Christopher Paolini 37 страница

Eragon soon realized that the spectral dragon from the Agaet& #237; Bl& #246; dhren had done more than alter his appearance; it had also granted him the elves’ physical abilities. In strength and speed, Eragon now matched even the most athletic elf.

Fired by that knowledge and a desire to test his limits, Eragon jumped as high as he could. Zar’roc flashed crimson in the sunlight as he flew skyward, soaring more than ten feet above the ground before he flipped like an acrobat and came down behind Vanir, facing the direction from which he had started.

A fierce laugh erupted from Eragon. No more was he helpless before elves, Shades, and other creatures of magic. No more would he suffer the elves’ contempt. No more would he have to rely on Saphira or Arya to rescue him from enemies like Durza.

He charged Vanir, and the field rang with a furious din as they strove against each other, raging back and forth upon the trampled grass. The force of their blows created gusts of wind that whipped their hair into tangled disarray. Overhead, the trees shook and dropped their needles. The duel lasted long into the morning, for even with Eragon’s newfound skill, Vanir was still a formidable opponent. But in the end, Eragon would not be denied. Playing Zar’roc in a circle, he darted past Vanir’s guard and struck him upon the upper arm, breaking the bone.

Vanir dropped his blade, his face turning white with shock. “How swift is your sword, ” he said, and Eragon recognized the famous line fromThe Lay of Umhodan.

“By the gods! ” exclaimed Orik. “That was the best swordsmanship I’ve ever seen, and I was there when you fought Arya in Farthen D& #251; r. ”

Then Vanir did what Eragon had never expected: the elf twisted his uninjured hand in the gesture of fealty, placed it upon his sternum, and bowed. “I beg your pardon for my earlier behavior, Eragon-elda. I thought that you had consigned my race to the void, and out of my fear I acted most shamefully. However, it seems that your race no longer endangers our cause. ” In a grudging voice, he added: “You are now worthy of the title Rider. ”

Eragon bowed in return. “You honor me. I’m sorry that I injured you so badly. Will you allow me to heal your arm? ”

“No, I shall let nature tend to it at her own pace, as a memento that I once crossed blades with Eragon Shadeslayer. You needn’t fear that it will disrupt our sparring tomorrow; I am equally good with my left hand. ”

They both bowed again, and then Vanir departed.

Orik slapped a hand on his thigh and said, “Now we have a chance at victory, a real chance! I can feel it in my bones. Bones like stone, they say. Ah, this’ll please Hrothgar and Nasuada to no end. ”

Eragon kept his peace and concentrated on removing the block from Zar’roc’s edges, but he said to Saphira, If brawn were all that was required to depose Galbatorix, the elves would have done it long ago. Still, he could not help being pleased by his heightened prowess, as well as by his long-awaited reprieve from the torment of his back. Without the constant bursts of pain, it was as if a haze had been lifted from his mind, allowing him to think clearly once again.

A few minutes remained before they were supposed to meet with Oromis and Glaedr, so Eragon took his bow and quiver from where they hung on Saphira’s back and walked to the range where elves practiced archery. Since the elves’ bows were much more powerful than his, their padded targets were both too small and too far away for him. He had to shoot from halfway down the range.

Taking his place, Eragon nocked an arrow and slowly pulled back the string, delighted by how easy it had become. He aimed, released the arrow, and held his position, waiting to see if he would hit his mark. Like a maddened hornet, the dart buzzed toward the target and buried itself in the center. He grinned. Again and again, he fired at the target, his speed increasing with his confidence until he loosed thirty arrows in a minute.

At the thirty-first arrow, he pulled on the string slightly harder than he had ever done — or was capable of doing — before. With an explosive report, the yew bow broke in half underneath his left hand, scratching his fingers and discharging a burst of splinters from the back of the bow. His hand went numb from the jolt.

