I don't own Inheritance Cycle or Continuum.
Yeah, I don't know if anyone is actually going to find this story or not, especially since this will be the first story posted for this category, and it's a rather obscure category. So yeah. Oh well.
That, and another reason for writing this story is that I was rather disappointed that they removed Sonya Valentine out of the picture. While I'm not fond of Liber8, I know the need and enjoy having a good villain for the good guys to fight. I feel like she was the linchpin for keeping the bad guys together, and now that she's gone, I don't know that Liber8 will be as enjoying an antagonist as they were before.
While she had her moments of friction with Liber8, it was mainly her leadership that kept everything together. After all, she took over when Travis was sick, and though it didn't seem so, she had a large amount of sway even when they split up. That, and when they got back together, though it was officially a joint leadership, it was really her in charge. After all, it was her ideas that were mainly forwarded.
Is it just me, or does anyone else wish that they bring Sonya back to life?
"A pebble tossed from a beach can become a tsunami on the other side of the world." -Edward Kagame in Continuum.
Prologue
"Oh," the woman said, the one wearing shackles in an odd looking room with another male. She had long brown hair and the man was bald. "I think I'm in the perfect position to judge, and I find you guilty."
With that she showed her wrists where two bulges were and the male, seemingly understanding, tried to run. She brought her wrists together and there was a loud bang.
Immediately following a brilliant flash of light a scene in the wild far away was shown, fire everywhere, a circle of obliteration seen all around.
"No!" Murtagh shouted and woke up with a start, panting deeply at the unusual nightmare. He'd sat up in his bed after being pried awake from the nightmare. After a few exhausting moments, he put his hand to his forehead in an attempt to calm down. "Just a dream," he murmured to himself. "Just a dream."
After a few moments he walked over to the curtains on the far side of his bedroom and peered out. Dawn was just breaking out, so there was no point in going back to sleep. That, and today was escape day. Today he would leave Galbatorix's clutches forever.
Where he was going, he didn't know, but all he knew was that it was far away from here. Tornac had promised him that they would survive, but considering the fact that survival seemed to be all he ever knew, he was fine with that.
He sighed. It was pointless to wonder about what life had in store ahead of him. He should just take one step at a time. And so, he staggered back to his bed.
"Just a dream."
Chapter One: And So it Begins...
Somewhere far away, the fire still burned, the fire that the boy trapped in the castle didn't know was real.
A man and a red dragon lay curled together inside a ring of destruction, fire burning on the outside surrounding them. Medium length hair flowed over the man's face, and his eyes were wide, almost in shock. He was dressed in leather, shocking for someone like him, and was lying face down, an expression of "Oh," on his face. Hands beside his head, they twitched, giving the only indication he was alive at all. The wounds which were on his body were hid by being face down in the dirt.
To an outsider, they would have appeared out of nowhere, but there was no one around for miles. And so, when the man's fingers moved more and he groaned, there was no audience.
The man pushed himself upright, and after running a comforting hand along his dragon's scales he looked around, trying to get gauge of his position. Confusion was etched on his face, and he took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Then he stood upright with great difficulty.
"Sonya!" he bellowed out, staggering around a bit. His head was throbbing and he was struggling to remain on his feet, the poison from a knife wound entering deeper by the minute into his system. "Sonya! Where are you?! What did you do to us?!"
'I don't think she's here,' a voice said in the man's head and the man shook his head as the headache increased slightly. It caused him to wobble more and he collapsed, exhausted. As his strength left him, the wounds he'd received previously causing him to loose blood still, his mind sank back into the dark abyss and he was unconscious once more.
How long he lay unconscious for, he didn't know. But sporadically he'd hear voices as he wavered in and out of consciousness.
"Never seen a wound like this before..."
"Where did he come from?..."
"What kind of clothes are he wearing?..."
"What's this?..."
With each line, he staggered in and out of consciousness, not able to make out the whole phrase. And then, he slipped down again, into dreams once more. Except these dreams happened to be memories, recent memories that is.
He was in a rider city known as the Stronghold, mainly because of it's renowned defenses. A council of riders consisting of men and women of many races were gathered together to discuss the current unusual magic behavior which many believed originated because of the split between the worlds. Eragon, his half brother whom he'd become close to given the many thousands of years they had worked together, was currently standing up, giving his decision and argument.
"I agree," the elven like man was saying. "We don't know what is on the other side and how things have evolved over the years. But if they are tampering with magic that they don't understand, and they don't realize that it's affecting us, they need to know!"
"But it's dangerous!" another council member exclaimed and Eragon held up his hand.
"I know," Eragon admitted. "Which is why I will be going first."
Immediately there was an outbreak of protests and the scene shifted once again, this time to city called Vancouver. It was six months since the previous memory and a lot had changed since then. For one, they had found what they weren't expecting on the other side: a land without magic; or rather a land where the people didn't know how to access magic or that it even existed.
It was his first time in this unusual world, and his dragon was beside him, growling, not liking the unpleasant odors that hung in the air. Suddenly, they were surrounded by large metal moving objects that held people in them. The people rushed out carrying box like things that produced bright flashes, speaking a language he didn't understand. Flinching back into his dragon's side and feeling like he was being attacked, his dragon hissed and the flashes of light merely increased.
Finally, after a moment, another large metal object was seen behind the crowd, and men and women dressed in black and white clothes pushed through the crowd, standing in front of him, hands in the air. With a groan from the crowd, they dispersed and he let out a sigh of relief, his red dragon growling softly.
The people then turned to them and the woman spoke, surprisingly using his language. "You must be Murtagh?" she asked and the man nodded. "Follow me," she ordered.
The scene shifted once again and he was back in the Stronghold, walking down the winding corridors with his brother by his side. A few people glanced at them as they walked by and through the columns to his right he could see the setting sun and a sheer drop down below where the concrete ended by the columns.
Many hundred feet below them a forest teamed with life with the tops of the trees seen below him, mainly trees with wide leaves, and a few birds rising from the trees into the blood red sunset caught his attention. But his brother took no notice to the scene outside, seeing as they had already seen it a million times. However Murtagh was never able to get over the beauty of such a view and it captivated his attention every time he wandered down this way.
"What do you think of this Alec Sadler?" Eragon was saying and Murtagh did his best to shift his attention back to his brother, wondering what else he had missed as he observed the scenery.
A frown lit Murtagh's lips as he considered carefully. "I don't know," he finally admitted. The boy genius was definitely a mystery to him. His eyes carried a light like they had some sort of secret that they didn't want anyone else finding out about. And then there was his mysterious background.
Supposedly, according to records left by his supposed mysterious father Escher, he was to inherit Piron. From the sounds of it he had struggled to maintain his place as CEO, and when he was ousted by his former partner, he'd had to go through several loops to get it back. Even the other members of the board were confused as to how he'd managed to get the position back again even though it was his rightful position.
