Chapter 13: Departure

[3,485 words]

The night was still, the air cool with the first hints of dawn lingering in the distant horizon. Eragon stood just outside his home, the house that had become so familiar to him over the past year. It was an hour before sunrise, and his senses were sharp. Every rustle of leaves and chirp of early birds filled his ears, but his mind was elsewhere. His heart was heavy with the decision he had made, yet resolute.

He hoisted a deer and a boar over his shoulders with ease, their weight nothing compared to his current enhanced strength. 'At least they'll have enough dried meat to last them for a few months,' he thought to himself, a small comfort amidst the uncertainty of what lay ahead. Gently, he placed the two animals by the front door, knowing that Garrow and Roran would find them when they awoke.

Without a sound, Eragon approached the door and carefully opened it. His enhanced physique allowed him to move in complete silence, his muscles fluid and controlled as he stepped inside the familiar interior. The creak of old floorboards that had once seemed unavoidable was now nothing more than a memory. His training over the months had made him almost preternaturally aware of his own body, and he could shift his weight perfectly to avoid making even the slightest noise.

Once inside, he placed the letter he had written last night on the table in the center of the room, weighing it down with a small wooden carving Garrow had made years ago. The letter was simple but deliberate: it explained that he was leaving Carvahall to seek work in one of the coastal cities. He hadn't specified which city, of course. He didn't want Garrow or Roran to try and follow him; it was better for them to stay here, to stay safe.

Beside the letter, Eragon placed a small pouch filled with 150 Crowns—money he had earned from selling animals he hunted and brought to the village. 'This should be enough for them to get by,' he thought. It wasn't much in the grand scheme of things, but it would help.

Stepping back from the table, he took a long, final look around the room. Despite the dimness of the early morning, his sharp vision allowed him to take in every detail as clearly as if it were midday. The rough-hewn wooden beams, the worn but sturdy furniture, the faint scent of the fire that always burned in the hearth during winter nights—it was all so familiar, yet now felt distant.

Eragon sighed, despite only knowing Garrow and Roran for a little over a year since his reincarnation, he had grown unexpectedly attached to them. They were the closest thing to family he had in this new world, and the idea of leaving them brought an unexpected wave of reluctance.

'This is the right choice,' he reminded himself. 'I have a bigger purpose now. I'm a Dragon Rider, and I can't afford to stay here any longer. They'll be safe without me. If I stay here any longer, I risk making a mistake and drawing the Ra'zac like in the original plot...'

Saphira's reassuring presence brushed against his mind. 'You're doing what's best for them, little one,' she said gently. 'Telling them more would only put them in danger. Besides, it's not as if we'll never return. We'll see them again someday.'

Eragon smiled at her comforting words. 'You're right,' he thought back. 'We'll come back to visit them once things are safer.'

With one last glance at the house, Eragon slipped back outside, closing the door as silently as he had opened it. The air was warmer now, a brisk wind brushing against his face as he stood outside the house.

He allowed himself a moment to take in the familiar sight of the small wooden structure. Despite the darkness, every detail was etched into his memory—the way the roof sagged slightly in the middle, the marks on the front door from years of wear and tear, the small vegetable garden in the back.

A deep breath, then another. He turned his back on the house and quickly made his way down the path that led to the main road. He could feel Saphira's watchful gaze following him from the trees, her thoughts ever present in the back of his mind.

He moved swiftly through the early morning darkness, heading towards the road that led to Therinsford.

Brom was waiting for him by the edge of the road, as promised. The old storyteller stood with his back to Eragon, leaning slightly on his staff as he gazed down the path ahead. He seemed lost in thought, the early morning light casting long shadows across his face.

"Ready?" Brom asked without turning around as Eragon approached. His voice was calm but carried a note of anticipation.

Eragon nodded. "Yes. I'm ready."

Brom finally turned to face him, his expression unreadable. "Good. We have a long journey ahead of us. Our first destination is Teirm. I need to meet with an old friend there, and he might be able to shed some lights on our mystery. But that's only the beginning of our journey."

"Where are we headed after Teirm?" Eragon asked, curiosity creeping into his voice.

