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The Last Scion
By : RotSeele
Category: A through F > Eragon
Views: 5098 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon. I do not make any money from this story.
Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
The Shame Carried By All

Murtagh kept a careful gaze on the dwarf, more so to protect him than anything else. The dwarf had remained silent, so Murtagh had bound his arms behind his back and relieved him of his weaponry, keeping him prisoner. Thorn crouched close by, crimson eyes burning hot. The dwarf blanched each time he looked at the dragon and focused his gaze on the human.

Finally, the dwarf spoke. “Yer Murtagh. Do I need a reason beyond that tae kill ye?”

Thorn snarled but Murtagh shot him a glare and moved over to the dwarf, crouching before him. “I share the name of the man you speak of, but I’m no longer him. I’m no longer the Murtagh that exists in the memories of those who live.”

The dwarf snarled. “Don’t matter. Yer still the enemy of the Rider Eragon.”

Murtagh frowned. “No longer, but not yet an ally.”

“And I’m supposed tae believe that?” the dwarf said angrily, his voice rising. “Our clan was shamed once; it’ll not happen again!”

“Shamed?” Murtagh questioned. “By who? How?”

The dwarf shook his bearded head and scowled. “Shamed when we attacked the Rider. None of the other clans will speak of us, of Az Sweldn rak Anhûin, let alone trade with us or acknowledge us. And I plan tae put an end tae that with your head.”

Thorn’s growl rumbled. -I should eat the little beast. Save us some trouble.-

Murtagh rubbed his face, just as agitated as his dragon but controlling it better than the serpent – barely. “You really think my head will solve everything?”

“It’ll let them know we’re on Eragon’s side well enough. That’s all we care about.”

Murtagh’s frown increased. “Being on a side is all you care about? You would blindly follow Eragon into whatever battle he would send you, willing to die for him, because you can’t stand the shame?”

“We’re suffering from the isolation.” The dwarf scowled. “So we’re willing tae pretend tae survive.”

“And then what happens when your treachery is revealed?” asked Murtagh. “What will you do then?”

“We’ll deal with that when it comes!”

“I’m sure you will.” There was bitter amusement in Murtagh’s voice.

The dwarf tightened his grip on his axe and shoved to his feet. “It’s better tae attempt an action instead of just sittin’ around wishing something would change!”

“True. But there are better ways than bringing Eragon a head.” Murtagh stepped back to his saddle, rummaging for something. “Wouldn’t it be a better honour to your clan to be the one to save the life of Eragon? To be the one to come to his aid with an army behind you?”

The axe lowered then, the dwarf gazing at Murtagh with curiosity. “That’s some pretty talk an’ all.” He muttered. “But you haven’t given me any proof.”

Murtagh pulled out the map he’d been given and moved back to the dwarf, kneeling as he spread out the map. The dwarf seemed impressed, for the map detailed not only Alagaësia, but the nameless lands beyond it. “I’m heading to these lands just beyond the Beor. Here, I’ll find my allies.” Murtagh paused, sighing. “At least, that’s what I was told.”

“By whom?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

The way the dwarf stared at him now told Murtagh the dwarf didn’t believe him anyway. But when faced with the choice of rolling over like dogs of the whelp of a Rider Eragon, especially when the Varden and the elves backed him, or getting aid from someone else free of such loyalties… the dwarf smirked. “I suppose I’ll just have tae keep an eye on ye.”

Murtagh rolled up his map with a snap and smirked. “I guess so.” He moved to put the map away and reached to touch Thorn’s snout, laughing as the red dragon heaved a sigh. “It’ll be okay.” He said softly.

Thorn’s crimson eyes focused on his Rider. -If you say so, Murtagh. But until he saves your life or min without any ulterior motive, I’ll withhold my judgment. However, if he raises a hand to you I’ll nip him. Hard.-

Murtagh stifled his laughter at the dwarf’s glare and stared at his diminutive companion for a moment. -Can you carry him?-

Thorn sighed dramatically. -If I must.-

“Do you have belongings, master dwarf?” Murtagh asked.

“It’s Yurich.” The dwarf growled in reply, but went to retrieve a small pack. He dropped it at Murtagh’s feet and glared at him. Murtagh shook his head. This adventure seemed to get more interesting at every turn.

They left the stony vale before the sun was at its zenith, Thorn grumbling at having to carry such a grouchy creature as Yurich. Murtagh only asked if Thorn would rather walk, and though the dragon still grumbled, he kept it to himself. They soared over the last of the Beor Mountains and into the desert lands whose names had been long struck from the memory of Alagaësia. The miles stretched on with no signs of life on the dusty sands. Murtagh had long shed his armour-like clothing, leaving him in his white underclothes. Even Yurich, hardy even in the worst conditions, seemed to be flagging under the heat.

Thorn glided on thermals, his nose leading the way.

Murtagh shifted in the saddle. -See anything?-

-Nothing.- Thorn replied. -But the sun is high and it’s very warm. I scent water. I’ll land there.-

-All right. We should rest now, anyway.- Murtagh twisted to look at Yurich. “Thorn’s going to land. Hold on.”