But even Murtagh knew that there was more going on behind the scenes. For one, his friendship with Carlos Fenegra and the even more mysterious Kiera Cameron stretched back long before he was CEO and long before he was introduced to Dillon. From what Murtagh understood, one day Kiera had just shown up with him to work, using him to crack a case and pinpoint a needed location. That, and from the reports of a trial for Jullian Randall, if Murtagh red behind the lines correctly, it seemed like no matter what Alec said, he'd known Kiera and Carlos before then as well.
And then there was the recent friction observed between him and Kiera, and even more mysteriously between him and his supposed ex girlfriend Maya Hartwell that had cleared up in a blink of an eye. No. In Murtagh's eyes and in his experience in life, when there is serious friction between people it does not just disappear in a heartbeat with an all is well afterwords. Things take time to work out.
"I don't know," Murtagh finally admitted and as they continued down the hall, the columns disappeared. They were now completely enclosed by the building, though a light ahead was seen as more sunshine shined through, lighting the way. "I just don't think he's telling the complete truth. He's got something that he's hiding."
Suddenly, the memory was cut short as blackness dawned on the rider. For a while he waded in and out, thinking nothing, and then he thought he heard a distant crash. Startled, he drifted towards consciousness. As he came close to it, light could be seen from behind his closed eyelids and he knew he was conscious once more. He gasped quietly, snapping his eyelids open, and immediately he noticed something was wrong.
The man still had a pounding headache and he couldn't think entirely straight. But, upon finding that it stilled slightly, he began looking around. He was still lying down and he decided to take it easy.
The first thing that he noticed was that he was wearing new clothes, the kind Alegasia hadn't seen for many thousands of years. The second thing was that the mattress he was placed on had to belong to someone middle class, but it was the kind that hadn't been seen for a long, long time. They were built differently now. Mattresses in his day had a different feel to them.
The third was that the room he was in was bright, but it wasn't lit by magic, using sunlight streaming through instead. Magic lights were more common in his day. And the fourth was a painting featuring king Galbatorix.
"What?" Murtagh gasped, confused. He didn't know why anyone in the world he'd helped shape would willingly have a poster of that deranged king. However, a few thousand years ago when the king reigned, it had been a requirement of his subjects...
Murtagh gasped as the evidence pieced together. "No!" he exclaimed softly. It wasn't possible. Surely Sonya wouldn't have been able to... He wasn't even going to consider that. After all, how could it even be possible? Because that would mean...
'Thorn?' Murtagh attempted to contact his dragon, sitting up and placing a hand to his head as it pounded again, waiting for a reply from his dragon. And he was in serious denial.
'Yes?' a voice answered back and Murtagh was grateful that at least that hadn't been broken. His bond to his dragon was everything to him.
But the man chose to ignore that now as nausea intervened and his head swirled. When it calmed down he asked, 'Where am I and how did I get here?'
There was hesitation on the other end. 'Oh, that,' Thorn replied and Murtagh thought that he felt his dragon twitching nervously on the other side. 'Well,' the reply came. 'You were unconscious and I knew you needed help. But something felt off, so I flew around in the middle of the night. But I felt it was important that I wasn't discovered, no matter what. So when I saw a village I picked you up and dropped you in front of there, leaving you there. But I've been monitoring you, so don't worry. I knew when the villagers found you, and I know which house you're in so that I can rescue you if necessary.'
Another wave of pain came, and Murtagh stood up slowly despite it. When it waned, he sent across the link, 'Thanks.'
'Not at all,' his dragon replied. 'Just be careful. And as a precaution, don't give your real name.'
"Agreed," Murtagh said aloud and through the link as he took in the rest of the room he hadn't seen. It was quite something he had to admit. But for now he had other problems to consider. For one, unless this was some practical joke, the architecture was definitely out of place for the time he was in, or rather supposed to be in. He hadn't seen anything like this for thousands of years.
But was it even possible? Sitting back down and thinking back to what he last remembered before waking up here, he remembered the fire circle he'd been in. Before then was completely confusing though. He'd been chasing Sonya Valentine down a dark corridor, an orb like object in her hand. Murtagh had been so out of it that she had been able to jump him and stab him with a poisoned knife. When he'd started to pursue her, she'd brought out her gun and shot him several times, slowing him down significantly even with his elf like speed.
Even Sonya was a mystery. How the woman was alive was beyond him as many witness accounts at the Vancouver Police Department had testified to the fact that she was dead. They had seen her blow herself and Dillon up. She couldn't possibly have survived that seeing as she was the bomb.
Kiera had been behind him as she was slower, she not having his elf like strength, though she was surprisingly fast for a human. "Sonya!" she called out, but when Murtagh had glanced back he'd thought he'd seen a knowing look in her angry eyes.
At that moment Thorn had barged into the building, or rather literally through it and Murtagh had jumped onto his dragon as they continued to pursue the Liber8 member. But she had turned the corner, slipping down further still, almost losing him. When they finally reached the room, he didn't take in the strange architecture, he had tunnel vision focused on her as he was quickly loosing consciousness but was determined to catch her. And there Sonya had placed her orb like object on a pedestal and it brightly glowed. Kiera had screamed out a protest as Thorn pushed forward.
They had not quite reached her when the light reached him, and next thing he knew he was laying in a circle of fire, the vegetation destroyed, his body in complete shock from all the wounds he'd received. And he wasn't really aware of himself in those moments, the memory already somewhat hazy.
Then off course, he'd blacked out and woken up here.
Murtagh groaned as he tried to move around but failed. As he lifted his shirt and looked at the wounds, while trying to balance on his feet, he saw that his chest was bound. Hopefully the people caring for him had enough sense to remove the bullets. And thankfully the poison hadn't killed him.
As he stumbled more, footsteps were heard and Murtagh panicked. He wasn't even supposed to be here! But the door opened revealing a man and a woman, the woman no doubt the healer. They both had blonde hair and similar features, including high rising eyebrows, and Murtagh realized with a start that they were probably brother and sister.
Each had blue eyes on him filled with sympathy as the man groaned. When Murtagh all of a sudden collapsed they rushed over to him, placing him back on the bed. A wave of appreciation but apprehension flooded him as he knew they would probably ask questions, and he wasn't ready for an interrogation. He hadn't had enough time to think his situation through and see what was safe to reveal and what wasn't safe.
"Those were quite the wounds you received," the woman murmured softly, her voice like a pretty bell. And her brother muttered something inaudibly, his voice more gruff, but full of compassion.
As Murtagh winced as the woman began changing his bandages, he eyed the two of them carefully and the other man narrowed his eyes. "My sister and I have never seen those kinds of wounds before. We found round, metal objects inside you."
