Stream of Light

My name is Thorn, and this is how I will recount my story:

The battle raged ever on. I was flying through the air on my crimson wings, my Rider unsheathing his sword to fight, when I noticed something. Eragon, Murtagh's half-brother, and the wicked Galbatorix, king of Alagaësia, were fighting furiously. But Eragon was losing! Murtagh urged me down. I questioned him, What are you going to do? But he didn't answer. Instead, when we landed, he leaped down and parried a blow that would've destroyed Eragon for sure.

Galbatorix's face was first one of surprise, then anger. He thrust his sword at Murtagh, but my Rider easily parried that, as well. Murtagh sliced his sword at Galbatorix and cut his cheek. Blood flowed down the evil king's face. But there was no smirk from Murtagh. His face was grim as ever.

The fighting continued, but I couldn't watch all of it. I was busy killing the evil black dragon. When I finished, I looked to my young Rider. He had already gotten wounded in the arm, and now his face was filled with rage. Eragon was on the ground, paralyzed with shock.

Then Murtagh and Galbatorix, the two darkest forces in the world, thrust their swords at each other, at the same time. Each of their swords entered the other's body. I roared as I felt through our bond the sword piercing Murtagh's body. Galbatorix fell to the ground, dead. Murtagh stumbled before falling to the ground beside his dead master, blood coating his leather tunic and hands.

Eragon recovered and quickly moved to his brother's side. But Murtagh only looked in my eyes. His hurt-filled eyes pierced my mahogany eyes. I'm sorry, Thorn, he said, and closed his eyes. I yelled through our bond at him to stay awake, but it was swiftly cut short.

Eragon lifted his inert brother's body and struggled to carry it over the battlefield. I followed, as did Saphira, who nudged me and comforted me as I felt the fear of losing the dearest thing to me.

Murtagh was carried to the healers, and I didn't see him for some time. The fear and pain were with me for nearly a day. Saphira remained with me and silently comforted my aching heart, but I needed Murtagh.

Finally, I was allowed to see him. He was lying on a cot, a blanket over his lower half, and a large bandage over his torso. Murtagh's face was peaceful. I'd never seen it like that. After a while, his eyes flickered open. "Thorn?" he asked in confusion.

Yes, young one. You survived. Few would have.

Where's Eragon? Is he safe? Is Galbatorix dead?

Eragon will be seeing you soon. Yes, he's safe; and yes, you killed Galbatorix. I'm so proud of you. You saved Alagaësia and freed us.

Murtagh shifted his position and groaned. Don't try to move! I told him.

All right, all right. You don't have to worry over me all of the time. It was just then that Eragon walked in, his sword Brisingr at his side. Saphira wasn't with him, but I was certain that she was close. I scooted back close to a corner, but listened carefully.

"Hello, Murtagh," began Eragon awkwardly. Murtagh nodded his head. A flicker of pain came through our link, and I began to warn him, but my Rider shushed me. I snorted.

"Murtagh, thank you for saving my life. I mean, you have so many times, but this was something pretty…different."

"Why didn't you come?" Murtagh shot out the words like a poison dart. Eragon was caught off-guard.

"Wha…"

"Why didn't you come to Galbatorix's castle and get me!"

"I thought…"

"You thought that I liked it there, didn't you? Well, you're wrong! I hated it! Every day I was tortured. For nearly three months I waited in pain for you to come, thinking that if anyone could save me, it was my brother! But no! Did you even notice how I rarely looked you in the eyes? That was because I had been beaten to near-death every time I looked Galbatorix in the eyes!"

Eragon's face twisted into a scowl. "Murtagh, you've got it all wrong! I had other things to do!"

"More important than me?!" Murtagh shifted up, a grimace holding back the scream that I knew was behind his lips. "You're just selfish! Selfish and cruel!"

"No!" Eragon shouted. "I'm not the one that's selfish and cruel! You are! You were the one that killed the dwarf king; that murdered so many without a second thought! You could have at least tried more than just one time to resist that wicked king! You're cruel! You're evil!" As Eragon screamed those last words, Murtagh began to spasm. Eragon's eyes grew wide while Murtagh's skin became pallid and a sheen of freezing sweat dripped off.

