Paolini, Christopher - Inheritance Trilogy, Book 2 - Eldest (v1.5) (87 page)

King Orrin.” He nodded. “And what did you think of dear old Orrin?”

Eragon chose his words with care, for he was aware that they were talk-

ing about a king. “Well. . he seems to have a great many interests.”

“Yes, he’s as balmy as a moonstruck fool on Midsummer Night Eve. But

then everyone is, in one way or another.”

Amused by her forthrightness, Eragon said, “He must be crazy to have

carted so much glass all the way from Aberon.”

Angela raised an eyebrow. “What’s this now?”

“Haven’t you seen the inside of his tent?”

“Unlike some people,” she sniffed, “I don’t ingratiate myself with every

monarch I meet.” So he described for her the mass of instruments Orrin

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had brought to the Burning Plains. Angela abandoned her stirring as he

spoke and listened with great interest. The instant he finished, she began

bustling around the cauldron, gathering the plants off the lines—often us-

ing tongs to do so—and saying, “I think I had best pay Orrin a visit. The

two of you will have to tell me about your trip to Ellesméra at a later

time. .. Well, go on, both of you. Be gone!”

Eragon shook his head as the short little woman drove him and Saphira

away from her tent, and he still holding the cup of tea. Talking with her is

always...

Different? suggested Saphira.

Exactly.

558

THE CLOUDS OF WAR

From there it took them almost half an hour to locate Trianna’s tent,

which apparently served as the unofficial headquarters of Du Vrangr

Gata. They had difficulty finding the tent because few people knew of its

existence, and even fewer could tell them where it lay because the tent

was hidden behind a spur of rock that served to conceal it from the gaze

of enemy magicians in Galbatorix’s army.

As Eragon and Saphira approached the black tent, the entrance was

thrust open and Trianna strode out, her arms bare to the elbow in prepa-

ration to use magic. Behind her clustered a group of determined if fright-

ened-looking spellcasters, many of whom Eragon had seen during the bat-

tle in Farthen Dûr, either fighting or healing the wounded.

Eragon watched as Trianna and the others reacted with the now-

expected surprise at his altered appearance. Lowering her arms, Trianna

said, “Shadeslayer, Saphira. You should have told us sooner that you were

here. We’ve been preparing to confront and battle what we thought was

a mighty foe.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” said Eragon, “but we had to report to

Nasuada and King Orrin immediately after we landed.”

“And why have you graced us with your presence now? You never

deigned to visit us before, we who are more your brethren than any in

the Varden.”

“I have come to take command of Du Vrangr Gata.” The assembled

spellcasters muttered with surprise at his announcement, and Trianna

stiffened. Eragon felt several magicians probe his consciousness in an at-

tempt to divine his true intentions. Instead of guarding himself—which

would blind him to impending attacks—Eragon retaliated by jabbing the

minds of the would-be invaders hard enough that they retreated behind

their own barriers. As he did, Eragon had the satisfaction of seeing two

men and a woman flinch and avert their gazes.

“By whose order?” demanded Trianna.

“By Nasuada’s.”

“Ah,” said the sorceress with a triumphant smile, “but Nasuada has no

direct authority over us. We help the Varden of our own free will.”

559

Her resistance puzzled Eragon. “I’m sure Nasuada would be surprised

to hear that, after everything she, and her father, have done for Du

Vrangr Gata. It might give her the impression that you no longer wanted

the support and protection of the Varden.” He let the threat hang in the

air for a moment. “Besides, I seem to remember you were willing to give

me this post before. Why not now?”

Trianna lifted an eyebrow. “You refused my offer, Shadeslayer. . or have

you forgotten?” Composed as she was, a trace of defensiveness colored

her response, and Eragon suspected she knew her position was untenable.

She seemed more mature to him than when they last met, and he had to

remind himself of the hardships she must have endured since: marching

across Alagaësia to Surda, supervising the magicians of Du Vrangr Gata,

and preparing for war.