Murtagh winced again. "So you did remove the bullets," he whispered, and the man eyed him even more carefully, not sure what to make of him. But the atmosphere grew tense with suspicion.
Fortunately, the woman was kinder, though somewhat naive. "So," she began. "What's your name?" At this Murtagh coughed, almost panicking.
"My name?" he asked in a higher pitched voice, not sure if he should give it. "Why do you want to know my name?"
At this point the sister was done bandaging him and Murtagh buttoned up his shirt again all the while keeping an eye on them. But this only caused the man to narrow his eyes at him. "Look," the male replied. "I don't mean to be rude, but these are dangerous times. That, and you were found in some very odd circumstances that no one can explain. You appeared at our village's doorstep without any explanation, with no belongings, and no tracks leading to the village." Murtagh nodded. What few belongings he had brought on his little "trip" were probably with Thorn and since Thorn had flown him here there would be no tracks. "That, and you came bearing wounds we had never seen before."
As much as he tried to find a way around it, Murtagh realized that he would have to tell them something to quell their fears of him. He sighed. He couldn't give them his real name, but he couldn't be too outrageous with his story or they would see that he was lying. "All right," he conceded. "But only if you tell me where I am and who you are. For all I know you've kidnapped me."
The man sighed. "All right. I'm Stan and this is my sister Fiona." Huh. So they were related.
"And I am where?" Murtagh inquired, trying to delay things as much as possible, yet not trying to act like he was trying to delay.
"In the town of Belatona." At least that sounded familiar.
And Murtagh honestly didn't know what to say to that. Finally he managed, "Oh." Well that wasn't good. It certainly put a stickler in his plans, that is if he had any to begin with. Depending on what time that horrible Sonya had brought him to, he could very well find himself in the middle of a siege. After all, considering the Varden wanted it from Galbatorix, at least from what he remembered.
He'd have to get out of here as soon as he could. Hopefully he could figure out and pinpoint what exact point in time he was, down to the day and month, but he was still in denial that he had even time traveled in the first place. And should he even warn the people? Not that they'd believe him...
As he came out of his panicked thoughts he noticed Stan staring at him with a frown, his arms crossed. "Well?" the man demanded and Murtagh realized the man was waiting for his name.
Panic began racing through him and Murtagh's heartbeat quickened as he desperately searched for a name, any name to give. Finally, using the first name that came to his mind, he blurted out, "Kellog!"
A puzzled look entered his guests faces and Fiona tilted her head, her hair cascading down her shoulder now. "Come again?" About then Murtagh realized his stupid blunder. No doubt the people in Alagaesia had never heard that foreign name before. That, and Sonya the "queen of hearts" would kill him if she found out that he had used her comrade's name. That is, if he hadn't already painted a red target on himself by giving that name out to begin with. If Sonya couldn't find him before, she'd certainly be able to find him now.
But it was too late he was already committed and he couldn't take it back. 'Oh well,' he thought. May as well go all the way. Hopefully Kellog would never get the chance to kill him for this as well. "Mathew Kellog," Murtagh finished and waited silently for their reactions. When they gave none, he merely replied, "I'm not from around here."
"We figured," the man bluntly stated and then turned on his heels, leaving the room with a storm. But Fiona merely considered him more and smiled softly. "Well, wherever your from you certainly have an interesting name."
"Yes," Murtagh winced, hoping she would contribute it to the pain he was in. He'd probably just signed his own death sentence because he hadn't thought things through. "I certainly do."
At that she smiled and turned around and left, closing the door softly behind her, and Murtagh sighed, bringing his hands to his head. A weird buzzing filled his head and he immediately recognized Thorn's presence. 'So, how are you doing?' came his dragon's voice and Murtagh flinched, realized he was going to have to inevitably tell him his faux pas.
'Yes, about that,' Murtagh proceeded carefully, even though he knew a chiding would come. 'We're going to have to leave soon.'
'Why?' came a concerned voice on the other end, and Murtagh closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as a he tried to concentrate. He was tired.
When he finally had enough time to think he told his dragon on the other end, 'Because I think I just signed my own death sentence.'
'How so?' came the sharp reply on the other end and the rider winced.
'My caretakers asked for a name and I gave them Mathew Kellog's name.'
There was a foreboding silence on the other end, and then the repercussions that Murtagh knew would happen finally came. 'You what?!' exclaimed Thorn in disbelief at his stupidity and Murtagh was immediately on the defense even though he knew he had no excuse.
'I panicked!' the rider retorted in defense. 'They asked for a name, and his is the first name that popped in my head. I didn't have time to think! They were pressing on me for an answer, and you told me not to use my real name! That, and I haven't been feeling well, trying to recuperate from all these wounds! You try being in this stressful circumstances and giving them an answer when you can't think straight while being pressed for time!'
At that, his dragon calmed down some and Murtagh was sure he heard a mental sigh on the other end. 'All right, then,' the dragon gave up. Even he had to understand that no one could react the best under such a situation. 'When will you be ready to travel?'
That was a good question only causing the rider to frown more. 'I don't know,' Murtagh admitted. 'But I am pretty sure that Sonya is wandering around somewhere, and when she gets wind of this name she's going to know it's me. Then she'll be looking for us.'
After all, she was the one whom he had seen use the device, and thus she would have known that she landed back in time. Thus she was probably here. Though why she hadn't been in front of them when they landed here was a mystery. Of course, he couldn't take the chance of staying in Belatona all the same. Not that he believed that he'd traveled back in time several thousand years, of course...
Thorn growled some. 'Of all the names to give them! It had to be a Liber8 name!'
And Murtagh rolled his eyes. 'Yeah, well what's done is done!'
With that Murtagh sighed and got up. After going to the door and opening it, he peeked outside, seeing paintings on the sides of the walls. But he didn't pay attention to them. Turning left at the door he went down a short corridor and down a set of winding stairs a the right. Upon going downstairs he immediately came into the dining room where Fiona was working on dinner. When she heard him she looked up and smiled. "Feeling better all ready?"
Murtagh smiled shyly. "Yes," he replied. There was a brief awkward silence in which he wondered what to say. Finally he announced. "I'm leaving."
Fiona frowned. "Already? But you're wounded! You need treatment!"
"I'm sure I'll be fine," Murtagh replied firmly ending the subject.
Upon seeing that he wasn't going to change his mind Fiona sighed. "At least stay for dinner."
But Murtagh shook his head. "I'm sorry I can't. I was traveling somewhere and I had a deadline to get there when I was attacked. Too much time has probably past and I must leave for I fear that I will be late." He held his breath and waited.
At this point as Fiona studied him she must have realized that he was going to leave no matter what. "All right," she consented and began searching around the kitchen for food. "I'm at least going to pack you some things to take with you. You don't have even a pack to go with you."
