Why?

Why had he agreed to train the apprentices while Eragon was gone? It had been a fortnight, and Murtagh had heard nothing from his half-brother. He wondered how long he had to remain stuck here.

Because he is the only family you have, and you owe him at least this much, Thorn reminded. He was outside with the other dragons, teaching them how to fly. They were still very young. The new Riders weren't so different either, even according to human standards. The dwarf girl was nine, and the elf boys couldn't be older than eleven. In the last two decades, only three dragons had hatched besides Saphira, Thorn and Fírnen.

And also because you deserve to be with your own kind. I have no right to isolate you along with myself, he replied.

Thank you. But you don't deserve to remain in exile, either, Murtagh. I understand why you abandoned your homeland, for there was nothing but misery for us in Alagaësia, but here, we could be a part of what Eragon and Saphira have started. Think about it.

This wasn't true. The look in these children's eyes constantly reminded him of what he had been once. They were responsible, punctual, quiet and respectful all the time. Murtagh had come to realize that it wasn't respect, but fear. It was hurtful. He had become the monster in children's stories.

We redeemed ourselves more than twenty years ago! We don't have anything to prove to anyone, especially to these hatchlings.

If there was one thing all dragons had in common, it was their arrogance. A smirk appeared on Murtagh's face, but the apprentices didn't notice it, as they were busy reading the scrolls he had given them. Not wanting to intimidate them any further, Murtagh had avoided any kind of training that involved physical violence and focused on reading and writing in the ancient language instead.

They have returned!

Upon hearing Thorn's notice, he dismissed the reading session, but didn't tell them that their master was here. First, he needed to speak to him alone.

He left the study after the three children and met Thorn in the courtyard. The sun was setting and one of the peaks of the Beor Mountains could still be seen in the west, though distance had made it tiny. The Riders' Sanctuary was a gigantic castle, built by Eragon and Saphira with magic, and surrounded by a dense, wild forest. Once again, Murtagh had to admit that he was impressed.

Eragon wouldn't have normally returned to Alagaësia under any circumstances, but he had received a message that Roran was very sick. He had resisted the urge to leave at first, because his students were too young to be left on their own. But then, he had reached to Murtagh and asked him to take the responsibility of his pupils while he was in Palancar Valley. Murtagh had agreed and Eragon had left to help his cousin.

They heard the heavy thuds of Saphira's wings in the distance. A minute later, Murtagh spotted Eragon on her back; proud, tall and still. Just like Murtagh, he still looked about twenty. But the expression in his eyes and his thick beard made him look much more mature. Saphira landed, and Eragon slowly climbed down. His face was like a statue's, Murtagh couldn't see any expression. For a moment, the two men looked at each other in silence.

"Roran's dead," Eragon finally said. There was sadness, but acceptance in his voice. Murtagh wondered how long he had been preparing himself for the loss of his loved ones. He didn't say anything, but opened his arms and hugged his brother. Thorn rubbed his nose on Saphira's neck; he knew she considered Roran as a member of her own familiy. Together, they flew away and soon disappeared in the sky. Murtagh took Eragon inside. They halted in front of Eragon's room.

Murtagh softly patted on Eragon's shoulder. "If you need anything—"

"Actually, I need to talk to you."

"Of course."

Eragon opened the door. His bedroom was furnished modestly; there was only a bed, a sink with a small mirror mounted above, a wardrobe and a desk with two wooden chairs, on which the two seated themselves, emotionally exhausted.

"How's Katrina?" Murtagh asked, out of courtesy. "And the children?"

"Devastated." Eragon released a deep breath and massaged his temples at the thought of his newly-widowed sister-in-law and orphaned nephews.

"Roran Stronghammer, a mighty warrior, dies of an incurable sickness… A tragedy, indeed."

"It wasn't a sickness."

"What?"

"Do you think I couldn't have healed a simple fever?"

"Don't get me wrong, I never doubted your abilities, but… There are powers beyond you, Eragon. Death is one of them. Don't blame yourself for Roran's demise."

"This is not denial, Murtagh. Despite my grief, I can think clearly. Dark magic was involved. I sensed it. Do you know what Roran's last words were?"

