Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters made by Christopher Paolini.

This is sometime in between Eldest and Brisingr, before the second Thorn/Saphira fight. Enjoy!

A Quest for Power

Chapter 1: Leisure

Murtagh's POV

Thorn circled high in the sky, testing the maneuverability of his wings against the buffeting winds. He is surely more than apt to deal with these minor distractions, Murtagh thought as he observed his friend enjoy his leisure.

They rarely received the opportunity to relax by themselves, or relax in general. Murtagh knew that the best way for him to relax would be to be situated upon his friend's shoulders, so that they might broadcast their power to all of Alagaesia. So many elements combined while they sped through the sky to boast these attributes also, such as the way Thorn's crimson scales shone brightly in mid-flight, or the way the wind tasseled Murtagh's hair. Yes, that would be grand indeed.

Murtagh knew that was not destined to occur today, however. With much oppression from Thorn, he insisted his dragon take to the skies on his own, performing maneuvers that would render Murtagh helpless and clinging for dear life. He nearly wavered from his views, especially when Thorn pounced on his chest with a piercing gaze and even worse claws.

Even when he flew on his own out here, Thorn never strayed far from Murtagh. True, he could flit over the rolling grasslands faster than the speed elves endowed when they run, but a subconscious urge always made him fly over his Rider at some point.

Murtagh wondered if this was how Eragon felt with Saphira when they spent time together. Maybe-

He spat to the side, though not before grinding his teeth in bitter rage. That was one thing he absolutely needed to avoid at all costs, was comparing his life to that of Eragon's. He was such a dull person in his life that Murtagh wanted to slice him to ribbons, and, by extension, allow Thorn to maul Saphira into equally small portions.

At this thought, Murtagh chuckled, imagining the sheer magnitude such a confrontation would bring. Perhaps they should hold the contest over the city of Uru'baen for all the citizens to see, including the king himself. How splendiferous it would be to watch them fall from the skies finally, for Murtagh and Thorn to bypass all of the riders before them, even Galbatorix himself! He could already see himself brandishing Zar'roc in victory, signaling all of Alagaesia that it was he, Murtagh, and Thorn of course, who would control their fate from now on, to protect from further evils that Murtagh felt plagued him from all perspectives.

And yes, the fine sword was still belted on his waist after he'd stolen it from Eragon. It was now an emblem of his power, one of which that he would enforce his views upon the world. And they deserved it, oh most-

The ground shook with a violent tremor, and Murtagh's mind was rattled. He slammed up barriers around his mind to protect himself, but he only found the familiar touch of his only true friend, the only being who dared offer consolidation throughout the world.

Are you well, fierce one?

Murtagh wished in that instant that Thorn could speak to Eragon and Saphira, whether over a casual topic or the beginning of their shared doom. His enthralling voice would surely make their minds spin with power and rethink everything they fought for. Murtagh saw these values reflected in every twinkle of his scales, or the shimmering shades of his crimson eyes.

Preserving his privacy, Murtagh spoke through their minds, through their most cherished bond. Merely thinking, Thorn. I sometimes think I ponder over my problems too much, that I'm searching for a solution that isn't there.

Of course there is a solution. Fighting by way of my tooth and claw and wings and fire, and for you by means of your blade and ferocity.

You know me too well, Thorn.

I am your dragon, am I not? Thorn laid comfortably on the grass, flattening a huge portion of the wavy stalks and relinquishing his weight upon the soil. He licked at his claws to clean them, but kept his mind monitoring Murtagh's thoughts, as they always were, even whilst in the middle of other tasks.

Of course. Murtagh stared across the rolling grasses once again, keeping his eyes trained on the lowering sun. It was glowing orange now, spitting vibrant colors into the sky as it fell for the horizon once more.

Fierce one.

Murtagh heard Thorn and turned around, seeing his dragon's neck arched and twisted so as to stare backwards, where a small town was situated on the hills, one with thatched roofs and men of simple trades. What Thorn had noticed was a rising pennant of dust accumulating from one of the roads leading into the town, also where a small team of soldiers were heading in their direction.

Should we flee and leave their ranks in chaos?

No, they have already seen us, so they must have a missive for us from his majesty, or perhaps permission for a leisurely flight amongst the Spine.

Murtagh chuckled at the comment, admiring his dragon's keen gaze at the approaching men. Here was he who could make Murtagh laugh, truly laugh, finding amusement in life as he should enjoy.

In a few moments time, the soldiers had arrived in a wide berth around Thorn, due to the skittishness of their steeds. Even from such a great distance, the stallions still bore wide, frightened gazes while staring up at the scarlet dragon. Thorn made them all the more terrified by staring each of them down, wondering which would be the best choice for a meal.

A single man dismounted, handing the reins of his steed to his right-hand man. His armor rattled ever so slightly over his blood-red tunic as he approached, bowing first ot Thorn, and then to Murtagh, who inclined his head ever so slightly.

"Fair tidings to you, Murtagh Morzansson. I wish by no means to disrupt what peace you and your fine dragon may be enjoying, however-"

Such a wish is irrelevant, if you have already carried out the opposite of your words.

The man swallowed hard, trying with all of his might not to meet Thorn's piercing gaze. "My apologies. You do know of the authority which his majesty King Galbatorix holds over ever man's head. I bear you no offense, honorable Dragon Rider, for you two are no peasants that can be governed by the dictions of law."

Or so he says.

I would not question what freedom we have, fierce one.

Hmph.

"However, his majesty wishes you would travel to the Spine, with a team or two of soldiers at your disposal, to investigate whatever causes have obliterated his army. I have such a number of men stationed in our post now-" he gestured to the town behind him- "in their quarters here in Paislic. So-"

"Thank you, captain; that will be all. Send a falcon to the capital, and tell his majesty that we shall agree to his terms."

The captain appeared startled, and Murtagh could guess why. Half of Galbatorix's army had been lost to the Spine, and so it was with the utmost bravery, or at the height of enslavement, that a man would venture there.

It was this reasoning that caused Thorn to gaze down at Murtagh and ask, Why would you agree? I'm sure this mission is not a necessary one.

Perhaps we can discover power for ourselves, power that would rival all of the riders in Alagaesia.

Hmm… I could see us wielding such a power, with fire boiling from my maw in an endless sea, engulfing our enemies and showing them the true values of leadership and what is best for them.

Thorn truly did understand him.

Hopefully it wasn't too bad, but this is my first Fanfic. I'll try and come up with the second chapter soon! Reviews are wanted!