There are times when nothing seems to go quite like you thought it would.

Getting to the top of sandstone dome was one of those moments where my patience was sorely tested both with my equine companions and my human ones. The horses at least had an excuse: it was very difficult to climb up the steep side of the stone with steel shoes and four hooves. Only my mare's trust – deserved or not – kept her from planting her front hooves and refusing to go a step further up the rocky face of, I'll be honest, cliff. However, neither Murtagh nor Brom had that excuse. Not only were they less than impressed to find themselves working together but they were, quite clearly, blaming me for it.

Stuff it! Why can't they both just stuff it?! Why can't they just – for once – have a little faith and…

But of course they couldn't and I really couldn't get too angry with them for it. It was Murtagh and it was Brom – two of the most cautious and untrusting people you could find in the whole of this world. They had good reason to be like that, but there was a time when such caution only became a hindrance for people who had to work around said caution. However, I had no choice but to work around it and hope, desperately, that I could somehow negotiate a kind of truce between the two. I do not hold much hope, however, after coming face first with the open hostility that they had for each other and that was before either of them knew who the other was.

After an hour of pushing, cursing, coaxing, stroking and the occasional smack we reached the top of the cave. It was a good hundred feet long and more than twenty feet wide, yet it had a small opening that would protect us from any bad weather or, even worse, prying eyes. The far end was shrouded in darkness; the shadows clung to walls like thick curtains. I studied it with a small sense of relief. Eragon and Saphira were already there, the dragon looking quite pleased with her success in discovering the place.

We had made it this far.

And it is a good idea to be grateful for the small things in life.

"Impressive," said Murtagh looking around while he smoothed the sweaty coat of his dark grey destrier, Tornac. While he was clearly less than amused to be spending time with us, Murtagh was being surprisingly polite and I felt a small well of gratitude grow inside of me. "I'll gather wood for a fire."

Brom looked like he was about to protest but I stepped on his foot.

Hard.

"That sounds excellent," I said before Brom could say anything and I just kept smiling as if that was the best plan in the world.

Murtagh nodded and secured his horse before leaving. I turned to look after my mare and, a brief thirty seconds later, Brom began his tirade. It was tirade directed straight towards me, my decisions and whatever plan was going through my brain because, according to Brom, it was clearly insane. Brom did manage to his voice low enough so that Murtagh could not have heard if he was eavesdropping but he did not manage to hold back any of his verbal punches. Eragon and Saphira, looking rather wary, choose to stay out of it and they kept close to the entrance as if wanting a quick escape in case things got nasty. They might have gotten nasty because, not only was Brom in a foul mood, but I was in an even fouler one.

In a voice that quivered with emotion Brom was really getting on a roll. "What do you think you are doing? How can you trust him? I thought you had some sense in that brain of yours but you are acting like a fool. A fool who blindly puts her trust in the nearest stranger who so happens to have a butcher for a father just because they think that person is..."

Before Brom could go any farther I put a hand across his mouth and met his intense glare with one of my own. I was angry with him. I was angry with the lot of them. I was furious that they had forced me to do what I had had to do because, in the end, I was nothing more than a terrified little coward who didn't know anything about who she was or what she had to do. It felt as if I had done so much to make sure that fate did not play out as it should have and now, just as I questioned my actions, they questioned my judgment.

I was already terribly unsure and frightened of what I had just done to the fabric of the future.

Brom was not making that any easier.

My anger – no – my fury with the changes that had been forced on me suddenly boiled over as I glared into the eyes of Brom. They had not been changes I would have chosen and I felt as if my entire life was speeding forward, so out of my control that, even if I had wanted to, I could not stop it from gathering speed until it careened into disaster. Because – do you know something? – I had done more than I had thought I was ever capable of to make it to this place at this time and in this way.

I had killed.

I had struggled. I had cried. I had slept on the ground and eaten whatever I could find or catch. I had given up on seeing my family again or laughing with one of my friends.

Yes. I had given up on a lot of things and the magnitude of my sacrifices suddenly hit me with the weight of a speeding train that seemed loaded with unfairness and homesickness.

So now I was the foolhardy idiot? I am the errant child who needed to be scolded? I am the one who is doing everything wrong and, because of this, needs an adult to step in and take charge because I am clearly not up to the challenge? I am such a child am I? I know nothing about anything and I am going to get everyone killed or captured?

Is that what you are saying Brom? Is that what I am?

My emotions boiled over as I leaned forward so I could hiss my next words in as venomous a voice as I could summon. I felt the anger building behind my words like the rising power of a wave. I needed to let it all out – to let all of this out – and Brom had merely provided the outlet. He had provided the perfect outlet for my anger, my frustration, my homesickness and my doubt. Because I was filled with doubt and all these ugly emotions that I tried my best to ignore, but I could ignore them any longer.

The man moved back a step, unnerved by the obvious anger I showed. It was first time I had lost control of my temper around any of them. "You listen to me old man. I have killed. I have fought just to make sure you live to see another day. I have given up on ever getting home to my family. Do you know something? You should be dying from a mortal wound as we speak but you are not. Do you know why you are not? I will tell you: because I chanced a gamble with Fate and saved your life. Do you have any idea how hard it has been to choose between potentially destroying the future of this world and saving you? No!

