Trail of Blood

by Blodhgarm229

Murtagh, son of Morzan, has been captured by Galbatorix, who forces the angst-ridden young man into serving him. In this story, Thorn hatches, and we see the beginning of their friendship.

Trail of Blood

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

Usually I can stand pain. It's something normal for me. Every day there's some sort of pain, whether it be physical, mental, or emotional. But today was something different; a deeper pain that I'd never felt before. It was both physical and mental, the mental part being that I was alone. I'm a loner; it's something that comes naturally to me. But even in a solitary cell somewhere, there were guards or such. But I had been thrown in this pit of mud, buried beneath the ground, with bars several inches thick separating me from freedom and people.

Galbatorix had once again found that I would not serve him, and so he took a whip and beat me himself. I'd been beaten before, but the hate he poured into it kept my defenses down. When I was thrown in the pit, I'd only been half-conscious. Even now, my thoughts were muddled. But somehow I was able to keep my wits about me.

Without warning, a rope came down, and a voice called: "You there! Get up here!" With every fiber of my being groaning and my very nerves on fire, I climbed as best as I could up the rope. As soon as I was up, heavy, cold chains were clapped tightly on my wrists and ankles, cutting into my flesh, and an icy blade pressed against my throat. I was led up through the passageways of the king's castle, and when we reached his hall, the large doors were pulled open from the inside and I was pushed into the hall. When I stumbled in, I was hit with the full force of what Galbatorix had done. Not only had he whipped me, but afterward he had whispered in my ear. Whispered of memories gone by. My mother, Selena. Morzan, my father. Eragon, who I had found to be my younger half-brother.

Those are painful memories; the ones you try to hide and never remember again.

But now, at the present, I was being chained against one of the pillars in the great hall. Manacles were being wrapped around my forearms and lower legs. The guards roughly shoved my aching arms up and shackled me so that most of my weight was put on my arms. I gritted my teeth and tried hard to keep from crying out. When they had finished, they backed out of the hall, bowing toward the large throne they had chained me near.

"Murtagh." Galbatorix's voice, the voice of a snake, slithered past me. "Have you thought about what we talked about earlier?"

I said nothing, staring at the wall. Let him do all the talking. Keep him from taking something out of my mind that I didn't want him to.

Galbatorix stepped off of the dais and walked slowly toward me. When he stood in front of me and we were face-to-face, he reached his hand up and scraped one long, sharp fingernail down the length of my jaw. I didn't realize until blood dripped from my cheek the full damage. I'd blocked the pain from my mind. "Galbatorix, you slime, I will never serve you!" I shouted, and then spit in his face. He turned away and walked to the opposite wall, taking the long black whip in his hand. Taking his time, Galbatorix unwound the whip and abruptly flicked it in my direction. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me grimace, I gritted my teeth and didn't blink as it tore into my skin.

"Before we begin, I thought you might like to know something," my oppressor said smoothly. "This," he said as he brought out a large, shiny crimson object, "Is for the next Dragon Rider. I decided that when you finally decided to be in my service, your first mission would be to find the-"

His words were cut off by a cracking sound, coming from the egg in his hands. Galbatorix put it on the tiled floor in front of me carefully and backed away. I licked my chapped lips. The egg cracked a bit more, then split open entirely. In place of the perfect egg was a shattered shell and a small, red baby dragon. I gazed at it through pain-filled eyes; it looked at me in wonder. Abruptly a presence entered my mind, and the words Hello. I am Thorn. What is your name, Rider? penetrated as well.

I was shocked, and Galbatorix could see that. "So the dragon has found its' Rider. I can't believe it. You are the Rider."

Is it true? I thought.

Yes, replied Thorn. You are my Rider, and I am your dragon. Why is this man hurting you? The little crimson reptile's head cocked inquisitively at me, yet I didn't answer. I was stunned into silence. Thorn moved toward my bare feet and began to climb up the pillar until he reached my upward-stretched arms. When he did, he pushed his head against my right hand. A searing pain ran through my arm, as if I was being burned, but I did not show my pain to the king. The pain continued, flowing through my hand, arm, and chest, until it settled into a dull ache. Why did you do that?

You now have the Rider insignia, a gedway insignia. Again, why is this man hurting you? Did you do something wrong?

First of all, my name is Murtagh. He's the king. His name is Galbatorix, and he beat me because I defied him and I won't serve him.

