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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
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Five Days

Murtagh once more sat beside Assan as the shaman spoke to the To-Ga-Ir chieftain on his behalf. He heard Yurich grumbling behind him, anxious to head back to Alagaësia, but the dwarf wisely kept his noises barely audible. The news of the As’ratlegûl’s defeat had spread like wildfire among the survivors, and in celebration, riders had been sent to find any other To-Ga-Ir living in the deserts. But Murtagh didn’t have the time to wait for additional forces. He had to leave now.

Assan nodded slightly and looked to Murtagh. “He says he will send all the warriors he can, and his banner will fly beside yours.”

“He’s going to come?” Murtagh asked in surprise. Chieftain Kaucha wasn’t a young man, but he was still muscular and wiry, still able to wield his sword as well as any warrior.

Assan frowned. “He would fight beside you. Don’t your kings and queens fight with their people?”

“Not really, no.” Murtagh answered. Assan translated at Kaucha’s request and the warriors around them muttered curses.

Assan sighed. “A true king fights beside his people, not behind. So yes, he will fight, along with his warriors.”

Murtagh was about to say something when Kaucha leaned forward and grinned. “You are family, Sharru-Kinu.” Assan translated.

“Family?” Murtagh whispered.

“I have no sons,” Assan spoke softly. “I have a daughter, Hatori, who is as strong as any man, but she needs a brother. She needs a brother who will show her the correct way to live her life, to teach her sons. You have no sire to teach you, though you’ve chosen your father and you honour him every day you breathe.” Assan took a breath, trying to school his emotions. “And so I ask you to become my son, to honour me as you honour your chosen father, and to take as your sister Hatori. Sharru-Kinu, do me this honour.”

Murtagh was speechless. Everyone in the tent was speechless, holding his or her breath and waiting for the young man’s answer. Thorn, curled outside the tent, began to rumble lowly, purring his agreement.

“Sharru-Kinu you have named me,” Murtagh said softly, “and so Sharru-Kinu will become Kaucha’s son. Sharru-Kinu will become Hatori’s brother, and he will honour his family, his tribe, each day he breathes.”

Assan translated. Murtagh felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders and shifted a little closer to Assan. The shaman smiled at him with all the cheers coming from the warriors and said, “Welcome home.”

Murtagh smiled only slightly bitterly. “A home I must leave now.”

Indeed they had no more time to waste and Kaucha hurried their preparations. Assan took Yurich with him to prepare their packs and Murtagh moved to saddle Thorn. All around them, the To-Ga-Ir warriors moved, preparing for Murtagh’s flight. Thorn’s head lowered to touch the outstretched hands of a young woman and hummed. Murtagh paused to look at her.

She smiled. “You must be Sharru-Kinu, my brother.”

“Hatori?” Murtagh questioned. Like all To-Ga-Ir women, her hair was braided in a straight black line down her back, and her eyes were lined with blue-coloured kohl. She nodded lightly.

“My father, our father, told me I should come see you off. You will go ahead of us, and we will come in five days.” Hatori gave one last pat to Thorn’s nose. “I have no sons, so I cannot fight beside you, but I intend to help you.”

She reached for a lock of Murtagh’s long dark hair and tied in a bright red leather thong. Attached to the thong were several blue glass beads and a single feather from a desert eagle. “This way, I will help you fight, my brother.”

Murtagh touched the tong and smiled a little. “Thank you.”

Hatori smiled. “It’s what sisters do for brothers.” She leaned in her forehead and Murtagh repeated the gesture. Hatori left him with Thorn then and Murtagh put his hand to the dragon’s warm side.

-I’m acquiring family left and right.-

-Better to gain loved ones than enemies.- Thorn replied. -Now we must fight for my family. For my green brother, and for Shruikan.-

-Yes.- Murtagh looked toward the approaching Yurich and Assan. -Can you carry three?-

-Yes. I’m strong enough now.- Thorn crouched to let Murtagh mount so that the packs could be tied to the saddle. Yurich came up next and Assan last, the shaman looking nervous as Thorn rose and spread his wings.

Yurich snorted. “Ye get used to it.”

The To-Ga-Ir lifted their swords and pikes as Thorn let out a roar. They answered him. Then Thorn launched himself into the sky, turning for the Beor Mountains.

-Is flying always like this?!- Assan cried out suddenly, mentally, and Murtagh nearly lost his grip on the saddle horn. He had forgotten he’d established a mental link between them via Thorn.

Thorn hummed. -It’s better.- He told Assan. Murtagh added, -It’s true freedom. Flying high, through the clouds, never being close enough to the confines of land… it’s magic.-

Assan’s eyes focused on Murtagh when the smaller man twisted to look at him. -I prefer horses.-

Murtagh burst out laughing and Thorn let for a series of barking roars, sharing in his Rider’s mirth.

