our enemies on our own? I couldn't have killed Durza if Arya hadn't broken the star sapphire. And we were only able to prevail over Murtagh and Thorn with the help of Arya and twelve others When will we be able to defeat our enemies on our own? I couldn't have killed Durza if Arya hadn't broken the star sapphire. And we were only able to prevail over Murtagh and Thorn with the help of Arya and twelve others.

We must become more powerful.

Yes, but how? How has Galbatorix ama.s.sed his strength? Has he found a way to feed off the bodies of his slaves even when he is hundreds of miles away? Garr! I don't know.

A runnel of sweat coursed down Eragon's brow and into the corner of his right eye. He wiped off the perspiration with the palm of his hand, then blinked and again noticed the hors.e.m.e.n gathered around him and Saphira. What are they doing here? What are they doing here? Looking beyond, he realized Saphira had landed close to where King Orrin had intercepted the soldiers from the boats. Not far off to her left, hundreds of men, Urgals, and horses milled about in panic and confusion. Occasionally, the clatter of swords or the scream of a wounded man broke through the uproar, accompanied by s.n.a.t.c.hes of demented laughter. Looking beyond, he realized Saphira had landed close to where King Orrin had intercepted the soldiers from the boats. Not far off to her left, hundreds of men, Urgals, and horses milled about in panic and confusion. Occasionally, the clatter of swords or the scream of a wounded man broke through the uproar, accompanied by s.n.a.t.c.hes of demented laughter.

I think they are here to protect us, said Saphira. said Saphira.

Us! From what? Why haven't they killed the soldiers yet? Where-Eragon abandoned his question as Arya, Blodhgarm, and four other haggard-looking elves sprinted up to Saphira from the direction of the camp. Raising a hand in greeting, Eragon called, "Arya! What's happened? No one seems to be in command."

To Eragon's alarm, Arya was breathing so hard, she was unable to speak for a few moments. Then: "The soldiers proved more dangerous than we antic.i.p.ated. We do not know how. Du Vrangr Gata has heard nothing but gibberish from Orrin's spellcasters." Regaining her breath, Arya started examining Saphira's cuts and bruises.

Before Eragon could ask more, a collection of excited cries from within the maelstrom of warriors drowned out the rest of the tumult, and he heard King Orrin shout, "Back, back, all of you! Archers, hold the line! Blast you, no one move, we have him!"

Saphira had the same thought as Eragon. Gathering her legs under her, she leaped over the ring of hors.e.m.e.n-startling the horses so they bucked and ran-and made her way across the corpsestrewn battlefield toward the sound of King Orrin's voice, brus.h.i.+ng aside men and Urgals alike as if they were so many stalks of gra.s.s. The rest of the elves hurried to keep up, swords and bows in hand.

Saphira found Orrin sitting on his charger at the leading edge of the tightly packed warriors, staring at a lone man forty feet away. The king was flushed and wild-eyed, his armor besmirched with filth from combat. He had been wounded under his left arm, and the shaft of a spear protruded several inches from his right thigh. When Saphira's approach caught his attention, his face registered sudden relief.

"Good, good, you're here," he muttered as Saphira crawled abreast of his charger. "We needed you, Saphira, and you, Shade slayer." One of the archers edged forward a few inches. Orrin waved his sword at him and yelled, "Back! I'll have the head of anyone who doesn't remain where he is, I swear by Angvard's crown!" Then Orrin resumed glaring at the lone man.

Eragon followed his gaze. The man was a soldier of medium height, with a purple birthmark on his neck and brown hair plastered flat by the helmet he had been wearing. His s.h.i.+eld was a splintered ruin. His sword was notched, bent, and broken, missing the last six inches. River mud caked his mail hose. Blood sheeted from a gash along his ribs. An arrow fletched with white swan feathers had impaled his right foot and pinned it to the ground, three-quarters of the shaft buried in the hard dirt. From the man's throat, a horrid gurgling laugh emanated. It rose and fell with a drunken cadence, pitching from note to note as if the man were about to begin shrieking with horror.

"What are you?" shouted King Orrin. When the soldier did not immediately respond, the king cursed and said, "Answer me, or I'll let my spellcasters at you. Be you man or beast or some ill-sp.a.w.ned demon? In what foul pit did Galbatorix find you and your brothers? Are you kin of the Ra'zac?"

The king's last question acted like a needle driven into Eragon; he straightened bolt upright, every sense tingling.

The laughter paused for a moment. "Man. I am a man."

"You are like no man I know."

"I wanted to a.s.sure the future of my family. Is that so foreign to you, Surdan?"

