Murtagh stood at his window in the castle of Uru'baen and gazed across the plains, a cruel smile twisting his face. The Battle of the Burning Plains occured a mere six months ago. He and Thorn had spent that time training becoming faster and stronger. He believed nothing could stand in their way now; nothing but his younger brother. Murtagh's bond with Thorn had grown stronger as well, his ears had even started to become pointed. It was something he knew would happen but was still slightly suprised at.
The six months had allowed both Eragon and the new rider to train as well. It hadn't been long after the Battle that the third and final dragon egg was stolen. The spies placed in Surda reported that the egg had hatched. But to who they did not say. Only that the hatchling was forest green with horns, spines, and claws of black.
"Sir, his majesty has requested your presence in the courtyard, He also requests that you wear your armour." Murtagh turned towards the servant and nodded. The servant bowed in return and left. Murtagh moved towards the bed where his black armour lay. He tied it on and reached for Zar'roc.
Though Murtagh relished the chance to crush the rebels, he was still reluctant to fight his brother again. The look of betrayal and anger in Eragon's eyes haunted him. Now, if they crossed paths during the coming battle, Murtagh would have to capture him, or kill him. He was bound by the ancient language.
He tied Zar'roc to his belt and descended to the courtyard where his dragon, Thorn, waited along with Galbatorix and his dragon Shruikan. Thorn was wearing his dragon armour, blackened to match his Rider's. Both Galbatorix and Shruikan were wearing their golden armour. Shruikan, compared to Thorn, was massive, thanks to over one hundred years of growth. Murtagh knew that Shruikan did not truly belong to Galbatorix. He only served him because of many spells and enchantments placed upon him.
Galbatorix aproached Murtagh, who bowed in turn. "Come Murtagh, let us crush there pathetic rebels one and for all!" he grinned coldly as did Murtagh, though they both knew what lie ahead.
The Varden had grown in strenth and in number and had not just the dwarves and one Dragon Rider anymore. Over the past months they had gathered forces and were ready to strike. Their army now contained the elves, dwarves, two Dragons and their Riders, Surda's army and even some Urgals.
The empire's army was still larger though, so neither Rider feared the outcome of the battle. The army had marched days before and now both Murtagh and Galbatorix were flying to catch up.
Are you read little one? Thorn's deep voice filled Murtaghs head.
Not really, Murtagh replied But who is?
Only a fool believes he is ready for war.
Murtagh mounted Thorn and next to them Galbatorix did the same with Shruikan. Both Dragons launched in the sky, but Shruikan was soon far ahead. What had taken the army a week to march to only took a few hours for the Riders.
When they arrived the massive army was positioned in their ranks, the first clutching spears and arrows. Theirs shields were resting at their sides, ready to used when the moment came. Thorn and Shruikan landed in front but neither Murtagh nor Galbatorix dismounted. They sat, facing the south. It seemed like hours that the army waited. Many soldiers checked and tested their weapons, making sure they were in fighting condition. From a distance a great great boom sounded and over the horizon an army of humans, dwarves elves and urgals charged. Two dragons, one sapphire and one emerald, soard above. Murtagh drew Zar'roc, the red blade glinting in the light.
The Battle for Alagaesia had begun.