“We could not accept then. It was the wrong time.”

Abruptly changing tack, she asked, “Why does Nasuada believe you

should command us anyway? Surely you and Saphira would be more use-

ful elsewhere.”

“Nasuada wants me to lead you, Du Vrangr Gata, in the coming battle,

and so I shall.” Eragon thought it best not to mention that it was his idea.

A dark scowl gave Trianna a fierce appearance. She pointed at the clus-

ter of spellcasters behind her. “We have devoted our lives to the study of

our art. You have been casting spells for less than two years. What makes

you more qualified for this task than any of us?. . No matter. Tell me:

What is your strategy? How do you plan to employ us?”

“My plan is simple,” he said. “The lot of you will join minds and search

for enemy spellcasters. When you find one, I’ll add my strength to yours,

and together we can crush the spellcaster’s resistance. Then we can slay

the troops that previously were protected by his or her wards.”

“And what will you be doing the rest of the time?”

“Fighting alongside Saphira.”

After an awkward silence, one of the men behind Trianna said, “It’s a

good plan.” He quailed as Trianna cast an angry glare at him.

She slowly faced Eragon again. “Ever since the Twins died, I have led

560

Du Vrangr Gata. Under my guidance, they have provided the means to

fund the Varden’s war effort, ferreted out the Black Hand—Galbatorix’s

network of spies that tried to assassinate Nasuada—as well as performing

innumerable other services. I do not boast when I say these are no mean

accomplishments. And I’m certain I can continue to produce such re-

sults. . Why, then, does Nasuada want to depose me? How have I dis-

pleased her?”

Everything became clear to Eragon, then. She has grown accustomed to

power and doesn’t want to surrender it. But more than that, she thinks that

my replacing her is a criticism of her leadership.

You need to resolve this debate, and quickly too, said Saphira. Our time

grows short.

Eragon racked his brain for a way to establish his authority in Du

Vrangr Gata without further alienating Trianna. At last he said, “I didn’t

come here to stir up trouble. I came to ask for your help.” He spoke to

the entire congregation but looked only at the sorceress. “I am strong, yes.

Saphira and I could probably defeat any number of Galbatorix’s pet ma-

gicians. But we cannot protect everyone in the Varden. We cannot be

everywhere. And if the Empire’s battle-mages join forces against us, then

even we will be hard-pressed to survive. . We cannot fight this battle

alone. You are quite right, Trianna—you have done well with Du Vrangr

Gata, and I’m not here to usurp your authority. It’s only that—as a magi-

cian—I need to work with Du Vrangr Gata, and—as a Rider—I may also

need to give you orders, orders that I have to know will be obeyed with-

out question. The chain of command must be established. That said, you

will retain the greater part of your autonomy. Most times I’ll be too busy

to devote my attention to Du Vrangr Gata. Nor do I intend to ignore

your counsel, for I’m aware that you have far more experience than I. ..

So I ask again, will you help us, for the good of the Varden?”

Trianna paused, then bowed. “Of course, Shadeslayer—for the good of

the Varden. It will be an honor to have you lead Du Vrangr Gata.”

“Then let us begin.”

Over the next few hours, Eragon talked with every one of the assem-

bled magicians, although a fair number were absent, being occupied with

one task or another to help the Varden. He did his best to acquaint him-

self with their knowledge of magic. He learned that the majority of men

and women in Du Vrangr Gata had been introduced to their craft by a

relative, and usually in profound secrecy to avoid attracting attention

561

from those who feared magic—and, of course, Galbatorix himself. Only a

handful had received proper apprenticeships. As a result, most of the

spellcasters knew little about the ancient language—none could truly

speak it fluently—their beliefs about magic were often distorted by reli-

gious superstitions, and they were ignorant of numerous applications of

gramarye.

No wonder the Twins were so desperate to extract your vocabulary of the

ancient language when they tested you in Farthen Dûr, observed Saphira.