"Give me no riddles, you fork-tongued wretch! Tell me how you became as you are, and speak honestly, lest you convince me to pour boiling lead down your throat and see if that that pains you." pains you."

The unbalanced chuckles intensified, then the soldier said, "You cannot hurt me, Surdan. No one can. The king himself made us impervious to pain. In return, our families will live in comfort for the rest of their lives. You can hide from us, but we will never stop pursuing you, even when ordinary men would drop dead from exhaustion. You can fight us, but we will continue killing you as long as we have an arm to swing. You cannot even surrender to us, for we take no prisoners. You can do nothing but die and return this land to peace."

With a gruesome grimace, the soldier wrapped his mangled s.h.i.+eld hand around the arrow and, with the sound of tearing flesh, pulled the shaft out of his foot. Lumps of crimson meat clung to the arrowhead as it came free. The soldier shook the arrow at them, then threw the missile at one of the archers, wounding him in the hand. His laugh louder than ever, the soldier lurched forward, dragging his injured foot behind him. He raised his sword, as if he intended to attack.

"Shoot him!" shouted Orrin.

Bowstrings tw.a.n.ged like badly tuned lutes, then a score of spinning arrows leaped toward the soldier and, an instant later, struck him in the torso. Two of the arrows bounced off his gambeson; the remainder penetrated his rib cage. His laughter reduced to a wheezing chuckle as blood seeped into his lungs, the soldier continued moving forward, painting the gra.s.s underneath him bright scarlet. The archers shot again, and arrows sprouted from the man's shoulders and arms, but he did not stop. Another volley of arrows followed close upon the last. The soldier stumbled and fell as an arrow split his left kneecap and others skewered his upper legs and one pa.s.sed entirely through his neck-punching a hole in his birthmark-and whistled out across the field, trailing a spray of blood. And still the soldier refused to die. He began to crawl, dragging himself forward with his arms, grinning and giggling as if the whole world were an obscene joke that only he could appreciate.

A cold tingle s.h.i.+vered down Eragon's spine as he watched.

King Orrin swore violently, and Eragon detected a hint of hysteria in his voice. Jumping off his charger, Orrin threw his sword and his s.h.i.+eld into the dirt and then pointed at the nearest Urgal. "Give me your ax." Startled, the gray-skinned Urgal hesitated, then surrendered his weapon.

King Orrin limped over to the soldier, raised the heavy ax with both hands, and, with a single blow, chopped off the soldier's head.

The giggling ceased.

The soldier's eyes rolled and his mouth worked for another few seconds, and then he was still.

Orrin grasped the head by the hair and lifted it so all could see. "They can can be killed," he declared. "Spread the word that the only sure way of stopping these abominations is to behead them. That or bash in their skulls with a mace or shoot them in the eye from a safe distance. . . . Graytooth, where are you?" A stout, middle-aged horseman urged his mount forward. Orrin threw him the head, which he caught. "Mount that on a pole by the north gate of the camp. Mount be killed," he declared. "Spread the word that the only sure way of stopping these abominations is to behead them. That or bash in their skulls with a mace or shoot them in the eye from a safe distance. . . . Graytooth, where are you?" A stout, middle-aged horseman urged his mount forward. Orrin threw him the head, which he caught. "Mount that on a pole by the north gate of the camp. Mount all all of their heads. Let them serve as a message to Galbatorix that we do not fear his underhanded tricks and we shall prevail in spite of them." Striding back to his charger, Orrin returned the ax to the Urgal, then picked up his own weapons. of their heads. Let them serve as a message to Galbatorix that we do not fear his underhanded tricks and we shall prevail in spite of them." Striding back to his charger, Orrin returned the ax to the Urgal, then picked up his own weapons.

A few yards away, Eragon spotted Nar Garzhvog standing among a cl.u.s.ter of Kull. Eragon spoke a few words to Saphira, and she sidled over to the Urgals. After exchanging nods, Eragon asked Garzhvog, "Were all the soldiers like that?" He gestured toward the arrow-riddled corpse.

"All men with no pain. You hit them and you think them dead, turn your back and they hamstring you." Garzhvog scowled. "I lost many rams today. We have fought droves of humans, Firesword, but never before these laughing ghouls. It is not natural. It makes us think they are possessed by hornless spirits, that maybe the G.o.ds themselves have turned against us."

"Nonsense," scoffed Eragon. "It is merely a spell by Galbatorix, and we shall soon have a way to protect ourselves against it." Notwithstanding his outer confidence, the concept of fighting enemies who felt no pain unsettled him as much as it did the Urgals. Moreover, from what Garzhvog had said, he guessed that maintaining morale among the Varden was going to be even more difficult for Nasuada once everyone learned about the soldiers.