That's cruel. Thorn pushed his head against my hand again, this time affectionately, and then slid down, rubbing himself against my dirty feet. Hot blood from the whip lash trickled down my chest, dripping onto my pants.

"Enough!" Galbatorix said quickly. "Murtagh, this is your last warning. You will serve me as a Dragon Rider or die."

"You can threaten my life," I said stonily, "but it won't do any good."

"Ah, but if I threatened" he drew out a knife and grabbed the baby dragon, pressing the blade against the tiny thing's throat. "your dragon?"

An inner turmoil grew inside of me. I could choose not to serve him and let Thorn die, or serve him and have the little one live. But for a strange purpose, I was already attached to Thorn... Galbatorix drew the blade closer to Thorn's throat, and he squealed. "Fine!" I yelled. "I swear to serve you! Just-" I put my head down in defeat. "-let Thorn go."

"A weak spot, then," he said, smirking, but before he released Thorn, he ordered me to swear my fealty in the ancient elven language, since for some reason, no one could go back on their word if they spoke in that language. I did so reluctantly, although I knew that he knew that I never lied. It was probably just for show.

"Now, you are mine, just like your father before you. And since I know you don't lie and never go back on your word, you will serve me till the end of your days, Murtagh Morzansson. Guards!" Galbatorix called. When they entered, he said, "Take this one back to the pit, until we can find a suitable room for him. And don't worry if the dragon follows; throw it in, too."

I grunted, agonized, when the guards roughly jerked me down. As I was being dragged along, Thorn followed, his scaly wings and tail dragging on the floor. His eyes watched me with sadness in them. Is this because of me? he questioned softly.

No. Nothing that's happened to me is your fault. I just…don't want to turn out like my father.

Your father's name was Morzan?

Yes. He was terrible, the first and last of the Forsworn.

I know of them, Thorn mentally exclaimed, but a few seconds later I was thrown back into the salt-covered pit, my baby dragon thrown after me. I landed with a thud and yelled. The salt dug into my wounds, making them burn and making me writhe in agony. Thorn moved over to me quickly and gently placed his head on my shoulder. You need a healer.

Yeah, I kind of knew that. I said sarcastically. Thorn nudged my head with his.

You're warm, he said. It feels good.

I harrumphed and turned my back to him. When he squealed a cute little sound, I painfully moved my arm back, grabbed him around the waist and tucked him close to my throbbing chest. He snuggled in close and sighed. Thank you, Murtagh. I half-smiled and curled around him. Soon darkness overtook me.

I awoke to Thorn's growls, but they sounded more than they had before. I blinked and looked to him; he had grown more than twice his original size overnight! Thorn! You're huge! The red dragon was nearly as long as I was.

Yes, I think that somehow I must grow faster than the other dragons did. Murtagh? He asked, looking up.

What?

There are men up there. Talking. I heard them say something about "disposing of the boy and the rat." They called me a rat, and they want to kill us! He burrowed his head into my chest. My heart swelled. He was so amazing, and yet so adorable, as well. I wanted to keep him safe, forever. But how was I supposed to do that when I couldn't even fight my way out of this situation?! I'd already sworn myself into the service of Galbatorix. Bah! The rotten dog. He was such a nut brain.

Murtagh, tell me more about your father and family. I want to know about you.

There's not much to tell. My father was a total jerk, and he gave me the scar on my back. I showed Thorn the huge scar that stretched from my right shoulder to my left hip. The dragon hissed and lightly touched it with his nose, and then urged me to continue. My mother's name was Selena, and after Morzan died, she married Brom, the last of the good dragon riders. Then she had another son, Eragon, who now has a dragon named Saphira. I had to guide them to the Varden, who are the people that resist Galbatorix… and so I continued my story, telling the amazed Thorn all of my stories.

After I had finished, a small loaf of bread, a piece of meat, and a small jug of water were tossed down. I let Thorn gobble down the meat, and I poured half of the water down his throat. Then I set to work eating my bread. It was hard and stale, barely worth eating, but since I hadn't consumed anything in three days, it tasted like pastry fit for a king.

"Hey, mud cake!" one of the guards above shouted down to us. "Had enough to eat?" The mocking question just begged for a fitting answer.

"Oh, sure!" I yelled back. "Yet I do believe that Galbatorix should put you on a diet, my good man! Your girth is showing over the edge of this abyss!"

A growl and a well-thrown rock answered me. The stone hit me on the head, cutting my skin and causing blood to flow over my temple and cheek. I put my hand up to stop the flow of blood. My dragon—my dragon!—moved closer to me and put his spiky head near mine. You're too big to be on my lap.