Still, even with the warning, Yurich howled as Thorn dipped his wings, gripping tighter to the human’s waist. Dwarves weren’t meant to fly! Thorn leveled out above a small oasis and back-winged to slow his momentum. When he landed, he was careful not to jar his passengers and crouched as the dwarf leapt off his back, near worshipping the solid ground. Murtagh slid off at a more sedate pace, pulling off his and Yurich’s belongings before he pulled off the black and silver saddle. Thorn shook himself and moved toward the water, dipping his head to drink. Murtagh filled the water skins first, then took a long drink himself, sitting back with a sigh.

“This desert must go on for miles.” He said, staring out at the huge horizon.

Yurich heaved a breath and wiped water from his beard. “Didn’t even know there was a desert as large as this one.”

“Most things beyond the Beor Mountains have passed into shadow. Hardly anyone remembers them anymore.”

Yurich raised an eyebrow. “And how’d ye know of this place?”

“I was told,” Murtagh replied, “by creatures who dwell in the mountains of the Spine.”

“Creatures?”

“The Fel.” Murtagh frowned slightly. Deciding to trust the dwarf, the young Scion launched into his tale, describing his adventures in far less detail and leaving out the name of his teacher. As a last ditch effort, he showed Yurich the book he’d been reading. At the dwarf’s confused look, Murtagh sighed. “It’s Elvish. Ancient Elvish.”

“All I see are scratches.” Yurich said around the piece of fruit in his mouth, eyes on Thorn as the dragon slid into the cool waters of the oasis.

“It tells the story of Eragon and Bid’Daum from the very beginning.” Murtagh didn’t elaborate, thoughtfully chewing his own meal, offering a thick piece of dried meat to Thorn. The dragon took it as gently as possible and climbed out of the water, lying close to his Rider.

“The first Eragon, ye mean.” Yurich said. Then he frowned, beginning to wonder about the human across from him. “I can’t even read current Elvish. So ye’ll have to translate.”

Murtagh gave his companion a wan smile. “If you want to listen.”

“It’s a way tae pass the time.”

“So it is.” Murtagh, who hadn’t gotten far into the book himself, began to speak, reciting from memory what he’d read. When Yurich looked at him expectantly, waiting for more, Murtagh shrugged.

“That’s… quite the tale.” Yurich said finally, digesting the words. “Though I’d imagine the elves now would have a fit if they heard this.”

Murtagh shrugged. “I’m more concerned with them finding out my teacher lives, and needing to stop them from marching on the Spine.”

“You think they’d really go after the first Rider?” When Murtagh didn’t reply, Yurich gave a low whistle. “Out of curiosity, who do ye think’d win?”

“The Fel.” Murtagh replied without hesitation. “They know the land much better than the elves. Besides, they can wait out any who attack. They live underground, beneath the mountain.”

Now Yurich grinned. “I like them already.”

Murtagh chuckled. “I’d show you Understone if we had the time to fly there and back. We can go after the war. I promised them I’d return.”

“Then ye’d better damn well take me!” Yurich’s grin widened and he rose to help Murtagh pack. “I’ll jus’ have tae keep yer ass alive until then.”

“I guess so.” Murtagh saddled up Thorn and swung on, helping the dwarf once their packs were tied to the saddle. Thorn jiggled, then launched himself into the sky, soaring high in the cool parts of the sky until dusk began, and he slowly glided lower, landing hours later when it was too dark for even Yurich to see.

The trio was not picky, searching for food and water rather than using their own, marking places they landed so they could find their way back. Murtagh told Yurich of the Fel and watched the dwarf’s eyes light with curiosity. He told the dwarf stories, and revealed to him Celeb’sûl, the red blade sparkling with an inner light.

The dwarf edged a bit closer, whistling at the sight of the blade. “Ye forged this?” he asked in disbelief.

“Thorn and I did. It’s difficult to explain.” Murtagh tried his best, but still Yurich looked at him strangely.

Finally, the dwarf swung his hand in dismissal, hiding a yawn rather badly. “Fancy words, boy.”

“Get some sleep, dwarf.” Murtagh shot back.

The dwarf grumbled, but settled to sleep, putting Murtagh and Thorn at his back. The gesture wasn’t lost on the Rider and Murtagh sighed as he settled against Thorn’s warm hide, listening to that giant heart make a steady beat. He trusted his wards to keep them safe or to at least warn him before anything dangerous managed to get close enough to kill them.

Thorn was the first to notice something wrong, his eyes blinking open and staring into the distant dark. He heard movement, and knew it wasn’t an animal. He lifted his head and snarled softly, letting the vibrations wake his Rider.- Something comes, Murtagh.- He told the young man upon his waking.

Murtagh was on his feet, moving to wake the dwarf, keeping him silent with a finger at his lips. He moved to retrieve his Fel sword, watching Yurich collect his axes. The dwarf peered into the dark, and before Murtagh could stop him, he hurled a throwing axe at the moving thing.

Metal struck metal. “That’s no beast.” Yurich said as he backed toward Murtagh.

The Rider rolled his eyes. “You think?”

Yurich glared at Murtagh but focused on the coming enemy as Thorn slunk into a better position for teeth, claws, and flame.

