Chapter 37

On a dirt road between Teirm and Woadark lake, a pair of oxen pulled a cart, driven by a tall, thin man, wearing a roughshod coat and a wide straw-hat. His hands gripped the reins loosely, hunched over and head hanging low. Behind him, a stack of hay was piled high with various oddments, stashed here and there.

Heading for Gil'ead, Silver eschewed main thoroughfares for less travelled paths. A survivor of fifty-something winters, people-reading counted among his skills. As such, having detected his witch-boy master's faint restlessness, he thought it best not to tarry.

Staring into the distance where sharp mountains met grey skies, the look in his eyes reflected the slowly-drifting clouds. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

As a young man, he'd strained against his own reins much as the lively pair of oxen bucked theirs. However, harsh masters with harsher whips long since beat any defiance out of him. Still, perhaps the most heavy-handed task master was life itself.

Had Silver given up? Was he resigned to his fate of slavery until death, never to become free? Indeed, others may perceive it that way, but the old pirate felt differently. Everyone was a slave to something, and no man was truly free.

Certain things would forever haunt mortal men, specters they'd never shake—starvation, sickness, injury, old age… indeed, mankind's true jailor was not other men, but the world itself. It was knowing one's situation, seeing and accepting it for what it was, where true freedom lay.

That isn't to say knowledge alone was sufficient. Rather, with it came a type of power; not of how to bend or break the rules – he had no such unnatural gifts – but how to work within them, using them to one's own advantage.

Because of this unique perspective, over the course of his life, Silver developed a large amount of respect – or more accurately, a healthy fear – of those with powers beyond most men.

Truly, the gods played favorites, but what could be done about it? Nothing. There were only two options—make peace with his lot, or stew forever in useless resentment. And Silver, well… he was never one to dwell on things he couldn't change.

Hours passed on the road, his oxen trudging along, making deep hoof-prints in the damp, mossy soil. Already, the sun was moving toward the horizon, peeking out from under a layer of heavy clouds, dyed orange in the late-afternoon. The… thing in the rear hadn't stirred once. Aside from the occasional slow breath, he'd almost forgotten about his 'company'.

"Hail, the traveler!"

Suddenly, a shout sounded from among the sparse trees near the roadside, followed by a series of rustling footsteps.

Silver turned his head, spotting a group of men. Their postures were relaxed, and their expressions amiable enough, but they were obviously armed, their hands resting on knives, clubs and crossbows.

The old ruffian's watery, grey eyes flitted from first to last, betraying no emotion. Not seeing a reason to cause trouble, he spoke up, his voice deep and dry.

"Hail, the tollkeepers."

The men exchanged glances, chuckling amongst themselves.

"That's right, sir. We're keeping an eye on this here mountain road, making sure it's clean of beast, bandits and the like. If I'm right, you should be headed for the northern mountain-trail. You in a hurry to get somewhere?"

Silver fumbled in his coat, withdrawing a frayed pouch filled sparsely with copper and iron coins.

"Not really."

With an underhanded throw, he lobbed the light-weight sack toward the leader, who caught it deftly. After upending it in his hand, counting the coins one by one, his expression turned faintly disappointed.

"On hard times, uncle? Dunno where you're going, but it can't be far with this much. I doubt you'd get more than a week's rations. Unless… you got some in the back?"

His gaze flitted briefly to the stacked cart.

"Nothing's back there but some grains, clothes and things. What I gave you is the end of it. Won't find much no matter how hard you look."

"…"

The highwayman pursed his lips, seeming like he wasn't quite satisfied with the answer. However, after thinking things over, he sighed, waving his hand.

"All right then, thank you kindly for your contribution, supporting public safety and all that. Be on your way, sir-…"

Before he could finish, a youngish, sandy haired lad to his right suddenly leaned in, whispering into the highwayman's ear.

"Hold on, boss. I'm almost certain… is smuggling something… coming this way in a hay-cart… is he trying to fool? There must be contraband hidden… depending on what it is… keep it or turn it in to the Teirm guard…!"

He tried being quiet, but Silver heard nearly every word. Despite his lifestyle, the years had arguably been kinder to him than many others. Certainly, his hawk-like sense of hearing hadn't dulled one bit.

The leader's eyes lit up in realization, but to his credit, he didn't otherwise react. After listening, he nodded casually before addressing his subordinate.

