Chapter XI: Towards Teirm

The next day Eragon had joined Brom and me for riding, apparently in order to receive instructions as usual while he would ride Saphira every other day. "What's the sea like?"

"You must've heard it described before." Brom replied.

"Yes, but what is it really like?"

"I've heard it's so large no one actually knows if it ends. Apparently it's no one colour either, it can be green as grass, blue like the sky, grey like the clouds or clear like glass. Someone once told me each wave is different and comes with new strength or renews the sand. Is that true?" I asked Brom.

I looked over to Brom. Brom's eyes grew hazy, as if he were looking upon a hidden scene. "The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles. No matter what you about it, there's always that which you can't. Do you both remember how I told you elves came from across the sea?"

"Yes," Eragon replied.

"Though the elves live far from the coast, they retain a great fascination and passion for the ocean. The sound of crashing waves, smell of salt air, it affects them deeply, and has inspired many of their loveliest songs. There is one that tells of this love, if you want to hear it, I can show you."

"I would," I replied, intrested.

Brom coughed and cleared his throat as he pulled Snowfire to a stop. "I will translate it from the Ancient Language as best I can. It won't be perfect, but perhaps it will give you an idea of how the original sounds." Brom closed his eyes before chanting softly.

O liquid temptress 'neath the azure sky,

Your gilded expanse calls me, calls me.

For I would sail ever on,

Were it not for the elven maid,

Who calls me, calls me.

She binds my heart with a lily-white tie,

Never to be broken, save by the sea,

Ever to be torn twixt the trees and the waves.

"There is much more to that song, it's known as 'Du Silbena Datia.' I have recited one of its verses, it tells of a tale between two lovers, Acallamh and Nuada, who were separated by longing for the sea. The elves find great meaning in the story." Brom said softly.

"It's beautiful." Eragon replied.

"And haunting," I added on as we moved forwards once more.

The spine was a faint outline on the horizon when we stopped that evening.

Three days after arriving at the Spine's foothills, and following the mountains south, we came to a wide road rutted by wagon wheels. "This is the main road between the capital, Urû'baen, and Tierm." Brom told me, it was one of Eragon's dragon riding days. "It's widely used and a favourite route for merchants. We'll have to be more cautious. This isn't the busiest time of year, but a few people are bound to be using the road."

Days passed quickly as we travelled alongside the Spine, searching for the mountain pass. Every second day, Eragon would join Brom and I and received instruction. I often listened whether it was about Eragon learning how to care for Saphira or when he was learning the elven language. When Eragon practised magic, I ended up focusing on talking to Istal within our minds or trying to increase my awareness of minds around me.

Eragon had also learned how to kill game with magic, which saved time. The results of his efforts roasted over the fire each night. And after dinner, Brom would spar with either Eragon or I and then the other with swords and had even introduced fighting with fists. Some nights Eragon and I fought while Brom watched on, while others I would focus on trying to block Saphira's thoughts while Eragon fought Brom.

As the long days passed, I slowly saw the changes in everyone. Saphira grew, albeit slowly, and grew stronger. Eragon grew stronger and his arms became corded, and his tanned skin rippled with lean muscles. My own skin tanned and I grew stronger although you could hardly tell. Despite my new strength, I could hardly ever beat Eragon in a fistfight, Brom simply told me I had been built with less strength and a lighter frame, which allowed me to run faster. Istal had even changed, my young brown stallion had become fitter, and we had grown closer than ever before. Istal could now convey pictures, and at times words, to speak and was quieter on the roads. Every so often, he would decide to be naughty, and race off and have fun instead of listening to my commands.

When we finally reached the pass, I saw a river that rushed out of it and cut directly across the road. "This is the Toark," Brom explained to Eragon and me. "We'll follow it all the way to the sea."

Eragon laughed, "How can we if it flows out of the Spine in this direction? It wouldn't end up in the ocean unless it doubles back on itself." I said with a frown.

Brom twisted the ring on his finger. "Because in the middle of the mountains rests the Woadark Lake. A river flows from each end of it, and both are called the Toark. We see the eastward one now. It runs to the south and winds through the brush until it joines Leona Lake. The other one goes out to sea.

Two days later in the Spine, we came upon a rock ledge from which we could see clearly out of the mountains. Below the ground flattened in the distance, beside me Eragon groaned at the distance we still had to traverse. "Down there and to the north lies Teirm." Brom said as he pointed. "It's an old city. Some say it's where the elves first landed in Alagaësia. Its citadel has never fallen, nor have its warriors ever been defeated." With that said Brom spurred Snowfire forward and left the ledge.

It took until noon the next day to descend through the foothills and arrive at the other side of the Spine, where the forested land quickly levelled out. Without the mountains to hide behind, Saphira flew close to the ground, using every hollow, and dip in the land to conceal herself.

