Dark times fill a world with no sun, but long hours of night. Stars seem to disappear into the navy sea and all that can be seen is the fires of battle. Screams of pain can be heard within the usual silence of the mountains. Animals seem to always be on guard in the forest, hoping to not become part of the ongoing war themselves. The Battle of the Burning Plains had ended, but it only signaled the more complicated part of the ongoing fights beginning.

Riders were the talk on everyone's lips after the battle, seeing there was now another. Eragon Shadeslayer was no longer a lone Rider, but the other was not on the Varden's side. At least, no one thought he was. With only a single egg left, the Varden seemed hasty to find it and hatch it for their side. No one seemed more persistent then Nasuada, the leader wanting her side to win in the honor of her father. Though, the egg wasn't only on her mind.

The greedy King Galbatorix also thought of it often, hoping to not only ensnare Murtagh and Thorn, but the last Rider as well. If that egg were to hatch for his side of evil, he wouldn't have any doubt of overthrowing the Varden and taking the control of everything he set eyes on. It was his last hope, before the Rider's took over his land once more.

Even with confusion clouding everyone's minds, it clouded no one's more then Murtagh's. With being taken to the King by the twins, he had no choice but to bow down and take orders. Galbatorix threatened his new dragon's well-being and he couldn't help but give in. Though, when the King gave him information on his family, he wished he would have figured out all the facts before becoming a slave to the ruler of evil. Now he had to trap his brother and his dragon the same way he was trapped by the twins.

After fighting Eragon and seeing the pain that fell upon his new face, he couldn't take it much longer and left. Upon Thorn's back, they flew to the side they knew they'd be safe on and rested at the edge of the battle. Blood stained grass and flooded dirt across the massive field. Soldiers were dying with their last breath filling their lungs as he sat upon his blood red dragon and stared.

There was nothing he could do now. Returning to the King with news that he hadn't captured the prey, he would be sure to feel his punishment for weeks on end. Gazing towards the Varden's camp, he could see the now rising sun glitter against the scales of an old friend. Now he'd have to fight them, or find a way to get back to where he believed he belonged.

-----

Leaving his best friend in the courtyard of the large fortress he now was to call home, he walked slowly back into the dark, damp hallways. He was unsure of what his punishment would be; either by magic or by sword, he didn't know. Passing guards, he could see them eyeing him as if he wasn't welcomed there. Though, he never wished such hospitality in the first place.

Arriving in front of the daunting throne room doors, he looked across the deep carvings and the jeweled fronts. Placing a gloved hand on the icy iron handle, Murtagh used no haste to open the heavy entry. When the door stood only slightly ajar, he took in the back of his master's head, and glared with detached emotions.

Just do what he says, there's nothing more you can do. At least not today. The resonant raspy voice of Thorn entered his mind as he continued opening the door.

Thanks for the information, Thorn, but I don't necessarily feel like doing his never ending bidding today. Now, please leave me so I can concentrate on not being killed just this afternoon. Otherwise, you'll be dead and then what will you do? Feeling the connection weaken, he felt the annoyance of his companion's mood brush his mind once before he lost all contact.

Closing the door with as much energy as he had used to open it, he rested his forehead against it momentarily before turning to see His Majesty staring at him with artic eyes but a smile grazing his tight face. Something that would scare someone close to death if they didn't come prepared. Taking a deep bow, he stood upright again and watched as the King began to pace in front of his large throne. A throne meant for a real King, but only sat a rodent in disguise.

"It seems you have returned to me empty handed, Murtagh. That's such a pity to hear," bowing deeply again, he nodded his head slightly. The saliva in his mouth and throat seemed to dry up quickly and left him with a need of water.

"I have, sire. Though, if I may be as bold to say..." waiting for permission, he clamped both clammy hands behind his back. The rough wool of his tunic scratched against his gloves, and he held the intense stare of his master.

"Are you bold enough to say it?"

"Yes, I'm bold enough to say that if I had the chance again to capture the Rider and it's beast, I would fulfill my duty." He felt a growl in his mind far off, knowing Thorn heard him call another dragon a beast. It had to be done though, to keep up appearances that he didn't care what went on.

"I have no doubt you would, seeing your own life would be on the line the next chance you get. Though that is important to me, a more pressing matter has come to my attention. That will need to be dealt with first," nodding his head to make sure the King knew he was listening, he wringed his hands uncomfortably.

"Anything you need, your Majesty."

"My last egg has been stolen. I'm afraid that without it, we have a slim chance of taking down the Varden and you can see how that would upset me." The rigid smile on his face showed that he was trying to keep calm and collected, not to burst and kill everyone in sight. Quite possibly including himself as well.

"Yes your liege, but what do you need me to do?" He could see the evil glint in Galbatorix's eyes grow a little larger as his stretched face relaxed.

"I need you to retrieve it Murtagh. What else would I have you do? I'd have a guard do it, but they can be so clumsy and dense most of the time. Go find the egg, and if it has hatched for someone, bring them back as well. He would most likely be a great addition to our little family."

Family was one of the last words Murtagh would ever even expect to hear out of Galbatorix's mouth. He rolled his eyes lazily when the King turned towards the wall.