I know, but you're yet again hurt by those maniacs up there! How I wish I could grab them by the head and shake them around! He demonstrated by growling, showing all of his teeth, and shaking his own head about the small pit. I laughed and shifted so that my weight wasn't on my still-aching arms.

After a long while, we were heaved out of the stinking pit, washed, (though Thorn growled frequently at the people who took the sponge and water to his scales), and eventually placed in a large field with soldiers surrounding it and the best swordsmen in Galbatorix's kingdom ready to train me. I felt that I had been already trained enough, but apparently Galbatorix had ordered it. So I, naturally, played along. However, after defeating all of his best swordsmen, Galbatorix, arrayed in shining silver armor and carrying a pale sword, came out to fight me himself.

I gripped my hand-and-a-half sword tighter, my palms sweating, and stepped forward to meet him. I studied how he walked, how he moved his sword, even how he breathed. These would all help me in combat.

The clash began. Thorn lent me some of his strength to match Galbatorix's. Our swords screamed as we fought to throw the other to the ground. We collided many times, and every once in a long while I nearly gained. Yet I felt my strength begin to weaken. Thorn, he's too strong! My dragon had sensed this and was growling, snapping his teeth. Eventually, Galbatorix pushed me down and put the pale sword to my neck. He breathed very heavily. "You…you are strong, Murtagh. Almost strong enough to defeat me."

I nodded, but just barely, since at any given moment, the sword could cut my neck. Galbatorix sheathed his sword and limped away from me; off of the battlefield. He motioned toward me and said something to a couple of the guards, who then turned, picked me up, and transported me to a dark room with crimson walls and a very high ceiling. It matches you! I laughed mentally to Thorn. He snorted and strode in, his head barely brushing the top of the doorway.

The guards lifted me onto the black bed and bowed, then strode out of the door. I leaned my head back and told Thorn, Now this is more like it. I wonder when they'll bring in the food. I'm starving.

Well, I do hope that they bring in some raw meat. That would be lovely.

Yuck, Thorn. You're going to ruin my appetite.

Ha! The dragon shook his crimson head and grunted again. A knock on the door sounded, and I called, "Enter!" The huge door opened, and a man with a tray walked in, followed by an assistant carrying another tray, but the latter's was bigger. The first man put the tray on a large table, and the assistant copied him; they both bowed and left the room. Thorn rushed toward the table, but looked back at me when I did not accompany him. Are you okay?

A little tired. That's all. Go ahead and eat.

Okay. Thorn delicately picked up the silver dish over the large tray and roared softly when he found thick gobs of fresh, raw meat. He consumed with vigor, licking his scaled lips every once in a while. Within minutes, the meat had disappeared and he was lying on the carpeted floor. His crimson tail flicked back and forth. I watched it for some time, and soon my eyelids grew heavy. For a strange reason which I had not yet figured out, I needed a lot of sleep these days. Usually, I could go without sleep for at the most, two days.

I closed my eyes and relaxed, finally letting sleep overtake me.

'Murtagh…'

'Murtagh…'

'Murtagh…'

'Murtagh…why?...why are you doing this?...'

'You're a beast!...You could have at least tried more than just one time to resist that wicked king!...You're cruel!...You're evil!...'

'No, no, Eragon! I didn't!' I yelled. 'I'm trying! I'm not evil!...'

'Beast!...Wicked!...Cruel!...Evil!...'

'Evil…'

'Evil…'

'Evil…'

"No!" I screamed, shooting up in the huge bed. The crimson walls surrounded me, and the scaly face of Thorn was hovering over me, one paw on my bed.

Thorn, what am I going to do? I have to serve Galbatorix!

It will be all right, young one. Calm down. We will find some way out of this.

I…I hope so, Thorn. I climbed out of my bed and walked unsteadily toward the table.

Murtagh! Behind you! Thorn mentally gasped. I looked, and I saw a thin trail of blood following me from the bed. I was bleeding somewhere. But hadn't I always? Maybe not externally, but definitely bleeding in my heart. It seemed that everywhere I went, the trail of blood followed.

I ignored it and walked to Thorn, putting my arms around his spiked neck. We have to get through this. I can't let Galbatorix hurt you or rule you, I told him.

You will protect me, Thorn replied softly, stroking my head with his chin, and I will protect you.

The End of my Account