Paolini, Christopher - Inheritance Trilogy, Book 2 - Eldest (v1.5) (63 page)

force me. . Come now. This can be a normal, uneventful voyage if you

choose to help us. Remember, you’ve already been paid.”

Drawing himself up with great dignity, Clovis said, “If I agree, then you

must do me the courtesy of explaining why this ruse were necessary, an’

why these people are here an’ where they’re from. No matter how much

gold you offer me, I won’t assist an undertaking that contradicts my prin-

ciples; no, I won’t. Are you bandits? Or do you serve the blasted king?”

“The knowledge may place you in greater danger.”

“I insist.”

“Have you heard of Carvahall in Palancar Valley?” asked Roran.

Clovis waved a hand. “Once or twice. What of it?”

“You see it now on the beach. Galbatorix’s soldiers attacked us without

400

provocation. We fought back and, when our position became untenable,

we crossed the Spine and followed the coast to Narda. Galbatorix has

promised that every man, woman, and child from Carvahall will be killed

or enslaved. Reaching Surda is our only hope of survival.” Roran left out

mention of the Ra’zac; he did not want to frighten Clovis too badly.

The weathered seaman had gone gray. “Are you still pursued?”

“Aye, but the Empire has yet to discover us.”

“An’ are you why the alarm was sounded?”

Very softly, Roran said, “I killed two soldiers who recognized me.” The

revelation startled Clovis: his eyes widened, he stepped back, and the

muscles in his forearms rippled as he clenched his fists. “Make your

choice, Clovis; the shore draws near.”

He knew he had won when the captain’s shoulders drooped and the

bravado faded from his bearing. “Ah, the plague take you, Stronghammer.

I’m no friend of the king; I’ll get you to Teirm. But then I want nothing

more to do with you.”

“Will you give me your word that you won’t attempt to slip away in

the night or any similar deception?”

“Aye. You have it.”

Sand and rocks grated across the bottom of the Red Boar ’s hull as the

barge drove itself up onto the beach, followed on either side by its two

companions. The relentless, rhythmic surge of water dashing itself against

the land sounded like the breathing of a gigantic monster. Once the sails

were furled and the gangplanks extended, Torson and Flint both strode

over to the Red Boar and accosted Clovis, demanding to know what was

going on.

“There’s been a change of plans,” said Clovis.

Roran left him to explain the situation—skirting the exact reasons why

the villagers left Palancar Valley—and jumped onto the sand, whereupon

he set out to find Horst among the milling knots of people. When he

spotted the smith, Roran pulled him aside and told him about the deaths

in Narda. “If it’s discovered that I left with Clovis, they may send soldiers

on horses after us. We have to get everyone onto the barges as fast as

possible.”

401

Horst met his eye for a long minute. “You’ve become a hard man, Ro-

ran, harder than I’ll ever be.”

“I’ve had to.”

“Mind that you don’t forget who you are.”

Roran spent the next three hours moving and packing the villagers’ be-

longings in the Red Boar until Clovis expressed his satisfaction. The bun-

dles had to be secured so that they would not shift unexpectedly and in-

jure someone, as well as distributed so that the barge rode level in the

water, which was no easy task as the bundles were of irregular size and

density. Then the animals were coaxed on board much to their displeas-

ure—and immobilized by tethers lashed to iron rings in the hold.

Last of all came the people, who, like the rest of the cargo, had to be

organized into a symmetrical pattern within the barge to keep from cap-

sizing it. Clovis, Torson, and Flint each ended up standing at the fore of

their barges, shouting directions to the mass of villagers below.

What now? thought Roran as he heard an argument break out on the

beach. Pushing his way to the source of the disturbance, he saw Calitha

kneeling beside her stepfather, Wayland, trying to calm the old man.

“No! I won’t go on that beast ! You can’t make me,” cried Wayland. He

thrashed his withered arms and beat his heels in an attempt to free him-

self from Calitha’s embrace. Spittle flew from his lips. “Let me go, I say.