While the Varden and the Urgals set about collecting their fallen comrades, stripping the dead of useful equipment, and beheading the soldiers and dragging their truncated bodies into piles to burn, Eragon, Saphira, and King Orrin returned to the camp, accompanied by Arya and the other elves.

Along the way, Eragon offered to heal Orrin's leg, but the king refused, saying, "I have my own physicians, Shadeslayer."

Nasuada and Jormundur were waiting for them by the north gate. Accosting Orrin, Nasuada said, "What went wrong?"

Eragon closed his eyes as Orrin explained how at first the attack on the soldiers had seemed to go well. The hors.e.m.e.n had swept through their ranks, dealing what they had thought were death blows left and right, and had suffered only one casualty during their charge. When they had engaged the remaining soldiers, however, many of those they had struck down before rose up and rejoined the fight. Orrin shuddered. "We lost our nerve then. Any man would have. We did not know if the soldiers were invincible, or if they were even men at all. When you see an enemy coming at you with bone sticking out of his calf, a javelin through his belly, and half his face sheared away, and he laughs laughs at you, it's a rare man who can stand his ground. My warriors panicked. They broke formation. It was utter confusion. Slaughter. When the Urgals and your warriors, Nasuada, reached us, they became caught up in the madness." He shook his head. "I've never seen the like of it, not even on the Burning Plains." at you, it's a rare man who can stand his ground. My warriors panicked. They broke formation. It was utter confusion. Slaughter. When the Urgals and your warriors, Nasuada, reached us, they became caught up in the madness." He shook his head. "I've never seen the like of it, not even on the Burning Plains."

Nasuada's face had grown pale, even with her dark skin. She looked at Eragon and then Arya. "How could Galbatorix have done this?"

It was Arya who answered, "Block most, but not all, of a person's ability to feel pain. Leave just enough sensation so they know where they are and what they are doing, but not so much that pain can incapacitate them. The spell would require only a small amount of energy."

Nasuada wet her lips. Again speaking to Orrin, she said, "Do you know how many we lost?"

A tremor racked Orrin. He doubled over, pressed a hand against his leg, gritted his teeth, and growled, "Three hundred soldiers against . . . What was the size of the force you sent?"

"Two hundred swordsmen. A hundred spearmen. Fifty archers."

"Those, plus the Urgals, plus my cavalry . . . Say around a thousand strong. Against three hundred foot soldiers on an open field. We slew every last one of the soldiers. What it cost us, though . . ." The king shook his head. "We won't know for sure until we count the dead, but it looked to me as if three-quarters of your swordsmen are gone. More of the spearmen. Some archers. Of my cavalry, few remain: fifty, seventy. Many of them were my friends. Perhaps a hundred, a hundred and fifty Urgals dead. Overall? Five or six hundred to bury, and the better part of the survivors wounded. I don't know . . . I don't know. I don't-" His jaw going slack, Orrin slumped to the side and would have fallen off his horse if Arya had not sprung forward and caught him.

Nasuada snapped her fingers, summoning two of the Varden from among the tents, and ordered them to take Orrin to his pavilion and then to fetch the king his healers.

"We have suffered a grievous defeat, no matter that we exterminated the soldiers," Nasuada murmured. She pressed her lips together, sorrow and despair mixed in equal portions in her expression. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. Stiffening her back, she fixed Eragon and Saphira with an iron gaze. "How fared it with the two of you?" She listened without moving while Eragon described their encounter with Murtagh and Thorn. Afterward, she nodded. "That you would be able to escape their clutches was all we dared hope. However, you accomplished more than that. You proved that Galbatorix has not made Murtagh so powerful that we have no hope of defeating him. With a few more spellcasters to help you, Murtagh would have been yours to do with as you pleased. For that reason, he will not dare confront Queen Islanzadi's army by himself, I think. If we can gather enough spellcasters around you, Eragon, I believe we can finally kill Murtagh and Thorn the next time they come to abduct the pair of you."

"Don't you want to capture them?" Eragon asked.

"I want a great number of things, but I doubt I shall receive very many of them. Murtagh and Thorn may not be trying to kill you, but if the opportunity presents itself, we must kill them without hesitation. Or do you see it otherwise?"

". . . No."

s.h.i.+fting her attention to Arya, Nasuada asked, "Did any of your spellweavers die during the contest?"

"Some fainted, but they have all recovered, thank you."

