3-Brisingr-3 (31 page)

What about the time you spent as Galbatorix’s possession? Was that an ordinary event?

I had not hatched yet,
she said.
You cannot count that. The difference between you and me is that
things happen
to
you, whereas
I
cause things to happen
.

Maybe, but that’s because I’m still learning. Give me a few years, and I’ll be as good as Brom at
getting things done, eh? You can’t say I didn’t seize the initiative with Sloan.

Mmh. We still have to talk about that. If you ever surprise me like that again, I will pin you on the
ground and lick you from head to toe.

Eragon shivered. Her tongue was covered with hooked barbs that could strip hair, hide, and meat off a deer with a single swipe.
Iknow, but I wasn’t sure myself whether I was going to kill Sloan or let him
go free until I was standing in front of him. Besides, if I had told you I was going to stay behind,
you would have insisted on stopping me.

He sensed a faint growl as it rumbled through her chest. She said,
You should have trusted me to do
the right thing. If we cannot talk openly, how are we supposed to function as dragon and Rider?

Would doing the right thing have involved taking me from Helgrind, regardless of my wishes?

It might
not
have,
she said with a hint of defensiveness.

He smiled.
You’re right, though. I should have discussed my plan with you. I’m sorry. From now
on, I promise I will consult with you before I do anything you don’t expect. Is that acceptable?

Only if it involves weapons, magic, kings, or family members,
she said.

Or flowers.

Or flowers,
she agreed.
I don’t need to know if you decide to eat some bread and cheese in the
middle of the night
.

Unless a man with a very long knife is waiting for me outside of my tent.

If you could not defeat a single man with a very long knife, you would be a poor excuse for a
Rider indeed.

Not to mention dead.

Well . . .

By your own argument, you should take comfort in the fact that while I may attract more trouble
than most people, I am perfectly capable of escaping from situations that would kill most anyone
else.

Even the greatest warriors can fall prey to bad luck,
she said.
Remember the dwarf king Kaga,
who was killed by a novice swordsman—swordsdwarf?—when he tripped on a rock. You should
always remain cautious, for no matter your skills, you cannot anticipate and prevent every
misfortune fate directs your way.

Agreed. Now, can we please abandon such weighty conversation? I have become thoroughly
exhausted with thoughts of fate, destiny, justice, and other, equally gloomy topics over the past
few days. As far as I am concerned, philosophic questioning is just as likely to make you confused
and depressed as it is to improve your condition
. Swiveling his head, Eragon surveyed the plain and sky, searching for the distinctive blue glitter of Saphira’s scales.
Where are you? I can feel you are
nearby, but I can’t see you
.

Right above you!

With a bugle of joy, Saphira dove out of the belly of a cloud several thousand feet overhead, spiraling toward the ground with her wings tucked close to her body. Opening her fearsome jaws, she released a billow of fire, which streamed back over her head and neck like a burning mane. Eragon laughed and held his arms outstretched to her. The horses of the patrol galloping toward him and Arya shied at the sight and sound of Saphira and bolted in the opposite direction while their riders frantically tried to rein them in.

“I had hoped we could enter the camp without attracting undue attention,” Arya said, “but I suppose I should have realized we could not be unobtrusive with Saphira around. A dragon is hard to ignore.”

I heard that,
said Saphira, spreading her wings and landing with a thunderous crash. Her massive thighs and shoulders rippled as she absorbed the force of the impact. A blast of air struck Eragon’s face, and the earth shuddered underneath him. He flexed his knees to maintain his balance. Folding her wings so they lay flat upon her back, she said,
I can be stealthy if I want
. Then she cocked her head and blinked, the tip of her tail whipping from side to side.
But I don’t want to be stealthy today! Today I am a
dragon, not a frightened pigeon trying to avoid being seen by a hunting falcon
.

When are you not a dragon?
asked Eragon as he ran toward her. Light as a feather, he leaped from her left foreleg to her shoulder and thence to the hollow at the base of her neck that was his usual seat.

Settling into place, he put his hands on either side of her warm neck, feeling the rise and fall of her banded muscles as she breathed. He smiled again, with a profound sense of contentment.
This is where I
belong, here with you
. His legs vibrated as Saphira hummed with satisfaction, her deep rumbling following a strange, subtle melody he did not recognize.

“Greetings, Saphira,” said Arya, and twisted her hand over her chest in the elves’ gesture of respect.

Crouching low and bending her long neck, Saphira touched Arya upon the brow with the tip of her snout, as she had when she blessed Elva in Farthen Dûr, and said,
Greetings, älfa-kona. Welcome, and
may the wind rise under your wings
. She spoke to Arya with the same tone of affection that, until then, she had reserved for Eragon, as if she now considered Arya part of their small family and worthy of the same regard and intimacy as they shared. Her gesture surprised Eragon, but after an initial flare of jealousy, he approved. Saphira continued speaking:
I am grateful to you for helping Eragon to return
without harm. If he had been captured, I do not know what I would have done!

“Your gratitude means much to me,” said Arya, and bowed. “As for what you would have done if Galbatorix had seized Eragon, why, you would have rescued him, and I would have accompanied you, even if it was to Urû’baen itself.”

Yes, I like to think I would have rescued you, Eragon,
said Saphira, turning her neck to look at him,
but I worry that I would have surrendered to the Empire in order to save you, no matter the
consequences for Alagaësia
. Then she shook her head and kneaded the soil with her claws.
Ah, these
are pointless meanderings. You are here and safe, and that is the true shape of the world. To while
away the day contemplating evils that might have been is to poison the happiness we already have

. . . .

