Inheritance
Page 76
Eragon chose his strongest arguments. If I can hold Galbatorix off with my mind—even if I can’t beat him—if I can just hold him off, then this may still be decided by the sword. In any case, the king isn’t the only enemy we should be worried about: there’s Murtagh, for one, and who knows what other kinds of men or creatures Galbatorix has in his service? I wasn’t able to defeat Durza by myself, nor Varaug, nor even Murtagh. Always I’ve had help. But I can’t rely on Arya or Saphira or Blödhgarm to rescue me every time I get into trouble. I have to be better with a blade, and yet I can’t seem to make any progress, no matter how hard I try.
Varaug? Glaedr queried. I have not heard that name before.
It fell to Eragon, then, to tell Glaedr about the capture of Feinster and how he and Arya had killed the newly born Shade even as Oromis and Glaedr had met their deaths—differing kinds of deaths, but both still mortal ends—while battling in the skies over Gil’ead. Eragon also summarized the Varden’s activities thereafter, for he realized that Glaedr had kept himself so isolated, he had little knowledge of them. The account took Eragon several minutes to deliver, during which time he and the elves stood frozen on the field, staring past each other with unseeing eyes, their attention turned inward as they concentrated on the rapid exchange of thoughts, images, and feelings.
Another long silence followed as Glaedr digested what he had learned. When he again deigned to speak, it was with a tinge of amusement: You are overly ambitious if your goal is to be able to kill Shades with impunity. Even the oldest and wisest of the Riders would have hesitated to attack a Shade alone. You have already survived encounters with two of them, which is two more than most. Be grateful you have been so lucky and leave it at that. Trying to outmatch a Shade is like trying to fly higher than the sun.
Yes, replied Eragon, but our foes are as strong as Shades or even stronger, and Galbatorix may create more of them just to slow our progress. He uses them carelessly, without heed for the destruction they could cause throughout the land.
Ebrithil, said Arya, he is right. Our enemies are deadly in the extreme … as you well know—this she added in a gentle tone—and Eragon is not at the level he needs to be. To prepare for what lies before us, he has to attain mastery. I have done my best to teach him, but mastery ultimately must come from within, not without.
Her defense of him warmed Eragon’s heart.
As before, Glaedr was slow to respond. Nor has Eragon mastered his thoughts, as he must also do. Neither of these abilities, mental or physical, is of much use alone, but of the two, the mental is more important. One can win a battle against both a spellcaster and a swordsman with the mind alone. Your mind and your body ought to be in balance, but if you must choose which of them to train, you should choose your mind. Arya … Blödhgarm … Yaela … you know this is true. Why have none of you taken it upon yourselves to continue Eragon’s instruction in this area?
Arya cast her eyes at the ground, somewhat like a chastised child, while the fur on Blödhgarm’s shoulders rippled and stood on end, and he pulled back his lips to reveal the tips of his sharp white fangs.
It was Blödhgarm who finally dared reply. Speaking wholly in the ancient language, the first to do so, he said, Arya is here as the ambassador of our people. I and my band are here to protect the lives of Saphira Brightscales and Eragon Shadeslayer, and it has been a difficult and time-consuming task. We have all tried to help Eragon, but it is not our place to train a Rider, nor would we presume to attempt it when one of his rightful masters was still alive and present … even if that master was neglecting his duty.
Dark clouds of anger gathered within Glaedr, like massive thunderheads building on the horizon. Eragon distanced himself from Glaedr’s consciousness, wary of the dragon’s wrath. Glaedr was no longer capable of physically harming anyone, but he was still incredibly dangerous, and should he lose control and lash out with his mind, none of them would be able to withstand his might.
Blödhgarm’s rudeness and insensitivity initially shocked Eragon—he had never heard an elf speak to a dragon like that before—but after a moment’s reflection, Eragon realized that Blödhgarm must have done it to draw Glaedr out and prevent him from retreating into his shell of misery. Eragon admired the elf’s courage, but he wondered whether insulting Glaedr was really the best approach. It certainly wasn’t the safest plan.
The billowing thunderheads swelled in size, illuminated by brief, lightning-like flashes, as Glaedr’s mind jumped from one thought to another. You have overstepped your bounds, elf, he growled, also in the ancient language. My actions are not for you to question. You cannot even begin to comprehend what I have lost. If it were not for Eragon and Saphira and my duty to them, I would have gone mad long ago. So do not accuse me of negligence, Blödhgarm, son of Ildrid, unless you wish to test yourself against the last of the high Old Ones.
Baring his teeth even more, Blödhgarm hissed. In spite of that, Eragon detected a hint of satisfaction in the elf’s visage. To Eragon’s dismay, Blödhgarm pressed on, saying, Then do not blame us for failing to fulfill what are your responsibilities, not ours, Old One. Our whole race mourns your loss, but you cannot expect us to make allowances for your self-pity when we are at war with the most deadly enemy in our history—the same enemy who exterminated nearly every one of your kind, and who also killed your Rider.
