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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
- 24
- 25
Now What?

Eragon closed his eyes tight in the face of his death. He should face it, he knew, face his demise like a true warrior. He apologized to everyone, especially to Saphira, and forced his eyes open to watch that axe swing toward him. A shadow passed over him and Eragon watched with wide eyes as Murtagh was suddenly between him and death, the silver blade in his left hand deflecting the Immortal’s axe while Celeb’sûl came across in his right and sheared the Immortal’s head from his shoulders. Murtagh continued his spin until he faced Eragon, his eyes blazing. He reached down and hauled Eragon to his feet.

“Never give up!” Murtagh snarled in the younger man’s face. “Never give in!”

He shoved Eragon toward Brisingr and moved quickly to intercept another attack. Eragon retrieved his blade and watched Murtagh move. He was a fierce whirlwind, his swords parrying and creating openings for him to earn a kill. Even knowing he’d die in his very next breath, Murtagh fought on. Snarling at his own cowardice, Eragon pulled on Brisingr with all his strength. The sword came free at last and Eragon spun to defend his back from a coming attack. He watched Murtagh move among the combatants, defending one person one moment and killing an enemy the next. Eragon looked around him at the death and destruction and shivered. This had to end.

He looked up at the sky and Saphira and Thorn twisting about each other, diving down to unleash their fire. He saw the mages casting spell after spell, but they looked haggard. Time had passed quickly despite the feeling Eragon had that very little time had passed. It was almost noon and the Varden were no closer to a total victory than they’d been at the beginning of the battle.

-Saphira!- Eragon called. -How does it look up there?-

Her anger hit him like a brick. -It’s a stalemate. We need help, Eragon. They’re not going down!-

Eragon cursed and hurried to find Murtagh. His half-brother was covered in blood, his eyes focused on his task. He looked at Eragon when the younger man reached him and only nodded before Eragon could tell him of their situation.

“We can’t go on much longer.” Eragon said.

“I know.” Murtagh wiped a smear of blood off his cheek. “I have an idea, but it’s risky, and destructive.”

“To who?”

“The land and all who’re in the way.” Murtagh looked at Eragon with a wry smile. “It’s a gamble.”

Looking around them, at the tired and haggard defenders, Eragon returned the smile with a little grimace. “I think we need that gamble.”

Murtagh nodded and moved with Eragon across the field, telling their forces to retreat to the high ground. Not knowing what the two Riders were planning, the Varden obeyed, disengaging and dispatching their opponent before running in a full retreat. The wounded too were removed from the field and Eragon located Trianna to tell her to pull the mages and archers out of the hills. Murtagh stopped in a wide, open space in the field and looked up to the sky.

-Thorn?-

-Why do you call a retreat?- Thorn asked, almost angry.

-Running mount.- Was all Murtagh said. Thorn’s understanding swept through him. He felt Thorn tell Saphira the plan and she banked, following Thorn high into the sky. Murtagh turned to Eragon as he sheathed his swords. “Watch my back and get ready to run when I tell you.”

“What are you doing?” Eragon asked.

Murtagh sighed painfully. “I’m going to ask the plants to help us. It’s going to get messy, and they won’t differentiate between allies and enemies.”

Eragon gaped at his half-brother for a moment, but his attention was torn away as several Empire foot soldiers rushed the prone Riders. Murtagh stood with his eyes closed and his arms raised to their full extension at chest height. Whatever he was doing, Eragon decided he needed to go faster as more of the Empire’s soldiers were closing in around them. There was only the sound of retreat and fighting and Eragon felt his own exhaustion creeping up on him.

-Murtagh! Hurry!-

The earth beneath their feet began to rumble.

The Empire soldiers stopped running, looking around at each other for the source of the strange vibrations. Eragon sheathed Brisingr and looked at Murtagh. His eyes were half-open, his mouth moving in words foreign to the younger man and soon, his arms simply dropped. The rumbling increased almost two fold then and Murtagh whipped around, shoving Eragon ahead of him.

Eragon didn’t need to be told twice.

They ran as fast as they could, dodging soldiers as the earth around them began to shift and break apart, letting forth thick roots of grass and trees. Even the cliff-sides began to disintegrate as their foundations became unstable. Eragon’s lungs were burning, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop, but even he knew they weren’t going to escape the growing forest of roots. Murtagh grabbed hold of Eragon then and simply jumped. The ground disappeared beneath their feet.