"No!" The cry was ripped from Eragon's lips as he rushed to his half-brother, frantically working over him; pumping his chest. Panic arose in me, and I barreled over to my Rider, knocking over Eragon and holding my paw as gently as was dragonly possible to Murtagh's chest, so as to keep him from hurting himself as he convulsed on the cot.

Finally, Murtagh ceased to spasm and became unconscious. Eragon cried for a healer, who came and ushered us out of the giant cave. I went with Eragon and found Saphira anxiously pacing outside. What happened? she asked both of us.

He began to convulse as Eragon was speaking with him.

Eragon, did you say anything to make him angry? the blue dragon asked fiercely, blowing hot air in her Rider's face.

Yes.

You shouldn't have. That will only make him worse and he'll distance himself even more from you.

I know. The three of us all decided to go fly for a while, Eragon on Saphira's back. I missed the feeling of Murtagh on mine. He was such a good Rider, though he had not been trained properly.

We spent the next day or so roaming over the many landscapes. It was beautiful, but my thoughts of my wounded Rider were distracting me. Suddenly Eragon cried out, "Arya!" and Saphira swooped down toward a clearing beneath us. I followed swiftly. When we landed, Eragon clambered off of Saphira and ran toward the elf princess.

"I bring grave news," she said. "Murtagh has healed some, but the elders, including Nasuada, have decided that he should pay for his crimes. Fifty lashes."

Eragon and Saphira were not calm, it is true, but I was the one who began to freak out. I stomped about, crashing trees and causing a regular earthquake, until Saphira stopped me and said, We should go back. Tell the Varden about Murtagh's true plight!

Yes, replied Eragon and Arya at the same time.

Definitely. Arya, climb onto my back, I ordered, and when she did, I took off back toward the Varden's main base. "It will take us a few hours to get there!" she shouted. They may have already begun!" And so it did take us three hours. When we got close, I heard through our bond a quick cry of pain, but then Murtagh closed off his mind to me. Yet we were near enough that all four of us, with Arya and Eragon's enhanced elven hearing and our own dragon hearing, heard the crack of the whip and the sounds of approval from the elders. I roared and flew faster.

We reached the elder's clearing where Murtagh was being whipped just as another lash was laid on my Rider's back. I landed right near the post to which he was shackled and roared my loudest at the whipmaster. He backed away, terrified. I looked to Murtagh, who was half-unconscious. Stay with me, I pleaded.

"Aarrgh," was what sounded like the reply from him. I looked over Murtagh concernedly. He was stripped to the waist, his muscled back exposed, with his face to the post. Bloody whip marks crisscrossed over the scar that his father, Morzan had given him.

Then Eragon began to speak to Nasuada, who had stood and begun to protest when we landed. "Nasuada, please listen. Murtagh has already paid above and beyond what he did. He has been tortured for not only his crimes, but the crimes of Galbatorix and the crimes of his father at that evil king's hand. Yet he has redeemed himself by ridding Alagaësia of its slaver and tyrant. Must we torture him more for all of the crimes of this world? Will we take our anger out on him for our own sins and transgressions?"

The elders all murmured to one another, clearly confused. Some looked to Nasuada. She frowned at Eragon. "Eragon Shadeslayer, you stand in the way of justice. This man must be punished!"

"Nasuada, I know you're still angry because your father died, and the dwarf king died. Yes, King Hrothgrar died at Murtagh's hand, but he has paid for that and more! And Murtagh did not kill your father!"

"I…" Nasuada's voice became distant as her eyes unfocused from Eragon and stared at the sapphire-like sky above us. Then she seemed to recover strength and said, "Let me look into the eyes of the condemned." Eragon nodded, and Nasuada stepped down from her dais and walked quickly toward the center of the field, where my Rider was chained. She stooped down, as he was on his knees, and looked with her clear brown eyes into his clouded gray eyes. They remained like this, as I watched, for some time.

My crimson tail switched back and forth a few times from the tension, but other than that, no one moved a muscle. Then Nasuada straightened to her full height. Murtagh's head drooped from exhaustion. "He has been misjudged, and shall stand no further anguish. Murtagh Eragonsbrother is now, and has been since he defeated Galbatorix, a hero. Let him ride his noble dragon, Thorn," (my head perked up when I heard my name), "in the great celebration later today, if he has healed from these inexcusable wounds, which I have laid upon him wrongly, well enough." Then she turned to Murtagh and said in a lower voice, "And I am truly sorry for the pain I have caused you. If there is anything I can do, just ask."

