Instead of Arya, I prefer her mom (Chapter 14) (Patreon)

Draped in black cloth, contorted and bowed, the two hunchbacked strangers cornered Cedric behind a secluded storage shed. They appeared out of nowhere, making no sound to alert him, entirely escaping his telepathic field.

Caught off guard, his heart hammered in his chest, his mouth feeling like it was full of sand. To read about the Ra’zac was one thing, but smelling their stench, like that of rotting meat, and seeing their contorted forms - a hideous mimicry of humanity’s - was another.

But perhaps that was for the best. Appearing too composed wouldn’t be appropriate, given he was only a village boy and they the servants of this land’s evil king. To react with fear was only natural.

“You’re the k-king’s… what do you want? I’m just a grain merchant’s grandson, and my grandfather already passed away! Are you t-taxmen? Please have mercy, sirs, my parents left after I was born, now it’s just me. I inherited gramps’ trade, but I don’t know what he owes! I’ll pay it all, I swear, just give me until tomorrow-…”

Before they could say a word, he started rambling, vomiting sentence after sentence. Like a scared little animal, he drew into himself, almost not daring to look up, with his arms held protectively near his head. It seemed he expected the strangers to pull out a pair of cudgels within a moment’s notice, beat him black and blue before dragging him off to a debtor’s cell.

One of the creatures quickly grew impatient with his unending garble. A series of hissing and clicking sounds exited its dark cowl before speaking.

“Be silent! We ask, you answer—one wayward word and you seal your own fate!”

Its voice was intensely unpleasant, slithering into the listener’s ears like wet worms.

Cedric immediately clammed up, his eyes clenching shut as his entire body froze. The only movement he hazarded was a single nod.

“…our king seeks something, something rightfully his! But it was stolen by a band of malcontents, wretched creatures who don’t appreciate his wisdom and mercy. It is a stone, boy, an azure stone unlike anything this pitiful village has seen-…”

Before it could finish its interrogation, Cedric was already shaking his head, his shoulders trembling faintly.

“No, no, I wouldn’t! I don’t have it, I swear. Please believe me-…!”

“SILENCE!”

The words fell over him like a set of iron chains, shackling him as firmly as any spell. He started feeling faint, like his blood-pressure had fallen sharply. Behind his closed eyes, spots danced in his vision, and he felt the walls around his mind falling away.

A sense of crisis rose in his chest. He knew this was the creatures’ special property, as humanity’s natural predator. It was no magic, but a type of hypnotizing breath, capable of laying low the most powerful wizard.

Without hesitation, he employed the spell he’d been preparing since the start of this confrontation—‘air bubble’! Knowing a confrontation was inevitable, he hadn’t taken any chances, practicing for years until it was almost second nature.

There was a faint flicker somewhere inside him, a minute amount of mana siphoning away. The air around his head stagnated, preventing any in-flow. An invisible sphere, around fifty centimeters in diameter, surrounded his head—enough oxygen to last a minute or two.

“We will ask again, child. Speak the truth and only the truth. If you lie, hehe…!”

That disgusting voice sounded again, like a shard of oiled glass.

Unwilling to waste any time and wanting to get this horrible, suffocating experience over with, Cedric answered immediately. He didn’t stop his panic from creeping into his tone, hoping he’d appear more authentic.

“No, by the gods, no! Even if I had ten times the guts, I wouldn’t touch such a sorcerer’s stone! Never mind keeping it, I haven’t even laid eyes on it! I’m not lying, I… I wouldn’t! Not to his majesty or his servants!”

His sheer conviction seemed to catch the creatures off-guard. There was a moment of silence before he, standing with his head down, heard them chittering amongst each other. Their language made his skin crawl, like a swarm of skittering beetles, rubbing their legs and carapaces against each other.

Eventually, one of them spoke.

“Look. At. Me.”

Its command was irresistible, brooking no argument. Without recourse, Cedric looked into the speaker’s dark hood with mounting dread. When he did, the torpor he’d been fighting off suddenly returned with a fever.

It was a terrifying realization—that their breath was only one part of their ability. The Ra’zac’s gaze also had a paralyzing component!