Smiling at her kindness Murtagh bowed to her. "Thank you," he murmured softly. "I appreciate your kindness and hospitality."
Fiona smiled. "It's no problem." It was then Murtagh realized that with what he had said must have made her think that he had been robbed.
A few minutes later Murtagh had received a pack containing food and a couple spare changes of clothing. He was glad that he was going to be able to blend in. After all, someone wearing strange clothes would stand out and be a dead give away for Sonya if she came looking for him. He was also given a pouch with money for travel in it, to which he was grateful.
"Well," he waved in farewell. "I must be going." And with that he exited through the door, Fiona waving him goodbye and going to stand by the door as she watched him walk down the road towards where Thorn had originally dropped him off.
As Murtagh passed large house after large house he looked around, desperate for any sign of the exact time he was in. Finally, upon finding a poster, he sighed. If he recalled correctly, this was around the time when he had escaped with Tornac from Galbatorix's clutches. If he was lucky it would be a few weeks before word reached here about a runaway from Galbatorix's court.
But things seemed different to, and they felt different. How, he wasn't sure. But he didn't even want to think about it. And so his mind wandered as he exited the city gates, not sure where he was headed. But he would have to be well away from the city before he summoned Thorn. He didn't want anyone questioning how he had a dragon.
But as he walked steadily down the road he was left wondering about his predicament. Since he was back in the past, did that mean that there were two of him running around? Or was the other him terminated upon his coming? Reaching up, he felt his elf like ears and realized that though his hosts hadn't brought it up they had surely noticed it. 'Which is just great,' he told himself with a sigh.
The only thought that brought Murtagh any comfort was the fact that Sonya would know nothing about this culture, and very little, if anything about his history. At least he hoped. But then again, if she knew about time travel, something even Murtagh didn't, there must be other knowledge that she was privy to? And Murtagh shuddered to think of it.
But why hadn't she been there when Murtagh arrived? That was another thing that was disturbing him. That and the different feel of the place. Things just seemed... off.
Finally Murtagh was far enough away from the city to where he felt that Thorn wouldn't be noticed. Upon summoning his dragon and upon Thorn's landing he noticed the dragon's worried expression.
"What is it?" Murtagh asked, worry etched in his tone.
'Murtagh, I think we're in the past,' the dragon stated the obvious. And it only served to confirm suspicions that Murtagh didn't really want confirmed.
"And?" Murtagh asked aloud, knowing by now that something deeper was going on that was bothering his dragon. But then again, how much worse could it get?
Thorn seemed to look away into the distance, his eyes wide with fear. 'I.. well... I was flying around and I thought that I spotted another dragon.'
Murtagh sighed. 'Galbatorix might be prowling around.'
'No!' exclaimed Thorn. 'You don't understand! That dragon, who I hope didn't spot me, was a large, older dragon! And it wasn't me!'
Murtagh didn't understand at first. Of course it couldn't be him! If he remembered right, Thorn wouldn't have even hatched yet.
The man folded his arms, growing impatient. 'And this means what exactly?'
'Murtagh,' Thorn pressed against his hand. 'That dragon was a red dragon. Your father is alive.'
(Eragon Point of View)
Brom was not what Eragon was expecting. And truth be told he was getting tired of secrets. All his life he'd thought that his friend was one thing and to all of a sudden find out that he was something else was not something that made Eragon feel like he could trust the man, no matter what Saphira said. And tired of secrets he was.
As of now they were in the town of Teirm and Brom had just ousted Eragon under the pretense of checking that their horses were tied. And after eavesdropping on the conversation the boy wasn't feeling any better about his companion.
He leaned against the wall, letting out a sigh as he waited for Brom and Jeod to approach as he knew they were as they had just finished their conversation. One thing was for sure though, he was going to have a word with his traveling companion about his less than forwardness. So involved was he in his thoughts that he didn't notice the approach of someone else.
"Rough day, Eragon?"
The boy jumped at the sound of the mocking female voice. Turning around, he saw a female with brown hair and facial features he had never seen before. She seemed to be dressed well enough if her flowing outer coat was one thing to go on. But surprisingly she was not in a dress for she wore elegantly shaped shirt and pants, though they decorated rather femininely.
A chill went down Eragon's spine as she smiled. He was sure they had never met. "Who are you?" he asked the woman and she shrugged while gazing at him.
"Who I am is not your concern, at least not yet," the woman mysteriously replied in a strange accent that he had never heard before. But then again, he had never been outside Carvahall. Grabbing his arm she pulled him down the streets and through the alley. Upon finding a place that served food she pulled him inside and motioned for him to sit down, not that he did. After waiting for him to sit down, she finally took the incentive and sat down, folding her arms and waiting for him to do the same. It was a nice diner, not one that Eragon would have been able to afford.
At first the boy looked around a bit, no doubt concerned that he was going to get chewed out by Brom for this. Meanwhile the woman was silently observing him. Finally he sat down, wanting answers. "How do you know my name?" he asked suspiciously, and he was aware of Saphira on the edge of his conscious. She must have felt his distress.
To his surprise, the woman smirked. A waiter came by, and upon requesting for some food the waiter left. "That is not the issue here." She turned her attention back to Eragon.
"Then what is?" Eragon challenged and she tilted her head as she observed him.
After staring at him for a moment she sighed. "No doubt Brom's got business of his own to conduct?" And when Eragon leaned back in the chair and said nothing, arms folded, she sighed. A woman came and put some water in front of them and Eragon took his cup and sipped. That was until he chocked as the woman added, "What does your father want with Jeod in this place?"
A coughing fit ensued and Eragon's eyes were wide open. "My father?" he chocked out, disbelief in his eyes.
This only brought a mocking smile from the woman. "Oh, don't tell me," she started as if she were playing with him. "Your father ignored you for all these years and didn't have the courage to tell you that he was your father? Haven't you notice how much you look like Brom? And he didn't even tell you about your half brother?"
"Half brother?" Eragon chocked out even more. He couldn't believe this was happening. For years he had wanted to know who his father was, but he had never expected the man to be by and watching him the whole time! What, was Brom a coward to where he couldn't admit it to Eragon? Is that why he lied all this time? But was this even true?
"Yes," the woman mysteriously murmured with an absent minded air. And from Eragon's look she knew she had struck a sore subject. She smiled a bit before continuing, no doubt trying to rile him up more. "Half brother, son of your father's enemy. You share the same mother. In fact, he's going to come looking for you. He's older than you by about three or four years. Not that he knows that he has a half brother anyways, at least not yet. But if Brom lied to you and hid you from that knowledge, then I assume that he hasn't even begun to tell you about his dragon, your dragon's namesake. Where is Saphira anyways? With the Varden?" She smirked again.