Murtagh's voice mumbled for a minute, though I could not discern his words, and then Nasuada laughed in a clear, crystal voice. "Ha! And bring some water for him! And quickly," she motioned to the guard with the keys to the shackles, becoming more serious, "undo his bonds." When the guard had released him, Murtagh nearly dropped. The guard caught him just before he hit the ground. My Rider hissed as the man's hands came into contact with his wounds. I growled, but Murtagh opened our link and weakly said, Let him be. I'll be all right.

I backed off as another guard ran to help the first carry Murtagh to the healing tent. They brought a flagon to Murtagh's lips, and he drank a few drops before his head fell again. I followed at a safe distance, with Eragon, Saphira, Nasuada, and Arya trailing behind me. Concern and worry flooded through me when I felt Murtagh's mind fall asleep as he became unconscious. I could hear Saphira and Eragon talking in low tones behind me. What's wrong? I asked.

I hope your Rider will have healed enough by this afternoon to join in the celebration, Thorn, replied Saphira. I stopped and twisted my neck toward her.

You have concern for Murtagh? I asked, perplexed.

I have concern for both of you. The physical and emotional strain on him is immense, while you are attempting to lend him most of your strength through your bond. That is very valiant of you. I will give you some of mine for a time. I am not the one with the wounded Rider.

Thank you, Brightscales. May peace ever shine on you.

You are welcome, Thorn. And the same to you.

We reached the healing tent a few minutes after Murtagh and the guards because we had paused. While I had the urge to be closer to Murtagh, only Arya went into the tent, after calling two strange tree-like elves. My eyelids began to droop as time went by, since I had not slept in some time, but I remained awake. After an hour, the edges of the tent began to flow upward, as if some wind inside the tent was pushing them. My eyes went wide, as did the others'. The wind began to blow harder, going inside the tent; creating a whirlwind.

Finally it ended. The two strange elves came out, bowed their heads to us, and left. Arya came out then. "Murtagh will have strength enough to endure the celebration, if Thorn, Saphira, Eragon and I give him some of our strength. But afterwards, he must rest for a few weeks, since he is gravely injured."

What happened in the tent with the wind? I asked her.

"Mindor and Thrinof have given a gift to Murtagh; their thanks for vanquishing Galbatorix. If you wish to see, you may."

I poked my head into the tent, since I could get no more of myself in, and looked at my unconscious Rider. He had changed dramatically! He still looked like Murtagh, with the handsome features and proud face, but his eyes were pointed at the ends, and his ears, as well. Like an elf's. And his body was lean, but even better-muscled than before. The wounds still remained, though.

They changed him like they changed me! Eragon cried in his mind.

"Yes," Arya replied. "A good change, though he looked attractive enough before. Nasuada, what do you think?"

The leader of the Varden's eyes were wide; her mouth opened in shock. "He looks—good," she stuttered. "Like an elf lord!"

Arya then whispered something to Nasuada, who whispered back. Arya nodded and smiled.

"Now go. All of you!" Arya shooed us away. I looked at her pitifully, and she sighed. "Yes, you too, Thorn. I can't have you hanging around here, or you might disturb his rest." We all exited the tent, but Arya, Eragon and Saphira, and I remained waiting outside. Nasuada excused herself, mumbling something about getting ready for the celebration.

Eragon and Saphira amused themselves by playing mind riddle games. Arya sat alone, lost in her thoughts. I was lying down in front of the tent, my nose near the tent flap. I vaguely heard Eragon ask Arya, "What did you say to Nasuada?"

"I asked her what she had seen in Murtagh's eyes that made her change her mind."

"How did she answer?"

"Nasuada said that she saw "raw pain, but a goodness hiding behind it". And yes, I do quote."

Random thoughts came and went through my mind as I waited impatiently. Thoughts like, What if Galbatorix had won? What if Murtagh had died? What if Eragon had killed Galbatorix, not Murtagh? What if Nasuada hadn't seen something in Murtagh's eyes that made her cease the punishing? With too many thoughts roaming around, I almost didn't notice Murtagh hobbling out of the tent.

