The Book of Murtagh

by M.M. Chertoff

Mutagh's return to Ilirea. He takes on the Dwarves, the Ra'zac, the Magicians and some of the remaining adherents to the Empire. Will it be enough for him to claim his place at Nasuada's side? Rated T mostly. This revision fixed some spelling errors.

The Book of Murtagh

The Book of Murtagh, Part One

Notes and Introduction

Author's Note: (To skip notes, go to **************)

O the joy of fan fiction: never having to explain the characters and their general situation, time and place, roles, clothes, and general characteristics.

None of these are of mine own creation and I offer these notes only on the off chance that someone reads this gloss/pastiche/extrapolation/fanfic or what you will, who is not already a fan of Eragon and of Christopher Paolini, his creator. If this is you, read the books first or get someone to read them to you. You don't know what you are missing!

Cast:

Nasuada: Young Warrior Queen of Alagaësia, having led the rebel army the Varden to their recent hard-won victory over the evil sorcerer-king Galbatorix. Called Lady Nightstalker in memory of her late father Ajihad, who was called Nightstalker by their enemies, partly because of his ebony skin.

Murtagh: Son of Galbatorix' most feared henchman Morzan. Murtagh was once a fighter with the Varden until captured and enslaved by Galbatorix.

Thorn: Murtagh's red dragon, also once enslaved by Galbatorix.

Orik: King of the Dwarves, ally of the Varden, reigning in Tronjheim under the mountain Farthen Dur.

Eregon: Young leader of the Dragon Riders of Alagaësia. Murtaghs's younger half-brother.

Saphira: Eregon's blue dragon.

Angela: Independent magician and healer.

Trianna: Leader of Nasuada's house magicians.

Rohanna: Trianna's younger sister

Farica: Maid and devoted personal assistant to Nasuada.

Derrick: Farica's husband. Former quartermaster of the Varden, now Nasuada's steward, butler and majordomo

Frederic: Armourer to the Varden.

Guards: Picked warriors of the Varden assigned as Nasuada's personal guard, the Nighthawks.

Page: Too young to be a volunteer soldier; possibly a war orphan.

Martland Redbeard: Heroic general of the Varden warriors, now Governor-General of Dras Leona

Porthos: Son of a Dras Leona barber, once reluctant acolyte of the Ra'zac cult

Cast and Costume notes:

Nasuada is stylishly and elegantly dressed in one of Farica's many creations. She wears her dress sleeves at elbow length with a ruffle of lace or a loose bell of plain or pleated fabric at the cuffs. She favors simple sandals indoors and light boots outside. Her hair is her own, long, dark, very curly and shining. Farica styles it in a variety of ways with many tasteful accessories, but in the active and stressful life she leads, it is usually drooping a bit by evening, if not hopelessly wild and tangled.

Murtagh is tall, broad-shouldered and very handsome. He is lightly aware of this and uses it at times but generally takes his looks for granted. He is careful of his dress, evidently good friends with an excellent tailor, and knows what looks good on him. He favors dark red, darker than the uniform of the old Imperial troops and cut closer, with a more varied and artistic style of gold-thread trim. His shirts are of fine linen, long and voluminous with roomy sleeves. He is generally clean-shaven, bareheaded except when fighting, and wears his long hooded cloak when traveling or in hiding. His hairstyle also varies, but is fairly short when in cities, growing longer and shaggy when he travels. His hair is very dark auburn, almost black except in very strong light. His eyes are the same peculiar color and his gaze is close and intense most of the time. Murtagh's most striking feature is his natural grace and lithe movement. Dancer, gymnast, fencer and acrobat show up in his strong and supple moves. Though neither short nor slim, he is light on his feet and moves like a cat.

Eragon is strongly built but not bulky. A little shorter than Murtagh, he moves like a good swordsman, archer and fist fighter as well as a one-time farmer. His clothes run the gamut from coarse collarless shirts and rough britches, to elegant elf-woven tunics in soft wool and subtle hues worn over dark leggings. He is clean-shaven and fast on his feet, but sometimes clumsy like a boy outgrowing his limbs.

Angela' dress is wildly unpredictable but often favors a colorful multi-ethnic style reminiscent of the early 1970s in our own world. Beads and feathers, headbands, scarves and odd bits of leather and fur are her accessories. She is generally laden with various bags and baskets she uses for gathering herbs, fungi, roots and bark, and sometimes a small cauldron and long-handled ladle. Her hair curls wildly and is worn loose.

Trianna dresses in black or very deep jewel tones that set off her long black hair, pale skin and deep violet eyes. She wears a serpent ring and bracelets that she fondles most of the time. Her manner when alone with the male sex is almost always seductive; with women she is mainly cool and aloof. She is tall and not very pretty, more striking, but she has learned the art of drawing a man's attention and flattering him into thinking she is beautiful. She is a witch; but not the trick-or-treat kind. Her style is more Gothic.

Frederic: He is huge, muscular, and wears a stiff rough tunic made of oxhide with the hair left on. His arms are usually bare and his legs too, between a thick leather kilt and his heavy iron-toed boots.

Starts here*********************************

End of Notes and Introduction

The Book of Murtagh

Chapter One: The Reckoning

Act One

Scene One

City of Ilirea, Formerly Uru'baen

Thirteen months after the Varden's victory

A Room in the Palace. Dusk.

The young dark-skinned Queen Nasuada is at her large work table by the fireplace. The table is piled with maps, ledger books, scrolls, ink bottles, quills and several lighted candles. Behind her, glass double doors show a wide balcony over a garden in deep snow. It is snowing heavily outside.

A red dragon's head appears beyond the balcony. Murtagh climbs up the dragon's neck and drops lightly onto the balcony. He brushes snow from his shoulders and hair, shakes his long dark red cloak, and kicks his boots lightly against the door sill. Then he speaks a word to the door and it opens silently. He steps in and the door closes silently behind him.

Murtagh: (softly) Nasuada.

(Nasuada straightens suddenly, turns around and rises, moving toward him swiftly. )

Nasuada: Oh! Murtagh! It is good to see you. It's been too long! I was worried... Are you well? How is Thorn? (Looks towards balcony.) Does he need anything? Are you both frozen? Come to the fire; there's some warm wine here.

M: We are both well. Thorn is resting up; we've been flying since dawn. And you, My Lady? Are you well?

N: Oh, yes. I am well enough. And I am so glad you are here at last. I have missed you.

M: And I have missed you. I can't tell you how much. (Raises his head, listening. Quickly he turns her to face the inner door and drops to one knee facing her, his back to the inner door. As he kneels, he draws his sword and lays it flat on both palms, presenting it to her. The inner door flies open with a crash as six guards enter, swords drawn, followed by the tall enchantress Trianna with Farica just behind them.)

First Guard: My Lady! There is someone...

Trianna: (to Murtagh) You! Get away from her, you murderous traitor!

(At a signal from First Guard, guards fan out, searching for more intruders.)

Murtagh: (ignoring everyone but Nasuada). Queen Nasuada, I have come to offer my sword and my oath of fealty to you who are the hero of our victory and the hope of our new world. My only desire is to serve you in the tasks you have undertaken and to serve the people of this land as their free Dragon Rider. My dragon Thorn joins me in this hope, and asks if we may take our binding oath of fealty to you in the Ancient Language of magic as well as in this tongue.

N: (Takes the sword and taps him on each shoulder, then on his head). It is my honor to accept your oath of fealty, Murtagh Shur'tugal, in this tongue or any other, and I welcome you to Iliria as my sworn vassal. You and your dragon Thorn shall have a place of welcome and refuge here as long as you continue to serve me and my lawful successors.

M: ( speaking in the Ancient Language, repeats the oath, ending with) ... wiol ono, vel einradhin iet ai Shur'tugal.

N: Rise now and take your sword, bright Zar'roc, which fate has again brought to my hand. Long may you wield it boldly with strength and skill, wisdom and honor.

(Murtagh rises, sheaths the sword and stands just behind her shoulder. )

N: (to guards and Trianna) Leave me now and see that I am not disturbed before morning. (As Trianna starts to speak) Go now!

(Guards, Farica and Trianna leave with doubtful looks back. Door closes on them.)

M: That was a bold speech.

N: and yours was a bold move, and a clever one too. Had you planned it like that?

M: Ah. Well, not just exactly like that. But I had resolved on the oath beforehand. It was no sudden impulse, believe me.

N: I'm glad to hear it. (They sit. She gestures at the wine pitcher and he pours for them both.)

M: To fealty.

N: To fealty, a path that runs both ways. (They drink)

N: (continuing) I was and I am very glad to receive your oath, though it took me by surprise.

M: Oh?

N: You hated being a slave of your oath to Galbatorix. I thought perhaps...

M: I hated Galbatorix.

N: As did I. (Pause). I asked you once why you took such risks for me when we were his captives.

M: I remember.

N: You would only say that I already knew the answer.

M: And did you?

N: Possibly. Would you tell it to me now, aloud?

M: (turns to face her) I love you, Nasuada. I've loved you from the moment you walked into that cosy little cell in Tronjheim where your father had put me. Your face, your smile, your conversation, your concern for me - a total stranger, in dirty clothes, road-ragged and under suspicion ... most of all, your graceful way of moving, and how you carried yourself like a queen even then. I knew I loved you, and I knew I had no hope of ever telling you.

N: and now you have told me.

M: and have I any hope, now that you have become Queen Nasuada?

N: You already know the answer. (She smiles, then continues.)

N: I first saw you being led away disarmed among six guards. But you didn't walk like a prisoner. You walked straight and tall like you owned yourself completely, looking ready for anything. I went straight to Ajihad and got permission to visit you. He told me you refused to let the Twins into your mind. I never trusted them either.

I was impressed.

(During this speech his eyes widen, looking closely into her face. They laugh together and embrace, draw apart to look in each other's eyes again, then kiss.)

M: Now, gracious Queen, what commands have you for your vassal?

N: I was going to ask you about your plans. We do have some ... challenges before us.

M: Challenges, oh yes. (Drinks wine, takes a deep breath before continuing.)

M: I left this city the moment I could, not ready to face those ... challenges. I was sorry for leaving you. I hated that I was hurting you yet again, abandoning you alone and desolate, barefoot in rags and tears at the moment of your great victory. I just... could not be here just then. My mind and soul felt filthy, more ragged than that poor torn shift you stood in. Thorn's mind was like an overdrawn bowstring about to snap. We needed to be alone, away from everyone and their endless questions, accusations, denunciations...

But I knew we would return someday. At the time, I thought it might take years... We just found quiet places to camp in the woods, moving on if we saw anyone; hunting, fishing, finding roots and berries, a few mushrooms. Some windfalls of nuts and apples. I got work with the harvest - turnips, beets, onions, carrots. It was peaceful and kept me from grinding away at my grudges.

People were kind to me. Farmer's wives cooked great meals; one even stitched up my jacket while I was out in the fields.

Finally I was able to stop hating myself so savagely.

N: (shivers) Wasn't it cold?

M: Not at first. Thorn is always warm, and we slept close. His wing kept off the rain and snow at night. My cloak is s good one, and in a pinch, I used magic. A good camp fire helped. Thorn can always start a fire even with wet wood.

N: So what brought you back?

M: (teasing) You know the answer.

N: (jabs him playfully). There must be other reasons.

M: Mmhmm... Shur'tugal. Dragon Rider. Thorn asked me about what it meant; what we were meant to do together. And Eragon. I got curious how he was getting on with his dragon-hatchery.

N: Building a safe dragon-hold somewhere. Not much hatching yet, except for Arya. The last of the three eggs from here hatched for her. Did you hear about that?

M: What, the green one? Good for her. Another Shur'tugal. Shadeslayer, Dragon Rider and Queen of the Elves too. So no time for my poor young brother in her busy life?

N: I haven't heard. She won't go to him, and he is convinced he can't leave his dragon-hold, so it seems hopeless. (Yawns) Sorry, I've had a long day too. You must be worn out from your day in the saddle.

M: I am wide awake now. Talking with you is better than wine, food or sleep.

N: I will have them bring you something to eat if you like.

M: What I like better is remembering you telling them all not to disturb you before morning. They all looked so shocked.

