Paolini, Christopher - Inheritance Trilogy, Book 2 - Eldest (v1.5) (61 page)

pace: “I agree with Loring. Barges are unacceptable. They’re slow and vul-

nerable. And we’d be crammed together with a complete lack of privacy

and no shelter to speak of for who knows how long. Horst, Elain is six

months pregnant. You can’t expect her and others who are sick and in-

firm to sit under the blazing sun for weeks on end.”

“We can lash tarpaulins over the holds,” replied Horst. “It’s not much,

but it’ll shield us from the sun and the rain.”

Birgit’s voice cut through the crowd’s low babble: “I have another con-

cern.” People moved aside as she walked to the fire. “What with the two

hundred crowns Clovis is due and the money Darmmen and his brothers

spent, we’ve used up most of our coin. Unlike those in cities, our wealth

lies not in gold but in animals and property. Our property is gone and

few animals are left. Even if we turn pirate and steal these barges, how

can we buy supplies at Teirm or passage farther south?”

“The important thing,” rumbled Horst, “is to get to Teirm in the first

place. Once we’re there, then we can worry about what to do next. . It’s

possible that we may have to resort to more drastic measures.”

Loring’s bony face crumpled into a mass of wrinkles. “Drastic? What do

you mean, drastic? We’ve already done drastic. This whole venture is

drastic. I don’t care what you say; I won’t use those confounded barges,

not after what we’ve gone through in the Spine. Barges are for grain and

animals. What we want is a ship with cabins and bunks where we can

sleep in comfort. Why not wait another week or so and see if a ship ar-

rives that we can bargain passage on? Where’s the harm in that, eh? Or

why not—” He continued to rail for over fifteen minutes, amassing a

mountain of objections before ceding to Thane and Ridley, who built

upon his arguments.

The conversation halted as Roran unfolded his legs and rose to his full

height, silencing the villagers through his presence. They waited, breath-

387

less, hoping for another of his visionary speeches.

“It’s this or walk,” he said.

Then he went to bed.

388

THE HAMMER FALLS

The moon floated high among the stars when Roran left the makeshift

tent he shared with Baldor, padded to the edge of the camp, and replaced

Albriech on watch.

“Nothing to report,” whispered Albriech, then slipped off.

Roran strung his bow and planted three goose-feather arrows upright in

the loam, within easy reach, then wrapped himself in a blanket and

curled against the rockface to his left. His position afforded him a good

view down and across the dark foothills.

As was his habit, Roran divided the landscape into quadrants, examin-

ing each one for a full minute, always alert for the flash of movement or

the hint of light that might betray the approach of enemies. His mind

soon began to wander, drifting from subject to subject with the hazy

logic of dreams, distracting him from his task. He bit the inside of his

cheek to force himself to concentrate. Staying awake was difficult in such

mild weather. .

Roran was just glad that he had escaped drawing lots for the two

watches preceding dawn, because they gave you no opportunity to catch

up on lost sleep afterward and you felt tired for the rest of the day.

A breath of wind ghosted past him, tickling his ear and making the skin

on the back of his neck prickle with an apprehension of evil. The intru-

sive touch frightened Roran, obliterating everything but the conviction

that he and the rest of the villagers were in mortal danger. He quaked as

if with the ague, his heart pounded, and he had to struggle to resist the

urge to break cover and flee.

What’s wrong with me? It required an effort for him to even nock an ar-

row.

To the east, a shadow detached itself from the horizon. Visible only as

a void among the stars, it drifted like a torn veil across the sky until it

covered the moon, where it remained, hovering. Illuminated from be-

hind, Roran could see the translucent wings of one of the Ra’zac’s

mounts.

The black creature opened its beak and uttered a long, piercing shriek.

