Instead of Arya, I prefer her mom (Chapter 48) (Patreon)

Early that next morning, before the sun had risen, Cedric snuck out of Teirm through the sewers. He was almost unrecognizable, wearing shabby clothes with a dirty face, his conspicuous red hair hidden under a wool hat.

Like an apparition, he emerged behind a brush outside the city walls. Known to only a few, a well-hidden tunnel had been built at some point in the past, probably by one of the city's gangs or more unsavory rulers. Having explored it previously, Cedric knew it was still in use, but scouting ahead revealed that all was quiet.

Pressing his hat lower on his head, he stared at the keep in the distance, its main tower rising above the walls. The look in his eyes was one of dissatisfaction, restless and angry over having to suddenly pack up and leave. However, staying had become too risky.

He was confident in his own abilities, but with Silver gone he was entirely alone. There was also the matter of his enemies' strength being unknown, or even really who they were. The pirates where the most likely culprits, given his intruding on their territory and killing off their gangs.

Yet, that explanation didn't entirely satisfy him.

Cedric's hand unconsciously went to his robe where the strange bone dagger was hidden. More than anything, it was evidence of the waters being deeper than they seemed. In fact, Cedric contemplated destroying it, afraid they'd have some way to track the item. However, it was simply too useful.

He'd long been thinking of a way to deal with enemy mages, and studying the item might reveal the secret of its ward-piercing abilities...

----------------------------

With the break of dawn, a different traveler—or perhaps a pair of them—were likewise on a journey. Driving a rickety cart, drawn by a pair of oxen, a grey-haired man sat in the driver's seat. Behind him, different goods were piled high.

To the eye of the untrained observer, the stuff might appear to be nothing more trash. And in fact, if someone where to think that... they would be entirely correct. The old, cracked legs of wooden furniture, torn cloths, uprooted plants with dirt-encrusted roots and broken tools were nothing more than fodder. Their true purpose was to hide the thing in the back of the cart.

With dark-rimmed eyes, Silver continued onward, following the road that led to Gi'lead. He was making good time, restless as he was, about halfway to his destination. However, even for him, a man who'd experienced enough hardships for multiple lifetimes, the current task was proving to be no less stressful than any before it.

He regretted accepting his bodyguard, so kindly provided by his master. Regretted it deeply. If Silver was capable of turning back time, he would've resolutely refused this 'gift'. However, it was already too late, and he could only make the best of a bad situation.

Fortunately, there was a light at the end of the tunnel—the thing didn't need to be returned alive. As such, Silver was already thinking how to kill it off once he arrived in Gi'lead. Safety be damned, if he was around it for much longer, he might risk losing his sanity.

For a long while, he sat quietly, simply listening to the oxen's plodding footsteps. It was a marvel the beasts were willing to pull their monstrous freight, but not a natural one. In truth, it was the young warlock's doing, a procedure he called a 'lobotomy'. The result was as could be seen—beasts that were almost without will, staring into the distance with glassy eyes. It was unsettling.

Over the years, Silver had seen many magicks, but every time he was reminded of how unfathomable such unnatural abilities were. What would it be like, for a human to be stripped of all will and feeling, to become like one of those oxen? For that reason amongst others, he knew his master's threats of punishments worse than death was no bluff...

Yet, Silver's situation was not so morbid as it might seem. So far, he'd suffered little aside from mental discomfort. He'd worked under a witch in the past—a woman who, by all accounts, was entirely insane. He knew such temperaments couldn't be concealed for long. That is to say, his new master appeared to mostly be of sound mind, and not one to mistreat his servants

While in the middle of his thoughts, reflecting on the insanities he’d been subjected to under that wretch’s command, something suddenly touched his consciousness. Though it was faint and difficult to decern, Silver recognized it immediately.

“Master…?”

A reply was forthcoming, but on account of the distance, it was vague—little more than impressed images and feelings. The gears whirred in Silver’s head, but he eventually got the message. His master would be joining him, and he was to wait at the next town until that time.

