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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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The Sweet Words Are Poison
Somewhere in his heart, Murtagh knew Galbatorix was lying, was telling him nothing but empty promises, and he knew that if he helped this madman without strict orders by the use of his True Name, he was just as evil as his father Morzan. But Galbatorix’s plan was sound and logical and over the weeks of being locked in a room with Galbatorix, Murtagh was beginning to believe the King’s plan as an undeniable truth. He told it to Thorn one night and the young dragon rooted Murtagh firmly in a new belief.
-Creating a new breed of Riders is all well and good, but to have them bound to the whim of one man? Who’s to say the new Riders won’t be like the Forsworn? Who’s to say that the new Riders, so entranced by their own power, won’t rise up to challenge him? Or bring about a new war amongst their own? All it would take is for one to dissent and we would be where we are now.- Thorn said as Murtagh studied the book in his lap, practicing the spells he had learned that day.
“But the Riders were corrupt. The elves were cowards and creating a new order of Riders under one rule would save a lot of grief.” Murtagh argued back.
Thorn sighed. -But whose rule Murtagh? His? Eragon’s? Yours? Galbatorix isn’t planning to share that power. You know that.-
Murtagh leaned back against Thorn’s warm side. “So what do I believe?”
-Whatever you want to.-
Murtagh chewed his thumbnail. “The Empire is secure enough a government, only its ruler is corrupt. Creating a new order of Riders would be good if… if…”
-If they’re taught kindness, benevolence, chivalry, then that order would be the best it could be. Riders are meant to be protectors, not gods. As for the Empire, if the right ruler came along, perhaps it wouldn’t be as bad as it is now.- Thorn bumped his head against Murtagh’s shoulder. Murtagh patted his friend’s snout and stared into the black sky above Urû’baen.
“I believe,” he began slowly, “the Empire will stay. Its ruler will change and it will be for the better. One day, a new Order of Riders will be established, but they should be answerable to someone.”
-Perhaps they will be.- Thorn said. -And we will be free when that happens.-
Murtagh smiled and locked his beliefs away in his heart. Still, believing in his truths didn’t stop Galbatorix from repeating his plans while Murtagh studied under his careful, watching eyes. For days he practiced magic, growing stronger in spellcasting, in swordplay, and the Ancient Language. He trained hard with Thorn and Shruikan, learning to fight on dragonback on the ground and in the air. He trained alone, though with Thorn with him, when Galbatorix allowed him to leave Urû’baen.
Though Murtagh felt more comfortable in thick leather, cloth, and chainmail, Galbatorix gave him a suit of armour, just like his father had owned. It was then Murtagh realized what was happening.
To Galbatorix, Murtagh was just Morzan’s replacement. As such, he needed to be Morzan, The thought made his stomach churn, but he threw himself into his new tasks with a vigor that made Galbatorix confident. Murtagh knew that, if given the chance, he could one day meet Eragon on the battlefield and tell him of the madman’s ravings. Maybe then Eragon would find a way to help him and Thorn.
Murtagh was an almost constant shadow to Galbatorix, standing beside him when the Empire’s generals reported in and listening carefully to each word. It was the only news he was able to receive of his brother and the Varden and he contemplated ways of getting messages out. It was a pipe dream, he knew, but it made him feel a little better. He also tried to scry Eragon, but was left with only black voids each time. He soon gave up on that and concentrated on his lessons. Then one night, his education changed. He had mastered all of the spells his foul master had given him and endured the pain for Thorn as the hatchling’s body matured at a far faster rate than what was natural. And while he sat against Galbatorix’s throne reading a musky old book on dragonlore to Thorn who waited patiently in the eyrie outside Murtagh’s room, the young Rider received his first taste of the black magic.
The man was a deserter, a spy for the Varden. At least, that was what Murtagh was told. Whether it was true or not didn’t matter, not for this lesson. Murtagh closed the book and got to his feet as Galbatorix swept in and came to stand beside the young man.
“You’ve grown quite strong,” Galbatorix said to Murtagh, “but you are nowhere near the level you need to be to capture your brother.”
“Which means what?” Murtagh asked softly, focused on the man kneeling on the floor between two guards.
Galbatorix chuckled. “Which means I’m going to introduce you to a strength that far surpasses anything those elves can muster up.”
Murtagh eyed Galbatorix curiously and felt Thorn’s apprehension. He carefully opened a visual and auditory link to his dragon, and watched as his vision became pronounced with red.
-What’s going on?- Thorn asked.