N: That was to show how special you are. How I trust you completely. (She leans against his chest.)

M: This is better still. (Strokes her hair and her back). I don't deserve you at all. I know that. I only hope that one day I can...

N: Mmmm. Some old bastard once told me a throne room is also a torture chamber.

M: He said stuff like that all the time. He loved ripping out any whisper of hope from people's hearts. Gods, I am glad he is gone. Why are we talking about him, anyway?

Is being Queen of the Land as bad as all that? You could chuck it any time, you know. Come away into the wild with Thorn and me. We would build you a palace and keep you warm in any weather, I swear.

N: Not a chance. I fought a war to get this job and now I've just got to do it.

M: You have me on your side now. For what that's worth. (Pause, deep breath.)

I will have to go to Tronjheim soon. That is the first challenge.

N: I know. I wish I could go with you.

M: Oh no. No no no, no way. This is a trip for Thorn and me to take alone.

N: The dwarves really loved King Hrothgar. I loved him too. He was like a second father to me.

M: I am so sorry.

N: I never understood why you killed him.

M: I tried to tell Eragon once, but it was too confusing and ... explanations are not excuses, but they can sure sound the same.

N: Try telling me then. Please.

M: This mind-slavery, or name-slavery... That old creep didn't invent it, but he really enjoyed controlling people that way and he got to be the ultimate expert at it. He could make it so I was like a ... a meat puppet, or a glove on his nasty hand. The first time he brought me to you...

N: I remember. You wore that shiny mask. I was ... terrified. But I saw your eyes, just for a second...

M: I had been crying for hours, just sobbing like a child. He told me I was the one he had chosen to torture you. I couldn't do it, I told him that, I begged on my knees, licked his boots, offered to do anything else he wanted, anything at all... but he just laughed and gave me that mask to wear. "She won't respect you if she sees you like that" he said. When he told me to start on you, I froze and just wouldn't move.

N: I remember that too.

M: Well, it was no good. He took over my muscles and made my arms and legs move as he wanted. Then my hands too. He even made my eyes look into yours while I was ... It was the worst feeling, a total violation.

I sort of made my mind a blank. Fighting him made no difference at all, and he could send any amount of pain into me just by thinking about it. I couldn't do anything to stop him ... (Pulls handkerchief from sleeve and uses it.)

M: (continuing) You see what I mean about explanations sounding like excuses. (Drops his head into his hands, then straightens and looks at her.)

M: (continuing) You were the one getting burned with red-hot iron rods, by ME, and here I am explaining how bad I felt at the time.

N: I asked you to tell me, and for a reason. Go on if you can. Please.

M: I will. I just need a sec ...

M: (continuing) So, the Battle of Burning Plains. He wanted me to kill King Orrin. He said he wanted to be able to call me Kingkiller. That tickled him for some reason. He never said Orrin's name, though. I had never met Orrin and had nothing against him, or for him either. But I knew enough about the Varden from the spies' reports, to know that Orrin's death would be disastrous. Surda would split from the Varden and most of the Surdans would go home and stay there. When I saw the dwarves arriving on the field in the nick of time, I saw I had an alternative. Hrothgar was also a king, and though the dwarves would be furious at losing him, they would not break their alliance with the Varden because of it.

N: You were right. They did not. Most of them left for his funeral, but some stayed, and Orik did come back with an even bigger force than before.

M: So I did what I had to do. I killed a king.

M: (continuing) Later, when I saw the Twins about to be attacked by Roran, I called a timeout with Eragon and watched them get smashed to jelly. I hated those bastards. Demons above and below, I wanted to grab Roran and kiss him. I had no idea he was my cousin, and I still haven't met him, but I love him like a brother for that. Yeah, Stronghammer. Good man!

N: So you came back here, and what happened then?

M: Oh, the Creep was none too happy, but I told him about killing King Hrothgar, which pleased him of course, and he was no worse to me than usual. I could take it from him. But when he punished Thorn, I caved and did what he wanted, mostly.

N: I hate this name-slave business. I hate the thought that someone somewhere knows how, or will learn how to do it.

M: Hmm. I doubt that many could ever use it like the late filthy bastard did. He was insanely evil. Thank all the gods there are, for not making more like him.

N: N'shundar.

M: What was that?

N: it's from the language of the desert tribes. It means something like "Gods shelter us." If we speak of some evil or disaster, we add that prayer to keep it far away.

M: N'shundar. I'll remember that.

N: I notice you never say Galbatorix if you can avoid it.

M: I never say it, that's true. I know he's gone and best forgotten, so why prolong the memory? Now I can just add N'shundar after his nasty name if I have to say it out loud.

N: I must get some sleep now. (Stands) Will you be all right here?

M: (Stands) I would be all right anywhere near where you are, my liege, My Lady and my love. Throne-room, dungeon, on the floor at your feet, or on this soft couch by your fire.

N: Good night then. (Kisses him.) Sleep well. (Goes out through a door to her bedchamber.)

M: Good night. Sleep well. Slytha waise, hartje pomnuria. (He pulls off his boots and sets them by the fire, takes off his sword belt and lays it on the floor by his hand as he stretches out on the couch, hands behind his head.)

M. Slytha waisa, hartje pomnuria.

Scene Two

In the Eastern Mountains. A wide plateau

The Dragonhold at midday, under construction

Eragon and a group of Elves are laboring at building tall stone walls and arches around the edges of the Dragonhold. Eragon, shirt off, is retrieving boulders that Saphira is throwing down from the cliffs above. He rolls or tosses them to the Elves, who place them on the unfinished walls and arches. The stones appear light for their size; they are made lighter by magic. One goes astray; a tall Elf covered in sleek blue-black fur jumps impossibly high to catch it before it can land near a cooking fire where more elves are gathered.

Eregon: Sorry, Blödhgarm! Good save, anyway!

Blödhgarm: Shadeslayer. Or do you aspire to another title? Du Alfakyn Froehr, perhaps? Eragon Elfsbane?

E: No, I knew you were up to it. Just keeping you on your toes.

B: Our toes would all be safer if you could manage your ... exuberance better.

E: Oh, you are right of course.

B: When the younglings arrive, they will call you Ebrithil. It is a title of high honor. It will be our responsibility to see that they treat you with the reverence due to your great skill with magic, your wisdom and your exalted position as their Dragonmaster and teacher.

E: I understand. I intend to earn their respect, and yours too, if possible.

B: My respect you have already, Eragon Shur'tugal. (He bows, twisting his hand before his chest. Eregon returns the bow and the gesture of reverence.)

(Saphira bugles overhead and twists down to the ground, aiming for a crevice in the cliffside. Angela appears, climbing briskly out of the steep crack. )

Angela: Greetings, BrightScales. You are looking extremely sparkly this bright morning.

(Saphira lands and greets her affectionately, touching her snout to Angela's face. Angela strokes her under the chin. )

A: Shadeslayer. Or do you prefer ElfSquash today?

E: (laughing helplessly, embarrassed but pleased to see her.) Angela! I knew it wouldn't be long before you came to inspect us. What do you think?

A: Good enough for a beginning. You have chosen a pleasant spot. I may come back to stay when it is finished.

E: Stay with us now. We have some rooms you might like.

A: No time. We must leave now for Tronjheim.

E: (Stops in the act of putting his shirt on.) Tronjheim? You know I can't go there.

A: Can't or won't?

E: Can't! The prophecy? You remember. You cast the dragon bones for me in Teirm, and you said...

A: Oh that. Well, never mind that now. We must leave at once. Saphira will need to fly fast to get us there in time. Get your things together! Why are you still standing there with your mouth open like a frog catching flies?

E: The prophecy... You said I would leave Alagaësia and never return.

A: and?

E: Well, here I am. I left Alagaësia! So how can I return?

A: Oh is that all? But this is now. That is then. One day you will leave Alagaësia and never return. Until then, you go and come as you please. So please stop gaping and move, boy! Your Shur'tugalia is needed in Tronjheim. We have no time to spare!

E: But what is going on in Tronjheim?

A: Later. I will explain as we go.

Scene Three

Tronjheim, the dwarf fortress under the mountain Farthen Dur.

A council chamber, About two dozen dwarves surround a crescent-shaped table. Orik is in the center chair. Before them stands Murtagh, unarmed and barefoot, in shirtsleeves. Orik is speaking.

Orik So. You accept the charges?

M: I accept them, Orik Koenungen.

O: Our penalty for such a crime is death.

M: So I understand.

O: Queen Nasuada has offered a plea that your life be spared. She has accepted you as her vassal, which gives her the right to make such a plea.

Second Dwarf: But it does not oblige us to grant her wish.

O: It does not. But we are her allies and we owe her some consideration in view of her leadership of the Varden and her success in the late war. But it presents us with a problem. (Dwarfs nod together.)

O: ( to Murtagh) We have only two penalties in use in our code of laws these days: Death or banishment. We cannot banish you, since you are not one of us. You are not Knurlan. We have been asked by our respected and well-loved Queen Nasuada to spare your life, which you have dedicated to her service. If we ignore her request, we deny her your services for her life. That is no small matter. (Some dwarves nod, others frown.) Then, you are also Argetlam, a Dragon Rider, is that not so? Show us your palm.

(Murtagh removes his glove and shows the Shining Palm mark of a bonded Dragon Rider, holding it up and passing it through the gaze of all the dwarves present. Low murmurs from the dwarves.)

O: Not of least import, your red dragon Thorn, who is joined with you in your violent deeds, rests even now in our Dragonhold.

M: Thorn also awaits your judgement, sire. (Indignant skepticism from dwarves.)

O: Hmm. So you say. We do not doubt your word, Murtagh Shur'tugal. We only doubt the manner in which the Dragon Thorn will react, should we choose not to comply with the Queen's request. We must take time to consider all this. We will reconvene in three hours. (To Murtagh). Return to the Dragonhold and remain there. Food will be brought to you.

M: (bows). Orik Koenungen. (Goes out between two dwarf guards.)

Scene Four

( The Dragonhold of Tronjheim with Thorn and Murtagh. It is dimly lit. A tray of food lies on the floor uneaten. Murtagh sits leaning against Thorn, who is rumbling and whimpering alternately while Murtagh strokes his chin. Thorn looks up, sniffing the air. He stands and bugles loudly. Murtagh rises, reaching for his sword which is not there. He looks out into the night, from the wide outer opening of the Dragonhold. Saphira swoops in as he jumps back. Thorn stands over him, protecting Murtagh between his forepaws.

(Eragon dismounts quickly and approaches them, one hand extended.)

E: Brother! I came as soon as I heard. (Takes his forearm and grasps it. To Thorn: This is my friend Angela.

Angela: Greetings, O shining bold one whose scales reflect the hue of blood. Who could fail to wonder at your might, your ferocity and your devotion to your Rider? (She dismounts.) Saphira has told me of you. We have come to share your trouble and to eat it with you, if we may. (Thorn dips his head to her, still whimpering a bit. She approaches and scratches under his chin.)

M: Eragon? Where...how... Did Nasuada send you here?

E: I haven't heard from her since last month. This is Angela, a very remarkable spellcaster, healer and battle-mage who fought with the Varden.

M: (bows to her). It is an honor, Angela. This is my dragon Thorn.

A: Greetings again Thorn. You are well-named.

E: So what is happening now?

M: The judges are conferring. They are considering the Queen's request for clemency.

A: and what would be these stone-heads' idea of clemency, I wonder?

M: Me leaving here alive, I hope.

E: They will have to agree to that at least. With all of us here...

M: Eragon, please, not a word of threat or bluster. That would just make things worse for Nasuada. I came here to try to help her mend fences with the dwarves, not to break them down again.

E: But you don't actually think they would...

M: They will decide based on their own laws and customs. That is the best we can hope for.

A: We can hope their judges know their history as well as their laws. The dwarves are an ancient people and Orik learned kingship in a good school. Hrothgar was no fool. Orik will find a way. You may not like the path he points out, but if you can follow it... you may yet live to serve the Queen.

(Dwarf guard appears, looking around at the new arrivals.)

Guard: ( to Murtagh) The judges require your presence. Come with me.