Sending his understanding and acknowledgement, he felt the mind withdraw, leaving him somewhat confused. Before his departure, the witch-boy was deep in his studies. If he wanted to come along, why didn’t he?

There could only be one reason. Something had gone wrong. It was a guess, but Silver was confident.

Chewing on a stem of grass, he stared thoughtfully ahead, his gaze travelling along the lonesome dirt road. After what happened with the brigands, he thought it wise to be extra careful. The loss of life didn’t bother him, but the possibility of discovery did.

Perhaps having his master around wasn’t the worst thing, if for no other reason than abdicating responsibility for the golem…

---------------------------------------

‘Are you sure this is wise, Eragon?’

Far above the ground, hidden in a blanket of grey cloud, a certain dragon carried her rider toward the mountains.

Pressing his face against Saphira’s neck, Eragon didn’t reply immediately. He didn’t know what was right or wrong, but he knew he wasn’t willing to let things continue as they had.

‘…it probably isn’t, but what else are we supposed to do?’

He imparted a feeling of frustration to Saphira, as well as helplessness. Their current flight, leaving the city of Teirm behind, was the result of a quarrel between himself and Brom. The reason was somewhat insignificant, but it had spiralled out of control until they were shouting loud enough to rattle the roof timbers.

It was this that resulted in Jeod, though tactfully, suggesting they find somewhere else to stay until Brom’s business in Teirm was done.

They found an inn, though the rest of the night was spent in tense silence. Eragon didn’t try to make peace. He didn’t want to. Besides, it gave him time to think.

The question that kept churning in his mind was as such: what was he doing here with Brom? When he decided to leave Carvahall, it was to keep his family safe. Did he want to do good? Perhaps. Though, Cedric’s own opinions had unknowingly taken root in his mind.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be a hero. He was a dragon rider, but could he even win against Galbatorix? He felt bad for Saphira, that she was the last of her kind, but was it something to throw both their lives away over?

The chance of their victory was so small, and they knew next to nothing about the Varden, their so called ‘allies’. Ultimately, despite Brom’s reassurance they wouldn’t rush in to things, Eragon knew he was being groomed to take up a certain role—that of a hero, or a symbol of hope.

Yet, he had no desire to be paraded around like some kind of curiosity, nor for Saphira to suffer that kind of treatment. In this respect, Cedric’s words did stick in his head, his tirade right before they left.

Was it really worth fighting against Galbatorix when they could just… leave? If it was just him, Garrow, Roran and maybe Katarina, it wouldn’t be a problem. And Saphira of course.

He was quiet for a while, lost in his own thoughts.

‘What do you think?’

Saphira’s reply was a snort.

‘You won’t do it. I know this. You know this. Even now, you are worried about the elven woman. Your quarrel with Brom and the Varden’s matter played a part in your decision to leave, but ultimately those issues are separate.’

Her amused and almost doting attitude made Eragon’s cheeks turn red. Embarrassed, he pressed his cheek against her neck.

‘…that’s one thing, but saving the world is another. If it’s just one person, maybe I can help them.’

‘Then we start there. And after our success, we’ll decide on our next course of action. There’s no point in worrying about the far-distant future. Today has enough of its own troubles.’

Though it was merely words, Eragon felt like a huge burden was lifted off his shoulders, a feeling of relief washing over him. She was right. He didn’t want to decide now, nor did he have to, and he couldn’t if he did want to.

‘After we succeed? You’re sure we will?’

‘I’m sure, Eragon. With all of us together, we definitely won’t fail.’

Her latter sentence confused him.

‘What do you mean.’

‘You’ll see.’

‘Why are you keeping secrets?’

‘Have patience, little one. All will be revealed once we reach Gi’lead.’

‘…I’m beginning to think Brom has rubbed off on you.’

‘A dragon isn’t so easily influenced by a human. Even if he is old, compared to dragons-…’

Eragon and Saphira continued their flight, bickering good-naturedly. The sombre atmosphere had been much alleviated, and though they hadn’t left Teirm in the best of situations, and headed toward danger, both couldn’t help feeling a faint, tingling excitement over the adventure awaiting them.

--------------------------------