At this point, Eragon wasn't sure what was going on. Could this woman be reliable? Or then again could Brom be as it was obvious he was hiding a lot of stuff. 'Eragon,' Saphira murmured in his mind, sensing his distress though she no doubt didn't know what was causing it.
'Saphira,' he thought back as the woman watched him. All of a sudden his world seemed torn apart even more. Would Brom really disown him like that? Coming into Teirm he had told the guards that they were nephew-uncle. Was he really that ashamed of him? Did he not want a son? The inner turmoil was growing more than he could handle.
"You lie," he told the woman and she shrugged.
She was almost gleeful. "Say what you will, but you've trusted the wrong group."
"What do you want from me?" Eragon demanded, his tone harsh, and the woman shrugged, getting up just as the food arrived.
"No," she replied, handing the coins over to pay for the meal. "All for him." The waiter left and as the woman left she stopped by his side. "The world is not as it seems," she whispered into his ear and Eragon shuddered. "I've told you vital information, and now you owe me a debt."
"I owe you nothing," Eragon snarled looking up at her and she smiled.
"We'll see about that." Then, walking swiftly through the door of the place, she was gone.
The shock shook Eragon to his core. Brom was his father? And he hadn't the guts to mention it before? What else in his life was a lie?
'Eragon,' Saphira called to him and the boy noticed that he was shaking. He didn't reply out of the anxiety that he was going through. Finally the dragon called him again, 'Eragon!'
A lone tear slid down the boy's cheek. 'Saphira?' he cried out her.
'Yes?' was the lone sad reply.
'I...' Eragon paused. 'I don't know what to think anymore.' He eyed the food distastefully even though he knew he should probably eat some because they had a long journey ahead. But he just couldn't bring himself to do so. The newest revelation shook him to the core and he didn't seem to know who he was anymore. He didn't even know his own half brother's name!
'I'm going to sleep outside by you tonight,' he told the dragon and got up, going out the door. As he wound through the streets he wandered aimlessly, not watching where he was going. But he must have passed Jeod's house, for he thought he heard Brom calling. Or rather father calling.
Not wanting to deal with more of Brom's lies, he ignored the man and walked away. But the man wasn't going to have it. "Eragon!" he berated the boy and grabbed his shoulder at which the boy shook it off, not wanting to face him. But Brom persisted in following him. "Where have you been? Where's your common sense? Don't you know how to stay out of trouble? I told you to check on the horses, and when I mean check on them, I mean stay there! Can't you follow simple instructions?"
Suddenly, upset at Brom and everything about him as well as his sharp tone, Eragon turned around. "Is that all you know how to do? Berate me? Can you ever be pleased with anything I do?" the boy hissed, and a shocked expression shown on Brom's face.
Eragon then turned around and ran, slipping fast through the crowds. "Eragon!" he heard his name call out, but he didn't bother to heed it. Slipping out of the city he called his dragon, and she stopped, letting the boy climb on her back before she lifted them to a short distance away.
As soon as they landed Eragon slipped off her back and curled beside her, chocking back sobs. They were in a small forest filled with trees, and the trees covered them above. He tried to look at the scenery to distract him, but it was no avail. He didn't want to cry, he would not cry. But finally, he couldn't stand it anymore and the weight of the day's revelation pressed down upon him. Bringing his knees to his chest, he leaned back into Saphira and cried, curled beside her. 'Eragon,' she murmured softly and placed her wing over him, protecting him as he continued to cry.
'Saphira,' he called out as he continued to cry. 'Is everything I've been told a lie?' When she sent a questioning air through their link he explained to her about being sent out of the way by Brom, listening to Jeod, and then meeting the woman. She listened intently and carefully, but even she was surprised at the woman's revelations, for he could feel it. And she was disturbed with the revelations, especially for her rider's sake.
'And what now?' Saphira asked, trying to comfort him. 'What do you want to do about it?'
'I don't know,' Eragon admitted. But one thing was for sure: he'd had more than enough for one day. 'I'll deal with it tomorrow. Right now I just want to sleep.'
Saphira hummed beside him and Eragon could only guess that was a consent. And so, winding his arms even more around him he cried himself to sleep.
His dreams were even more disturbing. All he kept dreaming about was field full of fire. And then there was an elf. Finally, unable to stand the nightmare, he woke up with gasp.
Saphira was already awake and well rested. Upon looking at him he realized that she was waiting for him to decide what he wanted to do. 'I don't want to travel with Brom anymore,' Eragon admitted after a hard moment. He'd had enough of the man already and he wasn't quite ready to deal with him. He was still angry. 'But I still want to track the Ra'zac.'
'And how will you continue your training?'
At this Eragon grew dark. 'I don't need more training. What I need is to be away from that man.' He was about to add more when he heard none other than Brom calling his name. Of course his luck was great! The man was riding towards him through the forest but Jeod was thankfully not anywhere to be seen. Eragon didn't want him to be a witness to what would no doubt befall them. That, at least, was a slight mercy considering everything that had happened.
Brom had Cadoc in tow and stopped in front of Saphira. When he got off Saphira gave a low growl at the man and Eragon didn't stop her. No doubt she wasn't pleased with the man's behavior either. She wasn't happy that her rider was upset on his account, after all she could feel everything that her rider felt, and she knew his distress rather well and intimately.
But for all intents and purposes the man was puzzled as to why she was growling at him, warning him not to cross the line that had already been crossed. Brom stared at her for a moment, as if trying to talk to her, and Saphira looked away. "She won't talk to me," Brom muttered in confusion and Saphira said in Eragon's head, 'I wonder why.'
Eragon crossed his arms, and he couldn't help but be somewhat smug that Saphira was completely on his side. No doubt she was ticked.
As Brom walked over to Eragon the boy narrowed his eyes, preparing himself for what was to come. "Where have you been?" Brom scolded him, stopping in front of him and when Eragon scoffed Brom seemed even more upset. "Don't be that way with me, boy!"
A tense feeling of anger filled Eragon and he turned away. "I'll be whatever way I want." And with that he made to move for his dragon's saddle. He was almost there when Brom pulled him down, causing Saphira to growl aggressively at him. But she didn't dare snap at him because her rider was in such close proximity.
As the elder rider spun Eragon around, the boy attempted to get the man to let go, but the rider's grip on him was strong. "Enough of that, child!" he shook Eragon and Saphira growled louder.
"Or what?" Eragon snarled back. "What will you do? Sell me to the Varden or whatever your secret plans are? Oh, wait, you don't want me there yet! You're afraid of politics and what not!"
A shocked expression crossed Brom's face and he seemed startled. "You eavesdropped on me!" he said, his hands still on Eragon's arms, too shocked to let go.
"Yes!" Eragon defiantly responded. "I did, and I'm not a child! I haven't been since I left Carvahall!"
