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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
- 4
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Twisted Thoughts
Murtagh’s week after the Battle of the Burning Plains was filled with training. Lessons ranged from combat, magic, and harnessing the power of the Eldunari. He often suffered from insomnia when the dragons’ voices overpowered his shields and bled into his dreams. Once, he had snapped at Thorn, and the young dragon refused to speak to him again until Murtagh had broken down in tears from the pain he was being forced to endure. Murtagh’s body had begun to change as well, with the tips of his ears becoming more pointed like an elf’s, and that frightened him. He didn’t want to change, to become something he wasn’t. Thorn slowly realized that it was his presence that was keeping Murtagh sane.
One day the young red was taken from Urû’baen by Shruikan and shown places where dragons once dwelled. They stayed within the boundaries of the Empire and Thorn tried to contact Murtagh to tell him with childish excitement about what he was learning. Murtagh never replied. Thorn’s mood was soured and he followed Shruikan back to Urû’baen and spent some time sulking until he spotted Murtagh coming toward him. Thorn rose to greet his Rider and froze when Murtagh came within reach.
-Murtagh?- Thorn asked hesitantly.
Murtagh’s dark eyes flicked up to Thorn and there within the orbs the hatchling red saw madness. What was standing before him was not his Murtagh. It was someone completely different. The hatchling recoiled from Murtagh’s hand and snarled in warning. The hand froze and Thorn backed up, trembling.
-Murtagh!- Thorn yelled into that horrible black void that now was his Rider’s mind. -Murtagh, remember who you are!-
Thorn received no answer. Murtagh-who-was-not-Murtagh snarled. “Shut up!” he growled. “I’ve seen the error of my ways, Thorn. Now behave yourself!”
Thorn roared in anger and whipped his tail, but he couldn’t harm Murtagh. In his heart, he knew his kind and gentle Rider was still inside the two-legs that wasn’t Thorn’s Murtagh. But he couldn’t stand to be near him. Thorn spread his wings and launched himself into the air and winged away from the city.
If dragons could cry, Thorn knew he would be bawling, and his body felt heavy with the despair in his heart. He glided on the warm-air-that-goes-up and stared straight ahead. He flew until his wings ached and glided down into the dry, scrubby grass, closing his eyes and whimpering. Murtagh-who-was-not-Murtagh was calling him, but he ignored the human, lying in the grasses still and unmoving. He was upset and he lifted his head to the sky and howled out his sorrow. Thorn stayed in that spot for hours, listening to Murtagh-who-was-not-Murtagh call him, order him, and demand him to return.
Thorn shifted and finally got to his feet, spreading his wings to fly back to the black city. The hatchling ignored the calls of Murtagh-who-was-not-Murtagh and fell into his own thoughts. Murtagh-who-belonged-to-Thorn was inside Murtagh-who-was-not-Murtagh somewhere. All Thorn had to do was draw Murtagh-who-belonged-to-Thorn out and all would be as it should. The hatchling didn’t know how to do that, because Shruikan-who-was-ancient would tell the corrupted Rider-who-called-himself-King. Murtagh-who-belonged-to-Thorn needed him, and Thorn would do anything for his Rider.
Shruikan-who-was-ancient greeted Thorn with a deafening roar and Thorn answered back because he knew he had to. Shruikan-teacher’s mind brushed against Thorn’s and offered little comfort to the young red, but Thorn accepted the great-black-dragon’s gesture and bowed his head to Shruikan-who-was-ancient when he landed. Thorn focused his eyes on the egg-breaker-Galbatorix and Murtagh-who-was-not-Murtagh and waited.
Galbatorix-oath-breaker smiled. “You had some problems with Saphira, I’m told. Well, let me fix them.”
Thorn’s body tensed as the familiar spell lodged in his bones and muscles. The grow-pain spell forced Thorn’s bones to grow and thicken so he could rival his sister-Saphira and the spell that stopped Thorn’s hate-anger-fear took hold after, soothing the hatchling into believing this was normal. Crimson eyes focused on Murtagh-who-was-not-Murtagh and Thorn saw something glimmer in the human’s dark eyes.
A tear.
Thorn thought he would roar with joy, hope surging through him. Murtagh-who-belonged-to-Thorn was watching! Thorn shook himself as the spells wore on, stretching and yawning, working muscles that grew and strengthened and made Thorn look like the brown-roaring-fur-claws-bear of the mountains.
When it was over, Thorn was allowed to witness a lesson Galbatorix-egg-breaker taught Murtagh-who-was-not-Murtagh with the Eldunari-hearts, and Thorn understood. Too many voices existed within Murtagh-who-belonged-to-Thorn, too many voices that Thorn’s-Murtagh lost himself. Shruikan-teacher had taught Thorn-hatchling about the powerful spells of binding so hatchling-Thorn wouldn’t be drawn in. Instinctively, Thorn had shielded himself from the voices-of-dragons-gone, but Murtagh-Thorn’s-Rider hadn’t known. That was why the void was so large, why Thorn heard echoes, and why Murtagh-who-listened-to-Galbatorix existed. Thorn sat and watched and his young mind began to form a plan to free Murtagh-who-belonged-to-Thorn from the Eldunari-voices.
