CHAPTER ONE
"Eragon…"
The whisper came again, louder this time. He moaned in his sleep, turning away as the call echoed into the deep recesses of his mind.
"Eragon…we're almost beside you now…There's no escaping…"
He sniffed and rolled again, trying to break away from the haunting noise.
"ERAGON!"
He jolted upright, hand reaching out to grasp for his sword. Beside him, Saphira's bony eyelid clicked open as she growled, fully awake now.
"What is it?" She asked him gently, sensing his fear.
"He was calling for us…he knows he's nearly succeeded." Eragon shivered. "I don't know if I will be strong enough to defeat him tomorrow."
Saphira growled angrily as she felt the rush of terror run through their intertwined minds.
"Eragon, you must rest or else you won't be able to defeat him at all." She advised and he nodded wearily, suddenly feeling bone tired. He curled up into her warm embrace, snuggled away from the danger that lurked just a few feet away.
The intruder was hidden in the dark, a cloak obscuring their face, so that only the glint of white teeth smirking could be seen. As silent as death, they stalked back to the door, slipping out into the cold night, onto a scarlet dragon, aware of the other Dragon Rider's panic…
"You cannot hope to defeat me, brother." Murtagh smiled cruelly as he held Za'roc high above his head. "We are more powerful and I am not afraid."
Eragon caught the verbal taunt and winced, panting as he felt his energy drain slightly, as he blocked Murtagh's attack.
"You are weakening?" Murtagh laughed. "As Thorn and I grow stronger…Ah, it must be your training…perhaps Oromis is not as good of a teacher as Galbatorix?"
Eragon scowled as Murtagh ducked easily under his blow. His sword Brisingar was not responding as well as usual, its blade not as cunning…was it because he was so scared of losing?
"It's not just because you're scared Eragon…I am enormously more powerful then you, both physically and emotionally." Murtagh gloated and Eragon hissed.
"How did he hear that?" he demanded of Saphira. "He can't listen to my thoughts. Can he?"
By chance, Eragon's blade sliced a cut onto Murtagh's forehead as he aimed too high and he watched as his brother hissed. Blood dripped from the wound yet he did not heal it.
"Nice." The older man praised in a condescending tone. "Too bad it's the only mark you ever will make upon my body, loser."
He glanced over at his brother, who stared at him with cruel intensity. The black-hair young man perched atop a crimson dragon…the elder gave no emotion and Eragon shuddered at the thought that if Murtagh succeeded in capturing him and Saphira, he would be just as black, a robot of evil.
"Murtagh, we were friends once, and now we are brothers…how can you live with what you do?" Eragon pleaded.
Murtagh's Grey eyes narrowed and the wind pushed his long hair back, exposing a thin scar the curled its way around his throat.
"Good Lord." Saphira growled, twisting her head away from Thorn's neck to have a closer look. The movement gave the red dragon leverage and he spun his larger blue counterpart into a rock face, boulders' raining down on the warriors fighting on the ground.
Once they had steadied again, Eragon looked closer and saw that the cut ran around the entire ridge of his brother's throat, almost severing the jugular. Even healed, silver scarring, it looked dangerous. He gasped as he thought of the pain the other must have gone through in order to sustain an injury like that, and still survive…
"Like it?" Murtagh taunted, but there was no humour in his voice. "I got it from our master the last time Thorn and I let you go. Oh and here?" he said, pointing to another scar, more recent on his cheek.
"Yes?" Eragon murmured, staring at the twisted flesh, twisting and puckered as it strained to heal.
"This is a small part of the wounds I received from him over your little attempt to slay the Razac…that one made Galbatorix so angry, he slain twelve of his men and tortured Thorn and myself for days because of you." Murtagh spat. "I have suffered enough for you brother."
"I'm sorry." Despite himself, Eragon felt sorry for Murtagh. "I didn't realise."
"It is of no matter; weakling." Murtagh sneered as Thorn ripped at Saphira's wing, severing a tendon and crushing the main bones with breathtaking brutality.
She screamed shrilly, the sound echoing across their mental link and Eragon hissed with the jolt as she hit the dusty soil of the Burning Plains.
Murtagh and Thorn circled overhead, swooping closer. Eragon could see his brother's lips moving, talking so fast it looked like they were simply quivering. With a grunt, the younger Dragon Rider realised he couldn't move. Murtagh had put an enchantment on him…yet again.
"Letta!" Murtagh repeated stridently, ensuring his binding spell was strong enough. He took a nother carefully arrogant step forward, before turning away again, watching his sibling move violently.
"Brakka du vanyali sem huildar Saphira un eka!" Eragon hissed. Reduce the magic that holds Saphira and me…
"Damn it." Eragon gasped, struggling to free himself when his incantation did not have any affect. He writhed and bucked but was unable to actually move, so bond by the spell he could not even heal Saphira.
Thorn made a graceful landing. Murtagh undid his leg buckles and slid over the side of his dragon, pausing for a moment to mentally confer with his counterpart. Smirking slightly, He crossed over and stood above his stricken sibling.
"You must have seen this day coming, O mighty Dragon Rider." Murtagh taunted. "Didn't that witch doctor Angela tell you any of this would occur? Nor the Raven?"
"How do you know about them?" Eragon spluttered, struggling to form the words. They came out in a garbled slur but Murtagh seemed to understand.
"Galbatorix is very wise, brother. It is better if you do not underestimate him at all." His words were melancholy and angry.
"Why are you telling me that?" Eragon spat. "It's not like I'll ever meet him?"
Murtagh threw his head back and laughed.
"You will tomorrow." He promised, cruel intensity sparkling in his eyes.
"Tomorrow?" Saphira quaked. "Eragon…"
"He is actually more eager to meet Saphira so don't be put out if the King throws your pathetic body straight into a cell, brother. I will try to reason with him, but who know?" Murtagh continued, glaring maliciously.
"Why does he want to meet Saphira and me still?" Eragon asked, ignoring the taunt. "We have ruined everything for him…haven't we?"
Murtagh sneered.
"Don't praise yourself too idealistically, Brother." He warned. "Saphira is the last female Dragon of her kind. King Galbatorix intends to mate his Dragon Shuikan with yours…and produce the next generation of Forsworn dragons."
"What?" Both Eragon and Saphira would have reeled back, had they not been held in place.
"He intends to not only build up his army of Urgals, but he intends to rebuild the Riders. You will help." Murtagh shrugged. "Wether you want to or not."
"Join me, Brother." Eragon shuddered internally at the word, but he knew it was his only chance.
"Join you?" Murtagh repeated, staring at the sharp blade of Za'roc.
"Yes. Saphira and I can protect you, hide you in Ellesmera." He offered. "We can make you safe and free, if you just release us."
"I cannot do that." Murtagh said scornfully. "And you have annoyed me one time to many. I will not show you mercy again, not at the expense of myself or Thorn."
"Why not kill us now?" Eragon begged once again. "Please? It will make your life easier. I won't struggle. Vel einradhin iet ai Shur'tughal…upon my word as a rider."
Murtagh deliberated, before a smirk crossed his face and he snarled angrily.
"You will pray for an early death, yes." He answered. "But it won't be from me…nor will it come today."
Eragon shuddered at the words, unsure of what they hinted at. He watched as his brother bond him and Saphira more tightly to his being, forcing them to learn the ancient language oaths that would manipulate them to obey…he spoke their ancient names and they were forced along, towards Urubaen…towards their fate…