Brom sighed, letting one of his arms go and rubbed his beard. "I should have known," he muttered, and then he eyed Eragon harshly. "You shouldn't do that to people."
"And you shouldn't lie to people!" Eragon accused, pushing Brom away with such force that it caused Brom to stumble. The man had never limped despite what his age looked.
At this point Eragon noticed Brom was going to start dealing with him cautiously for there was a change in his features and the way he presented himself. "I haven't lied to you, Eragon," he reassured the boy, but Saphira merely growled and Eragon laughed somewhat without humor.
"Oh?" came Eragon's challenge as he folded his arms once more. The anger increased and Eragon felt the need to get it off of his chest. "You know," he began. "If it were just that I probably wouldn't be as bothered. But when this strange woman approaches me and starts telling me things, like the fact that you're my father, then I start reconsidering."
A surprised look came across Brom and the man opened his mouth wide. "Well?" Eragon toned down to a whisper. "Is it true?" And he waited with bated breath for an answer.
When Brom looked away with an air of resignation, Eragon knew for sure. "It's true, isn't it?" he asked horrifically, not sure what to make.
Brom sighed. "Yes," he softly admitted. The man refused to meet his gaze, and Eragon couldn't help but feel hurt at that gesture. Was it for shame? Was Eragon really an embarrassment? This only caused Eragon's chest to clench some.
A few harsh moments passed in which the atmosphere seemed to tense more as Eragon looked in pain. "And you never told me!" Eragon clutched his chest in pain, trying to keep the sobs back. Brom was his father. The news only served to heighten his distrust of the man. "You lied to me!"
"Eragon," Brom murmured, and it was the only time Eragon had ever heard the man speak that softly, that compassionately.
Tremors rolled through Eragon's body and he shook his head. "No!" he whispered. "No more from you! What, were you so ashamed of me, so ashamed to have a son, that you couldn't tell me?" He paused for a moment and then, not sure that he wanted an answer, he asked his most fearful question with an even more quiet tone. "Did... did you not want me?"
"Eragon!" Brom exclaimed softly, and his own face was filled with pain, as if the whole situation was a disaster. And to Eragon it was.
However Eragon was on a roll and wasn't about to be interrupted. By his side Saphira watched the whole conversation, and when Brom sent her a pleading look she turned away. "Was that why you lied to me all these years?" Eragon demanded. "Was that why you refused to tell me that you're a dragon rider?"
"No!" Brom exclaimed stepping forward some, and Eragon took step back. "Eragon, I-"
"Really?" Eragon interrupted harshly. Then once more his voice was a whisper. "Was it the reason you refused to tell me that I have a half brother?"
Upon the mention of his half brother Brom seemed to panic in fear from Eragon's knowledge, recognition of the subject and at that moment Eragon knew that Brom had known about his half brother. What more was the man keeping from him? So, unable to withstand much more of the conversation Eragon swung himself into the saddle. "Eragon!" Brom called out desperately and ran up to them only for Saphira to shrug him off. "You don't know the danger of the situation!"
"Yes, yes!" Eragon snarled, turning back with ferocity he didn't know he possessed. But he was exhausted of the excuses."I know! He's the son of your enemy! I was already told!" And with that Saphira turned around, prepared to take off.
"You don't understand!" Brom pled with him and Eragon stiffened.
"Oh I think I understand perfectly," Eragon whispered, back towards Brom, his voice void of emotion for fear of breaking down again. "And I don't want to travel with you anymore. I can find the Ra'zac on my own from now on." With that Saphira launched out in the air and he heard Brom calling his name. But he could care less.
As soon as they leveled out in altitude Eragon felt the tears coming again and he leaned into Saphira's neck and cried. His world was turned upside down. Brom had just confirmed his worse fears and acknowledged that he was his father all along, that he'd been lying all along.
'Little one,' Saphira murmured softly, and she did her best to make sure that the ride was smooth for him as he sorted through his emotions. They stayed silently for some time and eventually Eragon stopped crying. 'Where would you like me to go?' she asked her rider softly, and Eragon shook his head, blinking back his tears and emotions.
'It doesn't matter,' he thought to her. He was too distraught to decide. 'You decide. I trust you.'
'Very well, Eragon.' Saphira kept flying.
Dragon and rider disappeared into the sky.
(Murtagh Point of View)
Murtagh rode onward, having left is friend's house after hearing news of a new dragon rider. Despite the amount of time that had passed, he was still in grief over the loss of his servant and good friend Tornac. It had taken it's toll on him and it had also taken him some time in his friend's house to recuperate from it.
The entire memory was upsetting to him. He remembered escape day very well and everything that went wrong with it. He remembered riding out and his friend getting killed with an arrow, then a strange crack of thunder despite their being no thunder clouds. Perhaps, if he hadn't have waited an entire day, like he'd originally planned, then it wouldn't have come to this.
But what pained him the most, what made him hurt the most was when he remembered looking up and seeing that it was his father, his own father that had killed his best friend, the red dragon hovering overhead.
Murtagh didn't know how he escaped, but the loud crack of thunder had suddenly preoccupied his father and he'd left in a hurry. But regardless, Murtagh was glad to be rid of him and he'd made his hasty and lucky escape after that.
He'd spent about a month laying low at his friend's house recovering and planning his next move. The Ra'zac that had pursued him relentlessly had for some reason stopped following him, but he still didn't trust that they weren't after him. He also knew that more than likely Galbatorix had sent his father after him. But, more than likely, whether or not he had orders to pursue his son, Morzan would do so. In his eyes his son was an embarrassment, and he was not about to have a runaway son that was known as a rebel as it would tarnish his "good" name.
For some time he heard no news, staying in his friend's house instead of wandering the streets for fear of being caught and getting his friend into trouble. And he'd had no news of the outside world as he couldn't wander around, that is until he'd heard the servants of the house talking about the dragon rider. Along with it was the mysterious rumor that the king was hiding for some odd reason. What it was, Murtagh never found out. But all he knew was that if there was a new dragon rider then the chances of Ra'zac going after them was high.
And so, needing something to stem his grief, he'd informed his friend of his decision to leave and he went to where the rumors were last heard, knowing that he'd find the Ra'zac.
He'd been riding all day, exhausted, and though he wasn't fond of going into town he knew that he had no choice. It also made him nervous, knowing that his father had a dragon and could be on him any minute if someone discovered his identity. But he had no choice.
And so, slipping into the city quietly on his horse, he quickly found an inn that he probably wouldn't be discovered in. Upon paying the owner and tying up his horse near the stables, he set out to find a place to eat at. He went on foot but kept his horse tied up outside the stables, not only because there was no room but also because he wanted his horse tacked and ready to go should he have to flee quickly. But he hoped not because he desperately wanted the comforts of a bed for once during his travels. It was the one luxury he missed.
