Disclaimer: If I owned the Inheritance Cycle, I wouldn't need to write this.
Warnings: contains BRISINGR SPOILERS.
A/N: My first Eragon fan fiction. Was inspired by Brisingr.
Thorn lands in a clearing far away from civilisation. The dragon is sure that no-one will find them, and they will be alone, at least for a while.
Murtagh climbs down from his dragon's back, muttering healing spells under his breath. Zar'roc feels heavier than it has ever felt before, and the blade is still covered in blood. The blood of a Dragon Rider, Oromis. Murtagh knows that if Galbatorix hadn't of intervened, then his own blood would have been shed.
Adrenaline courses through his body, and he can still feel Galbatorix within his blood. The energy is powerful and it makes him feel dizzy. He feels used and dirty. His body had been no more than an empty shell, which Galbatorix, his hateful master, had used to slay another Rider. Logically, he knows that it was not he who had killed Oromis, but Galbatorix. Still, the guilt threatens to overwhelm him.
It could not be avoided.
I know. But I doubt the Varden would agree.
You swore oaths in the ancient tongue, you had no choice. Even if you had wanted to let Oromis escape, you couldn't have. Our master planned to possess you right from the beginning. Your body was not your own.
My body is never my own, not anymore. If only Eragon was right, and my true name could change. Then we would have a chance.
Eragon talks of nonsense. We have to do what we must to ensure your survival, if that means killing then that is what we must do.
No! I am not going to turn into my father.
The next few moments pass in silence, as both man and dragon remember the lives that they have already taken.
Murtagh curses, as he thinks of his brother.
Yet again, I have caused Eragon pain.
Not you, but our master.
Murtagh is about to reply when a thunderous roar fills the air around them.
Shruikan is calling.
Can you manage to fly back?
Yes, but I will be slower than usual.
Good, it will give me time to think, and to grieve. For I fear we have just killed Eragon's last shred of hope.
Murtagh climbs with ease onto Thorns back, revelling in the familiarity of the action. The dragon pushes off and they fly away into an uncertain future, positive that there is still more heartache to come.