E: We will come. Saphira, you stay here with Thorn. (Touches her side and looks her in the eye silently for a moment. She dips her head.) Let's go.

Scene Five

Back in the council chamber, judges assembled.

Orik: Bring in the prisoner. ( Murtagh enters between guards. Eragon and Angela follow.) Eragon Shur'tugal. Angela. Have you come to speak for the prisoner?

E: I have, Orik Koenungen.

A. Not I. I am here to listen. And to watch. ( Regards each dwarf with intense gaze.)

O: Very well. Eragon. What have you to say?

E: Murtagh is my friend and ally. He saved my life and rescued me from captivity, not once but many times: once when Saphira and I were captured and bound in chains by the Ra'zac, and my father Brom as well. Murtagh risked his own life to keep all of us from being carried captive to Galbatorix in Uru'baen. When Brom died of his wounds from that fight, Murtagh helped me to bury him. He knew that Brom had killed his father Morzan, but his friendship with Saphira and me remained steady.

Then, Murtagh traveled with us to Gil'ead where we hoped to contact a Varden agent. We were ambushed by Urgals under the sway of the Shade Durza. I was captured, but Murtagh managed to escape with Saphira. While in prison in Gil'ead, I found Arya also imprisoned there. Murtagh contrived, with Saphira's help, to rescue us both, disabling Durza with an arrow between the eyes.

We traveled here together, encountering an army of Urgals as soon as we reached these mountains. We pushed hard to stay ahead, but they caught up with us just beyond your gates. Murtagh continued fighting the Urgals until we were finally taken in. The traitorous Twins examined my mind, but Murtagh did not trust them and refused. Ajihad confined him until the Urgal attack, when Murtagh asked Ajihad to let him join with us in battle. He fought fiercely beside us and slew many Urgals, saving many among the Varden from slaughter, myself included, several times during the battle. Murtagh was active after the battle in recovering and burying the dead. When he heard of Ajihad's plans to lead an expedition into the tunnels, he volunteered to go.

Then the treasonous Twins showed their crooked hands. They led Urgals to Ajihad and had him killed in cold blood. They captured Murtagh and tore off his clothes, leaving the bloody shreds behind to convince us he was dead. They carried him to Uru'baen, continuing their brutal assaults on his mind. They delivered him into the hands of the evil Tyrant who had not been able to capture him by Shade, by soldiers, by Urgals or by Ra'zac. And there in the torture chambers beneath Uru'baen, my friend's sturdy loyalty and faithful friendship were tested to their limits and beyond. In scenes of unimaginable cruelty, he still resisted the Tyrant who had so easily broken the minds of many thousands of staunch warriors, Human, Dragon, Elf and Knurlan. Only when the Tyrant brought him into his treasury and showed him, not gold, not gems, but a treasure beyond all: the red dragon egg that soon hatched for Murtagh and drew him into the mysterious bond between Rider and Dragon that makes a Shur'tugal. . .

How can I describe that bond to you? I know it as so close, so all-encompassing as to make it at once more subtle and more powerful than any tie known to human or to elf-kind. Among the Dragon Riders of old, it was known that the death of one, either Dragon or Rider, could be expected to mean the death of the other, or the despairing grief of madness. My father, Brom, was one who, almost alone among Riders, survived the death of his dragon and recovered to serve the Varden for many years. But Brom was well trained and surrounded by many who helped him. Murtagh was alone, a captive, and now threatened, not just with torture of his own mind and body, but of worse cruelties to be practiced on his young dragon whom he loved and must protect at any cost.

So Galbatorix finally gained his submission, forcing both Murtagh and Thorn to swear the oath of fealty to him in the Ancient Language. When they flew out together against the Varden on the Burning Plains, they had orders to bring Saphira and me back to Uru'baen as prisoners. But Murtagh was given a second charge as well: to kill a king. Galbatorix hated King Orrin of Surda for his steadfast resistance to the Empire and his unwavering adherence to the Varden. He also knew that the Surdan king's support in trained warriors, arms and supplies was critical to the survival of the Alliance. He knew that King Orrin would take the field that day. The Tyrant saw him as a rival for his throne and wanted him dead.

Murtagh here is no fool, my friends. His heart was still with the Varden, and he knew the Tyrant was correct. Orrin and his Surdan army, along with Nasuada, kept the Varden on the march. Orrin's death would cause the Alliance to crumble into dust and be destroyed.

When Murtagh saw the legions of the Dwarves arriving on the Burning Plain, he saw a way to keep the Varden intact without openly defying Galbatorix. The Tyrant had demanded the killing of a king, without saying Orrin's name. Murtagh knew that the staunch loyalty of the dwarves would somehow survive the death of King Hrothgar, beloved and revered as he was.

It was a terrible choice to make. May the gods shield us all from ever being forced to such an ugly crossroad between two paths equally rotten.

Murtagh made his choice, as he saw it, in favor of the Varden, the only hope of freeing this land from the control of the cruel and vicious Tyrant. As Knurlan, many of you are of Hrothgar's clan and kin, all perhaps indebted to him for his wise and courageous leadership for so many years. You may not be able to forgive Murtagh this violent deed. That may well be too much to ask. I venture only to beg you for your clemency, for what mercy you can find in your hearts and within your ancient laws and customs, for this man who is my friend and once was yours.

Murtagh is free now of the evil mind-control that the Tyrant was able to exert over him. He has pledged his life in service to this land as Shur'tugal and to our good Queen as her vassal. You all know something of the heavy and complex task Nasuada has so bravely undertaken: to unify this shattered land, not as an Empire for her to rule at her own whim, but as a free country where justice prevails, and where none struggles under the weight of cruel oppression. I stand before you this night to ask that you allow Queen Nasuada her plea for clemency, so that she may still be able to call on the strong arm, the bright sword, the keen mind and the deep devotion of one who it is my honor to call my brother and my friend.

(Murtagh has listened while staring at the floor in front of him, hands clasped. As Eragon concludes his speech, he places his hand on Murtagh's shoulder. Murtagh looks up and sees that many of the dwarves are weeping freely, thick tears running into their beards. He takes Eragon's hand and clasps it. Angela, seated just behind them, pokes Eragon in the back and when he looks at her, gives him a broad and obvious wink. The dwarves murmur among themselves, some nodding, some shaking their heads, some alternating between both. Finally Orik speaks.)

O: The prisoner will stand and hear his penalty. (Murtagh stands.) You are sentenced to hang in chains in the dungeon below for three days and three nights without food, water, light or companions. During this first night of your sentence, each clan chief will brand you with the sigil of their clan on your lower back, haunches and legs, using the irons used to mark beasts. You will be asked your consent before each brand is applied. You must swear to use no magic to escape the pain or damage you will suffer from this penalty. Do you accept the penalty as I have described it?

M: I accept.

O: Guards! Take him down.

Scene Six

The Dungeon below Tronjheim, three days later. Murtagh is hanging in chains by his wrists, naked, his feet dangling just above the floor. He is limp at first, then in the dim light he is seen convulsing in random spasms with gurgling cries, twisting in his chains until there is a loud dull snap and he drops slightly to one side. He screams and convulses, dropping to the other side, screaming still, his toes now scrabbling on the floor. Eragon rushes in with Angela and clasps him around the chest, lifting him. Eragon shouts

E: Jierda! (the chains break away suddenly. They lay him on the floor unconscious. Angela examines him. )

A: Both shoulders dislocated. Fever. Sweating, shaking, chilled to the bone. Filth running over raw burns on his legs. Wrists raw and bleeding. Dried out like dandelion fluff. This is not good at all.

E: I can fix the dislocations.

A: But not here. Take him down to the baths; he needs to get warm and clean, and he must drink some water as soon as he can swallow. I will meet you there.

(Eragon lifts Murtagh over his shoulder and runs with him down a narrow winding stair to a dim room with a stone-rimmed pool of warm water. He lays Murtagh on the floor, strips off, steps into the pool and lifts his brother in. They sink down together up to their chins.)

M: Hurts. Arms don't work. Shoulders hurt bad.

E: It's ok, I can fix that. Just relax. Can you float?

M: Aha. Think so.

(Eragon holds one arm with both hands and gives it a quick lift and twist. A dull pop is heard and Murtagh screams hoarsely and sinks under the water. Eragon pulls him up. He is coughing and sputtering. )

E: OK, that's one done. Now for the other. ( He moves to Murtagh's other side and does the maneuver again, this time catching him before he sinks. ) How does that feel?

M: Better. I can move my arms a bit now. Thanks, brother.

E: Stay here while I bring the dipper. This bathwater is not the best for drinking. (He climbs out of the bath and fetches water in a dipper from a stream that runs into an ornate basin set in the wall.). Drink this. ( Murtagh drinks and hands back the dipper.)

M: Oh. That is good water. Is there any more?

E: All you can drink. You stay there: I'll get it.

A: (from outside the room) Clean sheets and shirts here when you're ready. But take your time. ( A pile of folded sheets and two clean shirts slides in through the slightly open door.) How is he?

E: Both shoulders back in place. Drinking some water. (fills the dipper again) We'll be out there soon.

A: I'll be here.

M: No magic.

E: That's right. No magic. Angela does healing with plants and things. Herbal medicine. She's really good at it. Right, Angela?

A: Only the best for my boys. Selena was a friend of mine, you know. Made me promise to look after you.

M: How is Thorn? I can't hear him down here. Is he all right?

E: He's fine. A little agitated is all. Saphira took him out for a flight to get him to calm down. They'll be back in the dragon-hold before us most likely.

M: I want to see him. (Begins to climb out with Eragon supporting him. They wrap him from below the ribs in sheets. Eragon pulls on a shirt and helps Murtagh into the other one, lifting each arm gently into the sleeves.)

E: You can come in now.

(Angela enters carrying a huge woven basket bag over one shoulder. In her arms she carries several earthenware pots full of a gel-like substance. She turns the lights higher.)

A: Well, you look a bit more like living now. Lie down on the bench. On your tummy, that's right. Let's have a look at those burns now.

Scene Seven

King Orik's throne Room. Orik is seated on a plain square black granite throne. Eregon and Angela stand facing him.

Angela: So, IF he can recover from having both his arms nearly torn from their sockets, he MIGHT one day lift a sword and draw a bow again. It seems doubtful he will ever regain his former skill or strength. What Nasuada will lose from the damage done to him is simply incalculable.

Orik: We used this penalty many times in the long past. This has not happened to anyone before.

A: Humans are not made of stone and old tree roots as you Knurlan are. At the least, you could have had someone stay with him.

O: Solitude is part of the penalty. The brands will heal, then?

A: The burns are deep, but they will not fester. After a time he will have a set of scars that will not fade.

E: Orik, the disjointing of his shoulders - that was not intended as part of the penalty, is that right?

O: It was not! We intended that he suffer no mayhem nor lasting damage. That was Nasuada's plea as well. Not the least joint of a finger would be cut. We all agreed to that.

E: In that case, if his arms do not recover their strength to swing the sword or draw the bow...

Guard: (announces loudly) Murtagh Shur'tugal ( huge wooden doors at the far end of the throne room crash open. Murtagh enters, standing straight as usual, and walks briskly down the length of the granite hall, his boots striking the stone floor with a steady rhythm. Nearing the throne, he kneels and kisses the floor at Orik's feet.)

Orik: Rise, Rider. Here are your weapons. ( gestures to Page, who brings Zar'roc in its sheath on its sword belt, the bow and quiver of arrows with their accoutrements. Murtagh looks them over quickly and dresses his weapons around him.)

E: In the event that magic is needed...

M: No.

A: Your arm bones tore from their sockets, fool. In another minute, you would have been on the floor bleeding out and permanently armless.

E: Angela, is this the time?

M: (smiling drily) I have had such injuries before, though not both shoulders at once. (He flexes a bit and shrugs.)

I know how to restore them without magic.

A: How, pray tell?

M: Training. Exercises on the field. Lifting of weights, light ones at first, then heavier by degrees. Sparring in short bouts, then longer. Then on to archery. I may start with a lighter bow until I am sure my muscles will not snap. Then I will soon recover my old skills.

A: (aside to Eregon). This I will have to see for myself.

