Eragon Chapter Thirty Two

This chapter is called ‘the mire of dras-leona’. Why not be a little more accurate and call it ‘the mire of eragon’ or ‘the mire of stupidity and dragging plots that move slower than glaciers’? Or would that be far too accurate of a chapter title?

They lunched at Fasaloft, a bustling lakeside village. It was a charming place set on a rise overlooking the lake. As they ate in the hostel’s common room, Eragon listened intently to the gossip and was relieved to hear no rumors of him and Saphira.

Whew, that’s a good thing. I was worried that they’d have to eat on the road while they were riding or maybe go to a ride-thru. ‘Hello and welcome to McTorix’s would you like to try a combo meal today?’ ‘Uh, yeah. Can I get a number seven with double mutton?’ ‘What to drink?’ ‘A large ale. Also a number three, also with ale, and…’ Whisper whisper. ‘…and three milk cows. Oh and do you have children’s toys that are safe for a dragon under three?’

We get to hear all about the state of the road and their view of the lake. Wow, it’s like I’m being dragged along behind Aalgaësia’s worst tour guide. You know Chris, I like descriptive narration, it’s part of why I can enjoy the Wheel of Time series. But take note from one Robert Jordan. The reason his narration can go on is because, underneath all the prose and florid description, stuff is actually going on! People fight, there’s explosions and intrigue. It’s not following one man so dull they use his face to pound roads flat while he transforms into a master of time and space.

Eragon rose early the following morning. His fingers twitched with anticipation at the thought of finally finding the Ra’zac. The two of you must be careful, said Saphira. The Ra’zac could have spies watching for travelers that fit your description.

Ok Chris, I’m getting sick of this. You waste my time telling me about the lunch they had but you won’t tell me about the Ra’zac. Why? Could you not think of anything when you came up with them? Doesn’t Brom and his Encyclopedia Plotannica have a page longe entry on them?

It’s just that, at first, they’re some sort of creature. Then there’s the implication that they’re made/owned by a shade. Or maybe they’re a species again and they serve Galbatorix. Going by the single mention of beak and that they’re evil I’m going to peg them as a mix between Uruk-hai and Trollocs.

Eragon tells her to calm down, he has an aura of protection from the author. She also wants to know what he’ll do after he kills the Ra’zac? Will he join the Varden? He says they’ll figure that out later and he’s not sure. There’s more to life than fighting the empire all the time. Yes, there’s beating the empire.

It makes you wonder what the Varden have been doing up until this point. I mean, we all know Eragon will join them and the addition of a single dragon rider will turn the tide. But, weren’t elves capable of slaying dragons without owning them? I mean, there was a war between them and elves. Galbatorix only has the one, after all.

‘Sir, I’ve just got another thousand signatures for the “Depose the King” petition.’ ‘Very good. And I’ve just written a strongly worded letter to him asking him to step down in shame for his refusal to open peace talks with the poor Urgals. How about you Ted?’ ‘I was getting ready to slip into the castle and kill him in his sleep.’ ‘Sweet Jesus Ted! Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?’ ‘I just thought…’ ‘No, I don’t want to hear it. Go sit in your room and think about what you just said.’

Eragon Wakes: 19

Apparently the people near Dras-Leona worship a mountain in the middle of a swamp. They also practice blood drinking and flesh sacrifice. The streets are dirty and there are deformed beggars along with unwashed children. You know, more like a real medieval city rather than the spotless one where Jeod lives. Eragon looks at all the filthy people and is immediately grossed out. ‘Ugh, are all these people poor? Gross.’ Brom tells him to shut up and man up if he wants revenge.

When they get to the wealthier part of the city, Eragon wonders how the rich can ignore the conditions of the poor. Thank you for that relevant comment on society, Chris. Would you like to play for the bonus round and have him decide to fight to change the conditions he sees?

They decide to stay at an inn called the ‘Golden Globe’.  Please Chris, Eragon won’t be earning anyone one of those. Eragon gripes about the possible bed bugs in the mattresses. What? Doesn’t Brom have some magic to get rid of them? Maybe he could just seal them with the barrier he puts on the swords for practice. No? Alright then.

The inn’s food was barely adequate, but its beer was excellent. By the time they stumbled back to the room, Eragon’s head was buzzing pleasantly. He unrolled his blankets on the floor and slid under them as Brom tumbled onto the bed.

Wow, our hero, ladies and gentlemen. Bent on revenge for the slaying of his uncle Eragon will go to any lengths to get it. Including spending a night drinking at an inn and then going to sleep. That’s some determination right there. Galbatorix had best prepare himself for his greatest adversary yet.