Thorn and Saphira dove for their Riders and wrapped their talons around them as they leveled out, fighting to climb higher and escape the root tangle. Murtagh was laughing hysterically and Eragon felt the infections laughter escape him as well. Their mirth was cut short quickly enough as the roots were set aflame by a sorcerer’s spell, and the Empire’s surviving soldiers turned to attack the vulnerable defenders. Murtagh climbed into his saddle and steered Thorn for a new charge. Behind, Eragon and Saphira flew higher, ahead, turning to fly straight for Thorn. They would catch the charge on two fronts, burning them with their fires. It was a precise maneuver and required complete trust.

Eragon tightened the saddle straps around his legs and tightened his hold on the saddle-horn. -Finish it, Saphira!-

-With pleasure!-

Saphira let out a tremendous roar as she flew in, a roar echoed by Thorn as he too headed for their target. The thousand Empire soldiers didn’t know where to turn, for they were trapped by roots on all sides and had two dragons descending upon them from the front and rear. The destruction would be terrible, Eragon knew, but it would be worth the victory, for they could heal the hurts of the land and continue on.

They were close enough now to see the fear in the eyes of those Immortals trapped within the root tangle, and Saphira inhaled. At the same time, the two dragons unleashed their fire, Murtagh reaching out the same time Eragon did. Each took control of the fire, Murtagh in the ancient language of the elves and Eragon in the ancient language. Saphira and Thorn banked, the former left, the latter right, and their flames became a maelstrom, consuming everything within the cyclone. The Riders broke contact at the same time with the fire, their dragons still spiraling up with the cyclone of flame. Below, Eragon could hear the screams of dying men, cheers of victory, and he twisted in his saddle to look at the destruction.

Murtagh hadn’t been lying when he said his solution would be destructive. The earth below lay churned as if worms had burrowed all through the field. The roots lay in knots and tangles, covered in blood and constricting bodies. Even the cliff-sides had crumbled, sagging under some invisible weight. Eragon finally understood the words Murtagh had said long ago, and understood that no life was more important than his own and the lives of those he loved. Saphira flapped tiredly, sharing in her Rider’s exhaustion. Thorn flew just ahead, angled toward them as if he were going to fly beside them. Only when Thorn began to rapidly descend did Eragon realize something was wrong.

-Saphira!- He shouted, pointing at the falling red as if she could see his finger.

Giving a cry of absolute terror, the great dragoness bent her wings and dove, racing for Thorn. Murtagh was unconscious in the saddle and Thorn was barely keeping that darkness at bay, fighting to control his descent as Saphira hurried toward him. They were a thousand feet above the ground, five hundred, three hundred –

Saphira’s talons grabbed hold of Thorn’s wing joints and she pulled with all her strength. Though she was able to slow him, the weight of the larger dragon was too much for her. Her wings snapped back and she lost all control. Clutching one another the two great dragons collided with the earth from a wicked descent at two hundred feet. Eragon felt the impact in his very bones and felt blood fill his mouth. He had no time to dwell where the blood had come from for darkness swept over him and he knew no more.

Eragon awoke to singing and found himself lying in his tent, wrapped head to foot in white linen bandages. Some were soaked with sweat and others pink with blood and his first thought was that he’d almost died. He sat up, pulling off the bandages to inspect the wounds and found most of them already fading scars. The singing stopped and Arya entered the tent.

“You’re awake.” She said with a smile. “We were sure you’d sleep for another two days.”

“What happened?” Eragon asked the elf-maid. “Where’s Saphira? And Murtagh?”

“Get dressed.” Arya left him alone then, but the way she smiled put Eragon’s heart at ease.

He dressed quickly and found Arya waiting for him. The camp was different from the one Eragon remembered, but when he saw the distant shadow of Urû’baen, he realized the Varden had advanced. Arya looked at Eragon as they walked. “Your brother is an amazing man.” She said softly. “Not a day after you collapsed at Root Tangle did he wake to lead us here.”

“Where’s here?” Eragon asked.

Arya gave a slight shrug. “He says there’s no name for this place that we’d know. It’s the very edge of Du Weldenvarden, closest to Urû’baen as he can get without alerting Galbatorix to our presence. We’ve had a week of peace.”

Eragon blinked, looking past Arya to the rolling hills and the flat plains that would give the defenders an advantage. Arya led him up a large hill and pointed. “Saphira’s up there. She wishes to speak with you.”

Eragon paused and caught Arya’s wrist. He said nothing, just looked at her, before he let her go. She stared at him a moment longer, then turned and hurried back to the Varden camp which swelled with soldiers from all the races of Alagaësia.