M: Orik Koenungen, I thank you and your councilors for sparing my life. (Bows deeply.) My service to you as Shur'tugal is ever at command of you and your people.

O: We will remember it. Your penalty is complete and you bore it well. None of my realm will chide you of Hrothgar's death again. This is our custom.

(The humans all bow in acknowledgment.)

O: Safe journey all. Our gates are open to you and your faces welcome in mine sight. (They turn to leave.) Brother Eragon, do not be a stranger here. Mine hall is ever yours. (They embrace).

E: (Aside to Orik). And my brother's?

O: In time, mine Knurnling. In time.

Scene Eight

(Back at the Dragonhold of Tronjheim. They are all looking up.)

M: Thorn is excited about something. Happy too. Extremely happy. Oh, so that's it. Good for you, friend of my heart.

E: Saphira is positively smug. She says it's been too long since Fírnen.

M: Fírnen? Is that Arya's green...?

E: Yes, they met just a few months after the war . . . and before you ask, No we did not. We traded names though. (pause) I probably shouldn't have told you that.

M: Told me what? Don't worry, I can keep the family secrets. Any word from her lately? (Eragon looks at him.) Ah well. Give her time. Elf time runs slower than ours, I hear.

E: How are times in Ilirea running?

M: Hey, I just got back there, then came here the next day. But... promising, I think. Not without hope.

A: Here they come.

( Dragons land. Reunions with Riders are demonstrative. Thorn chitters excitedly, Murtagh stroking him and smiling. )

M: Oh I see. It's all about the eggs, is it? You know you don't fool me, dear heart. I am happy for you, you know that, don't you? (To others) This is a big day for us.

A: A red-letter day? Congratulations to you both. (To Eragon) You are happy for them too, no?

E: Of course. I' m happy for everyone. (Turns aside and begins to saddle Saphira.) ... Are you ready? I should get back. Goodbye for now, my brother. (Embraces Murtagh lightly) Go easy with that training stuff, OK? And promise you'll come visit soon? I'm swamped by elves; it would be great to have you around for a change.

M: Whenever I can. Keep your tail up, little brother. Your time will come.

A: I am coming to Ilirea with you if Thorn does not object. (Murtagh glances at Thorn, then bows gracefully.)

M: I'll get the tack.

End of Act One

End of Chapter One

The Book of Murtagh

Chapter Two

Act Two: The Holdouts

Scene One: The Palace in Ilirea.

Anteroom outside the Queen's workroom. Midday.

Trianna, Farica and her husband Derrick are conferring. Farica is sewing.

Trianna: Well, I agree that he won't stick around much; he's

a rogue and a rover as was his father. If nothing worse.

Derrick: That Morzan was bad to the bone.

Farica: I hear his mother was a sweet lady.

D: What, the Black Hand? She were near as bad as him.

F: Well, it seems that boy has had a rough time of it, anyway.

T: I'd say I don't trust him, and I don't, but he can't do her any actual harm. That oath he took was genuine - and binding. It would kill him if he did anything to hurt her.

D: Ah well, if magic can turn a rogue like that one into a man like what our good Queen needs, I may start to believe in it myself.

Scene Two

Same time

The Queen's workroom. She is at her work table as before.

The balcony door is open wide.

Thorn lands in the courtyard. Nasuada hears him and rushes out onto the balcony. Murtagh climbs up Thorn's neck, holding onto the neck spikes, and vaults onto the balcony into Nasuada's arms. They embrace, look into each other's eyes, embrace again.

Nasuada: Thank the gods, I was so worried. (Looks him over, counts his fingers.) You are well? They did not harm you?

Murtagh: They let me go after three days. Mostly because of you. And Eregon. He showed up and made a very touching plea on my behalf. The dwarves flooded the place out with weeping.

N: Even Orik?

M: Orik most of all.

N: Yes, Orik really cares for Eregon.

M: He cares for you too. I got to keep my head on my shoulders purely to avoid inconveniencing you, my dear.

N: Ah. You see, Orik knows me well. I am relieved to be spared such a grave inconvenience as losing you so soon. But there must be some conditions?

M: Not a one, except to take care of you and be a good Shur'tugal. Oh, and they left their clan marks on me as a reminder.

N: Clan marks? Where? I never heard of that custom. Here, sit down, I will call for some wine.

M: I would prefer to stand, if you do not object, my lady.

N: What? Of course if you ... Oh dear. Is it very bad?

M: No, it's healing well. A witch called Angela treated me.

She brought more of her remedy with her, I believe.

(Angela appears from within. She divests herself of her bags and curtsies deeply.)

A: Gracious Queen Nasuada. This is a great honor, and a pleasant spot to greet you in on this lovely day.

N: Angela. Welcome back to Ilirea. Have you come to stay with us long?

A: Doubtful. I am invited to visit Eregon. His work is going well, and his dragon hatchery is more interesting than I expected.

M: I was just telling Nasuada about Eregon and the very eloquent speech he made for me to the dwarves.

A: Ugh, those bone-brained knuckleheads. Don't mention dwarves to me until I see what happens to your shoulders. Do you really think you can restore them without magic?

N: Restore what? Don't play the elf with me, Murtagh. I want to know all about what they did to you!

M: Don't worry, it's not permanent, just uncomfortable while they are healing.

N: But what did they do? (Murtagh stands silent, arms folded,)

A: He was hanged in chains, by the wrists, for three days and nights, alone in the dark without food or water. No one was allowed in, or allowed to speak to him even from outside. Eregon and I waited at the door. One or both of us was there the whole time. Around noon on the third day, he suddenly started screaming like a maniac. We rushed in past the guards and found him dangling like a worm on a hook, both shoulders yanked apart, fainting from the pain.

M: Angela ...

N: I want to hear this. Go on, Angela,

A: Eregon got him into the warm baths and put his arms back in their sockets. I had mixed up some salve for his burns and I put that on him. We got water down him, and later some food and a fever drink. That's all he would let us do. Who knows, maybe it will be enough.

M: Of course it's enough. I'm fine. At least, I will be fine in a few weeks. Just need to get my strength back is all.

N: They burned you? (Murtagh shrugs, wincing.)

M: That's just how they made the clan marks. I did tell you about that.

N: How many clans? Where? How did they...?

M: All thirteen. On my back and legs. With hot irons. It did hurt while they were doing it, but it was the part after that...

A: I shall let you reveal what details you choose. I left the salve inside. Three times a day until gone. Goodbye Nasuada. May you never wear your sleeves long!

N: Farewell, Angela. My thanks for all you've done. Safe journey, and please give my love to Eregon.

M: My thanks as well, Angela, for all your care and kindness. I am in your debt, and I will not forget it.

A: See that you don't! (She goes back through and out)

N: Oh Murtagh. (Hugs him gently.) I am sorry they were so cruel to you. I did not expect that of Orik.

M: It's all over now. Orik will accept your envoy, and you will have the dwarves as allies once again. Considering the trouble I caused them, and you, what they did to me was reasonable.

N: Reasonable? It was barbaric!

M: It was reasonable to them, yes. By their laws, it was lenient to a fault. They spared my life because you asked them to. Before I left, I thanked them for that. Now I thank you as well. For my life. For giving me a reason to live and hope. Nasuada, more than anything in the world, I want to be with you. You know I love you. Will you accept me as your husband, to care for you and for our children to come?

N: I do love you, Murtagh. You know that. But ... would you be content to be the Queen's consort, with no title higher than Prince? I won't marry a man who would be king over me.

M: With no title higher than Shur'tugal, I would of course. For me, there is no title that is higher or more honorable.

I would be the Queen's husband, and the father of princes and princesses, I hope. That would be all the honor I could wish for. (They kiss. She sits; he kneels and lays his head on her knees. She strokes his hair. Thorn lifts his head over them and bugles loudly, announcing the good news.)

End of Chapter One

Chapter Two

Act Two: The Holdouts ( continuing)

Scene Three

The Palace in Ilirea

The Queen's Anteroom. Mid - morning

Trianna, Farica and Derrick are seated at the table. Farica is sewing. Murtagh enters through the outer door. All stand and bow, saying "Shur'tugal".

Murtagh: Please, as you were. If I have to face all this ceremony, I will go back to climbing the balcony again. (They laugh and all sit down.) Trianna. You are well, I hope? (She nods, regarding him cautiously.)

Trianna: I am, and you sir?

Murtagh: Good. I was wondering how the Magicians' Guild is coming along.

Trianna (startled): As well as can be expected.

M: Ah. I was expecting to hear of some difficulties. Magicians, I thought, were a bit like werecats, preferring to walk alone.

T: We are, for the most part. Of course, some of us joined forces for the Varden during the war, but with the peace, everyone seems to want to go their own way.

F: The lace-makers who use magic have formed their own guild, as the other lace-makers look down their noses at them. But the magic-made lace is cheaper and even finer, I think.

M: The Healers have a guild as well, I have heard.

T: Aye, they do. They kept it secret while the Tyrant was in power. It seems he did not approve of guilds in general, or any sort of gatherings except for his army.

M (shudders): You are right about that. He imagined everyone plotting against him. In fact, although he was hated, there wasn't much actual resistance in the city. He saw to that all right.

T: That could be a reason why persuading the Magicians to join the Guild is so difficult. People have had a century of control and suspicion, and it has left them skeptical of authority.

M: Aye, it may take some time for them to realize that things have changed. What do you think, Derrick?

D: Ah well, change can be slow, or it can be quick. I think the people need to see more of our Nasuada; get to know her like. They need to hear her voice, too. A Queen in a palace is a fine idea, but if they never see or hear her, how will they learn to love her?

M (rising): Derrick, I think you are right. Farica, will you see if the Queen has time for me now?

F: (rises, knocks and enters the Queens workroom, reappears) The Queen will see you now, sir.

M: Thank you, Farica. (He goes into the room.)

D: Aye, she's got plenty 'a time for him, that's plain!

F: (raps his hand) Tsssch, you!

Scene Four - The Queen's workroom.

Nasuada at her work-table. She looks up, smiling.

M: Good morning, love. You are so beautiful this morning.

N (rising): And you? Are you well? (They kiss)

M: I am. Now that I am here with you. (He holds her close)

N: How are the burns? Have you been treating them?

M: Much better. Frederic has been helping me.

N: What, that hairy old armourer? Is he a healer too?

M: He knows a lot about dealing with injuries from fighting and sparring. He helped salve the burns on my back and started me on a training regimen to get my shoulders working again.

N: Oh dear. I thought you would be resting...

M: I can't sleep much anyway and sitting is worse, so I prefer to train. I won't be a fat, lazy court lizard, and you would hate me if I were.

N (laughs): Of course I would! So, I will leave your recovery in Frederic's tender hands.

M: I had a brief chat with Trianna about the Magician's Guild.

N: She hasn't said a word to me about it.

M: She is trying, I think. But there are some genuine obstacles in her way.

N: Oh?

M: Mmmm. But we might be able to help her.

N: We?

M: Mmmhmm. (Pause) We will announce our betrothal soon, I hope?

N: Of course, I see no reason to wait.

M: Would you mind doing it up a bit? A public betrothal? With some sort of ceremony? Music, dancing, banners, lots of people involved?

N: Lovely! But I don't see how it helps us control the Magicians.

M: I am not sure it will. What I hope is that it will start to create certain conditions in which the Magicians will want to be part of what we are doing here. What YOU are doing, or trying to do.

N: Go on.

M: The people need to see you and hear you, Nasuada. They need to hear your voice so they can share your vision. They are your job as Queen. You work so hard on these treaties, agreements, petitions, plans for them, but so very few of them know you, or know anything about you. I would like to see you loved by your people. That can be your real power. With the people on your side, how can anyone defy you?

N: But will they be? For so long they hated and feared the Varden. My guard seems to think they would shoot me as soon as look at me. I know what you are saying is true, and I see how important it is. But is the time ripe?

M: I think it is. I can't bear the thought of anyone harming you, and I can, with your guards and magicians, find ways to protect you from almost anything. And I know your courage. No one knows it better. You can do this, Nasuada. WE can do this together.

N: You are right of course. I forget that these are your people too. You were born in this city and lived among them for years.