Glaedr’s fury was volcanic. Black and terrible, it battered against Eragon with such force, he felt as if the fabric of his being might split asunder, like a sail caught in the wind. On the other side of the field, he saw men drop their weapons and clutch at their heads, grimacing with pain.
Varaug? Glaedr queried. I have not heard that name before.
It fell to Eragon, then, to tell Glaedr about the capture of Feinster and how he and Arya had killed the newly born Shade even as Oromis and Glaedr had met their deaths—differing kinds of deaths, but both still mortal ends—while battling in the skies over Gil’ead. Eragon also summarized the Varden’s activities thereafter, for he realized that Glaedr had kept himself so isolated, he had little knowledge of them. The account took Eragon several minutes to deliver, during which time he and the elves stood frozen on the field, staring past each other with unseeing eyes, their attention turned inward as they concentrated on the rapid exchange of thoughts, images, and feelings.
Another long silence followed as Glaedr digested what he had learned. When he again deigned to speak, it was with a tinge of amusement: You are overly ambitious if your goal is to be able to kill Shades with impunity. Even the oldest and wisest of the Riders would have hesitated to attack a Shade alone. You have already survived encounters with two of them, which is two more than most. Be grateful you have been so lucky and leave it at that. Trying to outmatch a Shade is like trying to fly higher than the sun.
Yes, replied Eragon, but our foes are as strong as Shades or even stronger, and Galbatorix may create more of them just to slow our progress. He uses them carelessly, without heed for the destruction they could cause throughout the land.
Ebrithil, said Arya, he is right. Our enemies are deadly in the extreme … as you well know—this she added in a gentle tone—and Eragon is not at the level he needs to be. To prepare for what lies before us, he has to attain mastery. I have done my best to teach him, but mastery ultimately must come from within, not without.
Her defense of him warmed Eragon’s heart.
As before, Glaedr was slow to respond. Nor has Eragon mastered his thoughts, as he must also do. Neither of these abilities, mental or physical, is of much use alone, but of the two, the mental is more important. One can win a battle against both a spellcaster and a swordsman with the mind alone. Your mind and your body ought to be in balance, but if you must choose which of them to train, you should choose your mind. Arya … Blödhgarm … Yaela … you know this is true. Why have none of you taken it upon yourselves to continue Eragon’s instruction in this area?
Arya cast her eyes at the ground, somewhat like a chastised child, while the fur on Blödhgarm’s shoulders rippled and stood on end, and he pulled back his lips to reveal the tips of his sharp white fangs.
It was Blödhgarm who finally dared reply. Speaking wholly in the ancient language, the first to do so, he said, Arya is here as the ambassador of our people. I and my band are here to protect the lives of Saphira Brightscales and Eragon Shadeslayer, and it has been a difficult and time-consuming task. We have all tried to help Eragon, but it is not our place to train a Rider, nor would we presume to attempt it when one of his rightful masters was still alive and present … even if that master was neglecting his duty.
Dark clouds of anger gathered within Glaedr, like massive thunderheads building on the horizon. Eragon distanced himself from Glaedr’s consciousness, wary of the dragon’s wrath. Glaedr was no longer capable of physically harming anyone, but he was still incredibly dangerous, and should he lose control and lash out with his mind, none of them would be able to withstand his might.
Blödhgarm’s rudeness and insensitivity initially shocked Eragon—he had never heard an elf speak to a dragon like that before—but after a moment’s reflection, Eragon realized that Blödhgarm must have done it to draw Glaedr out and prevent him from retreating into his shell of misery. Eragon admired the elf’s courage, but he wondered whether insulting Glaedr was really the best approach. It certainly wasn’t the safest plan.
The billowing thunderheads swelled in size, illuminated by brief, lightning-like flashes, as Glaedr’s mind jumped from one thought to another. You have overstepped your bounds, elf, he growled, also in the ancient language. My actions are not for you to question. You cannot even begin to comprehend what I have lost. If it were not for Eragon and Saphira and my duty to them, I would have gone mad long ago. So do not accuse me of negligence, Blödhgarm, son of Ildrid, unless you wish to test yourself against the last of the high Old Ones.
Baring his teeth even more, Blödhgarm hissed. In spite of that, Eragon detected a hint of satisfaction in the elf’s visage. To Eragon’s dismay, Blödhgarm pressed on, saying, Then do not blame us for failing to fulfill what are your responsibilities, not ours, Old One. Our whole race mourns your loss, but you cannot expect us to make allowances for your self-pity when we are at war with the most deadly enemy in our history—the same enemy who exterminated nearly every one of your kind, and who also killed your Rider.
Glaedr’s fury was volcanic. Black and terrible, it battered against Eragon with such force, he felt as if the fabric of his being might split asunder, like a sail caught in the wind. On the other side of the field, he saw men drop their weapons and clutch at their heads, grimacing with pain.