"Where do I need to go?"

"Osilon. That's the place where the Raz'zac saw it last. Gossip gets around quickly when you need to know something. It's a very short flight, so I'll hope you to have found it within a weeks time. Bring it to me, Murtagh. Be a faithful servant just as your father was," he felt something inside himself clench at the mention of Morzan. Holding his inner demons close, he gave another bow.

"It should only be an hours flight, I'll return to you with much haste." Leaving through the same bejeweled door that he entered from, he let his leather clad feet rush back to his quarters.

Grabbing a cloth sack from the corner of the stony room, he placed clothes, cloths, water, and a small loaf of bread safely within it. Throwing his cloak lastly on top, he threw it over his back and grabbed his long bow before hurrying back to the courtyard.

Thorn, I have news. Reconnecting with his dragon, he passed the guards with more bounce in his step then when he had come in first.

Oh, still alive hatchling? I thought that spectacular mood may have gotten you killed finally. Smirking at the mood that his best friend had come to taken, he rounded the corner and could see his crimson tail resting against the pebbled ground.

Yes still alive, much to your dismay I know. We are leaving for Osilon, right away. The last egg has been captured, this could be our way out! His dragon's mind seemed to change quickly on whether this was good or bad news.

Well then, we should leave without a second to waste. I want to be back in the air without having to watch my tail.

Agreeing, he laced the large animal with it's saddle. Making sure everything was securely onto his back, he climbed upon Thorn's knee and got himself into the saddle with great ease. The scars on his inner thighs from his first dragon ride still felt sore, but nothing that would stop him from riding every day for the rest of his life.

Let us go, my friend. Yet, say goodbye to the kingdom. It will hopefully be the last time we see it as our cage, Murtagh watched as the large stone structure became smaller and smaller as the air rushed in front of him.

A short goodbye, and nothing more.

Bringing his face back to look at the direction Thorn was traveling in, he laid his body against rough scales and let his mind rest. It was to be a short ride, no doubt, but a ride where he could surely catch up on some well wanted and needed sleep. Closing his eyes to the bright afternoon sky, he let the silence of the sky lull him to a deep sleep.

-----

Feeling as if something was pinching at his mind, he let his rested eyes open slowly. They were in the woods, a mountain standing tall behind them and a path well ridden in front of them. Sliding down off of Thorn's back carefully, he let his feet touch the ground once again.

I'll go take a look around. Hopefully I'll be able to sniff out who's got the egg before the night ends. Then all I have to do is figure on how to make them trust me. Rubbing the length of his pal's muzzle one time, Thorn jumped back into the air to go on a hunt. The dragon knew he wouldn't be needed unless called, so he would take the wooded area to his advantage.

Readjusting the pack, Murtagh set off the dirt road to try and find the village he was meant to be in. Trying to keep his mind not only on the mission but also on how he'd get out of Galbatorix's hold, he barely realized that the trees had begun to turn into houses. Stopping on the edge of Osilon, he let his sack fall to the ground and pulled out his cloak. Throwing it over his shoulders and clasping it at his throat, he drew the hood and headed into the village.

"Good evening, sir," an older man said, passing by with a cane steadying his wobbly walk. Giving a gentle nod to the elderly fellow, he thought it not best to speak to anyone he didn't need to. News about Galbatorix's Rider in town wouldn't help win a popularity contest. Letting his eyes wander from merchant to peasant on the road, he saw no one that seemed out of the ordinary. At least no one that seemed to be hiding the secret of a dragon egg.

Seeing a well lit cottage up ahead, he walked a bit quicker and saw that it was actually a pub. Thinking it would be just as well of a place to look as any, he headed inside and found a table in a dark corner. Pulling at his gloves a little, he saw a shadow fall over him and looked up into large brown eyes.

"'Ello dear, what can I get you," a redheaded waitress bent over the table at him with a very forward look about her. As if wanting to go in for the kill of her prey.

"No, ma'm, I'm fine," he said softly, watching the older woman adjust her tight corset before walking off to some drunk buffoons.

Taking in every man he could, he didn't feel a hint of fear or wonderment coming from any of them. Deciding to check hands, he couldn't find a gedwey ignasia on anyone either. About to give up and go back outside, a jangle of the door's bell made him to turn and find someone who looked like he could help.

A young man, blonde hair matted to his forehead by sweat, ran up to the bartender and started whispering quickly as if in a terrible hurry. Grabbing his pack from the floor as the bartender walked off for a moment, he heard the crash of a beer mug and turned for only a second. When he looked back, the young man was a blur towards the door as he ran.

Standing up abruptly, he walked in between people and knocked beer out of the bar wench's hands before getting back into the late afternoon air. The sun was beginning to set and he had to squint a little to find the man's foot falling behind the pub's wall. Turning to follow, he let one hand fall to Zar'oc at his hip. Walking back into the woods, he let his eyes readjust and pursued as silently as he could.

The man was now carrying a large burlap sack that he could tell had meat in it by the stench wafting in front of him. Waiting as the opportune moment arose, he leapt at the man quickly and pinned him to the ground with Zar'oc piercing at his neck. The stranger struggled, his parcel falling somewhere to the side of them.