Roran grimaced with pain at the cry’s pitch and frequency. It stabbed at

389

his eardrums, turned his blood to ice, and replaced hope and joy with de-

spair. The ululation woke the entire forest. Birds and beasts for miles

around exploded into a yammering chorus of panic, including, to Roran’s

alarm, what remained of the villagers’ herds.

Staggering from tree to tree, Roran returned to the camp, whispering,

“The Ra’zac are here. Be quiet and stay where you are,” to everyone he

encountered. He saw the other sentries moving among the frightened vil-

lagers, spreading the same message.

Fisk emerged from his tent with a spear in hand and roared, “Are we

under attack? What’s set off those blasted—” Roran tackled the carpenter

to silence him, uttering a muffled bellow as he landed on his right shoul-

der and pained his old injury.

“Ra’zac,” Roran groaned to Fisk.

Fisk went still and in an undertone asked, “What should I do?”

“Help me to calm the animals.”

Together they picked their way through the camp to the adjacent

meadow where the goats, sheep, donkeys, and horses were bedded. The

farmers who owned the bulk of the herds slept with their charges and

were already awake and working to soothe the beasts. Roran thanked his

paranoia that he had insisted on having the animals scattered along the

edge of the meadow, where the trees and brush helped to camouflage

them from unfriendly eyes.

As he tried to pacify a clump of sheep, Roran glanced up at the terrible

black shadow that still obscured the moon, like a giant bat. To his horror,

it began to move toward their hiding place. If that creature screams again,

we’re doomed.

By the time the Ra’zac circled overhead, most of the animals had qui-

eted, except for one donkey, who insisted upon loosing a grating hee-haw.

Without hesitation, Roran dropped to one knee, fit arrow to string, and

shot the ass between the ribs. His aim was true, and the animal dropped

without a sound.

He was too late, though; the braying had already alerted the Ra’zac. The

monster swung its head in the direction of the clearing and descended

toward it with outstretched claws, preceded by its fetid stench.

390

Now the time has come to see if we can slay a nightmare, thought Roran.

Fisk, who was crouched beside him in the grass, hefted his spear, prepar-

ing to hurl it once the brute was in range.

Just as Roran drew his bow—in an attempt to begin and end the battle

with a well-placed shaft—he was distracted by a commotion in the for-

est.

A mass of deer burst through the underbrush and stampeded across the

meadow, ignoring villagers and livestock alike in their frantic desire to

escape the Ra’zac. For almost a minute, the deer bounded past Roran,

mincing the loam with their sharp hooves and catching the moonlight

with their white-rimmed eyes. They came so close, he heard the soft

gasps of their labored breathing.

The multitude of deer must have hidden the villagers because, after

one last circuit over the meadow, the winged monster turned to the

south and glided farther down the Spine, melding into the night.

Roran and his companions remained frozen in place, like hunted rab-

bits, afraid that the Ra’zac’s departure might be a ruse to flush them into

the open or that the creature’s twin might be close behind. They waited

for hours, tense and anxious, barely moving except to string a bow.

When the moon was about to set, the Ra’zac’s bone-chilling shriek

echoed far in the distance. . then nothing.

We were lucky, decided Roran when he woke the next morning. And

we can’t count on luck to save us the next time.

After the Ra’zac’s appearance, none of the villagers objected to travel-

ing by barge. On the contrary, they were so eager to be off, many of them

asked Roran if it was possible to set sail that day instead of the next.

“I wish we could,” he said, “but too much has to be done.”

Forgoing breakfast, he, Horst, and a group of other men hiked into

Narda. Roran knew that he risked being recognized by accompanying

them, but their mission was too important for him to neglect. Besides, he

was confident that his current appearance was different enough from his

portrait on the Empire’s poster that no one would equate one with the

391

other.

They had no difficulty gaining entrance, as a different set of soldiers

guarded the town gate, whereupon they went to the docks and delivered

the two hundred crowns to Clovis, who was busy overseeing a gang of

men as they readied the barges for sea.