Let me go!”

Wincing from his blows, Calitha said, “He’s been unreasonable ever

since we made camp last night.”

It would have been better for all concerned if he had died in the Spine,

what with the trouble he’s caused, thought Roran. He joined Calitha, and

together they managed to soothe Wayland so that he no longer screamed

and hit. As a reward for his good behavior, Calitha gave him a piece of

jerky, which occupied his entire attention. While Wayland concentrated

on gumming the meat, she and Roran were able to guide him onto the

Edeline and get him settled in a deserted corner where he would not be a

nuisance.

402

“Move your backsides, you lubbers,” shouted Clovis. “The tide’s about

to turn. Hop to, hop to.”

After a final flurry of activity, the gangplanks were withdrawn, leaving

a cluster of twenty men standing on the beach before each barge. The

three groups gathered around the prows and prepared to push them back

into the water.

Roran led the effort on the Red Boar. Chanting in unison, he and his

men strained against the weight of the huge barge, the gray sand giving

beneath their feet, the timbers and cables creaking, and the smell of

sweat in the air. For a moment, their efforts seemed to be in vain, then

the Red Boar lurched and slid back a foot.

“Again!” shouted Roran. Foot by foot, they advanced into the sea, until

the frigid water surged about their waists. A breaker crashed over Roran,

filling his mouth with seawater, which he spat out vigorously, disgusted

by the taste of salt; it was far more intense than he expected.

When the barge lifted free of the seabed, Roran swam alongside the

Red Boar and pulled himself up with one of the ropes draped over the

gunwale. Meanwhile, the sailors deployed long poles that they used to

propel the Red Boar into ever deeper water, as did the crews of the Mer-

rybell and Edeline.

The instant they were a reasonable distance from shore, Clovis ordered

the poles stowed away and oars broken out, with which the sailors aimed

the Red Boar’s prow toward the cove’s entrance. They hoisted the sail,

aligned it to catch the light wind, and, at the vanguard of the trio of

barges, set forth for Teirm upon the uncertain expanse of the bounding

main.

403

THE BEGINNING OF WISDOM

The days Eragon spent in Ellesméra blended together without distinc-

tion; time seemed to have no hold in the pinewood city. The season aged

not, even as the afternoons and evenings lengthened, barring the forest

with rich shadows. Flowers of all months bloomed at the urging of the

elves’ magic, nourished by the enchantments spun through the air.

Eragon came to love Ellesméra with its beauty and its quiet, the grace-

ful buildings that flowed out of the trees, the haunting songs that echoed

at twilight, the works of art hidden within the mysterious dwellings, and

the introspection of the elves themselves, which they mixed with out-

bursts of merriment.

The wild animals of Du Weldenvarden had no fear of hunters. Often

Eragon would look from his eyrie to see an elf petting a stag or a gray fox

or murmuring to a shy bear that trundled along the edge of a clearing, re-

luctant to expose himself. Some animals had no recognizable form. They

appeared at night, moving and grunting in the bushes and fleeing if Er-

agon dared approach. Once he glimpsed a creature like a furred snake and

once a white-robed woman whose body wavered and disappeared to re-

veal a grinning she-wolf in her place.

Eragon and Saphira continued to explore Ellesméra when they had the

chance. They went alone or with Orik, for Arya no longer accompanied

them, nor had Eragon spoken to her since she broke his fairth. He saw

her now and then, flitting between the trees, but whenever he ap-

proached—intending to apologize—she withdrew, leaving him alone

among the ancient pines. At last Eragon realized that he had to take the

initiative if he were to ever have a chance of mending his relationship

with her. So one evening, he picked a bouquet from the flowers along the

path by his tree and hobbled to Tialdarí Hall, where he asked directions

to Arya’s quarters from an elf in the common room.

The screen door was open when he reached her chambers. No one an-

swered when he knocked. He stepped inside, listening for approaching

footsteps as he glanced around the spacious vine-covered living room,

which opened to a small bedroom on one side and a study on the other.