“No, no, no…”

Powerless, he could only watch on as control of his body was slowly wrenched from him. No matter how he fought, he couldn’t win. It was like the hand-holds inside him were slathered in grease, slipping from between his fingers.

“Tell me again, manling. Have. You. Seen. The. Stone?”

Cedric’s mouth opened and closed as he desperately tried to keep the truth hidden. However, he could feel it pushing against his throat, surging like bile.

He couldn’t stop himself.

With no other recourse, his right hand, hidden inside his cloak, curled into a claw. Concentration flagging, he decided it was now or never—his only chance was a pre-emptive attack!

“Cedric, is that you?! What are you doing? Why are you bothering the king’s-…?”

Suddenly, an old voice sounded from somewhere nearby. It was unmistakably Brom’s, arriving in the nick of time.

The Ra’zac broke its gaze for only a moment, surprised by the new arrival, but it was more than enough for Cedric to regain control. Stumbling backward, he felt himself heaving for air, droplets of sweat breaking out all over his body. His shirt was completely drenched, like he’d been dunked in a tub of lukewarm water.

The Ra’zac didn’t let the old rider continue, immediately raging at the interruption.

“Silence, silence, SILENCE…!”

Like a leaping cockroach, it covered the ground between itself and Cedric in a split-second, it’s claw clamping over his throat. There was a sharp pain in the boy’s neck as he felt needle-tips piercing his skin, unerringly seeking out his jugular.

A moment away from death, that evil gaze once again bore into his eyes. This time, there would be no escape—that much was clear.

“ANSWER!”

The words rung inside his head like a struck gong, but this time, Cedric was ready. It wasn’t fool-proof, but in a moment of clarity, a plan suddenly appeared inside his head.

Without warning, he suddenly burst into tears. Like a little kid with a boo-boo, he sobbed, crying big, old crocodile tears that dripped down his cheeks. He wept pathetically, humiliatingly, mucus and spittle dribbling from every orifice.

“…I didn’t see it, I didn’t see it, I didn’t see it…”

His voice was broken and almost inaudible, reciting the same four words like a mantra. No matter how the Ra’zac rattled, shook or swore at him, his testimony remained the same.

In an act of utter frustration, the creature suddenly lifted him off the ground, pulling its arm back before pitching him through the air—an act of inhuman strength.

Cedric felt his body soar like a missile, smashing head-first into the wooden shed. There was a burst of pain in his skull, his vision turning bright red. Before he lost consciousness, he heard a cacophony of sound as the rickety, old building collapsed on top of him.

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“Is he going to be all-right?”

Inside Brom’s small house, Eragon, alongside the owner himself, crowded around Cedric’s bed. He was laying peacefully on his back, a blanket pulled up to his chin and a bandage wrapped around his head.

Brom sighed, scratching his beard.

“His injuries weren’t that severe. It shouldn’t be long before he wakes up…”

His expression was even, but there was a hint of confusion in his tone. Truthfully, Cedric didn’t come out of the ordeal as unscathed as it seemed. He’d been bleeding pretty badly when Brom patched him up, after the Ra’zac left.

However, after cleaning the palm-length cut, deep enough to scratch bone, it mysteriously started sealing. The old rider had seen such injuries before—without magic, a wound like that could take a week-and-a-half to heal, and that was with stitches. It didn’t make any sense.

He pursed his lips, resolving to leave it for when his ‘apprentice’ woke up.

“It was truly unlucky, that they’d corner him so soon after interrogating you and I. I didn’t expect it. And… it probably wasn’t a coincidence. Someone must’ve noticed us three gathering outside the village and told Galbatorix’s pet monsters…”

Mumbling to himself, he eventually shook his head before meeting Eragon’s brown eyes.

“No sense in loitering, lad. He won’t get better, no matter how long you stare at him. Besides, if you stay here too long, it might attract more suspicion. Go on home, the worst has likely already passed.”

The young rider nodded slowly. Taking one last look at his friend, he made for the doorway, but halted.

“What he did, I still don’t think it was right…”

Eragon seemed to have more to say, but he didn’t continue. Chewing on his lower-lip, he left for Garrow’s farm, his expression unresolved.

When he was gone, Brom sighed again, sounding weary. With no need to keep up appearances, his lined face and watery, grey eyes showed his age.

“Neither do I, child. Neither do I…”

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