Dawnbreaker [Inheritance Cycle]

5. Homecoming

The woods ended abruptly as Serafyna emerged from the densely packed trees and onto

a wide roughly hewn track that functioned as the road leading through the mountains and towards Carvahall. The lights of the village were growing faint behind her.

A pearlescent moon peeked over the mountains, bathing the land in a ghostly reflection of daylight. Everything looked bleached and flat.

Near the end of her journey, she turned off the road, which continued south. A simple path led straight through waist-high grass and up a knoll, almost hidden by the shadows of protective elm trees. She crested the hill and saw a gentle light shining from her home.

The house had a shingled roof and a brick chimney. Eaves hung over the whitewashed walls, shadowing the ground below. One side of the enclosed porch was filled with split wood, ready for the fire. A jumble of farm tools cluttered the other side.

The house had been abandoned for half a century when they moved in after Garrow's wife, Marian, died.

It was ten miles from Carvahall, farther than anyone else's. People considered the distance dangerous because the family could not rely on help from the village in times of trouble, but Serafyna's uncle would not listen.

A hundred feet from the house, in a dull-colored barn, lived two horses —Birka and Brugh—with chickens and a cow. Sometimes there was also a pig, but they had been unable to afford one this year. A wagon sat wedged between the stalls. A thick line of trees traced along the Anora River on the edge of their fields.

She saw a light move behind a window as she wearily reached the porch. "Uncle, it's me. Let me in."

A small shutter slid back briefly, then the door swung inward.

Garrow stood with his hand on the door. His worn clothes hung on him like rags on a stick frame. A lean, weary face with intense eyes gazed out from under graying hair. He looked like a man who had been partly mummified before it was discovered that he was still alive.

"Roran's sleeping, and Eragon's in his room" was his answer to Serafyna's inquiring glance.

A lantern flickered on a wood table so old that the grain stood up like a giant fingerprint in tiny ridges. Near a wood stove were rows of cooking utensils tacked onto the wall with homemade nails. A second door opened to the rest of the house. The floor was made of boards polished smooth by years of tramping feet.

Serafyna took off her pack and stepped inside. Garrow closed the door behind her.

"So," said Serafyna, turning to face him.

"So," replied Garrow.

"I'm guessing Eragon told you everything?"

Garrow's naturally stern face softened, just slightly. "He did."

Serafyna sighed softly, resting her pack on the ground at her feet. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have confronted Sloan like that."

Garrow surprised her by taking a step forward and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's alright. You stood up to that slime, not many could've. And you protected your brother, that's what matters."

"It could've gone very wrong if it weren't for Katrina and Horst."

"But it didn't, Sera. That's what matters." Garrow said in a soft voice. "Take this experience and learn from it. Anger and aggression will only take you so far. Do better."

Serafyna was at a loss for words, an unexpected lump forming in her throat. So she only nodded.

"Now, Eragon also told me about the hunt and the meat Horst bought." He continued, taking a step away and sitting down on a chair beside the table. "Horst knew I wouldn't accept it for free, so he offered Eragon to work in his forge next spring. He will be busy then, so you and Roran will have to pick up the slack."

Serafyna grinned at the idea of Eragon working in a forge, though felt slightly jealous as well. "Okay, sure."

"He also... mentioned something about a red stone?"

"Oh yeah– here." Serafyna reached into her pack and took out the crimson stone and placed it on the table.

Garrow bowed over it: he frowned, and his fingers moved with a strange twitch. "You found this in the Spine?"

"Yes," said Serafyna. She explained what had happened, despite the fact Eragon most likely already did. "And to make matters worse, I lost my best arrow. I'll have to make more before long."

They stared at the stone in the near darkness.

Eventually, her uncle reached forth and lifted the stone, and asked, "How was the weather?"

"Cold," was Serafyna's reply. "It didn't snow, but it froze each night."

Garrow looked worried by the news. "Tomorrow you'll have to help Eragon and Roran finish harvesting the barley. If we can get the squash picked, too, the frost won't bother us."

He passed the stone to Serafyna. "Here, keep it. When the traders come, we'll find out what it's worth. Selling it is probably the best thing to do. The less we're involved with magic, the better."

She nodded, taking the stone and cradling it in her arm. She grabbed her pack and began to move to her room, but then paused. A question still gnawed at her.

"Uncle, why did Sloan react so violently to the knowledge of the stone being found in the Spine?"

Garrow shrugged. "Sloan's wife, Ismira, went over the Igualda Falls a year before you and Eragon were brought here. He hasn't been near the Spine since, nor had anything to do with it. But that's no reason to refuse payment. I think he wanted to give you trouble."

"Huh, I see," Serafyna muttered, taking a look around the lantern-lit room. Then, "It's good to be back."

Garrow nodded lightly. "Off to bed now. You look like you're ready to pass out where you stand."

"Goodnight, Uncle."

Serafyna went past the second door and down a dark hallway to a door at the far end, to the left. She pushed it open and walked into her room.

Placing her pack down by the door and the red stone underneath her bed, she then collapsed onto the mattress, exhausted.

Home.

For the first time since before the hunt, she relaxed completely as sleep overtook her.