Two fairths decorated the walls: a portrait of a stern, proud elf with sil-

ver hair, who Eragon guessed was King Evandar, and that of a younger

male elf whom he did not recognize.

Eragon wandered through the apartment, looking but not touching, sa-

404

voring his glimpse into Arya’s life, gleaning what he could about her in-

terests and hobbies. By her bed, he saw a glass sphere with a preserved

blossom of the black morning glory embedded within it; on her desk,

neat rows of scrolls with titles like Osilon: Harvest Report and Activity

Noted by Gil’ead Watchtower; on the sill of an open bay window, three

miniature trees grown in the shape of glyphs from the ancient language,

the glyphs for peace, strength, and wisdom ; and by the trees, a scrap of

paper with an unfinished poem, covered with crossed-out words and

scribbled marks. It read:

Under the moon, the bright white moon,

Lies a pool, a flat silver pool,

Among the brakes and brambles,

And black-heart pines.

Falls a stone, a living stone,

Cracks the moon, the bright white moon,

Among the brakes and brambles,

And black-heart pines.

Shards of light, swords of light,

Ripple ’cross the pool,

The quiet mere, the still tarn,

The lonely lake there.

In the night, the dark and heavy night,

Flutter shadows, confused shadows,

Where once. .

405

Going to the small table by the entrance, Eragon laid his bouquet upon

it and turned to leave. He froze as he saw Arya standing in the doorway.

She looked startled by his presence, then concealed her emotions behind

an impassive expression.

They stared at each other in silence.

He lifted the bouquet, half offering it to her. “I don’t know how to

make a blossom for you, like Fäolin did, but these are honest flowers and

the best I could find.”

“I cannot accept them, Eragon.”

“They’re not. . they’re not that sort of gift.” He paused. “It’s no excuse,

but I didn’t realize beforehand that my fairth would put you in such a

difficult situation. For that, I’m sorry, and I cry your pardon. . I was just

trying to make a fairth, not cause trouble. I understand the importance of

my studies, Arya, and you needn’t fear I will neglect them in order to

moon after you.” He swayed and leaned against the wall, too dizzy to re-

main on his feet without support. “That’s all.”

She regarded him for a long moment, then slowly reached out and took

the bouquet, which she held beneath her nose. Her eyes never left his.

“They are honest flowers,” she conceded. Her gaze flickered down to his

feet and back up again. “Have you been ill?”

“No. My back.”

“I had heard, but I did not think. .”

He pushed himself away from the wall. “I should go.”

“Wait.” Arya hesitated, then guided him to the bay window, where he

sat on the padded bench that curved from the wall. Removing two gob-

lets from a cupboard, Arya crumbled dried nettle leaves into them, then

filled the goblets with water and—saying “Boil”—heated the water for

tea.

She gave a goblet to Eragon, who held it with both hands so the

warmth seeped into him. He glanced out the window to the ground

twenty feet below, where elves walked among the royal gardens, talking

and singing, and fireflies floated through the dusky air.

406

“I wish. .,” said Eragon, “I wish it could always be like this. It’s so perfect

and quiet.”

Arya stirred her tea. “How fares Saphira?”

“The same. And you?”

“I have been preparing to return to the Varden.”

Alarm shot through him. “When?”

“After the Blood-oath Celebration. I have tarried here far too long as it

is, but I have been loath to leave and Islanzadí wished me to stay. Also. . I

have never attended a Blood-oath Celebration and it is the most impor-

tant of our observances.” She considered him over the rim of her goblet.

“Is there nothing Oromis can do for you?”

Eragon forced a weary shrug. “He tried everything he knows.”

They sipped their tea and watched the groups and couples meander

along the garden paths. “Your studies go well, though?” she asked.

“They do.” In the lull that followed, Eragon picked up the scrap of pa-

per from between the trees and examined her stanzas, as if reading them