"The Beor Mountains," Brom replied. "The Varden are hidden there, and we will find answers to the questions that plague us. I initially didn't want to take you there and involve you in all the hidden politics that run the place... However during this three months I've observed you constantly and decided that you can handle yourself well enough. Besides training in the mountains all the time is no good for you anymore, you need to experience the world and see for yourself the suffering and consequences of the Dragon Riders disappearance. This might as well push you to abandon those glory seeking wishes of yours."

Eragon gave a mental middle finger as Brom continued.

"But first, we will head to Teirm. It's a long road and I still have much to teach you, so let's not waste time."

They set off down the road toward Therinsford, their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet morning. Saphira would follow them from the skies once night fell, keeping out of sight to avoid attracting attention. They had agreed that it was best for her to remain hidden for now. As much as it pained Eragon to leave her behind during the day, he knew it was necessary.

As they walked side by side along the rugged path, the wind carrying the scent of pine and earth, Eragon hesitated before speaking. Finally, he turned to Brom, his expression serious. "Brom, I have a favor I want to ask of you."

Brom glanced at him, his brow furrowed slightly. "What is it?"

Eragon took a deep breath. "I hope you won't tell anyone that I'm from Carvahall. I don't want Galbatorix to somehow find out and send his soldiers there. The people in the village deserve to live their lives in peace, without the threat of the Empire hanging over them."

Brom was silent for a moment, considering Eragon's request. Then, he nodded firmly. "You have my word. I'll keep it to myself. The last thing those people need is to be caught up in this mess."

Relief washed over Eragon, and he offered Brom a grateful smile. "Thank you. It means a lot."

Brom merely nodded, his face softening with a hint of understanding. With that, the two continued their journey in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, the only sounds around them the crunch of their boots on the dirt path and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

As Eragon walked beside Brom, he reached out with his thoughts, focusing on the red ruby embedded at the tip of Zar'roc's hilt. The gemstone, no larger than a small egg, seemed to pulse faintly with an inner light as Eragon's consciousness touched it.

With practiced ease, Eragon began to draw on his own energy, feeling the familiar surge of power welling up within him. Carefully, he funneled this energy into the ruby, feeling the subtle shift as the stone accepted his offering. The energy flowed smoothly, like water being poured into an endless reservoir. As he continued to walk, Eragon sent more and more of his strength into the ruby, letting it store the excess energy that hummed through his veins.

The process was strangely soothing, almost meditative, as he felt the ruby absorb his power with ease. He marveled at how the stone seemed to possess an almost infinite capacity for storage, no matter how much energy he fed into it.

'It's incredible,' Eragon thought to himself, his gaze flickering down to the hilt of Zar'roc as he walked. 'This ruby can hold far more than I ever imagined.'

He had just this night unlocked this ability, after finally having a ruby to experiment with. Brom had not yet taught him the technique, but after acquiring Zar'roc yesterday, Eragon had remembered this ability from the books and gave it a try. It didn't take long for him to figure it out on his own. The concept had been simple enough—once he knew what to look for, it was only a matter of reverse engineering the process.

'It's not that hard... With my current physique I can store so much energy into the ruby each day, the accumulation would eventually be staggering.' he mused, feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction at his accomplishment. While Brom's lessons had been invaluable, some things Eragon had learned simply by following his future knowledge, by trusting the innate understanding that seemed to come with his connection to Zar'roc and the magic he now harbored.

Eragon glanced sideways at Brom, wondering if the older man had noticed what he was doing. But Brom remained silent, his gaze fixed ahead, lost in his own thoughts. Eragon didn't mind. This was his own small triumph, a skill he had honed on his own, and he felt a quiet pride in that.

As the ruby continued to absorb his energy, Eragon allowed himself to relax, knowing that with the current speed he was sending energy into the ruby and his body's natural recovery, he can do this all day.

The day passed slowly as they made their way toward Therinsford. Brom kept a steady pace, but even after hours of walking, Eragon didn't feel the least bit tired. His enhanced physique made the journey easy for him, and his stamina was seemingly endless. The hours of walking that would have left most people exhausted were little more than a warm-up for him. Fatigue, once a familiar feeling, was now nothing more than a distant memory.

As they walked, Brom occasionally glanced over at Eragon, as if studying him. Eragon could sense that Brom was evaluating him—not just physically, but mentally as well. After a few hours of silence, Brom finally spoke.