Beyond the forest, the land changed. The countryside was covered with soft turf and heather that everything sunk into. Moss clung to every stone and branch and lined the streams that laced the grounds. Pools of mud marked the road where the horses had trampled the dirt. Before long Brom and Eragon were covered in grime. I was slightly less dirty as Istal had taken to quickly stepping from place to place with jerky motions and keeping away from the other two horses and splattering my companions.

"Why is everything green?" asked Eragon. "Don't they have winter here?"

"Yes, but the season is mild. Mist and fog roll in from the sea and keep everything alive. Some find it to their liking, but to me it's dreary and depressing." Brom replied, a few moments later Brom glared at me. "Umaroth, will you get your blasted horse to walk normally, and stop splashing me!"

Eragon and I laughed just as Istal shook his head as if in reply. I patted my horse's neck as he sprung sideways before jerking forward once more. I pulled on the reins gently and urged him mentally to calm down and move smoothly. Istal snorted but did as I asked.

When evening fell, we set camp in the driest spot that any of us could find. "Eragon should ride Cadoc continuously from now on." I said as we ate.

Brom nodded his head in agreement. "Umaroth has the right idea, as it's likely we'll meet other travels now we're out of the Spine there's a chance someone we meet will show up in the city. I don't want someone who saw Umaroth and me on the trail wondering where you suddenly appeared from."

"Will we use our own names?" Eragon questioned.

Brom nodded his head with a thoughtful expression. "We won't be able to deceive Jeod. He already knows my name, and I trust him enough that I can trust him with both of yours. However, to everyone else, I will be Neal, and you will be my nephew Evan and Umaroth... Umaroth you're a bit taller than Eragon yet you look younger. You can be Curt, Eragon's younger brother. If our tongues do slip and give us away, it shouldn't make too much of a difference, but I don't want our names in anyone's head. People have an annoying habit of remembering things they shouldn't.

After two days of traveling north toward the ocean, Eragon said that Saphira had sighted Teirm. However, a heavy fog clung to the ground and blocked the view. Later in the morning, a breeze from the west finally blew the mist away. Eragon gaped as Teirm was revealed, I have to say I wasn't any less surprised but at least I kept my mouth closed. Teirm was nestled by the edge of the shimmering sea, where ships were docked with furled sails. The surf's dull thunder could be heard.

The city was surrounded by a white wall – which was thirty metres high and ten metres thick according to Brom – with rows of rectangular arrow slits lining it and a walkway on top for soldiers and watchmen. The wall's smooth surface was broken by two iron portcullises, one facing the western sea, the other opening south to the road. Above the wall rose a huge citadel, built of giant stones and turrets, set against the city's northeast section. In the highest tower, a lighthouse lantern gleamed even in the light of day. The castle was the only visible thing over the fortifications.

As we grew closer to the southern gate, I could make out soldiers holding their pikes carelessly, but still guarding the gate. "This is our first test," Brom said in a low tone. "Let's hope they haven't received reports of us from the Empire and won't detail us. Whatever happens, don't panic or act suspiciously."

"How big is this place?" I asked in wonder as we almost reached the gate, my head craned up to gaze at the wall. A yellow pennant bearing the outline of a roaring lion and an arm holding a lily blossom waved over the entrance.

"Larger than any city either of you would've seen," Brom replied.

At the entrance to Teirm, the guards straightened and blocked the gate with their pikes. "Wha's yer name?" One asked in a bored accented tone.

"I'm called Neal," Brom said in a wheezy voice, slouching to one side with an expression of happy idiocy on his face. "This'ed be m'nephew Evan. He's m'sister's boy not a..."

The guard nodded impatiently, "Yeah, yeah. Who's the' other one?"

"M'name's Curt. Evan's m'brother and Neal's m'uncle. We're–"

"Yeah, whatever." The other guard said interrupting what I was saying. "Yer business here?"

"He's visitin' an old friend," Eragon supplied, dropping his voice into a thick accent that fit with both Brom's and mine. "I'm along t' make sure he don't get lost, if y'get m'meaning. He ain't as young as he used to be – had a bit too much sun when he was young'r. Touch o' the brain fever, y'know." Brom bobbed his head pleasantly. "M'youn'r brother's come as ma wan'ed 'im out o' the house. She's gettin' old."

"Right. Go on through, just make sure he don't cause any trouble. Nor yerself and yer brother." The guard said, waving his hand and dropped the pike.

"Oh he won't." Eragon promised, and we urged the horses forward and into Teirm.

Once away from the guards, Brom say up straight and growled. "Touch of brain fever, eh?"

Eragon grinned, "I couldn't let you have all the fun," he teased. Brom harrumphed and looked away.

Teirm in the picture