Eragon stared at the remains of his weapon, dismayed by the loss. Garrow had made it as a birthday present for him over three years ago. Since then, hardly a week went by when Eragon had not used his bow. It had helped him to provide food for his family on numerous occasions when they would have otherwise gone hungry. With it, he had killed his first deer. With it, he had killed his first Urgal. And through it, he had first used magic. Losing his bow was like losing an old friend who could be relied upon in even the worst situation.

Saphira sniffed the two pieces of wood dangling from his grip and said, It seems you need a new stick thrower. He grunted — in no mood to talk — and stomped out to retrieve his arrows.

From the open field, he and Saphira flew to the white Crags of Tel’nae& #237; r and presented themselves to Oromis, who was seated on a stool in front of his hut, gazing out over the cliff with his farseeing eyes. He said, “Have you entirely recovered, Eragon, from the potent magic of the Blood-oath Celebration? ”

“I have, Master. ”

A long silence followed as Oromis drank from a cup of blackberry tea and resumed contemplating the ancient forest. Eragon waited without complaint; he was used to such pauses when dealing with the old Rider. At length, Oromis said, “Glaedr explained to me, as best he could, what was done to you during the celebration. Such a thing has never before occurred in the history of the Riders. . Once again, the dragons have proved themselves capable of far more than we imagined. ” He sipped his tea. “Glaedr was uncertain exactly what changes you would experience, so I would like you to describe the full extent of your transformation, including your appearance. ”

Eragon quickly summarized how he had been altered, detailing the increased sensitivity of his sight, smell, hearing, and touch, and ending with an account of his clash with Vanir.

“And how, ” asked Oromis, “do you feel about this? Do you resent that your body was manipulated without your permission? ”

“No, no! Not at all. I might have resented it before the battle of Farthen D& #251; r, but now I’m just grateful that my back doesn’t hurt anymore. I would have willingly submitted myself to far greater changes in order to escape Durza’s curse. No, my only response is gratitude. ”

Oromis nodded. “I am glad that you are wise enough to take that position, for your gift is worth more than all the gold in the world. With it, I believe that our feet are at last set upon the correct path. ” Again, he sipped his tea. “Let us proceed. Saphira, Glaedr expects you at the Stone of Broken Eggs. Eragon, you will begin today with the third level of Rimgar, if you can. I would know everything you are capable of. ”

Eragon started toward the square of tamped earth where they usually performed the Dance of Snake and Crane, then hesitated when the silver-haired elf remained behind. “Master, won’t you join me? ”

A sad smile graced Oromis’s face. “Not today, Eragon. The spells required by the Blood-oath Celebration exacted a heavy toll from me. That and my. . condition. It took the last of my strength to come sit outside. ”

“I am sorry, Master. ”Does he resent that the dragons didn’t choose to heal him as well? wondered Eragon. He immediately discounted the thought; Oromis would never be so petty.

“Do not be. It is no fault of yours that I am crippled. ”

As Eragon struggled to complete the third level of the Rimgar, it became obvious that he still lacked the elves’ balance and flexibility, two attributes that even the elves had to work to acquire. In a way, he welcomed those limitations, for if he was perfect, what was left for him to accomplish?

The following weeks were difficult for Eragon. On one hand, he made enormous progress with his training, mastering subject after subject that had once confounded him. He still found Oromis’s lessons challenging, but he no longer felt as if he were drowning in a sea of his own inadequacy. It was easier for Eragon to read and write, and his increased strength meant that he could now cast elven spells that required so much energy, they would kill any normal human. His strength also made him aware of how weak Oromis was compared to other elves.

And yet, despite those accomplishments, Eragon experienced a growing sense of discontent. No matter how hard he tried to forget Arya, every day that passed increased his yearning, an agony made worse by knowing that she did not want to see or talk with him. But more than that, it seemed to him as if an ominous storm was gathering beyond the edge of the horizon, a storm that threatened to break at any moment and sweep across the land, devastating everything in its path.