"Recite the ancient language words I taught you last week," Brom said, his tone expectant.

Eragon didn't miss a beat. He spoke the words fluently, his pronunciation precise and his intonation correct. Brom listened carefully, nodding in approval. "Good," he said. "You've improved. But remember, the ancient language is not just about memorization. You must understand the meaning behind the words. Magic is tied to the ancient language deeply, and if you're not careful, you can say one thing aiming for A to happen while in reality B will occur."

"I understand," Eragon replied, keeping his voice steady.

Brom raised an eyebrow. "Do you? Magic is a dangerous tool, Eragon. Even with your natural abilities, you must always be cautious. Never let arrogance blind you. If you are not 100% certain in your phrasing, it's best if you just remain silent and not invoke the spell."

Eragon met Brom's gaze with annoyance. This was the who knows what time Brom has lectured him on how dangerous magic is, and it started to get annoying real fast "I'm not arrogant, Brom. I just know what I'm capable of."

Brom chuckled softly. "Confidence is good, but overconfidence can lead to ruin. Just keep that in mind."

They continued their journey, Brom occasionally quizzing Eragon on various aspects of the ancient language. Eragon answered each question with ease, drawing on the knowledge he had gained over the past few months.

The mental exercises Brom had taught him helped him focus and control his thoughts, and he could feel his mind growing sharper with each passing day.

Once Brom was pleased Eragon truly remembered his studies, he recited new words and sentences for Eragon to remember, explaining their meaning in different sentences and tenses.

Slowly the sun began to dip toward the horizon, they made camp for the night. Brom set up a small fire while Eragon gathered wood from the nearby forest.

Saphira, who had followed them from the skies once it got dark, landed gracefully nearby, her large wings folding against her back as she approached the camp.

Eragon smiled as he watched her land. 'You made good time, getting here in only a few minutes while to us it took a whole day' he thought to her, impressed by her speed.

'Flying will always be much faster than walking,' Saphira replied with a touch of amusement. 'But I still don't like having to hide during the day. It feels... wrong.'

Eragon walked over to her, placing a hand on her scaled head. "I know," he said aloud, his voice gentle. "But we have to be careful for now. Once we reach the Varden, you won't have to hide anymore."

Saphira huffed softly, her blue eyes gleaming in the firelight. 'I hope that day comes soon.'

"It will," Eragon promised. "Just a little longer."

Brom watched the interaction between the two with quiet curiosity. Although he could not hear their thoughts, he could see the depth of their bond in their expressions and body language. He poked at the fire, then lay back on his bedroll, his eyes scanning the stars above them.

They spent the night under the stars, Saphira keeping watch while Eragon and Brom rested. Eragon's mind wandered as he lay beneath the night sky, his thoughts drifting to Garrow and Roran.

He wondered what they would think when they found the letter, the money, and the food he had left for them. Would they be angry? Worried? Or would they simply accept that he had made his choice and moved on with his life?

Saphira's presence in his mind was a constant source of comfort, and he knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, he wouldn't be facing them alone.

---

The next day, they continued their journey toward Therinsford. The road was long, winding through small hills and dirt roads. Eragon walked with a steady pace beside Brom, his mind still filled with thoughts of their destination. They traveled while Brom constantly imparted his knowledge, taking every chance to expand Eragon's skills and abilities.

By the time the sun had begun its descent once again, they reached the bridge that marked the entrance to Therinsford. A gruff-looking man stood at the far side of the bridge, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked them over with narrowed eyes as they approached.

"You want to cross?" the man asked, his voice rough and unfriendly.

Brom stepped forward, his expression calm. "Yes, we do."

"That'll be two crowns," the man said with a sneer. "I own this bridge."

Eragon chuckled at the man's tone, but kept quiet. Brom simply nodded. "Very well," he said, reaching into his pouch. He handed the man two crowns without complaint.

The man grinned as he pocketed the money, stepping aside to let them pass. As Brom walked by, Eragon noticed the slightest flick of Brom's hand. The old man continued walking without pause, but when they were a few paces away from the bridge, Brom smirked and held up the money pouch he had just pilfered from the man.

Eragon couldn't help but laugh at seeing the same scene as it was depicted in the book now in person. "That was brilliant," he said, shaking his head in amusement.