-Murtagh, be careful.- Thorn warned his beloved Rider. -There’s something strange about what comes.-

Before Murtagh could reply, Yurich launched another throwing axe into the dark. This time, the weapon was met with a flash of blue light and promptly flung back at them. If Murtagh had been any slower in pulling Yurich behind his shield, the throwing axe would’ve lodged in the dwarf’s brain. To the surprise of the trio, men stepped from the shadows, circling the human, dwarf, and dragon. The strange blue glow moved between each man like a ring, all leading back to the robed figure outside the ring of warriors, his hands out-stretched to support the spell. It was this man who spoke.

“Name your purpose here, outlander!”

-I could burn them.- Thorn offered. Murtagh shook his head. He stepped forward, sheathing his Fel blade as he did so. “I was sent by my teacher, the White Rider who lives in the mountains. He said I should seek out those who dwell in the deserts and ask for their aid.”

“And why should we aid you?”

“Because the fate of all the free peoples of the world depends on victory of the Varden. There is war on the other side of the mountains west of here, and I need your help.”

The masked sorcerer frowned. “That war is none of our concern. Now take your serpent and leave.”

Murtagh stepped forward a few steps, raising his hand to point at the sorcerer. “That war is already your concern! He’s sent something here to destroy you, to make sure the Varden have no allies when the end comes.”

Soft murmuring came from the men who circled them. Yurich stepped a little closer to Murtagh and gripped his axe tighter. “Looks like ye made an impression.” Said the dwarf.

Murtagh grunted but otherwise didn’t reply. A warrior stepped over to the veiled sorcerer, their heads close together as they conversed. A moment later, the veiled man looked back to Murtagh. “And how would you know of this?”

Murtagh swallowed. “Because I was once slave to the man who sent what hunts you.”

The glow dropped then and the robed man moved forward, stepping past a startled Yurich and right into the Rider’s personal space. Abruptly, the man took hold of Murtagh’s face, forcing Murtagh to meet his eyes. Hard gold orbs bore into Murtagh’s own dark orbs, searching for something. Eventually, he pulled back and waved his hand. “Follow us.”

Murtagh let out the breath he’d been holding and sheathed his weapon, watching the warriors move to pick up the traveler’s belongings before the owners, circling them as the group began to move. The robed man kept close to Murtagh, watching him with his hard gold eyes. Murtagh met that gaze once, feeling strange as he met that gaze, and those gold eyes narrowed above the veil, but he didn’t know if it was in amusement or annoyance.

They passed over hundreds of dunes, the trio near flagging when they finally reached the oasis. Murtagh took note of the tents set up around the waters. As they entered, the whole nomadic city seemed to be watching them, children hiding behind their mothers and men holding tight to weapons. The horses tethered nearby whickered a greeting, and the circle of warriors stopped before a line of elders. Murtagh’s personal escort moved forward, bowing, speaking quickly in his own language.

Murtagh looked at Yurich. “How’re you doing?”

Yurich snorted. “How d’ye think I’m doing?”

-We’re not used to this.- Thorn said. -We are used to the Hadarac. This heat is unbearable.-

-We must endure.- Murtagh told the dragon. The robed male moved back to Murtagh then, offering his hand.

“They want to know who you are.” The sorcerer said.

Murtagh drew a breath. “I am Murtagh Morzansson and Estel az Ahir-Enei. This is Thorn and Maeglin, and this is Yurich.”

“That answers nothing,” the sorcerer said. “Who are you?”

“I am a Dragon Rider and Scion, student of Eragon az Ahir-Enei.”

Now the robed man translated, then looked back to Murtagh. “And your purpose is to gain yourself an army.”

Murtagh smiled bitterly. “That would be it exactly.”

The robed man’s attention left Murtagh briefly, flicking to the dragon then the dwarf. Finally, his eyes once more sought the Rider’s and held them fast. “And of what benefit would it be to the To-Ga-Ir if they were to join you?”

He tried to choose his words carefully. “Knowing safety again? Knowing when you sleep you won’t be attacked? I can''t answer in all honesty, because I don’t know what the future will bring. I know your people haven’t been able to cross to their summer home since Galbatorix took the throne. I know your people are dying because of the As’ratlegûl and if I can help you, perhaps you’ll help me.”

Murmurs reached Murtagh’s ears and he winced. The robed man looked amused. “You really have no tact, do you, boy?”

“I’m not exactly the best diplomat and I don’t have time to soothe every ego I bruise. Being as close to the point as possible usually gets a few reactions.”

Thorn snorted. -Whether they’re good or ill, right?-

“Well, here’s your first lesson, child.” The veiled man snapped. “You don’t tell the people you’re asking for help that you’ll help them only if they’ll help you.”

“I didn’t mean to…” Murtagh bit his tongue, realizing the murmurs now were amused. He flushed and stared hard at the gold-eyed man.

“Explain to us, then,” the man said, “why we should aid you.”

Steeling his spine, Murtagh began to speak.
- 10
- 11
- 12
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The Last Scion	By : RotSeele Category: A through F > Eragon Views: 5098 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon. I do not make any money from this story.

The Last Scion