-I don’t know. Be silent and watch. I’ll need you to remind me.-
-Remind you of what?-
Murtagh didn’t reply, so Thorn settled to watch. Revulsion swept through the dragon as Murtagh was taught foul spell after foul spell, not allowed to rest until he had mastered the phrase and the spell. Though Murtagh showed no emotion on his face or in his body language, Thorn could feel his Rider’s revulsion, sadness, and fear and knew he was the only thing keeping Murtagh sane. He soothed his Rider with gentle images and felt powerless to stop this horrible initiation.
These lessons went on for days at a time, repeated over and over with dark secrets and sorcery that was unnatural. Thorn kept a careful link with Murtagh, constantly reminding his Rider of who he was. When Murtagh showed enough mastery of the black magic, Galbatorix gave him strength.
Shruikan warned Thorn to keep silent lest his own Eldunari join Galbatorix’s horde. The red dragon trembled as Murtagh was handed an orb and the spell was cast to bind it to the boy. Murtagh yelled and writhed, but he couldn’t drop the orb and Thorn felt the void between him and his human shrink as another mind attached itself to Murtagh. Half a day passed and Murtagh had been bound to five Eldunari, their voices overshadowing his own. Galbatorix simply watched with amusement and sat in his throne, chin propped on a closed fist as the young Rider fought to control each Eldunari he’d been given. It took Murtagh three days and Thorn knew Murtagh was in pain. The Eldunari were in Murtagh’s consciousness, constant voices screaming for freedom or death or both, and Thorn carefully built a shield to protect Murtagh from their angry voices. Then training began.
-It isn’t fair.- Thorn whimpered as he watched Murtagh work with his new, deeper well of magic strength. -We dragons aren’t meant to be slaves.-
Shruikan raised his head from his paws and looked at the hatchling dragon before his gaze settled on the red’s Rider and the corrupted one. -We are not. But remember who your Rider is. His strength of heart hasn’t failed yet.-
-It will never fail.- Thorn snapped back.
-Let us hope that is true. Protect him, Lorccán. Protect him even if it means protecting him from himself.-
Thorn blinked at the great black dragon, and didn’t understand his teacher until the red was flying over a massive army that marched for the Burning Plains. Murtagh was silent on his back, heavy and uncomfortable in his black armour, armed with only a hand-and-a-half sword. Thorn filled the flight with stories to ease their apprehension and felt raw amusement from his human. They rested apart from the army at night and flew high during the day to avoid being seen as per orders.
Do not be seen until the time is right; take his life if he will not stand down; and capture Saphira.
Murtagh felt the chains close tighter around him and sighed. Battle started early in the morning and Thorn glided in cloud cover, riding thermals to stay aloft. Murtagh sat with his eyes closed, ignoring everything around him save for Thorn, who gave him constant reports of the happenings below. When it was time, Murtagh to stroke Thorn’s neck.
-Thorn?-
-Yes, Murtagh?-
They hung in the air, suspended in silence. Murtagh licked his lips and finally leaned forward to hug the red’s neck. -I love you.-
Thorn hummed. -I love you, too.-
-Let’s get this over with.- Murtagh sat up and strapped down his legs in Thorn’s saddle. -We’ll deliver the message and go.-
-What do we do if he resists?- Thorn asked as he angled his wings to glide lower.
-Let me worry about that. You just look scary and imposing, and hopefully enough will scatter.-
Thorn heaved a sigh and fell down as the horns and drums began to play like an ominous herald. The red floated easily down into a ray of light and ignited in a sparkling show of ruby, allowing all on the field to see him. His eyes swept the battlefield and focused on Saphira and he felt joy rush through him. But he couldn’t act on it, not yet, and he glided in just a bit closer. Murtagh’s legs tightened and Thorn hovered, allowing Murtagh to raise his hand.
-What are you doing?- Thorn asked.
-You remember our orders. ‘Take his life’. He never specified whose life to take, but the order stands.- Murtagh replied. He whispered the words for the horrible spell and from his palm sprang a shaft of ruby energy, the bolt slamming into the shield the Dwarven spell-casters had constructed. The shield flared and shattered, and the dwarf spell-casters fell dead, just before their king.
-Murtagh!- Thorn cried, dismayed at his Rider’s action.
-No!- Murtagh replied in anguish. -I said it correctly! It was supposed to take one life! One!-
Thorn shook himself. -It was the shield. The shield took their lives.- Thorn didn’t know if he was saying that for his sake or Murtagh’s and he felt despair welling in his Rider’s heart. -Murtagh?-
-I won’t be Morzan!- Murtagh snarled. -I won’t!-
-It wasn’t your fault!-
Pain and self-loathing swirled in Murtagh’s heart, but he had no time to dwell on it as Saphira was upon them. She was larger, but Thorn was swifter and Murtagh shoved aside the pain from his deed to focus on the situation at hand. They fought viciously; hate driving Saphira and survival driving Thorn. Murtagh held back as much as he could and focused more on defense than offense, leaving Thorn to decide the best way to fight. The fight ended up on solid ground as he and Eragon fought. He tried to tell the younger boy of Galbatorix’s plan and though he succeeded in that endeavor, the young idealistic bastard just wouldn’t listen. So Murtagh gave him something that would make Eragon listen.