-In your hour of need,- Shruikan-ancient-one said to Thorn-hatchling, -he will remember who he is. His love for you will prevail.-
Thorn looked at Shruikan-ancient-teacher and knew the elder dragon was speaking the truth. Shruikan slowly blinked and looked away from the youngling, though he allowed Thorn to see the lesson from his eyes.
Looking through Shruikan-ancient-one’s eyes was always an experience to Thorn, but he understood so much more.
-Those trapped in the Eldunari despise them.- Shruikan told Thorn. -But Galbatorix has twisted their thoughts enough that he is able to
control them and, through them, little Murtagh. You are dragonkind, so he cannot control you, but his will comes now through his apprentice.-
-Can I free him?- Thorn asked. Shruikan breathed and a small jet of flame flickered from between his teeth.
-In your hour of need, call to him. Your voice will be his guiding light, as it has been for me. For now, little one, you must hold onto hope.-
Thorn nodded and Shruikan-ancient-teacher fell silent. Thorn watched. Waited. At night when Murtagh-who-was-slave slept, Thorn sent out gentle calls into the void. Days later and after several skirmishes with Varden supporters, Thorn received a weak answer. The youngling sent a new message with the calls: I miss you. He kept sending his calls and gave everything he had into protecting Murtagh.
Then, Galbatorix received word from his spies among the Varden and he summoned Murtagh-who-was-not-Thorn’s and Thorn to lead a group of soldiers in a surprise attack at the Jiet River where the Varden were camped. Here was another opportunity for Murtagh and Thorn to capture Saphira and Eragon and a chance for Thorn to finally reach Murtagh-who-belonged-to-him.
The great, young red dragon flew at the head of the new contingent of warriors and not a week later, sprung battle upon the Varden who looked about to hold a celebration. Thorn ignored Murtagh-who-was-not-his-Rider’s words to blue-sister-Saphira’s rider and concentrated on being fierce. It would hurt terribly, his plan, but he would endure because Murtagh had endured pain for him. The spoken-words angered blue-sister-Saphira and Thorn knew he could use that anger to his advantage. He heard Murtagh-who-was-not-Murtagh give a cry, and knew now was the time to fight. He roared in reply and flapped hard to get above Saphira. She fought like a mother wolf fought to protect her cubs and Thorn was hard-pressed to get close enough to wound her. But he wanted Saphira-blue-wolf to hurt him. He needed her to wound him. She hit his wing and it shattered. Bone pierced his hide and blood rained from the wound. He vocalized his pain as he tumbled past she-dragon-Saphira and yelled into the void, -Murtagh! Help me! Please!-
He spun and twisted, his one working wing flapping uselessly. He sent the same message over and over again, fighting away despair that it was too late.
-…Thorn?-
-Murtagh!- Thorn cried with joy and love. -Murtagh! Mine!-
Murtagh shook his head as if to clear it and watched the ground rush up to meet them. Quickly, he pulled an orb from his belt and pressed it to Thorn’s shoulder. The healing magic spread through the red and the moment all was mended, Thorn broke his fall and spun to race back up to blue-sister-Saphira.
-Wh-what happened to me?- Murtagh asked as Thorn breathed deep to unleash his fire at Saphira to buy time.
-I will explain all later! Now we must survive!-
Saphira avoided the flame and Murtagh was nearly knocked from his saddle by her pass. He cut at her with Zar’roc and managed to wound her. They broke apart and the dragons hovered to gauge the enemy. Thorn turned his attention to his Rider for a brief moment while he had the chance to.
-The oath-breaker bound you deep in the Eldunari. It brought forth Murtagh-who-was-not-you, and he was all but worshipped by not-Murtagh.- Thorn felt Murtagh’s disgust and anger.
-I remember that lesson. We all have facets to our personalities.- Murtagh frowned and shivered. -He must have brought the most vindictive to the surface.-
-But you are whole now.- Thorn said happily. -You are my Murtagh again.-
-Yes.- Murtagh said with a soft smile. -I am. Now, as you said, we must turn our attention to survival.-
Thorn hummed and focused on Saphira, whipping around and climbing above her. He folded his wings and dove, ready to breathe fire and end the fight for her. But she was ready and avoided his initial attack, the two colliding with enough force to drive breath from Murtagh’s lungs. He clawed at Saphira, trying to injure her enough so she would withdraw. But Saphira proved more tenacious than he had thought and when they collided again, their Riders were close enough to do battle themselves. It went like this for many minutes until they were falling with Thorn and Saphira’s mercy.
Murtagh raised Zar’roc and attacked his brother mentally, forcing him to fight back and even that attack failed Murtagh after a long moment. But he had achieved their goal and Saphira was forced to relinquish her hold on them ere she follow them down. Thorn landed with a destructive bounce that rattled Murtagh’s teeth, but the red used the recoil to launch himself skywards. Murtagh looked behind him to see Saphira motionless beside Eragon, but knew they were alive for the elves were rushing for them. Murtagh relaxed on Thorn’s back and rubbed the slice in his cheek, uttering a healing spell to make the mark fade to nothing. At their main task they had failed again, but as for their promise to each other, they had succeeded.