M: Aye, and if they are ready to hate anyone, that would be me. They still see me as the son of Morzan, and the old bastard's fair-haired boy. They don't know how it really was; how could they? Aside from a few who could see through the old Creep's lies and manipulations, they all saw the picture he showed them, and it was not a pretty one. So, why don't we give them something lovely to look at for a change?

N: We will! But I know so little of your ceremonies and celebrations. You make the plan and I will write the speeches. Farica will have lots of work to do. Derrick as well. They'll need more helpers. But you can organize the work. I have still some hours here before I can stop for the evening.

M: I think we should tell them now. Are you ready?

N: After a kiss.

(They kiss and go out together.)

Scene Three: Ilirea. The training ground near the palace.

Frederic is sparring with four young men at once. He disarms them one by one in a short bout. Murtagh is watching them. Thorn watches from a bit farther off. Some younger men and boys eye the dragon warily, but with evident curiosity, daring each other to approach him.

Frederic: Right, now. Pair off and practice yer disarming and defense. Ah, Murtagh. Let's have a look at you.

(Murtagh removes his jacket and shirt and drapes them over a swordrack. His shoulders are blotchy red and show dark bruises of all colors.)

M: They look worse than they feel now.

F: Aye. That will take a while to clear up. (Runs his hands over him from collarbone to wing bones and across his ribs, pressing lightly here and there.) Not much swelling and the hot spots are mostly gone. Any soreness anywhere?

M: Some, when I try to lift anything heavy.

F: Don't try then, 'cept for when you are here with me watching. You could still do you some mischief there if you pull something. Let's try you on this. (Pulls a slant board under the sword rack. ) Got your gloves? Good, put 'em on. Lie down here and try pulling up. Good. Any pain? Where are you feeling it? (Murtagh touches a bicep near the shoulder.) Aha. Just pull about halfway up. Slowly! How's that? Good. Remember, take it slow going up and slower coming down. Easy does it. Try to rush this and it will take longer in the end. Count ten of those, then rest, then ten more. I'll check on those burns next. I got your salve inside there.

Frederick: (moving off) All right, you lot. Let's see if you learned anything about sword fighting yet.

Scene Four

Later, in a tack room inside the armory. Murtagh is lying face down on a padded bench, partly covered with a towel. Frederick, bare chested but still hairy, is holding a wineskin in his huge hands, squeezing a trickle of clear gel on the burn marks.

Frederic: I recognize most of these. That's Durmgrimst Ingeitum, the blacksmiths. That's Orik's clan. Did he do that?

Murtagh: Aye. He led off. He gave me a leather gag to bite on and told me to relax. "Don't arch your back" was how he put it. I don't think I did, but I'm not sure. I thought I was prepared for the pain, but... I wasn't.

F: Tschah! How could you be? That's a nervous spot, just over the tailbone there. Had to been pure agony. He was damn lucky you didn't rear back and kick him. Bastard. Now one of these here is the wolf clan. Their chief is a female, last I heard.

M: She is. Same with the one on the other side.

F: Now I know them dwarves is strange folk, but this beats all. Did they two come at you together?

M: They did. I bit right through the gag and lost it. The two of them were laughing so hard they could barely walk away.

F: Laughing, were they? What was so damn funny?

M: Ah. Well. The gag wasn't the only thing that went flying across the room.

F: Achh. Nasty bitches. Did the others laugh too?

M: Not so I noticed. I didn't notice much after that. I heard them ask their question, I answered it, and then... they came at me again. I tried to keep count. Ten more. Eight more. Only six more. Then they got the backs of my knees. That was the worst. I think I passed out for a bit. I kept hearing them asking me the question, and waiting for me to answer it.

F: What were they after?

M: They asked my consent to be branded as a clan beast. I had to give consent each time, to each clan.

F: Shades and demons! That's just plain...sick-headed, that is.

M: Yeah. It's tradition though. If someone got banished from his clan, he could go to any of them at branding time and line up with the beasts. They had to ask his consent first to make it legal, and if he gave it, he got branded and then he could shelter in the barn with the animals. Beats sleeping out in the snow, right?

F: I still say it's sick. Treating people like animals, and worse.

M: At least I walked away with my head still attached. I wasn't sure I would at first.

F: Right, well, there's yer burns done. This is nice stuff she put up for you. (Pours some gel on his hands, rubs them together and sniffs.) D'ye mind?

M: Please. Help yourself.

F: (closes up the wineskin) All right, now I'd like to give those arms a bit of a rub. You tell me if I hit a sore place.

M: Mmhmm.

Frederic looks Murtagh over and begins gently massaging his arms, shoulders and back. Murtagh falls asleep on the padded bench. Frederic lays a sheet over him and goes out, pulling on his oxhide.

F: Achh, poor laddie.

Scene Five

The Castle of Corrian, gates shut, Corrian's green pennant flying on the roof. Corrian's men line the battlements looking worried.

Soldiers of the Varden approach the castle, some marching in good order, some on horseback, some driving heavy carts pulled by oxen or draft horses. The carts contain provisions, siege weapons and materiel, including long rough ladders, ballistae, catapults, battering rams and siege towers.

Soldiers look up as a shadow falls across them. They see Thorn with Murtagh on his back circling overhead. They raise fists and chant

Soldiers: "MUR! TAGH! SHUR'tu GAL! MUR! TAGH! SHUR'tu GAL! MUR! TAGH! SHUR'tu GAL!

They resume marching to a cadence.

Soldiers chanting in unison:

"Swords sharp, kit clean, shoot straight, honor the Queen. HONOR THE QUEEN!"

Singing:

"Our swords are sharp, our armour clean, our arrows hit the mark.

We march beneath the dragon's wing in sun, in storm, in dark. "

Chanting, call and response:

"Swords sharp, kit clean, shoot straight, honor the Queen. HONOR THE QUEEN!"

As Murtagh and Thorn fly over the castle, some of Corrian's men dash down the stairs out of sight. Others freeze, looking up at the sky. A few bark orders and some shoot arrows or throw spears at the Dragon and Rider. All fall short or miss their target.

Murtagh: (voice amplified) Corrian! This ends today! Open your gates and rejoin your nation. The Tyrant Galbatorix is dead and his reign of terror ended. Our gracious Queen Nasuada seeks peace, not destruction and death. This land has seen too much killing. Your men will rejoice to hear you will not send them out to be slaughtered by the victorious Varden Army of the New Ilirea.

(Pause. Pennant flaps in the wind. Orders are heard from the Army below. Bows are strung, arrows nocked, spears hoisted, swords drawn. Some are busy unloading the carts, carrying ladders, assembling the machinery to batter the castle gates.

(There is a commotion on the roof. A door opens and a knot of Corrian's men appear, dragging him by his arms, which are bound. He is screaming at them. One Officer knocks him upside the head and shoves him to his knees.)

Officer: Corrian is here! See, the gates are opening! The Queen's troops may enter; we have ordered our men to surrender.

(On the ground, the gates are opening from the inside. Corrian's men are kneeling on the ground, hands atop their heads, their weapons on the ground in front of them.

(The Queen's troops stand staring, surprised by this turn of events. Orders are heard and they advance, swords drawn. Archers form a semi-circle outside the open gate and stand ready. Spearmen run inside and soon appear on the roof to accept the surrender of Corrian's men there. One of the men has already pulled down Corrian's pennant and wrapped it around Corrian's arms, pinning them to his sides. Thorn has just landed on the roof and Murtagh is dismounting as the spearmen enter and begin stacking weapons.)

Murtagh: (his voice still amplified) See that all arms are secured under guard. Remember who we serve! Queen Nasuada commands that those who surrender will not be harmed. No property other than weapons will be taken or destroyed. Search the castle but do not harm or threaten anyone who does not attack you. Search the dungeons and any prisoners you find, bring them to me here.

Stay sharp and honor the Queen!

Soldiers: Honor the Queen! Honor the Queen! Honor the Queen!

(Soldiers lift Corrian to his feet and take him away.

(One very young soldier hoists the Queen's light purple banner and it flaps in the wind. He stands back solemnly, then salutes with fist over heart. Murtagh steps up beside him.)

M: (Looks up and salutes). That looks great. You did a good job.

Page: Thanks, Shur'tugal!

Act Three: Mopping Up

Scene One

Dras Leona, the Governor General's Office

Martland Redbeard, Provincial Governor General, paces the floor. Murtagh enters, armed and wearing a mail shirt.

Martland Redbeard: Murtagh. Welcome back to Dras Leona. How do we look from the air?

Murtagh (bowing): Thank you, Governor. Much better than the last time Thorn and I were here. May I congratulate you on your appointment? And on your victory as well.

MR: Ah well. That was mostly your brother and your cousin Roran. Good old Stronghammer! Full of surprises, that one. And Eregon, of course.

M: I join you in your enthusiasm. I watched Roran bash in the heads of two of my deadliest enemies at Burning Plains. He is not only strong but quick and clever, too. I am glad he got what he wanted, but we could sure do with his like now.

MR: Aye, that we could. (Pours drinks with his one working hand and passes a cup to Murtagh. They sit and drink.)

MR: (continuing) I'll tell you, laddie, and I don't care who knows it, this hellsunk town is beyond my simple mind to grasp. There is something here... a kind of dark current running through the place. Fighting I can understand, but what goes on here is more like madness. Huge street brawls over nothing, and no one can say who or what about. Sudden duels that end in murder and no rhyme or reason given. Knifings in the street in broad daylight, and both parties total strangers to each other. It makes no kind of sense to me and I don't know how to stop it. And it's getting worse, not better. I can't make it out at all.

M: Oh aye. What you say does not surprise me. This has been a lawless and wicked place even before the late unlamented tyrant took power. As long as he got his revenues, he let them get on with it. Suited him, I suppose.

MR: There was some kind of death cult or blood-worship going on, or so I've heard.

M: There was.

MR: Could be still carrying on?

M: Probably is. That's why I'm here.

MR: You can put a stop to it, can you?

M: That's the idea.

MR: Right. Anything you need, just ask.

M: I will need a place where my dragon and I can work indoors and not be disturbed.

MR: You got it. Anything else?

M: A mirror on a stand. Plenty of water. A large bowl for Thorn and a couple of pitchers for me. Plenty of bread also.

MR: And a wineskin?

M: No, I've brought mine. The water should be freshly drawn from your own well and carried in under your eye. The bread as well. From your own ovens, and watch while it is brought in.

MR: Could be a poisoner at work, eh? Don't you worry, lad. I'll see that nothing nasty gets to you.

M: Good. Let's begin.

(They go out.)

Act Three: Mopping Up

Scene Two

The dragonhold of Dras Leona. Murtagh sits on the floor next to Thorn, his legs crossed and eyes closed. A large mirror stands facing them. He breathes in and out, deep and slow. His eyes open and he stretches his arms and shoulders slowly.

M: (facing the mirror) Draumr kopa.

(The mirror goes black, then clears, showing an empty room. They wait. Blodgharm the Elf appears in the mirror. )

B: Murtagh Shur'tugal, greetings. (bows slightly) This is unexpected. Greetings to you as well, Thorn Bjartskular. (twists his hand before his chest, bowing deeply.)

M: Blödhgarm Vodr. It is good to see you. (following the elf's example, twisting his hand before his chest.) I am hoping to see Eragon, and Angela if she is there.

B: I will let them know.

M: I'd like for you to stay as well.

B: You are not in Ilirea?

M: No. I will explain when we are all here.

B: They come.

E: Murtagh! So good to see you! Are you well?

M: Yes, very well. And you, brother?

E: I'm doing fine. Here is Angela.

A: How are you, my friend? Arms still attached, I see.

M: Yes, and almost back to full strength, thanks to you two.

E: Where are you? And what's up?

M.: Dras Leona.

A: Then get away from there, quick as you can. Nasty vicious hellhole of a place. What in the name of all shades and shadows are you doing there? Are you a prisoner, gods shelter us all?

M: N'shundar. No, Thorn and I were sent here by the Queen. It seems Governor-General Martland is having problems keeping order in the city.

A: if Martland Redbeard can't keep order, what makes you think you can? What do you hope to accomplish?

M: Find the source of the evil magic and stop it, of course . He and I both think there are magicians of the Ra'zac cult still active here.