Saphira shared his unease. She said, The world is stretched thin, Eragon. Soon it will snap and madness will burst forth. What you feel is what we dragons feel and what the elves feel — the inexorable march of grim fate as the end of our age approaches. Weep for those who will die in the chaos that shall consume Alaga& #235; sia. And hope that we may win a brighter future by the strength of your sword and shield and my fangs and talons.

VISIONSNEAR ANDFAR

The day came when Eragon went to the glade beyond Oromis’s hut, seated himself on the polished white stump in the center of the mossy hollow, and — when he opened his mind to observe the creatures around him — sensed not just the birds, beasts, and insects but also the plants of the forest.

The plants possessed a different type of consciousness than animals: slow, deliberate, and decentralized, but in their own way just as cognizant of their surroundings as Eragon himself was. The faint pulse of the plants’ awareness bathed the galaxy of stars that wheeled behind his eyes — each bright spark representing a life — in a soft, omnipresent glow. Even the most barren soil teemed with organisms; the land itself was alive and sentient.

Intelligent life, he concluded, existed everywhere.

As Eragon immersed himself in the thoughts and feelings of the beings around him, he was able to attain a state of inner peace so profound that, during that time, he ceased to exist as an individual. He allowed himself to become a nonentity, a void, a receptacle for the voices of the world. Nothing escaped his attention, for his attention was focused on nothing.

Hewas the forest and its inhabitants.

Is that what a god feels like? wondered Eragon when he returned to himself.

He left the glade, sought out Oromis in his hut, and knelt before the elf, saying, “Master, I have done as you told me to. I listened until I heard no more. ”

Oromis paused in his writing and, with a thoughtful expression, looked at Eragon. “Tell me. ” For an hour and a half, Eragon waxed eloquent about every aspect of the plants and animals that populated the glade, until Oromis raised his hand and said, “I am convinced; you heard all there was to hear. But did you understand it all? ”

“No, Master. ”

“That is as it should be. Comprehension will come with age. . Well done, Eragon-finiarel. Well done indeed. If you were my student in Ilirea, before Galbatorix rose to power, you would have just graduated from your apprenticeship and would be considered a full member of our order and accorded the same rights and privileges as even the oldest Riders. ” Oromis pushed himself up out of his chair and then remained standing in place, swaying. “Lend me your shoulder, Eragon, and help me outside. My limbs betray my will. ”

Hurrying to his master’s side, Eragon supported the elf’s slight weight as Oromis hobbled to the brook that rushed headlong toward the edge of the Crags of Tel’nae& #237; r. “Now that you have reached this stage in your education, I can teach you one of the greatest secrets of magic, a secret that even Galbatorix may not know. It is your best hope of matching his power. ” The elf’s gaze sharpened. “What is the cost of magic, Eragon? ”

“Energy. A spell costs the same amount of energy as it would to complete the task through mundane means. ”

Oromis nodded. “And where does the energy come from? ”

“The spellcaster’s body. ”

“Does it have to? ”

Eragon’s mind raced as he considered the awesome implications of Oromis’s question. “You mean it can come from other sources? ”

“That is exactly what happens whenever Saphira assists you with a spell. ”

“Yes, but she and I share a unique connection, ” protested Eragon. “Our bond is the reason I can draw upon her strength. To do that with someone else, I would have to enter. . ” He trailed off as he realized what Oromis was driving at.

“You would have to enter the consciousness of the being — or beings — who was going to provide the energy, ” said Oromis, completing Eragon’s thought. “Today you proved that you can do just that with even the smallest form of life. Now. . ” He stopped and pressed a hand against his chest as he coughed, then continued, “I want you to extract a sphere of water from the stream, using only the energy you can glean from the forest around you. ”

“Yes, Master. ”

As Eragon reached out to the nearby plants and animals, he felt Oromis’s mind brush against his own, the elf watching and judging his progress. Frowning with concentration, Eragon endeavored to eke the needed force from the environment and hold it within himself until he was ready to release the magic. .