Upon finding an inconspicuous eatery, he trudged forward, glancing to the right and left before he entered. Sighing, he pushed the door open and immediately sat at a long table in front of the cooks. When a woman brought his order he sighed and tucked in. It was nice to have a good meal for once.
He'd come from a wealthy background and was used to the luxuries of life, though he was certainly able to do without them. He knew that it wasn't something that he needed, but it was nice to have nonetheless.
He was just finishing his potatoes when he heard the chair beside him move. Because he was deeply enjoying his meal, he didn't look up to see who it was. Then, suddenly, a voice startled him, "Enjoying your potatoes, Murtagh?"
The young man froze, nearly dropping his fork. Trying to appear calm so that he wouldn't attract more attention, he slowly placed his utensil on his plate and turned to see who addressed him. He didn't recognize the voice.
What he saw shocked him even more. The man had a rich air and wore fine clothes, but it was no on he had ever encountered before. So how did the man know his name? He had short black hair and slightly tanned skin, but it was of a beautiful light color. His hair was smoothly slicked back, how, Murtagh didn't know. Despite that, his hair seemed slightly curly. There was no visible part in his hair, and the man carried himself mysteriously, having a very different accent that Murtagh had never heard before. As the older man smiled down on him, Murtagh knew he would have to approach this conversation cautiously.
But there was also something else about them man. The twinkle in his eyes seemed to carry the suggestion that he knew something that Murtagh didn't. What that was, Murtagh didn't know as both Morzan and Galbatorix had been careful with information pertaining to him. That, and Murtagh was sure he knew everyone or about everyone that knew about his existence. On top of that, Murtagh had his doubts that this man worked for the empire, though he could be wrong.
Murtagh stared with a calm air, carefully composing his features so that he didn't reveal his emotions. "You know my name, how?" he demanded discreetly, using his peripheral vision to eye his surroundings just in case it was a trap.
At this the man chuckled. "Yes, well I and those I work with do know a lot about you."
"And these people are?" Murtagh harshly required of him. And the man chuckled more.
"Some very powerful people," was his response and immediately the Murtagh's heart rate went up. They were with the empire, they had to be!
But he had to know for certain. He wanted it said aloud. And so, he demanded, "Come to take me back to the king then?"
A snort issued from the man as he raised one eyebrow, eyeing Murtagh as if the boy weren't what he was expecting. "What?" the man questioned almost mockingly, like he expected better from him. And as a drink was set in front of the stranger, the man took a swift drink out of it. He wiped the cup off with a handkerchief he produced out of his pocket before setting the glass cup down again, and he then he finished his statement, putting the kerchief back in his pocket.
The man was acting like Murtagh was in naive person who needed to be educated, treating him in a disparaging manner. "You don't honestly think we're working for the empire do you?"
At this, Murtagh didn't know what to think and his mind went a thousand miles per hour trying to figure what other group could be so powerful that at the same time weren't working for Galbatorix in some manner or another. "The Varden then?" he put out there just to see what the man said.
To his surprise the man snorted in derision even more. "Not them either," he replied. "Guess again."
"Surda?"
"Nope!"
For the first time in a long time, in the history of his careful life in fact, Murtagh was stumped. In order to survive for so long Murtagh had gathered information upon information in order to survive. He'd had to know about his surroundings and how they worked in order to survive. He wasn't used to being dumbfounded. "Who then?" he asked cautiously, tired of the man's games, and as his cup was refilled with water, he took a careful sip before setting it back down again, all the while keeping a careful eye on the man before him.
Several tense moments passed as the man stared back, gauging him carefully with a smirk on his face. "That's for me to know and you to find out," he finally replied with a satisfied manner as if he was pleased with his reply. And in that moment Murtagh wondered if he was being brought into some dangerous game with an unknown group of people, well unknown to him that is.
The strange man wiped his hand on his pants and with a pretend surprising air he said, "Oh, but where are my manners? I have yet to introduce myself to you!" He held out a hand, smiling at the boy and Murtagh eyed it with suspicion. "I'm Mathew Kellog," the man introduced and once more Murtagh eyed the hand, not sure what he was supposed to do.
"You shake it," the man explained somewhat impatiently and at that moment Murtagh realized that the strange custom of this man must have involved grasping the hand. As he did so, almost not sure of if this was what he was supposed to do as he'd never seen a custom like this before, the man smiled and grasped his hand as well, moving it up and down.
"There you go," he smiled softly and Murtagh pulled his hand back quickly, even less sure of this man as more time went by.
The entire eatery was tuned out of his mind in that moment, and Murtagh gave an intriguing stare at the man. "Mathew Kellog," he rolled the name around on his tongue. "I've never heard of a name like that before."
"Of course not!" the man waved his hand, taking another sip of his drink, then, as the man's food was placed in front of him, he began eating. "I'm not from around here."
"I noticed!" Murtagh quipped with sarcasm but the stranger, though he surely noticed, chose to ignore it. "But that still doesn't explain why you're here and how you know about me, let alone how to recognize me."
That was the other thing that was bothering Murtagh. He hadn't seen any posters about him yet. So how could this man recognize him? Had he spoken with the king or his father and been given a description of him? The man had been so sure in pinpointing him.
"Ah," the man pointed his fork at him. "You want answers. Answers I told you that I can't give." He chewed more before continuing. "Let's just say that my people are interested in you and your family and we've come to give you some information."
"My family!" Murtagh scoffed. "I don't know why my father would be so interesting to a foreigner!" With this Murtagh picked up his fork and began eating to. He was pretty sure at this point that eating and paying less attention to his surroundings wouldn't harm him at this point.
But to his surprise the man stopped eating and eyed him more. "I never said that it was your father that we were interested in."
Murtagh froze for a moment, clearly not understanding. Who else could they possibly be talking about? According to his father, or Morzan as he preferred to call the man since he didn't consider him his father, Morzan was his only family left. And Mathew, upon seeing his reaction chuckled some. "What, did your father lie to you?" he mocked the boy and Murtagh didn't know what to think. He had other family? Or was his mother alive perhaps?
"Your interested in my mother?" Murtagh inquired and Kellog rolled his eyes, playing with him. "But why? She's dead!"
"No," Kellog replied and picked up his fork, eating again. "I'm not interested in your mother. But surely your father told you about your cousins? Your step father? Your half brother?" He smirked once again in a knowing way, waiting for Murtagh's reaction.
At this point Murtagh was in too much shock to be able to control his expressions. His fork dropped and he began chocking on his food. After his brief coughing fit which unfortunately attracted some unwanted attention to him he chocked out, "Half brother?"
"Why sure!" Mathew waved off with his hand as if it were nothing. "After your mother divorced your father-"
"My mother divorced my father?! That's what happened to her?!" Murtagh protested, not sure what was real and true anymore.