A: I am sure of it. It would be easier to rid the sewers of rats.

E: Blödhgarm, have you been back there since that day...?

B: I have not. A small group of my brethren went back to recover Wyrden's body for burial. Then we all went on to Urubaen, leaving Redbeard with a small group of warriors. (Bows his head) That was ill done. We should have seen that a strong group of spellcasters stayed on to help him.

E: Then Nasuada was captured, and...well, you know the rest.

M: Aye, that I do. (Pause) I know something of Dras Leona, mostly stories, but I never came here willingly and I had no curiosity about the place, only revulsion. I still have that. But I will need to know all I can if I am to help Redbeard clean up the godawful mess here. Would you all be willing to tell me all you can remember of your time here?

B: The most effective way would be for us to show you. If Saphira and Thorn join with us, we could share all of our memories with you. It will take some time. And it will be very... unpleasant for all of us.

M: For you especially. I am sorry, Blodgharm. I wish there were some other way.

B: Short of burning Dras Leona to the ground and below? There is no other way, I fear. I will gather some of my brethren here for support, and let Arya Drottning know of this before we begin.

M: Very well. I have no more preparations to make.

(Thorn pokes his head before the mirror.) But I think Thorn has. He wants to see Saphira.

E: Here she is. ( The two dragons gaze at one another in the mirror. Thorn bugles and drops into a crouch. Saphira responds. ) Saphira tells me that Thorn has a message for Blodgharm. I'll tell him when he returns. Oh, and a message for Angela? She's here. Saphira will tell her.

A: (listens to the message and responds to Thorn in the mirror.) You are most welcome, Firestar. And your Rider as well. He is doing well by Nasuada. That is the best thanks that the two of you can offer to all of us.

(Blödhgarm returns with more elves carrying another mirror on a stand. )

B : Arya Drottning will join us in a moment. She is preparing.

E: Arya?!

M: It is a great honor, and her memories will help us.

B: Yes, Saphira? A message from Thorn? (He stands facing the mirror, listening. He bows deeply and twists his fingers before his chest.) Thorn Bjartskular, I accept your expressions of remorse on behalf of my people. You and your Rider are once again fighting beside us against the forces of evil that seek to corrupt and enslave the people of this land. We welcome you both among us and will do all we can to unite our strength with yours in this fight.

Angela: Well said, Bloodwolf. Is Arya with us?

Arya: (appears in new mirror) I am here, and many of my people are with me. Now, Murtagh Shur'tugal. Proceed.

M: Welcome Arya Drottning and people of Ellesmera.

I have asked that those who infiltrated Dras Leona on the night of Wyrden's death recall that night's experience and share it with Thorn and me, so that we may know more of the evil manifestations you all encountered. It would be foolish on our part to grapple with such power as remains here, without first gathering all the wisdom we can from those who have done so much to overcome it already.

B: Then let us begin. (All concentrate on their memories of the Dras Leona incursion. Scenes from that night succeed one another on the mirrors. Murtagh and Thorn watch their mirror attentively. When they see the Varden warriors burst through the gate, the images fade. There is a long silence.)

M : Thank you, my friends. I share your grief in the death of Wyrden, and I honor his courage and yours.

Angela: What have you seen that might help you now?

M: That will need some thought. First I would ask you, all who were there, if any course of action suggests itself to you.

Angela: Many of the chief priest's supporters got away after I killed him. We were too few to chase after them. If you could find some of them...

Eregon: What about that young renegade who offered to help us? He wasn't much help then, but if he survived, he might be willing to tell you what he knows.

M: Yes, I got a good look at him. I would recognize him.

B: There were other tunnels under that city. At least one might go into Helgrind. Was that place ever thoroughly cleared of evil spells and traps?

Arya: There was a group of spellcasters that went there just before I came back here. Eregon, were you with them?

E: (bitterly) I should have been. I got called away to quell an uprising somewhere else.

Arya: Is anyone here who visited Helgrind after the capture of Dras Leona? ( A few of the elves in Ellesmera speak up. Arya listens, then brings them forward.) Tell us what you found. ( introduces them.)

Elves: (talking alternately, finishing each others sentences) We knew there was more there than we could identify or undo...We countered many many spells and disarmed many traps, but some of it... we could sense an evil power, a corrupt and hateful energy... but we had no real grasp of it...in the end we could do no more, but we knew the place still held much evil. . . .we told Blödhgarm and he went back there...

B: I did go, but I did not enter the place. I placed sealing spells at all the openings I could find, but I sensed at least one other, possibly underground, that I could not reach.

M: Thank you all once again. All of this has given us a sense of how to proceed. We may be here for some time, and we may need to call on some of you again. Will you contact us if you have any more ideas? We will be here in Martland's dragonhold one hour after sunset each day if we can.

Arya: We will not forget you. May the stars watch over you, Murtagh Shur'tugal and Thorn Bjartskular.

M: May peace reign over us all, one day soon. ( mirrors go dark)

Eregon: ( his hand on Saphira) Yes, of course. We will have to go there. Blödhgarm, we will leave tonight. You are in charge here. Angela?

Angela: Of course, I'm coming with you. Meet you in two shakes.

Act Three: Mopping Up

Scene Three

Martland's office. The next morning.

(Martland is examining a fairth, a picture on slate, which Murtagh has handed to him. He hands it back. )

Martland: No, I don't recall seeing him. Rings a bell, though. Show it to my guards. They see more of these benighted folk than I do.

Murtagh: I will. Any new disturbances?

MR: The usual bar fights. Nothing very mysterious for once.

M: Good. I will wander about on foot this morning. See what gossip I can pick up.

MR: Do that. Everything all right up above? (Gestures)

M: Oh yes, our quarters are fine, and so is Thorn. You won't know he' s there. Oh, I will need an old Imperial Army uniform, preferably well-worn.

MR: You will find several in the guardhouse.

M: Till this evening, then. (goes out)

Act Three: Mopping Up

Scene Four

In front of the Governor-General's Residence. Murtagh is talking to a cluster of guards in the Queen's blue-green uniform who are passing the fairth among themselves and discussing it. Murtagh is wearing an old Imperial Army uniform, worn, stained, ripped and patched in several places.

M: Do you remember where you saw him?

First Guard: It wore at the brickyard. He wore workin' there, makin' bricks, that he wore. All covered in mud, but for 'is face. Young lad. I tried askin' a question or two, makin' conversation like, but he had no word for me of good or ill.

M: How do I find this place?

FG: Along this way till the tavern, then right until just before the city wall.

M: Thanks, you've been most helpful. (Offers him a coin which he refuses.)

FG: Oh no sir, you're more'n welcome, but we're not allowed. The Guv'ner says the Queen's coin is good enough for us, or we're not good enough for her. (Other guards nod, some chuckling and slapping him on the back. )

M: Good man. ( Pockets the coin.) We'll have a drink later, then, when you're off watch.

FG: That would be very agreeable, sir.

(Murtagh walks along the streets, looking closely at his surroundings. It is a busy, crowded commercial area. He arrives at the brickyard and watches the operations there. The workers range from elderly to mere children, all muddy and moving wearily about their labors. One young man looks up and Murtagh catches his eye. The man looks away. Murtagh moves closer to him with a lounging, casual air as if bored and seeking conversation. )

M: Good morning, friend. ( The man looks over his shoulder.) I'd speak a word with you, not to keep from your work at all.

Young Man: What do you want? I can't stop my work.

M: Well, work is just what I need at the moment. Who can I see about getting taken on here?

YM: Him over there. ( Gestures with his chin.)

M: Right. I hope to see you again then. ( Moves to Straw Boss and begins talking with him. Straw Boss asks some questions, nods, passes him a muddy apron and trowel, and points to an open area. Murtagh ties on the apron, squats in the mud and begins digging. )

Act Three: Mopping Up

Scene Five

A loft stuffed with straw, with workers sleeping in their muddy clothes, scattered about or clustering in small groups for warmth. Murtagh sinks down near the young man he spoke with earlier.

M: Are you asleep, friend?

YM: Not yet.

M: Just wanted to say thanks for helping me this morning. I've had a time finding work since the war ended. My name is Tormac. (Offers his hand.) Call me Mac, if you like.

YM: Porthos. ( sits up and clasps his hand briefly.) You are welcome, Mac, but wait a few days before you call it a blessing to work here.

M: Aye, the work is hard. (Stretches his back and arms.) Takes some getting used to.

Porthos: That's not what I meant. (Moves closer, lowers his voice) No one leaves this place alive. You'd do better to get out now, before they begin watching you more closely.

M: That so? What happens if you leave, then?

P: They catch you and bring you back.

M: What about the old ones? Some here look like they'll be falling off their feet any day now.

P: They are not as old as they look. They're just worn down to the bone. When they can't stand or work anymore, they get taken away. No one knows where. They just disappear.

M: Are they carried out into the street or...?

P: No, they take them down into a cellar. I was there once. There is a passage below. I don't know where it goes, but maybe out of the city, to the southeast.

M: There is nothing that way. Except...

P: Don't say it. Not everyone here is asleep or deaf.

M: Can you show me the cellar?

P: Yes, but later. Wake me in a few hours.

M: Right. (They lie down. )

Act Three: Mopping Up

Scene Six

A dim chamber filled with low cots with men drowsing or asleep. The light is bluish and all the men look cold and pale. Many appear elderly, emaciated, or are missing limbs. A woman kneels by a cot holding a vessel with a tube draining into it. The tube is connected to the arm of the man in the cot. The woman's back is to the outer door and she does not notice when it opens slowly and silently. Murtagh enters, followed by Porthos. They stay near the door. When the woman rises, carrying her vessel in front of her, Porthos and Murtagh slip back through the door and hold it nearly closed, watching through the narrow opening. The woman crosses to an inner door and goes through. They follow her stealthily, looking at the men in the cots as they cross the chamber. No one looks at them or seems to notice them.

The inner door leads to a smaller chamber with a wide ledge along the wall and a crude basin sunk into the floor. Three baby Ra'zac are slurping from the basin while the woman pours a dark stream from her vessel into it. The light in this room is red and the liquid appears black. On the ledge a large egg-shaped cocoon is lying. It is composed of thick yellowish fibers and is large enough to hold a man. The woman pours more of the liquid into a long dark funnel held over the cocoon on a bracket. The liquid drains into the cocoon slowly.

Murtagh: Can you keep her quiet for a bit?

(Porthos nods and crosses to the woman silently, then claps his hand over her mouth and bends one arm behind her.)

Porthos: One squeak and you die.

(Murtagh draws his dagger from his boot and slashes all three of the Ra'zac to ribbons, then crosses to the cocoon. He stabs at it and it compresses but the fibers do not break. )

Murtagh: Stand back.

(Porthos pulls the woman away, keeping his grip on her. Murtagh points his dagger at he cocoon holding his arm out straight.)

Murtagh: Brisinger!

(Flames erupt from the dagger, enveloping the cocoon. Thick dark smoke pours out and all begin coughing uncontrollably. The woman retches and breaks from Porthos' grip, vomiting helplessly on the floor. )

Murtagh: Out! Get out now! (He grabs the woman's arm and stumbles with her to the inner door, shoving Porthos before him.)

Act Three: Mopping Up

Scene Seven

The Governor-General's Residence. The dragonhold. Murtagh and Porthos enter, dragging the woman prisoner with them. She is still coughing and gasping for breath. She collapses as they push her onto Murtagh's cot. Porthos lands on the floor near her, also coughing and retching. Thorn rises and sniffs, then backs away as far as he can get.

Porthos: Gods and devils, what a horrible stink! Did you ever smell anything so disgusting in your life?

(Murtagh strips off his uniform and tosses it into the fireplace. He kneels by the large bowl of water and sluices his face and arms, then takes a cloth from the saddlebags, wets it in the basin and rubs himself all over. He rubs down with a dry cloth and, taking a clean shirt and leggings from the bags, begins to draw on the leggings and buckle his sword belt. He looks at Porthos and nods towards the basin. )

Murtagh: Help yourself. There's more water in the jugs there if you need it. And here's a shirt you can wear.

P: Are you sure? Well, ah, I do need to clean up.