Katrina had seen many things in her lifetime. She had seen war, participated in it in her own way, and had buried many a good man. She’d been a prisoner of the vicious Ra’zac, the wife of Roran Stronghammer who still fought with the Varden, and the sister-in-law of Eragon Bromsson, Eragon Argetlam, Shur’tugal, the list went on. She twisted the wedding ring on her finger and felt her baby kick. The Varden had gotten confident in their victories since their defeat at Gil’ead, when they’d gone to aid Islanzadi in her efforts. Their minor victories had spurred Nasuada to allow small contingents to break away from the main force and use attrition against the Empire. Because of this, there were less soldiers to defend the non-combatants – mothers, children, and the elderly.

They’d come in the night, moving like ghosts. The soldiers had a specific order when they came, and in the confusion, Katrina and two other expecting mothers were taken. Those other two women didn’t meet some expectation by the platoon leader, and were let go, but Katrina hadn’t been so lucky.

She sat quietly in the darkness, listening to the soldiers around her. She couldn’t say she truly hated them; they’d been nothing but kind to her, making sure she had enough to eat and drink and warm blankets to wrap around her. They traveled at a slow, easy pace so Katrina wouldn’t be stressed and slowly Katrina began to realize that the soldiers didn’t want her. They wanted her unborn child.

Katrina shivered and pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders.

“Are you cold?” asked a young Imperial soldier. Her personal guard, Katrina remembered. He was young and innocent and Katrina wondered if his mother was worried about him.

“No.” Katrina replied with a smile. “I’m fine.”

“You should get some sleep. I’ll go get you some tea.”

Katrina tried not to sigh. She turned her gaze to the sky and thought about Roran. She wondered if he knew yet, if he knew she’d been taken, and if he did, what he was doing to try to rescue her.

A dark shape passed over the moon.

Katrina blinked. Could it be Saphira? She was the only dragon left in Alagaësia, and she would try to get Katrina back because Katrina was family. But Eragon couldn’t risk himself, not even for her.

A twig snapped under a heavy boot and the small contingent of Imperial soldiers were immediately on their feet, weapons ready. Her guard soon surrounded Katrina. From her place in the shadows of the trees, Katrina watched as two men came into the firelight. The one on the left was taller by a head, dressed in clothing Katrina didn’t recognize. A sheer veil, revealing only striking gold eyes set in a lightly tanned visage, covered his face. The smaller man wore clothes of a native Alagaësian, though they were subtlety different somehow, as if the clothes were more than what they appeared to be. He wore two swords, one strapped to his side and the other at the small of his back at a slight angle, a dagger at his thigh, and an unstrung bow placed in a quiver full of silver-fletched arrows. Both their hands were held up in a sign of peace, but still the Imperials didn’t relax. They were searched and their weapons were taken from them before they were allowed to join the fire.

Whatever the strangers and the soldiers were talking about, Katrina couldn’t hear it, and she shivered again. She closed her eyes and fought not to cry. She just wanted to be back safe with Roran.

“My lady,” asked her guard, “perhaps you might enjoy being closer to the fire?”

Katrina looked up at the young man and numbly nodded. With his support, she made her way down to the fire and sat carefully across from the strangers. She gazed at each of them from beneath her bangs and studied them. The foreign stranger didn’t pay her much heed so Katrina turned her attention to the other stranger. His dark eyes were warm when they looked upon her, his dark hair pulled back into a loose tail that allowed several strands to escape for frame his face – among them, a lock wound with a red leather cord, beads, and a feather. It was his face, or rather, what was on it that caught Katrina’s attention the most. Over his left eye was a tattoo of a turning dragon, framing the socket and giving him a mystique that put the woman at ease. He broke their eye contact almost as fast as it had been made, but still Katrina felt calm.

She felt safe.

She focused her gaze on the fire and put her hand on her belly. Katrina had to be strong, for her sake and her baby’s.

“That wench?” she heard the platoon leader say. “Haven’t the slightest clue why the king wants her, but he does.”

“Maybe she’s to replace his lost Rider.” The stranger with the tattoo spoke in a nonchalant voice.

The soldiers guffawed. “Her? She’s too pregnant to go flyin’ on anything let alone a dragon!”

“Quite true.” The tattooed stranger said with a smile. “Maybe he wants a queen?”

That drew an even bigger round of laughter. “Or maybe,” the tattooed stranger continued, “He wants her because she could birth the next Rider?”

There was no laughter now. The soldiers peered at the two strangers with barely concealed suspicion. The leader prodded the tattooed one’s soldier. “What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.” came the soft reply. “I advise you to stop doing that.”

The soldier prodded harder. “In the name of King Galbatorix, you’re under arrest! Stand up!”

