Inheritance (37 page)

Arya’s pupils reflected a shimmer of light as she looked past Eragon toward Saphira. “Only time will tell. I hope not, but if we are triumphant in Urû’baen, it may very well be that Glaedr will find he is no longer able to continue on his own, without Oromis.”

“We can’t just let him give up!”

I agree
.

“It is not our place to stop him if he decides to enter the void,” Arya said sternly. “The choice is his to make, and his alone.”

“Yes, but we can reason with him and try to help him see that life is still worth living.”

She was still for a while, her face solemn; then she said, “I do not want him to die. No elf does. However, if every waking moment is a torment to him, then won’t it be better for him to seek release?”

Neither Eragon nor Saphira had an answer for her.

The three of them continued to discuss the day’s events for a short while longer; then Saphira pulled her head out of the tent and went to sit on the neighboring patch of grass.
I feel like a fox with her head stuck down a rabbit hole
, she complained.
It makes my scales itch, not being able to see if someone is creeping up on me
.

Eragon expected Arya to leave as well, but to his surprise, she stayed, seemingly content to sit and talk with him about this and
that. He was only too eager to comply. His earlier hunger had vanished during his bouts of mental combat with her, Saphira, and Glaedr, and in any case, he was more than willing to forgo a hot meal in exchange for the pleasure of her company.

Night closed in around them, and the camp grew ever quieter as their conversation meandered from one topic to another. Eragon felt giddy from exhaustion and excitement—almost as if he had drunk too much mead—and he noticed that Arya also seemed more at ease than normal. They talked of many things: of Glaedr and of their sparring; of the siege of Dras-Leona and what might be done about it; and of other, less important matters, such as the crane Arya had seen hunting among the rushes by the edge of the lake, and the scale Saphira had lost from her nose, and how the season was turning and the days were again growing colder. But always they returned to the one topic that was ever present in their thoughts, and that was Galbatorix and what awaited them in Urû’baen.

While they speculated, as they had so many times before, about the types of magical traps Galbatorix might have set for them and how best to avoid them, Eragon thought of Saphira’s question about Glaedr, and he said, “Arya?”

“Yes?” She drew the word out, her voice rising and falling with a faint lilt.

“What do you want to do once this is all over?”
If we’re still alive, that is
.

“What do
you
want to do?”

He fingered Brisingr’s pommel as he considered the question. “I don’t know. I haven’t let myself think much past Urû’baen.… It would depend on what she wants, but I suppose Saphira and I might return to Palancar Valley. I could build a hall on one of the foothills of the mountains. We might not spend much time there, but at least we would have a home to return to when we weren’t flying from one part of Alagaësia to another.” He half smiled. “I’m sure there will be plenty to keep us busy, even if Galbatorix is dead.… But you still
haven’t answered my question: what will
you
do if we win? You must have some idea. You’ve had longer to think about it than I have.”

Arya drew one leg up onto the stool, wrapped her arms around it, and rested her chin on her knee. In the dim half-light of the tent, her face appeared to float against a featureless black background, like an apparition conjured out of the night.

“I have spent more time among humans and dwarves than I have among the älfakyn,” she said, using the elves’ name in the ancient language. “I have grown used to it, and I would not want to return to live in Ellesméra. Too little happens there; centuries can slip by without notice while you sit and stare at the stars. No, I think I will continue to serve my mother as her ambassador. The reason I first left Du Weldenvarden was because I wanted to help right the balance of the world. As you said, there will still be much that needs doing if we manage to topple Galbatorix, much that needs putting right, and I would be a part of it.”

“Ah.” It was not exactly what he had hoped she might say, but at least it presented the possibility that they would not entirely lose contact after Urû’baen, and that he would still be able to see her now and then.

If Arya noticed his discontent, she gave no sign of it.

They talked for another few minutes, then Arya made her excuses and rose to leave.

As she stepped past him, Eragon reached toward her, as if to stop her, then quickly drew back his hand. “Wait,” he said softly, unsure of what he hoped for, but hoping nevertheless. The beat of his heart increased, pounding in his ears, and his cheeks grew warm.

Arya paused with her back to him by the entrance of the tent. “Good night, Eragon,” she said. Then she slipped out between the entrance flaps and vanished into the night, leaving him to sit alone in the dark.

he next three days passed quickly for Eragon, if not for the rest of the Varden, who remained mired in lethargy. The standoff with Dras-Leona continued unabated, although there was some excitement when Thorn altered his customary location from above the front gates to a section of the rampart several hundred feet to the right. After much discussion—and after consulting extensively with Saphira—Nasuada and her advisers concluded that Thorn had relocated for no other reason than comfort; the other section of rampart was somewhat flatter and longer. Aside from that, the siege lumbered on without change.

Meanwhile, Eragon spent the mornings and evenings studying with Glaedr and the afternoons sparring with Arya and several other elves. His matches with the elves were not as long or strenuous as his previous one with Arya—for it would have been foolish to push himself that hard every day—but his sessions with Glaedr were as intense as ever. The ancient dragon never flagged in his efforts to improve Eragon’s skills and knowledge, and he made no allowances for mistakes or exhaustion.

Eragon was pleased to find that he was finally able to hold his own when dueling with the elves. But it was mentally taxing, for if his concentration lapsed for even a moment, he would end up with a sword jabbed in his ribs or pressed against his throat.