“Thank’ee, Stronghammer,” he said, tying the bag of coins to his belt.

“There be nothing like yellow gold to brighten a man’s day.” He led them

to a worktable and unrolled a chart of the waters surrounding Narda,

complete with notations on the strength of various currents; locations of

rocks, sandbars, and other hazards; and decades’ worth of sounding meas-

urements. Drawing a line with his finger from Narda to a small cove di-

rectly south of it, Clovis said, “Here’s where we’ll meet your livestock.

The tides are gentle this time o’ year, but we still don’t want to fight

them an’ no bones about it, so we’ll have to be on our way directly after

the high tide.”

“High tide?” said Roran. “Wouldn’t it be easier to wait until low tide

and let it carry us out?”

Clovis tapped his nose with a twinkle in his eye. “Aye, it would, an’ so

I’ve begun many a cruise. What I don’t want, though, is to be slung up on

the beach, loading your animals, when the tide comes a-rushing back in

and pushes us farther inland. There be no danger of that this way, but

we’ll have to move smart so as we’re not left high an’ dry when the wa-

ters recede. Assuming we do, the sea’ll work for us, eh?”

Roran nodded. He trusted Clovis’s experience. “And how many men

will you need to fill out your crews?”

“Well, I managed to dig up seven lads—strong, true, an’ good seamen

all—who have agreed to this venture, odd as it is. Mind you, most of the

boys were at the bottom of their tankards when I cornered them last

night, drinking off the pay from their last voyage, but they’ll be sober as

spinsters come morn; that I promise you. Seeing as seven were all I could

find, I’d like four more.”

“Four it is,” said Roran. “My men don’t know much about sailing, but

they’re able-bodied and willing to learn.”

Clovis grunted. “I usually take on a brace of new lads each trip anyway.

So long as they follow orders, they’ll do fine; otherwise, they’ll get a be-

laying pin upsides the head, mark my words. As for guards, I’d like to

392

have nine—three per boat. An’ they’d better not be as green as your sail-

ors, or I won’t budge from the dock, not for all the whisky in the world.”

Roran allowed himself a grim smile. “Every man who rides with me has

proved himself in battle many times over.”

“An’ they all answer to you, eh, young Stronghammer?” said Clovis. He

scratched his chin, eyeing Gedric, Delwin, and the others who were new

to Narda. “How many are with you?”

“Enough.”

“Enough, you say. I wonder.” He waved a hand. “Never you mind me;

my tongue runs a league before my own common sense, or so my father

used to tell me. My first mate, Torson, is at the chandler’s now, oversee-

ing the purchase of goods and equipment. I understand you have feed for

your livestock?”

“Among other things.”

“Then you’d best fetch them. We can load them into the holds once

the masts are up.”

Throughout the rest of the morning and afternoon, Roran and the vil-

lagers with him labored to ferry the supplies—which Loring’s sons had

procured—from the warehouse where it was stored into the sheds with

the barges.

As Roran trudged across the gangplank to the Edeline and lowered his

bag of flour to the sailor waiting in the hold, Clovis observed, “Most of

this t’aint feed, Stronghammer.”

“No,” said Roran. “But it’s needed.” He was pleased that Clovis had the

sense not to inquire further.

When the last item had been stored away, Clovis beckoned to Roran.

“You might as well go. Me and the boys will handle the rest. Just you

remember to be at the docks three hours after dawn with every man jack

you promised me, or we’ll lose the tide.”

“We’ll be there.”

393

Back in the foothills, Roran helped Elain and the others prepare for de-

parture. It did not take long, as they were accustomed to breaking camp

each morning. Then he picked twelve men to accompany him to Narda

the next day. They were all good fighters, but he asked the best, like

Horst and Delwin, to remain with the rest of the villagers in case soldiers

found them or the Ra’zac returned.

Once night fell, the two groups parted. Roran crouched on a boulder

and watched Horst lead the column of people down through the foothills