"Don't think you'll get your meat back so fast. Now, tell me where you're taking that, and I might let you live to see another day," speaking deeply, he felt the man's arms calm and hazel eyes looked up at him with fear.

"I'm taking it to someone of great power. They're that way, and I cannot be late or I'll be dinner for his pet," rolling his eyes, he slowly got off the belly of the frightened peasant.

"Point me in the direction with your parcel, and I'll take it myself," the man shoved it in his hands quickly, pointed straight and then to the right before running as fast as his legs could carry him back to town.

Starting off in the direction of where the shaky hand had pointed him, he began to get irritated when he couldn't find anything. Wandering around for a bit longer, he was about to give up when he saw the glimmering of something that he couldn't mistake for anything else. Dragon scales.

Slowly approaching the tail of the magnificent creature, he saw it was only the size of a dog. Probably have been hatched only weeks earlier, he smiled at the fact that it took so long for the King to figure it out. Walking around the bush, he heard the deep growl of the animal before he bowed in front of it and held out the parcel.

"I've brought your food, dragon. I mean no harm to you or your Rider," the dragon cocked it's head to the side, sizing him up as if to eat him. Murtagh took this span of time to really look at the dragon. It was covered head to toe in coral scales, it's spikes a regal gold as well as it's claws. Staring into the round sienna eyes that were thinking about him, he felt mesmerized to see another dragon.

After what seemed like forever, the dragon accepted the meat and ate it with no means to leave any leftovers. Walking over to the fire, he let his gloved hands warm up and let his hood fall to his shoulders. Running a hand through his thick black hair, he sauntered back over to the dragon and brushed his leather covered arm against it's vibrating sides.

What's your name? He heard a small female voice enter his mind, comforting him in ways he had known not until now.

Murtagh, dear dragon, as he went to give her a long stroke on the neck, he heard branches snap in two and looked up to the other side of the clearing.

"What are you doing with my dragon?" In any normal situation, his sword would be drawn and he'd be in a fighter's stance. But, the whole thing threw him off quite drastically.

"I...well, I was feeding her," mentally slapping himself, he wondered how great of a warrior he sounded like.

"You aren't Gabriel," his eyes stayed on the new Rider without intention of leaving. It wasn't that the Rider was too old of man, or too young of boy...it was the sheer fact that the Rider was a woman. Well, a girl, probably about his age.

"No, I'm Murtagh. Who might you be?" Beautiful emerald eyes looked him over as she walked a little closer to him.

"Andria. Why are you feeding my dragon?" She cocked her head to the side just as her companion had done earlier, and he couldn't help a small smile.

"Well, Andria, Gabriel got caught up in town. I thought I'd fill in for the evening. What's your dragon's name?" The girl eyed him carefully still, her hood around her face so all he could see was her bright eyes.

"Wydra, her name is Wydra. Who exactly are you? You aren't from Osilon, I know that much. Are you from the Empire, because I didn't steal the egg. Some man gave it to me weeks ago and I thought it nothing more then a stone. That is, until it hatched and this happened," she took a silver glove from one of her hands and held it up so he could see the Rider's scar.

"I am not from the Empire, I'm just someone who is a lot like you," slowly removing his own glove, he decided that this may be the only way to get the girl to trust him. Showing her his scar, her eyes went from confused and scared, to a little more pleased and trusting.

"So, how did you find me then?" She unclasped the cloak and slid it off carefully before letting him see her fully. Long chestnut hair fell in curls to her hips, freckles danced across porcelain skin, and he would have deemed her the most perfect looking human being until he noticed her ears. They were pointed much like Arya's had been.

"Luck and gossip led me to you. You're an elf?" Her hands shot to her ears as if they were on fire. Turning to her dragon, she let out a sigh and shook her head sadly.

"No, not an elf. I'm only half elf, my father was a Rider, but no elf like my mother had been," he looked at her almost amazed. Elves usually never took human's because of thinking they were below themselves, and the sheer fact that they grossly outlived them. Though, she did say her father was a Rider.

"I apologize for the mistake, I should have known from the freckles."

A warm pink rose in her cheeks as she set a heavy pot over the fire. Grabbing some logs that she had brought back with her, she built it larger to cook whatever was in the pot faster. He watched Andria sit down, the grace of an elf but the vocal tone and structure of a human. She was a complex stranger he was sure would be a challenge in many aspects.

"What are you then? Part dwarf, or anything other than human?" She was teasing him, and it was so good to feel actual compassion from a person that he wasn't annoyed. It was an odd feeling.

"No, I assure you I'm all human. I'm too tall to be part dwarf," sitting down on the ground near her, she smiled at him brightly.

"Doesn't mean you aren't hairy, Murtagh," she looked at his tunic and then back to his eyes before he gave off a deep laugh. It was the first time he had laughed out loud since he left Eragon. It almost hurt his lungs to do it, but he couldn't help himself. He was free.

I hope you all like this first chapter. If you do, please review and I'll get another one up as soon as possible!!