“Eragon! Do not take it from me! I am weak enough as is. ”

Startled, Eragon realized that he had included Oromis in his search. “I’m sorry, Master, ” he said, chastised. He resumed the process, careful to avoid draining the elf’s vitality, and when he was ready, commanded, “Up! ”

Silent as the night, a sphere of water a foot wide rose from the brook until it floated at eye level across from Eragon. And while Eragon experienced the usual strain that results from intense effort, the spell itself caused him no fatigue.

The sphere was only in the air for a moment when a wave of death rolled through the smaller creatures Eragon was in contact with. A line of ants keeled over motionless. A baby mouse gasped and entered the void as it lost the strength to keep its heart beating. Countless plants withered and crumbled and became inert as dust.

Eragon flinched, horrified by what he had caused. Given his new respect for the sanctity of life, he found the crime appalling. What made it worse was that he was intimately linked with each being as it ceased to exist; it was as if he himself were dying over and over. He severed the flow of magic — letting the sphere of water splash across the ground — and then whirled on Oromis and growled, “You knew that would happen! ”

An expression of profound sorrow engulfed the ancient Rider. “It was necessary, ” he replied.

“Necessary that so many had to die? ”

“Necessary that you understand the terrible price of using this type of magic. Mere words cannot convey the feeling of having those whose minds you share die. You had to experience it for yourself. ”

“I won’t do that again, ” vowed Eragon.

“Nor will you have to. If you are disciplined, you can choose to draw the power only from plants and animals that can withstand the loss. It’s impractical in battle, but you may do so in your lessons. ” Oromis gestured at him, and, still simmering, Eragon allowed the elf to lean on him as they returned to the hut. “You see why this technique was not taught to younger riders. If it were to become known to a spellweaver of evil disposition, he or she could wreak vast amounts of destruction, especially since it would be difficult to stop anyone with access to so much power. ” Once they were back inside, the elf sighed, lowered himself into his chair, and pressed the tips of his fingers together.

Eragon sat as well. “Since it’s possible to absorb energy from”— he waved his hand—“fromlife, is it also possible to absorb it directly from light or fire or from any of the other forms of energy? ”

“Ah, Eragon, if it were, we could destroy Galbatorix in an instant. We can exchange energy with other living beings, we can use that energy to move our bodies or to fuel a spell, and we can even store that energy in certain objects for later use, but we cannot assimilate the fundamental forces of nature. Reason says that it can be done, but no one has managed to devise a spell that allows it. ”

Nine days later, Eragon presented himself to Oromis and said, “Master, it struck me last night that neither you nor the hundreds of elven scrolls I’ve read have mentioned your religion. What do elves believe? ”

A long sigh was Oromis’s first answer. Then: “We believe that the world behaves according to certain inviolable rules and that, by persistent effort, we can discover those rules and use them to predict events when circumstances repeat. ”

Eragon blinked. That did not tell him what he wanted to know. “But who, or what, do you worship? ”

“Nothing. ”

“You worship the concept of nothing? ”

“No, Eragon. We do not worship at all. ”

The thought was so alien, it took Eragon several moments to grasp what Oromis meant. The villagers of Carvahall lacked a single overriding doctrine, but they did share a collection of superstitions and rituals, most of which concerned warding off bad luck. During the course of his training, it had dawned upon Eragon that many of the phenomena that the villagers attributed to supernatural sources were in fact natural processes, such as when he learned in his meditations that maggots hatched from fly eggs instead of spontaneously arising from the dirt, as he had thought before. Nor did it make sense for him to put out an offering of food to keep sprites from turning the milk sour when he knew that sour milk was actually caused by a proliferation of tiny organisms in the liquid. Still, Eragon remained convinced that otherworldly forces influenced the world in mysterious ways, a belief that his exposure to the dwarves’ religion had bolstered. He said, “Where do you think the world came from, then, if it wasn’t created by the gods? ”

“Which gods, Eragon? ”

“Your gods, the dwarf gods, our gods. . someone must have created it. ”