He turned and headed up the hill. He found Saphira lying in the shade of a great oak tree, and felt her stir as he approached. Her blue eyes flicked open to meet his and her joy and love washed over him. Grinning, Eragon rushed to her side and threw his arms around her snout in a great hug.

-Oh, little one.- Saphira said with a slight laugh. -I missed you, too.-

“I can’t believe I slept for a week!” Eragon exclaimed. “I must’ve missed so much!”

Saphira chuckled and told him of the slight skirmishes they’d fought, how Murtagh had led them to this stretch of land, and how he was working with the leaders to formulate strategies that would ensure them victory. He even has a plan to rescue my green brother.

Eragon smiled. “He’s done more in a few short weeks than we’ve done the entire time.”

“Don’t belittle yourself.”

Eragon turned to face Murtagh and blinked at his appearance. The older man had pulled his loose dark hair back into a braid, leaving the only free strand the one with the beads and red feather. Behind him stood Thorn, regal and imposing, red eyes focused on Eragon. Murtagh stepped forward slowly. “Don’t think you haven’t done anything. Without you, Saphira never would’ve hatched. Without you, none of this would be possible. You’re the entire reason these people have hope. I’m just following behind.”

Eragon blinked. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Murtagh gave a slight shrug. “I’ve been working in your name. We have to, to work together and keep everyone from losing hope.”

Eragon followed Murtagh as the older Rider moved toward the crest of the hill. Down below, Eragon could see picket lines of dwarves and elves, of humans and Urgals, all keeping a careful watch for the Empire. Murtagh focused his eyes ahead to the dim shadow of Urû’baen. “I lost hope once,” he started softly, “I lost hope because of the name I carry. But I learned the truth and that lost hope came back. Being the Scion, I can’t let anyone else lose hope, either.”

“So what will you do?” Eragon asked, looking at his half-brother.

“Fight.” Murtagh replied. “I spent my entire young life running away, living in spite and hatred. I’m done with that now.”

Eragon looked away from his brother, across the vast distance to that colossal castle. His eyes drifted over the defenders, to the camp behind him. His friends were there, his family was there. And out in the wide world there were people who hoped for freedom. He looked back to Saphira and Thorn, the two dragons lying side-by-side and watching their Riders. They’d never given up on their Riders when they’d felt despair. They continued to believe in their Riders and would follow them to whatever end they chose.

Eragon watched as Elva greeted the elf Saïle, the bearer of Naegling. He watched Arya, the To-Ga-Ir chieftainess Hatori, and Nasuada talk easily as Hatori showed them To-Ga-Ir custom. He saw the shaman Assan standing quietly beside Katrina and Roran as their daughter Moranna slept in her cradle. He saw Nar’Gharhvog speaking with Blödhgarm. All these races, all these people, would never have come together if it weren’t for Eragon and Murtagh. The elves never would’ve marched to war; the Urgals never would’ve been freed; the Varden and their Dwarven allies would still be in Farthen Dûr; and the To-Ga-Ir would be a forgotten people. How many other races lived out there, waiting for a hero to save them? How many other races had died under Galbatorix’s rule? Even the dragons, whose only hope rested with Saphira, would’ve become a memory if Eragon and Murtagh had never been.

Eragon understood now his choices in the past had reflected on what had been best for him, not the good of the people. Murtagh had understood from the moment he’d struck out on his own his actions would have consequences and he accepted them without flinching. He killed to protect others, he fought to save everyone but himself. His life and Thorn’s would always be most important to him, but what good was it if he had no one to share that life with? Eragon clenched his fists and swore there and then he’d become a Rider worthy of being a Scion, that he wouldn’t give up until the war was won.

-I, too, promise and swear.- Saphira said, her eyes meeting Eragon’s. -We can be selfish during the time of peace.-

Eragon smiled at the great dragoness and turned to look at Murtagh. The older Rider wasn’t looking at him, rather had his eyes closed as he stood relaxed beside Eragon. The serenity on his face reminded Eragon of the moon, who shone with the help of the sun. He shook his head to clear the thought. “Murtagh?”

“Yes, Eragon?”

Eragon studied his brother for a moment longer, then turned his gaze to stare out across the land. “What now?”

Murtagh’s eyes opened slowly. They focused on Urû’baen, then slid to Eragon. They rested on him for a moment, then shifted to look at Thorn and Saphira. From the dragons, his gaze went to the humans, the dwarves, the To-Ga-Ir, the elves, and lastly the Urgals. Finally, his dark eyes came back to Eragon and focused on his brother’s own eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Now,” Murtagh said with a smile. “We finish this.”
- 24
- 25
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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