And Kellog rolled his eyes. "Will you let me finish?" the man asked dryly and when Murtagh remained silent he went on. "When your mother divorced your father, your father wouldn't let her have you. So she left, wandering around with someone else and married him. When she got pregnant she left him for safety's sake and for your little brother's sake and went back to her home town. There she remained with her brother and his wife until she gave birth where she asked them to raise her kid. She gave them up to her brother, as was the agreement between her and her new husband, hoping that their kid would be safer. After all, as I'm sure you know, whether divorced or not, your father wouldn't take kindly to finding out that Selena had another kid, and he wouldn't like that kid very much either."
Murtagh nodded at this. It made sense. It was also his father's personality. In fact, knowing Morzan, the man would probably have killed Selena and his little brother. So in a way, though he was somewhat jealous of his half brother, it was probably in the best interest of both. But one thing bothered him. If Morzan had known about this, why hadn't he taught him to hate his little brother? That would fit Morzan's personality the most, especially if he hadn't been able to eliminate his little brother.
"Anyways," Kellog continued as if nothing had happened, ignoring the fact that Murtagh was still processing this new information. "The ironic thing is that about a year later your mother did die and there was nothing your step father could do about it. And news about your mother's death did reach your father's ears, not that he grieved or anything."
Silence filled the air and Murtagh was disturbed. Finally he asked, "Does Morzan, my father, know about my half brother?"
Kellog shrugged at this. "Probably not. Your step father was very secretive about this whole thing, in fact his own kid probably doesn't even know that he's his father even after his father moved into their town shortly after his birth. Your step father kept his distance from your half brother and let his aunt and uncle raise him. Even your aunt and uncle, or rather uncle now that your aunt is dead, even they don't know who his father was."
"But surely records-," Murtagh protested only for Kellog to shake his head.
"Your step father was very smart, you see," Kellog smirked in a knowing way. "See, he knew that Selena had been married to your father, and he knew about you to, not that he cares one way or another about you. But he also knew your father's nature, especially since they're enemies."
"Enemies!" Murtagh gasped, not sure if he could wrap his mind around this seemingly impossible situation.
Kellog nodded. "Enemies. And he made sure the records were removed from the vault after the marriage. In fact, he broke into the vault to remove it and no one found out about it. He's carried it with him ever since. He especially made sure that his child's birth was kept from your father for his son's sake, which is probably why he didn't raise his own kid or acknowledge to his own son that he was the father. He kept his distance for his kid's safety, but whether or not that was a smart move, only time will tell. That, and he especially made sure that his son never found out that his step father was Morzan and that he had a half brother."
As Murtagh pondered more on this he began questioning things more and more. And as he still had his suspicions he didn't know whether or not to think that this was some elaborate lie. "Why tell me this?" Murtagh finally asked and the man grinned.
"Thought you'd never ask!" the man exclaimed and brought out of his pocket a thin tube like thing with a needle encased in some sort of protector. He placed it on the table next to Murtagh and motioned for the boy to take it. When the boy did and examined it he found it was made of a material that he'd never seen before. "We'll get to that in a second," the man reassured him and Murtagh looked up once more.
"You see," the man began. "We know your searching for the dragon rider. But what you may or may not know is that that boy is your half brother." Murtagh's eyes widened at this and his hands trembled slightly. His own half brother, an immortal and a dragon rider. "What we know," Mathew continued as if he noticed nothing. "Is that at some point he and his father were traveling together, and still might be. But we lost track of them after that."
"And what do you want from me?" Murtagh demanded. Never in his mind did he imagine that the very person he was pursuing was his family, his own flesh and blood.
A smile lit Kellog's lips as if it should have been obvious. "Why pursue them of course! They're going to need help!" Then, after looking around like he expected them to be watched, Kellog continued, leaning closer, pointing to the needle in Murtagh's hand.
"A friend gave this to me to be used in the event of a medical emergency. It can only be used once, so be careful. Use it in a life and death situation. But when the need arises, all you have to do is take the cap off and stick it in the person's arm. Then pull the plunger, this part down. It will treat the person from there and hopefully heal them, no promises of course."
"And how do I know that this isn't poison?" Murtagh dryly demanded, his suspicions high.
Kellog smiled. "Well, I guess you're just going to have to trust us then, huh?" With that he got out some coins and to Murtagh's surprise he paid for both meals. He was also surprised when Kellog slipped a few coins to him. "For your travels," Mathew Kellog explained as if he had a lot of money to spare. And with that he got up and put on a travel cloak, ready to go. "Now you owe us a debt," Kellog smirked and walked away before Murtagh could protest that he didn't.
This whole situation left Murtagh disturbed and uneasy. What he was sure of now was that he was being watched by someone, or rather a whole group of people. Whether or not they had a lot of knowledge about him and his mysterious past and his family was not something that Murtagh was sure of. And he wasn't for sure whether he should pursue the dragon rider or not. For all he knew, this was now a trap.
But where else could he go? He had nowhere he could go.
And what of his step father that he just barely found out about? If it was true, and the man was traveling with his half brother, what kind of welcome could he expect to receive from the man considering his father was the man's enemy? Would the man immediately judge him and turn him away? Would he even allow him near his half brother? Or, if he didn't reveal who he was, would the man still recognize him?
"But what choice do I have?" murmured Murtagh softly, staring at the coins and needle. Suddenly, almost swiftly, he pocketed the items. If it was a trap, he had no choice but to spring it and hope for the best outcome possible. He knew that that meant he was putting himself at his step father's mercy, but he had no other choice. He couldn't stay here and he was a dead target at the empire's hands. That, and when his father finally did get his hands on him, he was in for a swift beating for sure.
And so, decision made, Murtagh got up and left the eatery.
(Sonya Point of View)
The woman lay on a bed in a small room far, far away. The room was dark and lit by candle fire and her eyes were closed, though she was not asleep. She was completely unaware of her surroundings as she meditated while lying down.
Time had not changed her despite many years passing. Images from her memories passed through her mind and she remembered as she cornered Murtagh, her anger seething. They'd then abducted him, and her next memory of him was sweet in her mind. The man was tied in a chair, hands behind his back in a room that was with concrete floors and concrete walls. She'd grabbed his face and pinched his chin in anger.
"You will regret this!" Sonya hissed. "I will force you to watch as I tear your family away from you right before your eyes! And you will be helpless to do anything about it!" And with that she released his chin rather roughly as he looked away defiantly.
Sonya opened her eyes at that point and sat up, rubbing her face before she stood. "You will regret this, Murtagh," she murmured angrily. And she smiled gruesomely. "Revenge is sweet."
All right, that's the end of the first chapter. I hope you enjoy!
Please read and review!
Sincerely,
Firestar'sniece