brisingr | Page 6

stiffened and leaned forward, their faces rapt; this, apparently, was what they had been
waiting for.
For a long, silent pause, it seemed as if they would be
disappointed, but then one of the acolytes broke
ranks and shouted, “I will!” With a roar of delight, his
brethren began to brandish their bells in a quick and
savage beat, whipping the congregation into such a
frenzy, they jumped and yelled as if they had taken
leave of their senses. The rough music kindled a
spark of excitement in Eragon’s heart—despite his
revulsion at the proceedings—waking some primal
and brutish part of him.
Shedding his gold robes so that he wore nothing but a
leather breechcloth, the dark-haired youth sprang on
top of the altar. Gouts of ruby spray erupted on either
side of his feet. He faced Helgrind and began to shiver
and quake as if stricken with palsy, keeping time with
the tolling of the cruel iron bells. His head rolled
loosely upon his neck, foam gathered at the corners of
his mouth, his arms thrashed like snakes. Sweat
oiled his muscles until he gleamed like a bronze
statue in the dying light.
The bells soon reached a manic tempo where one note clashed against another, at which point the young
man thrust a hand out behind himself. Into it, a
priest deposited the hilt of a bizarre implement: a
single-edged weapon, two and a half feet long, with a
full tang, scale grips, a vestigial cross guard, and a

17 | P a g e Brisingr – Christopher Paolini
broad, flat blade that widened and was scalloped near
the end, a shape reminiscent of a dragon wing. It was
a tool designed for but one purpose: to hack through
armor and bones and sinew as easily as through a
bulging waterskin.
The young man lifted the weapon so that it slanted toward the highest peak of Helgrind. Then he dropped
to one knee and, with an incoherent cry, brought the
blade down across his right wrist.
Blood sprayed the rocks behind the altar.
Eragon winced and averted his eyes, although he
could not escape the youth’s piercing screams. It was
nothing Eragon had not seen in battle, but it seemed
wrong to deliberately mutilate yourself when it was so
easy to become disfigured in everyday life. Blades of
grass rasped against one another as Roran shifted his
weight. He muttered some curse, which was lost in his beard, and then fell silent again.
While a priest tended to the young man’s wound—
stanching the bleeding with a spell—
an acolyte let loose two slaves from the High Priest’s
litter, only to chain them by the ankles to an iron loop
embedded in the altar. Then the acolytes divested
themselves of numerous packages from underneath
their robes and piled them on the ground, out of
reach of the slaves.
Their ceremonies at an end, the priests and their retinue departed Helgrind for DrasLeona, wailing and
ringing the entire way. The now one-handed zealot
stumbled along just behind the High Priest.
A beatific smile graced his face.

18 | P a g e Brisingr – Christopher Paolini
“Well,” said Eragon, and released his pent-up breath
as the column vanished behind a distant hill.
“Well what?”
“I’ve traveled among both dwarves and elves, and
nothing they did was ever as strange as what those
people, those humans, do.”
“They’re as monstrous as the Ra’zac.” Roran jerked
his chin toward Helgrind. “Can you find out now if
Katrina is in there?”
“I’ll try. But be ready to run.”
Closing his eyes, Eragon slowly extended his
consciousness outward, moving from the mind of one
living thing to another, like tendrils of water seeping
through sand. He touched teeming cities of insects
frantically scurrying about their business, lizards and
snakes hidden among warm rocks, diverse species of
songbirds, and numerous small mammals. Insects
and animals alike bustled with activity as they
prepared for the fastapproaching night, whether by
retreating to their various dens or, in the case of
those of a nocturnal bent, by yawning, stretching,
and otherwise readying themselves to hunt and
forage.
Just as with his other senses, Eragon’s ability to touch another being’s thoughts diminished with
distance. By the time his psychic probe arrived at the
base of Helgrind, he could perceive only