Nasuada took a deep breath and looked northward, her eyes focused on infinity. "Eragon, please inform Trianna that I want Du Vrangr Gata to figure out how to replicate Galbatorix's spell. Despicable as it is, we must imitate Galbatorix in this. We cannot afford not to. It won't be practical for all of us to be unable to feel pain-we would hurt ourselves far too easily-but we should have a few hundred swordsmen, volunteers, who are immune to physical suffering."

"My Lady."

"So many dead," said Nasuada. She twisted her reins in her hands. "We have remained in one place for too long. It is time we force the Empire onto the defensive again." She spurred Battlestorm away from the carnage that lay before the camp, the stallion tossing his head and gnawing on his bit. "Your cousin, Eragon, begged me to allow him to take part in today's fighting. I refused, on account of his impending marriage, which pleased him not-although I suspect his betrothed feels otherwise. Would you do me the favor of notifying me if they still intend to proceed with the ceremony today? After so much bloodshed, it would hearten the Varden to attend a marriage."

"I will let you know as soon as I find out."

"Thank you. You may go now, Eragon."

The first thing Eragon and Saphira did upon leaving Nasuada was to visit the elves who had fainted during their battle with Murtagh and Thorn and thank them and their companions for their a.s.sistance. Then Eragon, Arya, and Blodhgarm attended to the hurts Thorn had dealt Saphira, mending her cuts and scratches and a few of her bruises. When they finished, Eragon located Trianna with his mind and conveyed Nasuada's instructions.

Only then did he and Saphira seek out Roran. Blodhgarm and his elves accompanied them; Arya left to attend to business of her own.

Roran and Katrina were arguing quietly and intensely when Eragon spotted them standing by the corner of Horst's tent. They fell silent as Eragon and Saphira drew near. Katrina crossed her arms and stared away from Roran, while Roran gripped the top of his hammer thrust through his belt and scuffed the heel of his boot against a rock.

Stopping in front of them, Eragon waited a few moments, hoping they would explain the reason for their quarrel, but instead Katrina said, "Are either of you injured?" Her eyes flicked from him to Saphira and back.

"We were, but no longer."

"That is so . . . strange. We heard tales of magic in Carvahall, but I never really believed them. They seemed so impossible. But here, there are magicians everywhere. . . . Did you wound Murtagh and Thorn badly? Is that why they fled?"

"We bested them, but we caused them no permanent harm." Eragon paused, and when neither Roran nor Katrina spoke, he asked if they still wanted to get married that day. "Nasuada suggested you proceed, but it might be better to wait. The dead have yet to be buried, and there is much that needs doing. Tomorrow would be more convenient . . . and more seemly."

"No," said Roran, and ground the tip of his boot against the rock. "The Empire could attack again at any moment. Tomorrow might be too late. If . . . if somehow I died before we were wed, what would become of Katrina or our . . ." He faltered and his cheeks reddened.

Her expression softening, Katrina turned to Roran and took his hand. She said, "Besides, the food has been cooked, the decorations have been hung, and our friends have gathered for our marriage. It would be a pity if all those preparations were for nothing." Reaching up, she stroked Roran's beard, and he smiled at her and placed an arm around her.

I don't understand half of what goes on between them, Eragon complained to Saphira. "When shall the ceremony take place, then?" Eragon complained to Saphira. "When shall the ceremony take place, then?"

"In an hour," said Roran.

MAN AND W WIFE Four hours later, Eragon stood on the crest of a low hill dotted with yellow wildflowers.

Surrounding the hill was a lush meadow that bordered the Jiet River, which rushed past a hundred feet to Eragon's right. The sky was bright and clear; suns.h.i.+ne bathed the land with a soft radiance. The air was cool and calm and smelled fresh, as if it had just rained.

Gathered in front of the hill were the villagers from Carvahall, none of whom had been injured during the fighting, and what seemed to be half of the men of the Varden. Many of the warriors held long spears mounted with embroidered pennants of every color. Various horses, including Snowfire, were picketed at the far end of the meadow. Despite Nasuada's best efforts, organizing the a.s.sembly had taken longer than anyone had reckoned.

Wind tousled Eragon's hair, which was still wet from was.h.i.+ng, as Saphira glided over the congregation and alighted next to him, fanning her wings. He smiled and touched her on the shoulder.

Little one.

Under normal circ.u.mstances, Eragon would have been nervous about speaking in front of so many people and performing such a solemn and important ceremony, but after the earlier fighting, everything had a.s.sumed an air of unreality, as if it were no more than a particularly vivid dream.