"I almost forgot about that. Sorry uncle, but we'll have to check your cart after all. There's been a string of… unsavory incidents around here lately. It's troublesome, but safety takes priority."

With that said, he started approaching the cart, his lackies spreading out around him.

Silver reached up, adjusting his wide straw-hat. He didn't say anything, nor did he try to stop them.

Seeing his calm attitude, the men lost some of their excitement. Perhaps there was nothing so be found after all? However, it was still better to make sure.

When the leader had drawn close, standing about two arm-lengths away, Silver suddenly spoke.

"Before you check the cart, there's one thing I need to tell you."

The highwayman raised his eyebrows, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He didn't seem nervous at all. Understandable, given his six lackies assisting him.

"What's the matter? Don't worry uncle, we won't leave you without-…"

However, before he could finish his sentence, a palm-length flat knife suddenly appeared in his eye-socket - the blade all but disappearing into the back of his skull. Only the handle stuck out, vibrating faintly.

For a moment, shocked silence reigned among the remaining men. It was so sudden, the strike so practiced and casual, they struggled to process what happened.

Only when their boss' figure tumbled backward, his mouth half-open and his eye-socket spurting blood, did they react. In a flurry of movement and cacophony of yelling and swearing, they bared their weapons, wanting to hack Silver into a thousand bloody pieces.

Palming another knife, produced from his sleeve, the pirate put the cart between himself and three of the highwaymen.

"Kill them."

The words were said in an even tone, without any inflection. The men barely even heard him, fearful and enraged as they were, but the golem did.

Without warning, the back of the cart exploded into a shower of hay, seeds, grains and other goods. An enormous hand emerged, bound in black leather, its thick, ugly fingers enclosing the arm of a crossbowman.

The brigand's shocked yell soon turned high-pitched from agony as his elbow snapped, twisted and bent backwards like deboning a chicken. Before his companions even knew what happened, another monstrous paw circled his neck, crushing his windpipe.

His weapon clattering uselessly onto the dirt, the man stumbled backward. His eyes were like those of a fish as his good hand scrabbled at his throat, unable to do anything but choke up spittle and blood.

Leaving him for dead, the monster advanced on the others. Its tremendous bulk, evident under its dark cloak, bore down on them like a stampeding bull.

Silver didn't stand by idly, using the confusion to end the lives of two highwaymen, dagger in one hand and a thin sword in the other.

Before the cloud of hay and dust even settled, only two brigands remained. Like one man, they turned and bolted into the forest, terrified out of their minds.

However, an improvised projectile in the form of a flying corpse took one's legs out from under him, sending him to the ground. The monster was on top of him, an iron-booted foot crushing the vertebrae of his neck.

The other was similarly done in, but buy a crossbow bolt fired by Silver. Not wanting word to spread, he'd snatched one off a dead man, shooting the last fellow in the hip.

Letting the golem finish them off, the old pirate let out a slow breath. From beginning to end, the altercation lasted perhaps twenty seconds. Longer than he'd have liked, but his body just didn't move like it used to.

His eyes flitted from corpse to corpse, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. He'd have to clean up this mess, but with the golem's help, digging a grave wouldn't be difficult.

Finding the creature looking at him, its eyes beady and milky-white under the cowl and mask, his hands unconsciously tightened on his weapons. He kept reminding himself that it wouldn't act against his orders, but… the sheer hunger in its gaze unsettled him.

Silver's tongue darted out between his teeth, moistening his dry lips. Perhaps… the corpses could otherwise be put to use. It was a disgusting idea, but he certainly didn't want to become the target of the monster's unnatural appetite.

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Late that same evening when the sun already set, Cedric visited Saphira. They kept contact irregularly during the third week of their stay, chatting and exchanging ideas.

'I do not think we will remain much longer.'

Lounging near the base of an old iron-barked tree, Saphira fixed her blue reptilian eyes on Cedric.

Unlike her, he remained standing. Hands folded behind his back, he stared absentmindedly into the distance. It was already dark outside, the stars sparkling in the clear night sky above their heads.

"Hmm."

Saphira's tail moved up and down, the barbed tip thumping against the ground. She was starting to get annoyed by his dismissiveness, barely paying attention to her.