Oromis raised an eyebrow. “I would not necessarily agree with you. But be as that may, I cannot prove that gods donot exist. Nor can I prove that the world and everything in it was not created by an entity or entities in the distant past. But I can tell you that in the millennia we elves have studied nature, we have never witnessed an instance where the rules that govern the world have been broken. That is, we have never seen a miracle. Many events have defied our ability to explain, but we are convinced that we failed because we are still woefully ignorant about the universe and not because a deity altered the workings of nature. ”

“A god wouldn’t have to alter nature to accomplish his will, ” asserted Eragon. “He could do it within the system that already exists. . He could use magic to affect events. ”

Oromis smiled. “Very true. But ask yourself this, Eragon: If gods exist, have they been good custodians of Alaga& #235; sia? Death, sickness, poverty, tyranny, and countless other miseries stalk the land. If this is the handiwork of divine beings, then they are to be rebelled against and overthrown, not given obeisance, obedience, and reverence. ”

“The dwarves believe—”

“Exactly! The dwarvesbelieve. When it comes to certain matters, they rely upon faith rather than reason. They have even been known to ignore proven facts that contradict their dogma. ”

“Like what? ” demanded Eragon.

“Dwarf priests use coral as proof that stone is alive and can grow, which also corroborates their story that Helzvog formed the race of dwarves out of granite. But we elves discovered that coral is actually an exoskeleton secreted by minuscule animals that live inside the coral. Any magician can sense the animals if he opens his mind. We explained this to the dwarves, but they refused to listen, saying that the life we felt resides in every kind of stone, although their priests are the only ones who are supposed to be able to detect the life in landlocked stones. ”

For a long time, Eragon stared out the window, turning Oromis’s words over in his mind. “You don’t believe in an afterlife, then. ”

“From what Glaedr said, you already knew that. ”

“And you don’t put stock in gods. ”

“We give credence only to that which we can prove exists. Since we cannot find evidence that gods, miracles, and other supernatural things are real, we do not trouble ourselves about them. If that were to change, if Helzvog were to reveal himself to us, then we would accept the new information and revise our position. ”

“It seems a cold world without something. . more. ”

“On the contrary, ” said Oromis, “it is a better world. A place where we are responsible for our own actions, where we can be kind to one another because we want to and because it is the right thing to do instead of being frightened into behaving by the threat of divine punishment. I won’t tell you what to believe, Eragon. It is far better to be taught to think critically and then be allowed to make your own decisions than to have someone else’s notions thrust upon you. You asked after our religion, and I have answered you true. Make of it what you will. ”

Their discussion — coupled with his previous worries — left Eragon so disturbed that he had difficulty concentrating on his studies in the following days, even when Oromis began to show him how to sing to plants, which Eragon had been eager to learn.

Eragon recognized that his own experiences had already led him to adopt a more skeptical attitude; in principle, he agreed with much of what Oromis had said. The problem he struggled with, though, was that if the elves were right, it meant that nearly all the humans and dwarves were deluded, something Eragon found difficult to accept. That many people can’t be mistaken, he insisted to himself.

When he asked Saphira about it, she said, It matters little to me, Eragon. Dragons have never believed in higher powers. Why should we when deer and other prey consider usto be a higher power? He laughed at that. Only do not ignore reality in order to comfort yourself, for once you do, you make it easy for others to deceive you.

