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.What is the worth of anything we do?The worth is in the act.Your worth halts when you surrender the will to change and experience life.But options are before you; choose one and dedicate yourself to it.The deeds will give you new hope and purpose.But what can I do?The only true guide is your heart.Nothing less than its supreme desire can help you.She left him to ponder her statements.Eragon examined his emotions.It surprised him that, more than grief, he found a searing anger.What do you want me to do.pursue the strangers?Yes.Her frank answer confused him.He took a deep, trembling breath.Why?Remember what you said in the Spine? How you reminded me of my duty as dragon, and I returned with you despite the urging of my instinct? So, too, must you control yourself.I thought long and deep the past few days, and I realized what it means to be dragon and Rider: It is our destiny to attempt the impossible, to accomplish great deeds regardless of fear.It is our responsibility to the future.I don’t care what you say; those aren’t reasons to leave! cried Eragon.Then here are others.My tracks have been seen, and people are alert to my presence.Eventually I will be exposed.Besides, there is nothing here for you.No farm, no family, and—Roran’s not dead! he said vehemently.But if you stay, you’ll have to explain what really happened.He has a right to know how and why his father died.What might he do once he knows of me?Saphira’s arguments whirled around in Eragon’s head, but he shrank from the idea of forsaking Palancar Valley; it was his home.Yet the thought of enacting vengeance on the strangers was fiercely comforting.Am I strong enough for this?You have me.Doubt besieged him.It would be such a wild, desperate thing to do.Contempt for his indecision rose, and a harsh smile danced on his lips.Saphira was right.Nothing mattered anymore except the act itself.The doing is the thing.And what would give him more satisfaction than hunting down the strangers? A terrible energy and strength began to grow in him.It grabbed his emotions and forged them into a solid bar of anger with one word stamped on it: revenge.His head pounded as he said with conviction, I will do it.He severed the contact with Saphira and rolled out of bed, his body tense like a coiled spring.It was still early morning; he had only slept a few hours.Nothing is more dangerous than an enemy with nothing to lose, he thought.Which is what I have become.Yesterday he had had difficulty walking upright, but now he moved confidently, held in place by his iron will.The pain his body sent him was defied and ignored.As he crept out of the house, he heard the murmur of two people talking.Curious, he stopped and listened.Elain was saying in her gentle voice, “.place to stay.We have room.” Horst answered inaudibly in his bass rumble.“Yes, the poor boy,” replied Elain.This time Eragon could hear Horst’s response.“Maybe.” There was a long pause.“I’ve been thinking about what Eragon said, and I’m not sure he told us everything.”“What do you mean?” asked Elain.There was concern in her voice.“When we started for their farm, the road was scraped smooth by the board he dragged Garrow on.Then we reached a place where the snow was all trampled and churned up.His footprints and signs of the board stopped there, but we also saw the same giant tracks from the farm.And what about his legs? I can’t believe he didn’t notice losing that much skin.I didn’t want to push him for answers earlier, but now I think I will.”“Maybe what he saw scared him so much that he doesn’t want to talk about it,” suggested Elain.“You saw how distraught he was.”“That still doesn’t explain how he managed to get Garrow nearly all the way here without leaving any tracks.”Saphira was right, thought Eragon.It’s time to leave.Too many questions from too many people.Sooner or later they’ll find the answers.He continued through the house, tensing whenever the floor creaked.The streets were clear; few people were up at this time of day.He stopped for a minute and forced himself to focus.I don’t need a horse.Saphira will be my steed, but she needs a saddle.She can hunt for both of us, so I don’t have to worry about food—though I should get some anyway.Whatever else I need I can find buried in our house.He went to Gedric’s tanning vats on the outskirts of Carvahall.The vile smell made him cringe, but he kept moving, heading for a shack set into the side of a hill where the cured hides were stored.He cut down three large ox hides from the rows of skins hanging from the ceiling.The thievery made him feel guilty, but he reasoned, It’s not really stealing.I’ll pay Gedric back someday, along with Horst.He rolled up the thick leather and took it to a stand of trees away from the village.He wedged the hides between the branches of a tree, then returned to Carvahall.Now for food.He went to the tavern, intending to get it there, but then smiled tightly and reversed direction.If he was going to steal, it might as well be from Sloan.He sneaked up to the butcher’s house.The front door was barred whenever Sloan was not there, but the side door was secured with only a thin chain, which he broke easily.The rooms inside were dark.He fumbled blindly until his hands came upon hard piles of meat wrapped in cloth.He stuffed as many of them as he could under his shirt, then hurried back to the street and furtively closed the door.A woman shouted his name nearby.He clasped the bottom of his shirt to keep the meat from falling out and ducked behind a corner.He shivered as Horst walked between two houses not ten feet away.Eragon ran as soon as Horst was out of sight.His legs burned as he pounded down an alley and back to the trees.He slipped between the tree trunks, then turned to see if he was being pursued.No one was there.Relieved, he let out his breath and reached into the tree for the leather.It was gone.“Going somewhere?”Eragon whirled around.Brom scowled angrily at him, an ugly wound on the side of his head.A short sword hung at his belt in a brown sheath.The hides were in his hands.Eragon’s eyes narrowed in irritation.How had the old man managed to sneak up on him? Everything had been so quiet, he would have sworn that no one was around.“Give them back,” he snapped.“Why? So you can run off before Garrow is even buried?” The accusation was sharp.“It’s none of your business!” he barked, temper flashing.“Why did you follow me?”“I didn’t,” grunted Brom.“I’ve been waiting for you here.Now where are you going?”“Nowhere.” Eragon lunged for the skins and grabbed them from Brom’s hands.Brom did nothing to stop him.“I hope you have enough meat to feed your dragon.”Eragon froze.“What are you talking about?”Brom crossed his arms.“Don’t fool with me.I know where that mark on your hand, the gedwëy ignasia, the shining palm, comes from: you have touched a dragon hatchling.I know why you came to me with those questions, and I know that once more the Riders live.”Eragon dropped the leather and meat.It’s finally happened.I have to get away! I can’t run faster than him with my injured legs, but if.Saphira! he called.For a few agonizing seconds she did not answer, but then, Yes.We’ve been discovered! I need you! He sent her a picture of where he was, and she took off immediately.Now he just had to stall Brom.“How did you find out?” he asked in a hollow voice.Brom stared into the distance and moved his lips soundlessly as if he were talking to someone else.Then he said, “There were clues and hints everywhere; I had only to pay attention [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]