With his lessons from Glaedr, he made what would have been considered exemplary progress under normal circumstances, but given the situation, both he and Glaedr were frustrated with the pace of his learning.

On the second day, during his morning lesson with Glaedr,
Eragon thought to say,
Master, when I first arrived at the Varden in Farthen Dûr, the Twins tested me—they tested my knowledge of the ancient language, and of magic in general
.

You told this to Oromis. Why repeat it to me now?

Because, it occurred to me … the Twins asked me to summon the true form of a silver ring. At the time, I didn’t know how. Arya explained it to me later: how, with the ancient language, you can conjure up the essence of any thing or creature. Yet Oromis never spoke of it, and I was wondering … why not?

Glaedr seemed to sigh.
Summoning the true form of an object is a difficult kind of magic. In order for it to work, you must understand everything of importance about the object in question—even as you must in order to guess the true name of a person or animal. Furthermore, it’s of little practical value. And it’s dangerous. Very dangerous. The spell cannot be structured as a continuing process that you can end at any time. Either you succeed in summoning the true form of an object … or you fail and die. There was no reason for Oromis to have you try anything so risky, nor were you advanced enough in your studies to even discuss the topic
.

Eragon shuddered inwardly as he realized just how angry Arya must have been with the Twins to summon the true form of the ring they held. Then he said,
I would like to try it now
.

Eragon felt the full force of Glaedr’s attention focused on him.
Why?

I need to know if I have that level of understanding, even if only for one small thing
.

Again: why?

Unable to explain with words, Eragon poured his jumble of thoughts and feelings into Glaedr’s consciousness. When he finished, Glaedr was silent for a while, digesting the flow of information.
Am I right to say
, began the dragon,
that you equate this with defeating Galbatorix? You believe that if you can do this and live, then you might be able to defeat the king?

Yes
, said Eragon, relieved. He had been unable to articulate his motivation as clearly as the dragon, but that was exactly it.

And are you determined to try this?

Yes, Master
.

It may kill you
, Glaedr reminded him.

I know
.

Eragon!
exclaimed Saphira, her thoughts faint in his mind. She was flying high above the camp, watching for possible danger while he studied with Glaedr.
It’s far too dangerous. I won’t allow it
.

I have to do this
, he replied quietly.

To Saphira, but also to Eragon, Glaedr said,
If he insists, then it is best he tries where I can watch. If his knowledge fails him, I may be able to supply the needed information and save him
.

Saphira growled—an angry, ripping sound that filled Eragon’s mind—and then, from outside the tent, Eragon heard a fearsome rush of air and startled cries from men and elves as she dove to the ground. She landed with such force, the tent and everything in it shook.

A few seconds later, she stuck her head into the tent and glared at Eragon. She was panting, and the wind from her nostrils ruffled his hair and made his eyes water from the odor of burnt meat.
You’re as thick-headed as a Kull
, she said.

No more than you
.

Her lip curled in a hint of a snarl.
Why are we waiting? If you must do this, let us be done with it!

What will you choose to summon?
asked Glaedr.
It must be something you are intimately familiar with
.

Eragon let his gaze drift over the interior of the tent, then down to the sapphire ring he wore on his right hand.
Aren
 … He had rarely taken the ring off since Ajihad had given it to him from Brom. It had become a part of his body as surely as his arms or legs. During the hours he had spent looking at it, he had memorized every curve and facet, and if he closed his eyes, he could call up an image that was a perfect reproduction of the actual object. But for all that, there was much he did
not
know about the ring—its history, how the elves had made it, and, ultimately, what spells might or might not be woven into its fabric.

No … not Aren
.

Then his gaze slid from the ring to the pommel of Brisingr, where the sword stood leaning against the corner of his cot. “Brisingr,” he murmured.

A muffled
whump
emanated from the blade, and the sword rose a half inch out of its scabbard, as if pushed from beneath, and small tongues of flame leaped up from the mouth of the sheath, licking the underside of the hilt. The flames vanished and the sword slid back into the scabbard as Eragon quickly ended the unintentional spell.

Brisingr
, he thought, utterly certain of his choice. It had been Rhunön’s skill that had crafted the sword, but it was he who had wielded the tools, and he had been joined with the elf smith’s mind throughout the process. If there was any one object in the world he understood through and through, it was his sword.

Are you sure?
asked Glaedr.

Eragon nodded, then caught himself as he remembered the golden dragon could not see him.
Yes, Master.… A question, though: is
Brisingr
the true name of the sword, and if not, do I need its true name for the spell to work?

Brisingr
is the name of fire, as you well know. The true name of your sword is undoubtedly something far more complicated, although it might very well include
brisingr
within its description. If you wish, you could refer to the sword by its true name, but you could just as easily call it
Sword
and achieve the same result, so long as you maintain the proper knowledge at the forefront of your mind. The name is merely a label for the knowledge, and you do not need the label in order to make use of the knowledge. It is a subtle distinction, but an important one. Do you understand?

I do
.

Then proceed as you will
.

Eragon took a moment to collect himself. Then he found the nub in the back of his mind and reached through it to tap his body’s store of energy. Channeling that energy into the word he spoke,
while also thinking about everything he knew of the sword, he said clearly and distinctly:

“Brisingr!”

Eragon felt his strength ebb precipitously. Alarmed, he tried to speak, tried to move, but the spell bound him in place. He could not even blink or breathe.