Brom chuckled as well. "One must always be prepared to outwit those who try to take advantage," he said with a wink. "It's a useful skill to have."

As they continued on toward Therinsford, Brom glanced over at Eragon, studying him with quiet satisfaction. Eragon had proven himself time and again to be steady and calm in stressful situations. Despite his young age, he did not act rashly or let his emotions cloud his judgment—a quality that Brom greatly appreciated.

'He's more than ready for this journey,' Brom thought to himself with a sense of pride. 'And with Saphira by his side, there's little that could stop them.'

Therinsford came into view as the sun set on the horizon. The village was small but lively, with people going about their business even as the day came to a close. Brom and Eragon made their way to the farrier's shop, where they planned to purchase horses for the next leg of their journey.

The farrier, a burly man named Haberth, greeted them with a nod. "What can I do for you?"

"We're in need of horses," Brom said simply. "Something strong and reliable."

Haberth looked them over, then gestured to the stable behind him. "I've got a few fine horses, but they don't come cheap."

Brom smiled slightly. "We'll see about that."

The two of them haggled for a while, Brom's sharp wit and silver tongue eventually winning out. In the end, Brom purchased a beautiful white stallion named Snowfire for himself and a sturdy brown mare for Eragon. The stallion was elegant and powerful, with a proud gait that spoke of its excellent breeding. Eragon's mare, while not as striking as Snowfire, was calm and strong—a perfect match for him.

As they finalized the deal, Eragon reached out with his mind to the mare, calming her thoughts as he placed his belongings on her back. He felt a connection to the animal, one that went beyond simple ownership. The mare responded to his touch with a gentle nuzzle, her mind filled with trust and calmness.

"You're good with animals," Haberth observed as he watched Eragon with the mare.

Eragon shrugged modestly. "I've had some practice."

Haberth nodded in approval. "She's a good horse. She'll serve you well."

Once the horses were saddled and ready, Brom and Eragon mounted up and began to make their way out of the village. The road ahead would take them around Utgard and toward Yazuac, and they had several days of travel ahead of them.

As they rode, Brom continued to teach Eragon, though the pace was slower now that they were on the move then at the Spine. Despite this, Eragon remained eager to learn, absorbing everything Brom had to offer with the same enthusiasm he had shown during their earlier training.

Brom, for his part, was pleased with Eragon's progress. Though they could not cover as much ground in their lessons while traveling, Eragon's enthusiasm and determination never wavered. He was like a sponge, soaking up knowledge with every opportunity.

He had seen many students in his time, but Eragon was different. There was a fire in him, a determination that went beyond simple ambition. Brom knew that, with time and training, Eragon would become a Rider unlike any other.

For four days, they traveled around Utgard, the landscape changing from rolling hills to dense forests. The road was long and tiring, but neither Eragon nor Brom complained. Saphira remained hidden, flying overhead during the night to avoid being seen by the villagers or travelers on the road. Though she disliked having to hide, she did so without complaint, knowing it was necessary for their safety.

During their journey, Eragon felt a growing sense of anticipation. As a reincarnated person, he knew what lay ahead at Yazuac and couldn't suppress the excitement building within him.

This would be his first real fight—his chance to test his skills and prove to himself that all the hard training had been worth it. He wasn't just some boy from Carvahall anymore or a factory worker; he was a warrior, ready to face the dangers that awaited him.

Looking at his resistance skill list, it confirmed his confidence was not in vain.

---

[Pain Resistance Level 161]

[Radiation Resistance Level 183]

[Fatigue Resistance Level 200]

[Abrasion Resistance Level 142]

[Heat Resistance Level 175]

[Blunt Force Resistance Level 113]

[Oxygen Deprivation Resistance Level 84]

[Vertigo Resistance Level 73]

[Irritant Resistance Level 23]

[Cold Resistance Level 149]

[Poison Resistance Level 37]

[Sleep Deprivation Resistance Level 153]

[Alcohol Resistance Level 12]

[Cut Resistance Level 37]

[Hunger Resistance Level 72]

[Pressure Resistance Level 21]

[Dehydration Resistance Level 73]

[Sickness Resistance Level 3]

[Virus Resistance Level 3]

[Sensory Overload Resistance Level 52]

[Magic Resistance Level 79]

[Mental Invasion Resistance Level 55]