With it they could have easily conquered these lesser magicians.

They’re all we have to work with, though.

True. I hope you can see now I was right about Trianna. She places her

own desires before the good of the many.

You were right, he agreed. But I don’t condemn her for it. Trianna deals

with the world in the best way she can, as do we all. I understand that,

even if I don’t approve, and understanding—as Oromis said—breeds empa-

thy.

A bit more than a third of the spellcasters specialized as healers. Those

Eragon sent on their way after giving them a quintet of new spells to

memorize, enchantments that would allow them to treat a greater range

of injuries. The remaining spellcasters Eragon worked with to establish a

clear chain of command—he appointed Trianna his lieutenant and let her

ensure that his orders were carried out—and to weld their disparate per-

sonalities into a cohesive fighting unit. Trying to convince magicians to

cooperate, he discovered, was like trying to get a pack of dogs to share a

meat bone. Nor did it help that they were in evident awe of him, for he

could find no way of using his influence to smooth relations among the

contentious magicians.

In order to gain a better idea of their exact proficiency, Eragon had

them cast a series of spells. As he watched them struggle with enchant-

ments that he now considered simple, Eragon became aware of just how

far his own powers had advanced. To Saphira, he marveled, And to think

I once had trouble lifting a pebble in the air.

And to think, she replied, Galbatorix has had over a century to hone his

talent.

The sun was low in the west, intensifying the fermented orange light

until the Varden’s camp, the livid Jiet River, and the entirety of the

562

Burning Plains glowed in the mad, marbled effulgence, as if in a scene

from a lunatic’s dreams. The sun was no more than a finger’s breadth

above the horizon when a runner arrived at the tent. He told Eragon that

Nasuada ordered him to attend her at once. “An’ I think you’d better

hurry, Shadeslayer, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

After extracting a promise from Du Vrangr Gata that they would be

ready and willing when he called upon them for assistance, Eragon ran

alongside Saphira through the rows of gray tents toward Nasuada’s pavil-

ion. A harsh tumult above them caused Eragon to lift his eyes from the

treacherous ground long enough to glance overhead.

What he saw was a giant flock of birds wheeling between the two ar-

mies. He spotted eagles, hawks, and falcons, along with countless greedy

crows and their larger, dagger-beaked, blue-backed, rapacious cousin, the

raven. Each bird shrieked for blood to wet its throat and enough hot

meat to fill its belly and sate its hunger. By experience and instinct, they

knew that whenever armies appeared in Alagaësia, they could expect to

feast on acres of carrion.

The clouds of war are gathering, observed Eragon.

563

NAR GARZHVOG

Eragon entered the pavilion, Saphira pushing her head through after

him. He was met by a steely rasp as Jörmundur and a half-dozen of

Nasuada’s commanders drew their swords at the intruders. The men

lowered their weapons as Nasuada said, “Come here, Eragon.”

“What is your bidding?” Eragon asked.

“Our scouts report that a company of some hundred Kull approach

from the northeast.”

Eragon frowned. He had not expected to encounter Urgals in this bat-

tle, since Durza no longer controlled them and so many had been killed

in Farthen Dûr. But if they had come, they had come. He felt his blood-

lust rise and allowed himself a savage grin as he contemplated destroying

Urgals with his new strength. Clapping his hand to Zar’roc’s hilt, he said,

“It will be a pleasure to eliminate them. Saphira and I can handle it by

ourselves, if you want.”

Nasuada watched his face carefully as she said, “We can’t do that, Er-

agon. They’re flying a white flag, and they have asked to talk with me.”

Eragon gaped at her. “Surely you don’t intend to grant them an audi-

ence?”

“I will offer them the same courtesies I would to any foe who arrives

under the banner of truce.”

“They’re brutes, though. Monsters! It’s folly to allow them into the

camp. . Nasuada, I have seen the atrocities Urgals commit. They relish