He told him they were brothers as he took Zar’roc from his brother’s hands. He said it cruelly, perhaps too cruel, but at least he knew Eragon was listening. He hoped Eragon would listen to what else was said but the hope was dashed when Eragon said, “You’re wrong. We’re nothing alike. I don’t have a scar on my back anymore.”
-Murtagh.- Thorn whispered. -Keep hoping. We are together.-
-I know.- But it didn’t ease the pain. With Zar’roc in hand, Murtagh picked up his helm and climbed onto Thorn. - Let’s… Let’s just go home.-
Thorn was more than happy to oblige his Rider and sprang from the plateau. -You did the right thing to let them go.- Thorn said soothingly.
Murtagh didn’t reply.
He thought about what Eragon had said, thought about how Eragon had wanted him to die. It seemed so reminiscent of the incident with the slaver a lifetime ago. One life for thousands. He had delivered Galbatorix’s plans straight to his brother and Eragon hadn’t listened.
-Murtagh?-
-I’m sorry Thorn. I was thinking.-
Thorn sighed and rose higher, winging north as slowly as he could. -We did the right thing. If you had captured him, there would be more sorrow and grief than there is now. You have kept hope alive, so don’t despair for us.-
-We’ll be punished.- Murtagh said, though his voice held a hint of amusement.
-So be it.- Thorn growled. Agitated flames jumped around his snout and the red slowly calmed enough to swallow his flame. -We may be his slaves, but even slaves can rebel if they have the will to.-
-How did you get so wise?-
-I am a dragon.-
Murtagh sighed and allowed himself a slight smile. If Eragon and Saphira fought the war on the outside, he and Thorn could fight on the inside. He was only second to Galbatorix by means of sorcery and skill, but Murtagh possessed something Galbatorix didn’t have. He had Thorn. He had access to the far reaches of Alagaësia where he could hide to research and train. And that something that Murtagh had was cunning. Galbatorix had his plans on his sleeves and Murtagh knew them all. All the young Rider had to do was figure out a way to either undermine the operations or foil them entirely. But he had to do it quietly.
-We’re almost home.- Thorn said. The young dragon’s head lifted slightly and he eased higher. -The army’s survivors have also returned.-
Murtagh sucked in a breath between his teeth and squeezed his legs to Thorn’s side. -Are you ready?-
-I’m never ready.- Thorn whimpered. He bent his wings and glided for the eyrie that led into the throne room. Murtagh wasn’t surprised to find guards waiting for them, nor was he surprised that Galbatorix was sitting in the throne, legs crossed ankle over knee and his eyes focused firmly on Murtagh as the young man was escorted before him. Biting his tongue, Murtagh bowed and waited.
“You had them.” Galbatorix’s voice was nonchalant, as if he was inspecting his fingernails. “You had them and you let them go.”
“They would have died fighting.” Murtagh said. He lifted his gaze to meet the king’s and tried to keep a straight face. “The only solution was to let them go. So long as they’re alive, we can capture them.”
Galbatorix looked as if he liked the explanation and his eyes fell on Zar’roc. “You have your father’s sword.”
“I felt it only proper I should have my father’s blade, as I am his eldest and heir.”
“That you are.” Galbatorix rose from the throne and stepped easily down to Murtagh’s level. “But I gave you a direct order, Murtagh. I told you to capture Saphira at any cost.” His hand came up and leveled at the young Rider. “You failed
me.”
Murtagh was expecting the attack and threw up a defense against the pain. He wrestled with Galbatorix’s power for a half hour before his shield came down and the spell drove him to his knees. He lasted another ten minutes before he began to scream. He heard Thorn’s agonized roar and heard is little boy’s voice screaming in his head and Murtagh threw all of his power into a defense for Thorn. His pain doubled, taking all of Thorn’s pain into himself. Thorn would be upset with him, but Murtagh didn’t want the hatchling to suffer for him. It went on for hours until Murtagh was coughing up blood and could barely stand. Galbatorix finally stopped and snarled, “Dubshláine, . I will not tolerate another failure!”
Murtagh felt the oaths pour from him like water from a pitcher and felt the chains constrict a bit tighter. He was out of options now.
-Eragon, beware. I’m coming for you and this time I cannot fail.-
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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