I leaped to my feet, causing the earth around us to shake. Murtagh stumbled, but I lowered my neck quickly and caught him. "Thanks, Thorn," he mumbled in a low voice. His voice didn't sound as raspy as it had before. Instead, it sounded kind of silky, like one elf I'd gotten to know. He wore black and bright red clothes, to match me, I supposed. Zar'roc was strapped to his side. "I look different."

I know, little one. Now why don't you climb onto my back? The celebration is about to begin! My Rider did so, as Eragon straddled Saphira. Arya climbed on behind Eragon. I smiled, showing my sharp teeth to Saphira. She grinned back. We took off, soaring through the air. Murtagh, even in is shaky condition, saw the crowds far away even before we did. "There it is."

Saphira and I swooped down near, flying over the heads of the crowds. Everyone shrieked and laughed, especially the young boys, I noticed. We landed and as the crowd made a path for us, walked in single file, with Saphira and her passengers in front, and me and Murtagh behind. Everyone was laughing and tossing flower petals. Some of the girls were dancing around Saphira, but I noticed they kept their distance from me.

Then I stopped short. Right in front of me was a little girl, no higher than about three feet, I supposed. Her dress was a bright green, and her pigtails tied with pretty green ribbons. She held out her arms to me and giggled. I cautiously put my head down closer to her. She grabbed my muzzle and hugged me. I kind of enjoyed it, but then I felt Murtagh slide down from me, landing just a hair heavier than usual. Everyone, including me, was holding their breath.

Murtagh walked slowly up to the little girl. She let go of me and stared up at him with big blue eyes, and then held out her arms to him. Murtagh hesitantly picked her up in his arms and carried her to the woman who was apparently the little girl's mother. The mother was standing at the sidelines and took her daughter from Murtagh when he offered her.

Beside the woman stood an older teenage daughter, with beautiful blue eyes and blond hair. I snorted when I heard Murtagh's thoughts. Murtagh, we're not here for a wedding, I gently reminded.

Murtagh then turned to the woman's son, who must have been about ten or eleven. The boy carried a wooden play sword, which he held limply now as he stared in awe at my Rider. Murtagh took the boy's hand and tightened his grip on the sword. "Protect your mother and sisters, warrior," he said, and then bowed to the womenfolk. "My ladies," he told them, and walked painfully back to me, although he kept his back straight. The hurt was quite evident in his eyes.

He climbed back onto me, and the procession was about to begin again when the older daughter suddenly cried, "My lord!" and ran up to my side. In her hand, she clutched a bouquet of white daisies.

Murtagh looked down at her and said, "Yes, my lady?" As always, his manners toward women were impeccable.

The girl curtsied and bashfully held up the bouquet. "Thank you for saving us all, my lord."

Murtagh took the bouquet, switched it to the other hand, and took her uplifted hand. Then, as I had known he wanted to do ever since he saw her, he pressed his lips against her smooth skin. "Thank you," he murmured, in a manner that I knew well. He meant that "thank you" with every fiber of his being. She smiled shyly and backed away.

He smiled back and then told me, It's actually nice to know that you're appreciated, Thorn. Then we continued again, and when we reached the top of the hill, where Nasuada was standing, Eragon and Murtagh dismounted and kneeled before her. Saphira and I kneeled as best as we could.

"Eragon Shadeslayer, and Murtagh Kingslayer, you have both brought peace and justice to Alagaësia. For that, I dub you" she placed her hand on Eragon's head "Lord Eragon, and you" she placed the other on my Rider's dark head "Lord Murtagh. May you both have peace and joy in the many years to come. Long live the Dragon Riders!"

"Long live the Dragon Riders!" cried the crowd, and then took up the chant, "Long live Lord Eragon! Long live Lord Murtagh! Long live Saphira Brightscales! Long live Thorn Shiningone!"

Simultaneously, Murtagh drew Zar'roc from its sheath, and Eragon drew Brisingr from its sheath; both with a metallic ring. Directly after that, Saphira and I roared, our two voices blending, but above all, we heard our Dragon Riders call out: "Into the skies; to win, or die!"

The End of My Account