M: The people here will wash your stuff in the morning. Or we can burn it, and get you some more. So no worries. Unless you have someplace you need to go tonight?

P: No, this is fine. Thanks for bringing me here.

M: You're welcome. You helped me, too. So, thank you as well. (Lights a candle from the still-smouldering fireplace and goes to look at the woman on his cot.)

P: Is... will she be all right?

M: Just fainted, I think. Oh, and that cowering beastie back there is my intrepid dragon, Thorn. He's not usually shy like this. (Indignant snort from Thorn, who stays where he is.) Yes, we know it stinks. You can go out on the roof for some air, but stay close, all right? That's my new friend Porthos over there. I don't know who this is yet. (Turns back to the woman. She is lying face down, her dark , tangled hair splayed over her back. ) Hello? Are you awake?

(Thorn scrabbles up a rough stone ramp to the roof hatch. There is a loud THUD as the heavy hatch closes, and a sudden draft causes the fire to flare up. The woman startles and looks over her shoulder at Murtagh, then turns away.)

Murtagh: Are you injured? Can you sit up? I need to talk with you. (She turns to look at him again and begins to sit up. Murtagh helps her and offers her the water jug.) Here, drink some water first. (She takes the jug and sniffs it, looks up at Murtagh, then drinks.) I'm called Mac. Can you tell me your name? ( She shakes her head. ) How did you get in that place where we found you? ( She shrugs.) That's Porthos over there. ( She nods, not looking up.) Maybe you two know each other?

Porthos: I don't think she can talk. Straw Boss always called her Dummy, except when he called her something worse.

Murtagh: That doesn't sound right. Maybe we could just call you Friend. Is that good enough? ( She nods, looking up at him. A trace of a smile shows that she is toothless in spite of her apparent youth, and her mouth looks oddly hollow. Murtagh draws a quick breath but his face stays calm.) Someone has injured you, not long ago. Will you let me see? ( She opens her mouth, showing that most of her tongue is missing.) I am sorry. (Touches her shoulder.) You are safe now. Get some rest. (She lies down again. Murtagh speaks softly) Slytha!

( A knock sounds at the inner door. Porthos, now wearing Murtagh's long loose shirt, sends him a questioning look. Murtagh nods, rising to his feet and drawing his sword. He moves behind the door. Porthos opens the door and Trianna slides in before they can react.)

Trianna: ( Speaking quickly as she enters) I am sorry to disturb you sir, but there was a loud noise and...

Murtagh: Trianna?

Trianna: Oh, sir. (Whirls towards him and looks him over slowly as he lowers his weapon. She curtsies deeply and speaks with a coy drawl.) It is good to see you again, Murtagh Shur'tugal. I hope you are well?

Murtagh: (sheaths his sword. ) Well enough. And you?What are you doing here?

Trianna: I came because I was anxious about my sister. I have not been able to scry her, but I knew she was in the city, and so when I heard about the troubles here, I came to this house and got the housekeeper to take me on, as a servant I mean. They don't know anything about me here.

Murtagh: You knew I would be here? How?

Trianna: I did nothing wrong, sir. My duties in the Queen's household ...

Murtagh: All right, I understand you were listening. It's no surprise to me, and as long as the Queen approves... but we can talk of that later. This is Porthos. He is helping me here. ( She curtsies) We took this woman from a Ra'zac hatchery tonight. That's where the smell comes from. But she isn't able to tell us anything.

Trianna: ( Moves toward the cot. ) I knew she was close, I could sense her. Rohanna? Wake up, it's me. (To Murtagh) She is in an enchanted sleep. Will you not awaken her?

Murtagh: Not just yet. She doesn't know who I am. I told her I was called Mac. Let's keep it that way for now.

T: Of course sir. I mean, Sir Mac.

M: No more Sir. Just plain Mac. ( She nods. He mutters a word in the Ancient Language) Avakna!

T: Rohanna? It's me. Are you all right? (Rohanna wakes, looks at Trianna and grabs her, hugging her tightly.) I came looking for you. Has someone hurt you? Let me see. (She tilts Rohanna's head back and opens her mouth.) Oh my dear. Who did this to you? (Sits still as if listening.)

M: You can hear her thoughts?

T: Yes, of course. We were very close once. . .

M: I would like to hear her story, but right now, there are some questions I need to ask her about the Ra'zac hatchery where we found her.

T: She will answer me, and I will tell you.

M: Where do the eggs come from?

T: (after a pause) Straw Boss brings them, a few at a time. She doesn't know where he gets them from.

M: What was in the cocoon?

T: (Pause) A full-grown Ra'zac. When one of them matures, it spins a cocoon and after a few weeks, a . . . a Letherblaka comes out.

M: Are there more Letherblaka in Helgrind?

T: Three more. They are not full grown yet. They climb up through a . . . a chimney stair to the top chamber where there is more room. Slaves climb up to bring their food, but do not come back down. She thinks the creatures can't fly or hunt until they grow bigger.

M: All right, that's enough for now. Will you stay here with her until we return?

T: Of course.

M: We may be a few hours. If we're not back by sunset, use the mirrors to scry Nasuada, and let Redbeard know where we went.

T: Sure, Mac. Where are you going?

M: Helgrind. (to Porthos) Are you coming?

P: Uh, sh-sh-sh- sure, Mac. (grabs his mud-caked pants and puts them on.)

M: Here. (Hands him a long hunting knife in a sheath) Do you know how to shoot?

P: N-not very well, I'm afraid. (buckles knife onto his belt)

M: If you need to, it will be at close range. Put these on anyway. (Extends bow and quiver to him and helps him strap them on, then hands Porthos his cloak. He pulls a thick felt tunic over his head, adds his mail shirt and rebuckles his sword belt over all. They pull on their boots and head for the roof hatch. To Trianna) Bolt the doors and let no one in. They have orders not to disturb me in here.

T: I know. Good hunting, Mac. To all of you.

Act Three: Mopping Up

Scene Eight: Helgrind. Early morning. Outdoors. A rough triple peak, hundreds of feet above the plain. Dras Leona is laid out below in the near distance.

Thorn lands within the three peaks. Murtagh dismounts quickly and goes to look over the edge, lying down with Thorn close behind him. Porthos follows more slowly.

Murtagh: Now it gets interesting. Any ideas on getting in there?

Porthos: Sorry, Mac. I was never up here before. That's where we used to bring the offerings. (Points down.) Then we would go back to the city. The next day, they would be gone. The priests said the gods had accepted them.

M: Looks like I'll have to do some scrambling around, see what I can find down there. Ever done any climbing?

P: Oh no sir, I...get dizzy just looking down from here.

M: Best to look up then. You stay here with Thorn. Get back in the saddle and strap in, and both of you keep a lookout. He'll let me know if you spot anything. ( He circles the rough peak, looking for places to descend. Thorn bugles loudly, looking up to the north.) What, already? That was quick.

P: What is it?

M: Could be we do some pack hunting today. This could get fierce!

(Thorn snorts and claws the ground. Murtagh mounts in front of Porthos and Thorn takes off. They circle in the air above the peak, then Thorn wheels and closes with the new arrival, a green dragon carrying two elves on its back. The two dragons circle each other several times and head back towards the peak, but wheel again and bugle together as a large blue dragon is seen in the east, closing rapidly and carrying two humans. More circling and bugling, then all three dragons fly back to Helgrind and each lands on one of the three peaks. The Riders and Angela, all wearing armor, dismount and meet in the center, but Porthos and the second elf stay in their saddles. The dragons rear and spread their wings at each other, roaring loudly and baring claws and teeth to show their eagerness for the hunt.)

M: Well met, all! Welcome to Helgrind. Arya Drottning, Angela, it is good to see you both. Brother, you got here fast! Saphira is quite a flyer!

Eragon: Hey, we couldn't let you have all the glory! Good job with Corrian! I hear they all dropped to their knees the second you appeared.

M: Not much of a fight there. Hardly a shot fired or a drop of blood spilled.

Angela: That is the very best kind of a fight. You won without losing anyone, and turned your enemies into friends.

Arya: It is indeed a victory worthy of much honor.

M: Your praise is most gracious, Arya Drottning, and your aid most welcome here this morning. This fight will be much hotter, I expect. (to all) Our first objective is to close with the enemy, and I hadn't gotten far with that as yet. We know of three Letherblaka within, possibly not full grown, and there may be more. There is a chimney stair, probably an enlarged lava tube, that reaches from the top cavern to a tunnel that leads into Dras Leona. From here, you can see about where it emerges, just outside the walls by that yellowish muddy area, the brickyard. It is underground, but not very deep there, just a few yards down. There is also a cellar there full of men they are using to feed the larvae.

Angela: How charming.

M: (Indicates Porthos) Your friend from the last attack on Dras Leona. He helped me find the tunnel. His name is Porthos.

Eragon: Glad to hear it. (Raises his arm to Porthos and amplifies his voice) Well met again, Porthos! We are in your debt and we will not forget you!

Arya: ( follows his example) Well met indeed, Porthos! May the stars watch over you! (He returns their salutes, looking surprised and awestruck)

Arya: ( continuing in her normal voice) I know the spells that were used to seal the openings in the rock. We can open the main cavern for the dragons, and select a few of the smaller doors to watch for any that try to escape. That still leaves the lava tube and the tunnel opening. Eregon, you are the only one of us who has fought here before. What are your thoughts?

Eragon: I say we seal off that opening into the city before we attack up here. Saphira and Thorn could tear it up outside the walls. How far back should we go to avoid killing the people down there?

Murtagh: Not far. We can sense them when we get close. Not like the Ra'zac and their steeds, who can hide from any magical probe.

Eragon: Right, so you and I will go, and get back here quick as we can.

M: The rest of you can prepare the attack from here. Any questions? Right, lets go!

( Eragon and Murtagh return to their dragons and mount. Porthos stays in Thorn's saddle. Thorn and Saphira take off and circle to the ground. They tear a huge crater in the ground and backfill it, blocking the tunnel. Porthos has managed to string Murtagh's bow and holds it at the ready, arrow on string. He watches the ground but finds no target emerging. The dragons return to the peak and take their places as before. )

M: Ready all?

Angela: Ready aye ready SIR!

Arya, mounted alone on Firnen, begins speaking in the Ancient Language. The three dragons roar, rise and circle towards a large opening that appears in the rock as she speaks. Three young Letherblaka appear in the cavern mouth and emit ear-piercing shrieks, but they are no match for the dragons. Saphira charges in, roaring as Angela springs from her back and sprints to the rear of the cave, her double blade whirling madly. Thorn and Firnen are close behind. Each dragon catches a Letherblaka in its teeth and crunches it in pieces, dropping the severed chunks as the greenish blood spurts everywhere. Arya continues her chanting until all is still. Angela calls from the rear of the cavern, her voice echoing long after she stops,)

Angela: Ahoy down there! Any lurkers below decks? Show yourselves!

Angela: ( continuing) I am she who drove my blade through the heart of your high priest! I will show you how it felt! If you are there, come up or I will come for you!

( Silence. All listen. Then Eragon speaks in the Ancient Language. His words reverberate in the tunnel. They listen again. More silence.)

M: No one spoiling for a fight down there? Not with the mighty warrior who sliced the last of your young apart and burned the last of your unborn steeds to a smoking cinder?

( More silence.)

M: So. We win this one. Unless there are more eggs somewhere...N'shundar.

All: N'shundar!

Porthos: May the gods shelter us all.

The all mount and the dragons circle around the mountain and land. The humans dismount.

Saphira digs the hole in the dirt deeper and wider towards the mountain, while Thorn and the green dragon circle back up to the cavern. They all roar together, the Saphira holds her snout against the tunnel opening nearest the mountain and blue and yellow flames billow around her head. Red and green flames flare from the cavern, and thick heavy smoke rolls down the mountainside.

Scene 9

Dras Leona. Martland's office

Martland, Murtagh, Porthos, Trianna, Rohanna and Angela are gathered around a large table. Maps, sketches, books and scrolls are scattered among them.

Martland: Aye, I know that brickyard, and my men are already out after Straw Boss. Once they bring him in, we'll find out where the rest of those creatures' eggs are kept. I doubt we 'll rest easy in our beds until they are all found and burnt to a cinder.