'I do not see why you agreed to meeting if you don't intend to engage in conversation.'

Her thoughts echoed irritably from her mind to his. However, feeling she was perhaps a tad unreasonable, Saphira amended the message.

'Is some important matter occupying your thoughts?'

The question drew Cedric from his reverie, glancing over his shoulder. His face was expressionless, neither relaxed nor serious.

"…not really. One of my servants went missing, and the other got himself into some trouble. Though, it's not a big deal."

'Servants…? Are you being serious? Who would serve you? For what reason?'

Saphira twisted her neck, staring incredulously at him. She knew he separated from Eragon and Brom, and was somewhat curious about his affairs since, but… servants?

Such things were reserved for noble born humans, if her worldly knowledge was accurate. Cedric was only a village boy. Perhaps he'd hired them, but she didn't remember red-hair being wealthy. What would he even need them for?

Cedric chuckled, shaking his head. He sensed some of Saphira's confusion.

"I prefer to work solo, but a single pair of hands can only accomplish so much. It is so with most human endeavors, and mine are no different."

Bending over, he plucked a stalk of grass near his feet.

"A farmer sows wheat, and after it sprung up, his wife tends to it. When harvest comes, he hires extra help for reaping. Then, a miller grinds the grains into flour, and a baker turns it into bread."

He shrugged, flicking the stem away.

"I suppose one person could do all of that, but some tasks are more important than others, and there are only so many hours in a day."

'…I am not so simple as to not understand how humans divide tasks, Cedric. I am asking what these tasks are.'

Cedric cleared his throat, a tad embarrassed. He hadn't intended to lecture her, only speaking his mind casually.

"Well, I think you'd rather not know. I doubt you'll like hearing about it."

Saphira stared at him for a long moment, her curiosity turning to concern.

'If it will affect me and mine, I would rather hear it, even if I find knowing unpleasant.'

"It won't. At least, I'm not planning for that to happen. I'm certainly not acting against you, Eragon, nor Brom—even if the old coot does rub me the wrong way."

Silence stretched between them. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but there was some tension in the air.

'…I will believe you. For now. However, this much I must know, as it pertains directly to me. What are your intentions for my blood?'

Cedric coughed into his fist, startled by the question. She pressed him for answers before, but he always managed to deflect. Yet, he sensed she wouldn't let things slide this time.

"Are you certain you wish to know?"

'Yes. Now stop stalling and answer.'

"…very well."

Running his fingers through his coppery, red hair, he looked her dead in the eyes. In the pale starlight, his features seemed extraordinarily fine, almost as if they were carved by hand.

"As you know, it's possible to turn from dragon to human—at least, other beings are capable of changing shape, and your race shouldn't be an exception. However, I found myself wondering if the reverse was possible."

Saphira waited for him to continue, feeling a strange premonition, a tightening feeling in her chest.

"Could a human… turn into a dragon?"

His words struck like a gong inside her. For the first time, she realized the reason for Brom's worries. She'd sensed Cedric's lust for power, but hadn't understood just how far it went.

'It was one thing for a dragon to take the form of a lesser race, but… this? You cannot seriously be considering it. With the magics of man, it wouldn't result in anything less than an abomination!'

Cedric was unshaken, his eyes burning like coals in the darkness. Taking a step closer, his forehead almost touching Saphira's.

"Indeed, I want certain things that others would find unacceptable. But who are they to dictate what is or isn't allowed? Why should I restrain my desires?"

"I am certain you understand it, to want something so badly. After all, you are the last of your race, aren't you? Those eggs may never be recovered, and if you and Eragon manage it, will they ever hatch? And black dragon Shruikan… well, you wouldn't possibly consider that mad creature as a mate."

Saphira's eyes flashed dangerously.

'My desire concerns the survival of my race, while yours is purely selfish. They are not-…'

"...-the same? But they are. You can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me. Your desire, more than anything else, is to not be alone. That… is purely selfish."

Cedric's words struck her deeply, like a stone thrown at the surface of a clear lake. Her emotions roiling, she pulled her head back. However, Cedric didn't let her withdraw, closing the distance once again.

"If a dragon was brought forth through some means or another, wouldn't your wishes be granted? Not only would you no longer be alone, but, well… if the dragon is male, dragon-kind could be brought back from the brink of extinction..."

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