"For once in your life you are going to have to trust me when it comes to Murtagh. You can stop making everything so difficult and find some common ground with him or you and I will have another discussion and you will not come out of it in one piece!"

I did not realize that, as I loosed my tirade at him, I had gripped the front of Brom's clothes and our faces were inches apart. He smelled terrible and I probably didn't smell any better. With a final glare, I let go and whipped around. I reined my temper and settled for glaring at Eragon and Saphira before I marched towards my mare and began to unsaddle her. Brom did not move from where he was standing and his eyes were still wide in surprise and shock.

Good.

I wanted him to be shocked.

The minutes passed in uncomfortable silence until Murtagh reappeared in the mouth of the cave with a stack of wood. I smiled at him and helped him start the fire though, of course, he wasn't sure he liked having me so close and had to do everything one handed because he couldn't take his right hand off his sword hilt. I found it terribly amusing and, when it actually came time to light the little fire, I had to do it because one can't start a fire one handed unless one is a magician.

But then it was time and any levity fled me as I prepared myself for what was to come.

When a small breakfast was cooking on the fire I cleared my throat. Everyone looked at me expectantly and I tried to organize my thoughts. I knew what I had to do and better now than never. The sooner everything was out in the open the better. There were too many things that had gone unspoken for too long and, in such a world, one never knew when the chance to tell them would be destroyed. But I also had secrets that would be exposed in this telling and I wasn't sure how I felt about that either. However, I had landed myself in this mess and it was my responsibility to clear it up.

Facing the quiet, intense stare of son of the Morzan, I began there. "Murtagh…I know that you have been traveling and hunting the Raz'ac just as we have. However, we have more in common than just the same quest." I stopped and continued trying to ignore Brom's angry stare that burned into the back of my head. He had not forgiven me for my angry words and both of us were too stubborn to apologize. Especially as we both believed we were in the right.

Tough luck Brom.

Murtagh was watching me silently. He had removed his hood and I had to admit that he was handsome in a rugged, bad boy sort of way but that was the farthest thing from my mind. There isn't much time to think about how cute a boy is when one is about to drop something as big as I was about to drop.

One last steadying breath before I took the plunge into the cold, dangerous waters of the truth and the past.

I met his eyes and said in as even a voice as I could muster: "Both you and Eragon have the same mother - Selena."

I had been prepared for it. How could I not have been prepared for it after thinking about this moment for weeks and weeks of solitary travel? Eragon and Murtagh began to speak at the same time.

"Just a second..."

"What do you mean..."

"How could..."

I had to grab both their shirts to get them to listen to what I was I trying to say. My headache increased from a dull ache to a throbbing pain behind my eyes. But it was too late to back out now and this had to be finished. "Shut-up you two! Listen!"

They did 'shut-up' but they did so with clear reluctance. Saphria was just listening, a dragon's patience is a wonderful and remarkable thing sometimes. Brom looked like he was planning the flowers he wanted on his coffin.

Another deep breath, a small prayer and then I began to tell the story that I had once read so long ago and in such a different place. I hadn't really cared for it – it had been just another love story and not very original at that. However, when one faces those who were actually involved in the story of Selena and her life…well things change. Things become terribly and tragically real because, suddenly, those ink words you once read on paper become flesh and blood people. And now I was telling a story that should not have been told by me. It should have been told by Selena or by Brom and not by a teenaged girl who could barely cope with the stories she already knew.

I started with Selena's departure with Morzan and then went from there. Breakfast sat untouched as everyone listened to my words in complete silence. Of course, one thing led to another and I had to explain of my own arrival, my journey to Dras'Leona and what should have happened last night. It wasn't easy and there were some things I glossed over because I didn't see the point in retelling them. I tied to answer all of the potential questions I was sure Eragon would have for me before he asked, but many of them could only have been meant for Brom. The old man was the only one who could answer Eragon in full or explain just a few of the motives behind the choices that had led us all to this point. Murtagh, meanwhile, just watched me with an inscrutable expression on his dark face.

Finally I stopped.

Because, finally, the story had been told and now all that remained was the future and that I could not and would not tell.

The sun was high in the sky and I was exhausted as well as starving. My breakfast was unappetizing bit of gruel that looked more like something from my boarding school cafeteria then I was comfortable with. There was a reason I always asked my parents to send me food parcels.

Murtagh was the first to break the long silence. His gaze had moved from me to Eragon whose eyes kept flicking between Brom, me and Murtagh as he digested this new knowledge.

At last, in a voice that was low I had almost didn't catch the words, Murtagh spoke. "This is a lot to take in, but it makes sense."

"Good," I said relieved that at least one person was taking this well or as well as it could be taken. "If you three want to talk I'll be over in that corner catching up on some sleep."

I rose and walked over to the corner farthest from the entrance to the cave. I felt the need to distance myself from them and allow them a chance to discuss matters without my awkward presence. The shadows were thick on this side of the cave and I could feel sleep calling for me. It was hard to find the energy with which to spread my blanket and, once it was open, I practically collapsed on the hard ground as the last of my adrenaline left me. But I could not just sink off to sleep like I would have dearly liked to. Stretching out my mind I murmured, Saphira?