At that moment, a patrol galloped toward them and, halting thirty yards away because of their nervous horses, asked if they might escort the three to Nasuada. One of the men dismounted and gave his steed to Arya, and then as a group, they advanced toward the sea of tents to the southwest. Saphira set the pace: a leisurely crawl that allowed her and Eragon to enjoy the pleasure of each other’s company before they immersed themselves in the noise and chaos that were sure to assault them once they neared the camp.

Eragon inquired after Roran and Katrina, then said,
Have you been eating enough fireweed? Your
breath seems stronger than usual
.

Of course I have. You only notice it because you have been gone for many days. I smell exactly as
a dragon should smell, and I’ll thank you not to make disparaging comments about it unless you
want me to drop you on your head. Besides, you humans have nothing to brag about, sweaty,
greasy, pungent things that you are. The only creatures in the wild as smelly as humans are male
goats and hibernating bears. Compared to you, the scent of a dragon is a perfume as delightful as
a meadow of mountain flowers.

Come now, don’t exaggerate. Although,
he said, wrinkling his nose,
since the Agaetí Blödhren, I
have noticed that humans tend to be rather smelly. But you cannot lump me in with the rest, for I
am no longer entirely human
.

Perhaps not, but you still need a bath!

As they crossed the plain, more and more men congregated around Eragon and Saphira, providing them with a wholly unnecessary but very impressive honor guard. After so long spent in the wilds of Alagaësia, the dense press of bodies, the cacophony of high, excited voices, the storm of unguarded thoughts and emotions, and the confused motion of flailing arms and prancing horses were overwhelming for Eragon.

He retreated deep within himself, where the discordant mental chorus was no louder than the distant thunder of crashing waves. Even through the layers of barriers, he sensed the approach of twelve elves, running in formation from the other side of the camp, swift and lean as yellow-eyed mountain cats.

Wanting to make a favorable impression, Eragon combed his hair with his fingers and squared his shoulders, but he also tightened the armor around his consciousness so that no one but Saphira could hear his thoughts. The elves had come to protect him and Saphira, but ultimately their allegiance belonged to Queen Islanzadí. While he was grateful for their presence, and he doubted their inherent politeness would allow them to eavesdrop on him, he did not want to provide the queen of the elves with any opportunity to learn the secrets of the Varden, nor to gain a hold over him. If she could wrest him away from Nasuada, he knew she would. On the whole, the elves did not trust humans, not after Galbatorix’s betrayal, and for that and other reasons, he was sure Islanzadí would prefer to have him and Saphira under her direct command. And of the potentates he had met, he trusted Islanzadí the least. She was too imperious and too erratic.

The twelve elves halted before Saphira. They bowed and twisted their hands as Arya had done and, one by one, introduced themselves to Eragon with the initial phrase of the elves’ traditional greeting, to which he replied with the appropriate lines. Then the lead elf, a tall, handsome male with glossy blue-black fur covering his entire body, proclaimed the purpose of their mission to everyone within earshot and formally asked Eragon and Saphira if the twelve might assume their duties.

“You may,” said Eragon.

You may,
said Saphira.

Then Eragon asked, “ Blödhgarm-vodhr, did I perchance see you at the Agaetí Blödhren?” For he remembered watching an elf with a similar pelt gamboling among the trees during the festivities.

Blödhgarm smiled, exposing the fangs of an animal. “I believe you met my cousin Liotha. We share a most striking family resemblance, although her fur is brown and flecked, whereas mine is dark blue.”

“I would have sworn it was you.”

“Unfortunately, I was otherwise engaged at the time and was unable to attend the celebration. Perhaps I shall have the opportunity when next the occasion occurs, a hundred years from now.”

Would you not agree,
Saphira said to Eragon,
that he has a pleasant aroma?

Eragon sniffed the air.
I don’t smell anything. And I would if there was anything to smell
.

That’s odd
. She provided him then with the range of odors she had detected, and at once he realized what she meant. Blödhgarm’s musk surrounded him like a cloud, thick and heady, a warm, smoky scent that contained hints of crushed juniper berries and that set Saphira’s nostrils to tingling.
All the women in
the Varden seem to have fallen in love with him,
she said.
They stalk him wherever he goes,
desperate to talk with him but too shy to utter so much as a squeak when he looks at them
.

Maybe only females can smell him
. He cast a concerned glance at Arya.
She does not seem to be
affected
.

She has protection against magical influences.

I hope so. . . . Do you think we should put a stop to Blödhgarm?

What he is doing is a sneaky, underhanded way of gaining a woman’s heart.

Is it any more underhanded than adorning yourself with fine clothing to catch the eye of your
beloved? Blödhgarm has not taken advantage of the women who are fascinated by him, and it
seems improbable that he would have composed the notes of his scent to appeal specifically to
human women. Rather, I would guess it is an unintended consequence and that he created it to
serve another purpose altogether. Unless he discards all semblance of decency, I think we should
refrain from interfering.

What about Nasuada? Is she vulnerable to his charms?

Nasuada is wise and wary. She had Trianna place a ward around her that protects her against
Blödhgarm’s influence.

Good.

When they arrived at the tents, the crowd swelled in size until half the Varden appeared to be gathered around Saphira. Eragon raised his hand in response as people shouted, “Argetlam!” and “Shadeslayer!”

and he heard others say, “Where have you been, Shadeslayer? Tell us of your adventures!” A fair number referred to him as the Bane of the Ra’zac, which he found so immensely satisfying, he repeated the phrase four times to himself under his breath. People also shouted blessings upon his health and Saphira’s too, and invitations to dine, and offers of gold and jewelry, and piteous requests for aid: would he please heal a son who had been born blind, or would he remove a growth that was killing a man’s wife, or would he fix a horse’s broken leg or repair a bent sword, for as the man bellowed, “It was my grandfather’s!” Twice a woman’s voice cried out, “Shadeslayer, will you marry me?” and while he looked, he was unable to identify the source.