The next motion was a blur to Katrina. One minute the soldier was standing, prodding the stranger’s shoulder, and the next he was on his knees, screaming, as his hand was bent backwards. The tattooed man wore a grimace instead of a smile. “I warned you.”

Before the others could get their wits about them, the strangers were on their feet. Unarmed, Katrina believed they would be no match for the sword-wielding Imperials, but she was wrong. The veiled man back-pedaled out of his companion’s path as he caught a sword blade on the back of his hand. Katrina expected that hand to be sheared in two, but whatever the glove was made of sparked as though it were metal and the sword was deflected. The tattooed man flung his defending arm wide to knock the sword away and kicked up hard, catching his attacker in the chin. The soldier’s head snapped back and he dropped to the ground, unmoving. The stranger spun away as another soldier came at him.

The veiled man reached their weapons and grabbed up a sheathed sword. “Catch!”

The tattooed man fell back and came up in a spin as he caught the sword, unsheathing the finely crafted silver sword. He blocked a downward chop and came across with a tight fist, dropping his opponent. His dark eyes blazed slightly and he simply canted his head at the platoon leader. “I’ll give you a choice.” He began. “You can either continue this and end up like them, or you can leave.”

The soldier snarled but never had a chance to sound the attack, for the trees around them came to life. The soldiers panicked then, fearing the trees more than the man standing with a naked blade in his hand. Katrina watched the man with surprise in her eyes and watched as he moved to retrieve his weapons. They were alone soon enough, and Katrina struggled to her feet, glaring at her rescuers.

“Who are you?” she snapped.

“A friend.” The tattooed man replied, letting out a sharp whistle.

Katrina was about to make a remark when she saw a dark shape moving toward them, and the red dragon moved into the clearing. She nearly fell, and would’ve if not for the dwarf that caught her and steadied her.

“All right there, lass?” the dwarf asked. Katrina shivered. The red dragon gazed at her with ruby red eyes that seemed so depthless. “Perhaps ye should sit again.”

“No.” Katrina snapped, moving over to the tattooed man. She grabbed him by his collar and forced him to look at her. “I want answers. You’re Murtagh, aren’t you?”

“And if I am?”

“You ruined my wedding.”

Murtagh’s lips quirked. “I was never good at choosing the right opportunity.”

Katrina shook her head. “You’re supposed to be dead!” she exclaimed. “Eragon will be so happy. Now I have another brother.”

Murtagh frowned but he didn’t press her. “My story is long and it’s best we move while I tell it. I’ll need your help.”

“More than that,” the veiled man said. Murtagh made a noise.

Katrina offered her hand. “I am Katrina, the wife of Roran Stronghammer.”

“Assan of the To-Ga-Ir, shaman and life to Murtagh.” Assan turned to the dwarf. “He is Yurich.”

Yurich snorted. “Perfectly capable of introducing meself.”

Murtagh gave a wry smile and looked to Katrina. “We’ll exchange stories as we go. We don’t have much time, I fear.”

“No.” Katrina said sadly. “We don’t.”

Thorn came forward then and crouched, indicating Katrina was to ride. She blinked but accepted, settling into the saddle as the dragon rose. Murtagh put out the campfire and the company began to walk. Katrina began her story after a moment, starting after Murtagh’s apparent death. When she finished, Murtagh began his tale, and though he hid the identities of several people, Katrina couldn’t fault him. But she began to understand her brother-in-law better than she had before. Murtagh wasn’t evil like his father. He was a victim of the circumstances and had done the best with what he had been given. He had endured more than Katrina could imagine and came away stronger for it. Katrina could feel Thorn brushing against her mind with gentle words and she patted the red dragon’s neck, marveling at how smooth his gait was.

Katrina agreed to take the companions to the Varden and began to learn a little of the shaman craft from Assan. Murtagh was gentle with her when he began to instruct her with knives at her request. Even Yurich taught her dwarf lore, often making her laugh with his outrageous stories. She felt at ease with these four. She felt important, empowered, for though she was a pregnant woman she possessed high spirit and strength. She was a lioness, Murtagh once said off-handedly as they rested by a river, and Katrina believed it.

She was riding on Thorn’s back when the pain began, but she wasn’t sure where it was coming from. She felt light-headed, dizzy, and Thorn stopped immediately, sensing her discomfort.

As the first contraction ripped through her body, Katrina screamed.

She was hardly aware of Murtagh pulling her down to the scrub grasses, laying her out on Assan’s spare robes. She paid no heed when he told her how indecent he would have to make her, or when he said he had no idea what to do. Katrina just screamed and clutched to Murtagh’s left hand.

Her baby was coming.

She hadn’t planned it this way, giving birth in the wilds, away from her husband.

But her baby was coming.

Katrina had no choice but to push.

The To-Ga-Ir had three days left to arrive.
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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