It sickens me too think o' those old soldiers being fed to such monsters bit by bit. During the war, I hacked a good number of Imperial troops in pieces myself, fighting with the Varden. But that's all in the past now. Since I been Governor here, those men have been my responsibility. I feel I haven't done all I should have for them, and their families, to let such goings-on continue for months on end.

Well, its a new day now. We've been rebuilding the walls and houses right along. Now its time we looked to what's underneath.

You've pushed us off to a good start, Rider Murtagh and friends. Any ideas you have about going on from here, I' m ready to hear 'em.

Trianna: I would like to examine your water supply. Eragon mentioned a faint odor near the public wells, possibly a drug. He remembered it from his time as a prisoner in Gil'ead.

Murtagh: If it's what I think it is, that could account for some of the extreme violence in the streets. Angela?

Angela: Aye, it could indeed. That stuff does not mix well with alcohol, even in small amounts. It also causes violent reactions if it is stopped too abruptly after long use. It has to be tapered off gradually.

M: Martland, I would say that if you can persuade Angela and Trianna to stay here as your guests for awhile, between them they could do a lot to track down these poisons and help you clean them up.

MR: They would be right welcome. I'll make sure they have good rooms here and all they could wish for if they will agree to stay.

M: Well, ladies? Do you need time to consider the Governor's request?

A: It's not a town I could stay in for long, but this could be interesting. If Trianna stays and wants my help, I'll not refuse.

T: I had already decided to stay if the Queen does not object. And Angela, of course your skills would be most valuable here.

M: Right, so you will have two of our strongest spellcasters and healers on your side, Governor. These two could well tip the balance and put Dras Leona on its way to being a fine place to live and a credit to you - and to Nasuada as well. (to Porthos) I think we can leave for Illirea now. Are you ready?

P: M-me, sir? Oh yes sir! Thank you sir!

Act Three

Scene Ten

The Palace in Iliria

The Queen's workroom

Murtagh and Nasuada are standing near her work table. He hands her a scroll, which she enrolls and reads while he is speaking.

Murtagh: So, Trianna will be asking leave to remain in Dras Leona for the present. Angela is staying on to help her.

Nasuada: I am glad they are willing to help Martland. They are both such strong characters; I wonder how they will get along together. And it leaves me again with no one to organize the magicians.

M: I had some ideas about that, if you would like to hear them.

N: Of course. ( They sit.)

M: Something Farica said gave me an idea.

N: Farica? Has she learned magic?

M: No, but she has insight and she knows what happens around her. Those are valuable skills too, especially when combined with a good gossip network. Anyway, she mentioned that the lacemakers had two guilds, one for those who throw lace by hand and one for the magician lacemakers. Now the healers have a sort of secret guild, and there are probably more representing the various types of artisans. They are all more or less secret, to avoid notice from the old Bastard. He did not allow people to unite into groups. He feared that they were all plotting againt him.

So, here's my idea: If we could find a way to contact these groups, we could find out which ones include both magicians and non-magicians. If there are separate guilds for the magic-users, we could send someone to each one and try to interest them in forming a union of the magic-using guilds. This would also be semi-secret at first. Old habits die hard. Over time, as it expands, this group would get some recognition for its work in developing standards for magicians and finding ways to encourage adherence to them.

N: So the magicians would write their own rules and police themselves?

M: That's the idea. We would have to give them some incentives. Some honors, titles, maybe a nice building to meet in. Possibly a school. There should be a way for young people with magical potential to get training. They would learn about ethics and standards of behavior there too.

N: I like that. It will take a long time to get going, though.

M: It will. I think a change this big will have to take some time. If we try to rush it, the support we need to grow it will just go back into hiding.

N: Could you put together some people who might be trustworthy to carry this out?

M: Of course. I will ask around.

End of Act Three

End of Chapter Three.

Chapter Four: Epithalamion

Rated M, or DTHK for Don't Try this at Home, Kids

Scene One

The Palace at Ilirea. Nasuada's Workroom. Late afternoon

Murtagh sits across from Nasuada at her work table. She has an array of scrolls laid out before her, and is holding a small metal pot in one hand. With the other, she is holding a metal seal and trying to keep the scrolls from shifting as she seals them one after the other.

Murtagh: Here let me help you with those. (He gathers the scrolls and lines them up, each partially unrolled so that the mark where the seal goes shows on each one. He holds them in place for her with his right arm. It is a warm day and his sleeves are rolled up.) Now. Is that better?

Nasuada: You are a genius. That is much better. ( She drips purple wax from the pot onto each scroll and begins to press each blob of wax with the seal.) Oh no, this has cooled down again. I need to reheat it. ( She replaces the seal on an ornate metal stand over a small flame. There are other seals in the stand, from fingertip to fist size. )

Murtagh: I can see why the wax must be hot, but why heat the seal?

N: Oh Derrick was explaining it when he delivered all this. The hot seal burns a mark on the parchment that is permanent. Otherwise, the wax could fall off eventually and the seal would be lost.

M: Ah. A lost seal. That would be tragic.

N: It's only necessary for really important documents. These are all the awards of titles and lands we are giving to people who have helped us get things settled here. I seem to remember it was your idea to mark the occasion of our betrothal with something...substantial, that people would remember and celebrate.

M: I did say something like that, didn't I?

N: You did, and you also refused to accept any lands or titles on your own behalf. It's still not too late to change your mind.

M: What would I do with a farm? No, give it to Eragon instead.

N: He says the same as you. Anyway, he and Roran have all the land they need. (Touches the seal again.) Ouch! Well, this is ready now. Shall we try again? ( Murtagh rests his arm along the edge of the last scroll, holding them in place. She resumes pouring the blobs of wax and pressing the seal. Getting distracted, she drops a blob of wax on his bare right arm. He breathes in and looks into her eyes. )

N: Oh! Oh dear, I'm so sorry!

M: Go on. Please.

N: What?

M: The seal burns the mark into the parchment and makes it permanent.

N: I don't understand.

M: Sure you do. This is my honor for the great occasion. I want your seal on my arm, not lands or title. Just this.

N: Murtagh ...

M: I already have the sigils of all thirteen dwarf clans, and am I even a dwarf? No, I am not. I am about to become officially betrothed to you as your future husband and consort. Don't I rate your seal on my arm?

N: I don't want to hurt you, Murtagh!

M: Then don't refuse me this. Please.

N: This is what you truly want? It's not a joke or something?

M: No joke. It's what I truly want.

( She looks into his eyes, then presses the seal onto the wax on his arm. He breathes deeply in and out and blinks once.)

M: Thank you. Now the other. (He lays his left arm beside his right on the desk.) Please, Nasuada.

N: Not again! Isn't once enough?

M: That was my shield arm. Of course my sword arm must have the same. For my honor, and yours.

N: This is too strange. All right, here goes. ( She drops the wax and presses the seal again. Sweat beads on his upper lip and forehead as he looks at her.) How...how does it feel?

M: It feels right. Just so very...right. Thank you, my love.

N: I feel a bit dizzy. Need to lie down. Come with me?

M: Of course. (She leads him to the couch, now placed before the open balcony doors. He sits and leans back as she settles against his chest.)

N: That's better. You are a strange man, Murtagh.

M: I've had a strange life. Full if some very strange and dark experiences that have left their mark on me. And lately, some very wonderful, unbelievably joyful experiences, with you in my life. Is it so very odd to want those to leave their mark on me as well?

N: I suppose that makes sense, in a strange way.

M: You can understand if anyone can. ( Touches her arm. ) Still not wearing your sleeves long, are you?

N: I hope that does not mean you plan to cut off your sleeves too. I want to be the one to admire your muscular forearms, not share the view with the whole world.

M: Then my shirts are best left as they are. I will only roll my sleeves up for you.

N: And Frederic?

M: And Frederic. But his arms are much bigger than mine.

N: Good for him. Let's hope he has many admirers, then.

( They laugh and kiss.)

N: The breeze feels nice.

M: It does. All better now?

N: Mmmm. All better. I don't want to get up. Let's stay here awhile.

M: As long as you like, my love.

There is a knock on the door and Farica enters

F: Oh, I am sorry, My Lady, but there's been an accident and Derrick is at his wits' end.

N: it's all right, Farica. Tell me what's happened. Is anyone hurt?

F: No, as far as I know, there are no injuries. But the whole south causeway is blocked. Some fool of a dung hauler broke a wheel and his whole load overturned. They can't get the cart out of the way, and there's a whole other lot trying to get in with fresh fruit and flowers and all, and in this heat the stink is terrible.

M: (Rising and rolling down his sleeves) I thought I smelled something. (Farica begins fastening his cuffs then holds his jacket for him to put on while he buckles on his sword belt. Thorn appears outside the balcony, looking in.)

N: Well, a mighty dragon and his bold rider are very good to have around when disaster strikes.

M: This should not take long. (Kisses her and goes out to the balcony, mounts Thorn and they take off.)

F: Oh, thank you sir. You'll find Derrick out there.

N: Don't go just yet, Farica. Sit here for a bit. You must be tired.

F: Thank you, My Lady. There has been a lot to do.

N: How are the preparations going? Aside from the late deliveries from the south, that is.

F: All is in place, My Lady. Except Derrick was planning to teach you one more dance this evening. I don't know if he'll be done in time now.

N: I'm sure you know the steps as well as he does. Would you teach me? I don't want to look like a fool tomorrow, stumbling about.

F: Well yes, My Lady, I suppose I could. The musicians are waiting. I'll bring them in and light the candles. (She goes out)

N: ( Goes out onto balcony. The full moon is rising, while sunset light streams in from the west. She watches the fountain below in the garden. Musicians begin playing a lilting waltz.)

N: (sings)

Who else could ever make me feel this way?

Who else could care for me so?

Who could have awakened the love in my heart that is more than I ever thought it could be?

How did he find me? Or was it me? How in all the trouble we've seen

Could we ever possibly have found the love that once was just an impossibly unlikely scene?

Now we're here together and no one it seems

Imagines that here we belong.

But I know we do. He knows it too.

We know that we will go on

Making me feel, knowing he loves, making me feel this way.

F: My Lady?

N: I wish you would call me Nasuada, as you did when we shared a tent, Farica.

F: Nasuada then. I don't mind when it's just us two. But I don't want others to hear and maybe get to act too familiar.

N: All right, when its just us two. And Murtagh. You do like him, don't you, dear?

M: Yes, Nasuada, I truly do. I heard so much against him, at first I was afraid for you. But he is a good man and he loves you. All the rest, the dragon, the stories, his looks, his magic, even his past add up to nothing when a good man loves you. Those other things are like the bits of fruits and nuts and seeds that you add to the loaf before you bake it. It's the loaf itself that matters, and good bread holds up better than fancy iced cake in the long run.

N: (laughs) Yes, our wedding loaf will have some surprises in it, I don't doubt. For him as well as for me. You don't think we're going too fast? I just have wanted so much lately to get on with life, to do those real things, like have a family and build a better world for them to live in.

F: I don't think its too fast. Troubles come along, married or not, and you have to face them as they come. Looking too far ahead is no good. You can prepare for one thing and then something else happens you never thought of.

N: (kisses her) That country dance is one thing that is likely to come along, so let's get started.

(They go in and musicians stop, then start up again with the lilting waltz. Thorn lands in the courtyard. There is a sound of splashing from the fountain. Murtagh appears, shirt off, climbing Thorn's neck with a towel and a clean shirt tied around his neck. His hair is wet. He dries off with the towel, wipes his boots, pulls on the shirt and finger-combs his hair while watching the dance lesson. The balcony door is open and he steps in quickly while Nasuada is concentrating on the dance.

Murtagh: May I?

(Farica steps back with a curtsey and Murtagh guides Nasuada through the dance. Farica has tied a long train around her waist and shown her how to hold it as she dances. As he shows her a turn, it comes loose. He glides with her to the musicians and motions to them to up the tempo. Farica picks up the train and watches as he whirls her through the figures of the dance. Derrick and Porthos appear in the inner door, and Thorn hums along.

(In the fountain, two disks of purple wax rotate.)

End of Act Four

A