"What?"

"They are coming. Vengeance is coming, he kept whispering."

"You said it yourself, he had a fever. He probably didn't even know what he was talking about."

"Trust me, he knew."

"Are there any suspects?"

"For now, no one. But give me a few days. I need to think."

"Look, if you wish to pursue this, you can always count on me and Thorn. But don't be disappointed if nothing comes out of it." Murtagh knew that it was easier when one could channel their rage and grief to a target. When there was someone responsible for their suffering.

"I won't. Thank you… for everything."

"I'll stay as long as you need me."

"I actually wish you would stay here permanently. Surely more Riders will come, and I cannot train all of them myself. As you know, the Elders trained only one or two apprentices at one time before the Fall."

"Arya will soon join you."

The thought of the Elven Queen slightly brightened Eragon's face. Murtagh knew she had found someone else willing and trustworthy to take the throne. She would soon forfeit her title as the Queen to focus on her duties as a Rider—that was the official excuse—and to be with Eragon.

"You're lucky that both of you could afford to wait, so Arya didn't have to make a choice between you and her people."

Eragon understood the implication. "I'm sorry about Nasuada."

"Don't be. I don't think we really loved each other."

Nasuada had eventually married Orrin—for political reasons, of course. Murtagh had spent so much time trying to figure out how he really felt about this marriage, and finally concluded that he wasn't truly upset. Murtagh couldn't give Nasuada the legitimate and respected heirs she needed. Nasuada wasn't willing to give up the throne for him, and Murtagh would have made the same choice if he had been in her position. This wasn't exactly the definition of true love.

"I've changed, but while I'm willing to sacrifice my life for a greater good, I'm not ready to devote it to another person. And I don't think I'll ever be. I'm not selfless enough. The only being I am capable of loving is Thorn, and that bond was created by an ancient magic. This just reminds me that a part of me will always remain in the darkness, no matter what I do."

"Don't be so sure." Eragon then changed the subject and asked him about the progress of his pupils. Murtagh gave him a detailed report, but kept his selfish concerns about not being welcomed here to himself. It was very late when they finally went to sleep.

Thorn's shrieks… They pierced his ears. He covered his ears, closed his eyes, yet he could see Galbatorix breaking the red dragon's wings. He was just a baby, he couldn't even fly yet. His wings were broken even before he was able to use them. And Murtagh LOVED him. He didn't know why, it didn't make any sense, but he couldn't lose Thorn. The only creature he cared about in the world was in pain because of him. What choice did he have but surrendering to the darkness?

His shrieks…

The shrieks turned into roars, and when Murtagh opened his eyes, he realized they weren't a part of his usual nightmares. He got out of the bed and looked out of the window. Saphira was circling above the castle, breathing fire to no particular or visible target.

What's wrong with Saphira? He couldn't see Thorn, but he could sense his presence nearby.

Her egg has been stolen.

Murtagh climbed down the stairs, found the young Riders in the hall, clinging to each other in fear. "Stay here!" he ordered them, then rushed to the courtyard.

"Has your dragon gone mad?" he asked Eragon.

"Even if she really has, I can't blame her. SAPHIRA, CALM DOWN! Do you know what happened?"

"Thorn told me that her egg had been stolen."

"Right. Her first and only egg. SAPHIRA! This message was brought by a raven this morning." He took out a note from the pocket of his tunic.

Murtagh took the note.

Two men attempted to steal the white egg last night. One managed to escape with it, but we captured the other. However, before we were able to question him, he killed himself with poison. His last words were "Vengeance is coming. The daughters of Galbatorix are coming."

I fear we need your assistance once again, Shadeslayer.

Queen Nasuada


A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks for giving my story a chance! I'm new to this whole fan fiction thing, and a bit nervous. So, reviews would be great to let me know what you think about the first chapter, and the chapters to come (hopefully!). Also, many thanks to my encouraging beta-reader, FalconFate, for her help. Oh, and I found the cover picture on Google, I don't know to whom it belongs, sorry! Anyway, enjoy the story, and don't hesitate to leave a review.