That night, Eragon’s uncertainties burst forth in his waking dreams, which raged like a wounded bear through his mind, tearing disparate images from his memories and mixing them into such a clamor, he felt as if he were transported back into the confusion of the battle under Farthen D& #251; r. He saw Garrow lying dead in Horst’s house, then Brom dead in the lonely sandstone cave, and then the face of Angela the herbalist, who whispered, “Beware, Argetlam, betrayal is clear. And it will come from within your family. Beware, Shadeslayer! ”

Then the crimson sky was torn apart and Eragon again beheld the two armies from his premonition in the Beor Mountains. The banks of warriors collided upon an orange and yellow field, accompanied by the harsh screams of gore-crows and the whistle of black arrows. The earth itself seemed to burn: green flames belched from scorched holes that dotted the ground, charring the mangled corpses left in the armies’ wake. He heard the roar of a gigantic beast from above that rapidly app—

Eragon jolted upright in bed and scrabbled at the dwarf necklace, which burned at his throat. Using his tunic to protect his hand, he pulled the silver hammer away from his skin and then sat and waited in the dark, his heart thudding from the surprise. He felt his strength ebb as Gannel’s spell thwarted whoever was trying to scry him and Saphira. Once again, he wondered if Galbatorix himself was behind the spell, or if it was one of the king’s pet magicians.

Eragon frowned and released the hammer as the metal grew cold again. Something’s wrong. I know that much, and I’ve known it for a while, as has Saphira. Too uneasy to resume the trancelike state that had replaced sleep for him, he crept from their bedroom without waking Saphira and climbed the spiral staircase to the study. There he unshuttered a white lantern and read one of Anal& #237; sia’s epics until sunrise in an attempt to calm himself.

Just as Eragon put away the scroll, Blagden flew through the open portal in the eastern wall and, with a flutter of wings, landed on the corner of the carved writing desk. The white raven fixed his beady eyes on Eragon and croaked, “Wyrda! ”

Eragon inclined his head. “And may the stars watch over you, Master Blagden. ”

The raven hopped closer. He cocked his head to the side and uttered a barking cough, as if he were clearing his throat, then recited in his hoarse voice:

By beak and bone,

Mine blackened stone

Sees rooks and crooks

And bloody brooks!

“What does that mean? ” asked Eragon.

Blagden shrugged and repeated the verse. When Eragon still pressed him for an explanation, the bird ruffled his feathers, appearing displeased, and cackled, “Son and father alike, both as blind as bats. ”

“Wait! ” exclaimed Eragon, jolting upright. “Do you know my father? Who is he? ”

Blagden cackled again. This time he seemed to be laughing.

While two may share two,

And one of two is certainly one,

One might be two.

“A name, Blagden. Give me a name! ” When the raven remained silent, Eragon reached out with his mind, intending to wrench the information from the bird’s memories.

Blagden was too wily, however. He deflected Eragon’s probe with a flick of his thoughts. Shrieking“Wyrda! ” he darted forward, plucked a bright glass stopper from an inkwell, and sped away with his trophy clutched in his beak. He dove out of sight before Eragon could cast a spell to bring him back.

Eragon’s stomach knotted as he tried to decipher Blagden’s two riddles. The last thing he had expected was to hear his father mentioned in Ellesm& #233; ra. Finally, he muttered, “That’s it. ”I’ll find Blagden later and wring the truth out of him. But right now. . I would have to be a half-wit to ignore these portents. He jumped to his feet and ran down the stairs, waking Saphira with his mind and telling her what had transpired during the night. Retrieving his shaving mirror from the wash closet, Eragon sat between Saphira’s two front paws so that she could look over his head and see what he saw.

Arya won’t appreciate it if we intrude on her privacy, warned Saphira.

I have to know if she’s safe.

Saphira accepted that without argument. How will you find her? You said that after her imprisonment, she erected wards that — like your necklace — prevent anyone from scrying her.

If I can scry the people she’s with, I might be able to figure out how Arya is. Concentrating on an image of Nasuada, Eragon passed his hand over the mirror and murmured the traditional phrase, “Dream stare. ”

The mirror shimmered and turned white, except for nine people clustered around an invisible table. Of them, Eragon was familiar with Nasuada and the Council of Elders. But he could not identify a strange girl hooded in black who lurked behind Nasuada. This puzzled him, for a magician could only scry things that he had already seen, and Eragon was certain he had never laid eyes upon the girl before. He forgot about her, though, as he noticed that the men, and even Nasuada, were armed for battle.

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