-He isn’t going to be pleased.- Thorn said.
-He’ll be punishing us anyway.- Murtagh replied. -Might as well make it a punishment we’re used to.-
Thorn made a noise and continued to fly, heading back to Urû’baen. They decided Murtagh would fake being Galbatorix’s perfect slave if only to prevent him from discovering what they were going to be up to, for Thorn told Murtagh about Eragon’s words, how they could change their true names. They only had to be careful.
The castle was bustling with activity when the red dragon and his Rider returned and almost immediately, the pair was ushered in to see the king. Murtagh reported in the best vindictive, angry voice he could muster and Thorn added snarls and growls to add to the effect.
Galbatorix kept his silence until Murtagh had finished and then lazily pointed at the young man. Because he was expecting it, Murtagh was able to shield the worst of it from Thorn. But this magic served only to incapacitate him and the guards came forward to strip him of his armour from the waist up. He was forced to his knees and two guards held his arms out, spread wide. Galbatorix caressed the handle of a fine leather whip.
“Since you seem to lack the understanding of my orders when I use a simple spell on you, perhaps a physical reminder will do wonders.” The mad king said as he rose from his throne.
Thorn snarled. -I will kill him!-
-Thorn, no! Stay back. I’m not afraid.-
The whip whistled. Murtagh grit his teeth as it cut into his back and swallowed his yell. He lasted ten lashes before he made his first sound, ten more before he screamed. When the count reached thirty, Murtagh was close to passing out and if it weren’t for Thorn’s voice telling him to stay awake, he would have. He felt the skin itch and burn as the lash marks healed, leaving paper-thin white lines on his back, dissecting the larger scar – his father’s scar – and marking his most recent failure.
He was allowed to stand and Murtagh swallowed his grunt of pain. He raised his hand slightly to keep Thorn back and stared at his foul master with a gleam of hatred in his eyes. Galbatorix only seemed pleased by that.
The king settled into his throne and caressed the whip, gesturing for Murtagh to stand beside him. “You’ve been shown what the Immortals can do, but they aren’t enough to defeat the Varden. With you, their defeat is assured. However, they may seek allies beyond Alagaësia’s borders. To that end, I’ve devised a plan to nip that in the bud.”
“If I may be so bold,” Murtagh began softly, “What plan is that?”
Galbatorix’s smile was gentle, a deceiver’s smile. He raised his hand slightly and uttered a single phrase in the Ancient Language that Murtagh didn’t know. The fires lighting the throne room flickered and the guards shifted nervously. Thorn shrunk against Shruikan’s side and bared his ivory white teeth. Murtagh knew then that whatever was coming was unnatural and something to be feared.
Murtagh’s eyes went wide when he recognized the man striding into the room. More an apparition, the man seemingly glided along the floor. Behind him a group of twelve followed, and behind them, two more groups of thirteen. Thirty-nine men and woman, humans and elves, soon stood in the throne room, ghastly apparitions whose eyes glowed with some kind of unnatural red fire. And at the head of the contingent stood Morzan. As one, the group went to their knees before Galbatorix.
“Aren’t they something?” Galbatorix asked with a laugh. “It took me years to perfect the technique.”
“What are they?” Murtagh asked in awed whisper, staring directly at his father.
“As’ratlegûl.” Galbatorix purred. “The spirits of Riders long since past. Through their dragons’
Eldunari I was able to bind their souls to the physical plane and now they’re neither dead nor living. They do not need food, water, or sleep. They are tireless and tenacious.” The king smiled when he noticed Murtagh’s gaze. “Yes. Your father was the first I crafted. Don’t worry; he can’t recognize you. Unfortunately, memory was the first that had to go.”
Murtagh felt a cold fist settle in his stomach. “What is their purpose?”
“They are going to destroy the hope of the Varden.” Galbatorix flicked his wrist and the As’ratlegûl rose. “They are going to traverse the mountains to the lands beyond, into the great desert beyond the Beor. There, they will kill everything they find.”
Murtagh shivered as Morzan’s eyes focused on him and then Galbatorix, the apparition’s lips splitting into a feral grin. “Can they be stopped? Killed?”
Galbatorix eyes Murtagh for a moment, then shrugged as if divulging the secret was of no consequence. “Can you kill what is already dead?”
Murtagh kept his tongue behind his teeth, hoping the pained look he wore was enough to look like a grin, and slowly settled into the chair beside the throne. Galbatorix looked at him oddly. Murtagh smiled at the king and ignored his twisting stomach.
“They will certainly teach the Varden a valuable lesson.” Murtagh said lightly. The suspicion slowly eased from Galbatorix’s eyes.
The mad king laughed. “That they most certainly will.”
Murtagh watched the As’ratlegûl leave the throne room for the evil task and tried not to let fear and despair show on his face. He looked to Thorn and saw determination in his crimson eyes and knew the young red wanted nothing more than to erase the blemish of the King’s creation. In that respect, Murtagh knew, Thorn wasn’t alone.
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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