The dragon opened up her mind to me. What is it Zoe?

Will you make sure that those three don't get carried away? I worry that Brom's feelings about Murtagh may cloud his thinking.

The dragon nodded her great head and said, I will watch them. Sleep well Zoe and thank you.

I smiled and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. One part of this journey was over and another, even more important one, just begun. I couldn't help but laugh inwardly as I thought of all that had occurred these past weeks and the things I had been forced to learn. Part of me dearly wanted to shout into the clear morning air: Stuff the consequences, fate and stubborn old men!

But I didn't for that would be tempting fate even more then I already have and, besides, I was already asleep.


He did not know what to make of that girl.

Murtagh son of Morzan did not know what to make of anything anymore. The last few hours had forced him to reconsider everything he had once taken for certain about his family and the people he had always considered to be enemies. It had forced him to reevaluate what he thought he knew about girls.

Brom and Eragon had both fallen asleep. The dragon was on watch, but neither Murtagh nor Saphira spoke or looked at each other. It was a kind of unspoken agreement between them of 'if you don't doing anything then neither will I'. The girl, Zoe, was curled up using her pack for a pillow on the far side of the cavern. Her face and most of her body was concealed by shadows.

Murtagh stared at the shadows that engulfed her as he considered the events of the past twelve hours. He should have tried to sleep but rest would not come to him after all that had been spoken of. Who could have slept after having their world turned upside down by a girl who claimed to be from another world? Who could have found rest when their father's killer was a few short feet away? Not only did Brom of the Varden seem ready to repeat the act and kill me if I so much as lifted a finger against any of them but….

No the list of why he could not sleep went on and on.

With a heavy sigh, Murtagh leaned against the smooth rock of the cavern as he drew his cloak tighter to ward off the faint chill that the stone emitted. His mind, while it could have lingered on many things, returned to the girl, Zoe. As a general rule he tried not to think too much of his father or mother or the reason for his running away from the King. Some things, he had come to learn, where better not thought of. But Zoe was new territory and he couldn't stop himself from wondering about her.

She could have passed as a noble. Her bearing and manner of speech had, at first, marked her as upper class in his eyes and he had been quite ready to find out she was the runaway cousin of such and such a noble or wealthy merchant who he knew from the King's Court. He had thought her just another girl trying to flee an arranged marriage or seeking adventure after reading too many books. However, that story had been effectively quashed and now he found himself struggling to make a decision that, a few hours ago, would have been quite easy for him to make.

Trust the girl or not?

He was Murtagh son of Morzan and trust was not something that came easy to him. There had been his mother and his mentor, Tornac, but they had been exceptions to his general rule of: do not trust. Was Zoe another exception? Could the grey-eyed, fiery tempered girl who not only knew his past but did not condemn him for it – could she be another exception?

He did not know and he was surprised that he was even willing to consider it.

Then there was Eragon. He looked young and inexperienced to Murtagh's eyes, but he seemed willing enough to give him a chance. Was it only because Zoe had made it clear that she expected it of them both? Murtagh wasn't sure how he felt about the Rider or the simple fact that he was not only his half-brother but the reason Selena had died. If she had not been so desperate to save Eragon from the King then she would not have risked the long journey to Carvahall. While Murtagh had been fighting survival among the backstabbing, sweet smiling courtiers, Eragon had grown up in safety with a loving family in a remote and secure valley far from the King.

Murtagh could have come to accept all of that – with enough time such things can be accepted even if they remain rather painful. However, it was something else that made Murtagh dislike the Rider and wish he had never encountered this strange troop.

He had Zar'roc.

Morzan's sword should have gone to his only son, Murtagh. The one thing that the young man had expected to inherit was now hanging at his younger brother's side. The whole situation seemed so brutally unfair that it hurt him just to think about it. But, like many times before, Murtagh had to be the one who overcame the injustices of life and accept it. For what? Because a girl that he didn't know told him he didn't have a choice? That this meeting between him and Eragon had been preordained in another world?

Perhaps he would surprise himself and, perhaps, he would become friends with the Rider and the dragon. Stranger things have happened and, after all, Murtagh had known them for what? A couple of hours in which they had hadn't been present and Murtagh had been concerned for his life because of an old, sword wielding man and furious young woman? Tornac would have wanted him to give it a chance and, while Murtagh didn't think what most people thought of him, he still wanted to make Tornac proud. The man might be dead and he might be dead because of Murtagh, but he had been too big a figure in Murtagh's life to be so causally forgotten.

The young man tapped a finger against the hilt of his sword. The doubts always crept back in but he was too weary to think of them now or the many possibilities that he would still end up back in Uru'baen as the King's ward. He had always wanted to believe that there was more to him then his parentage and the burdens that placed upon him. Perhaps, in the offer extended by Zoe, he could find the life had always eluded him when he lived at Court.

Turning his face to look out the mouth of the cave, Murtagh studied the landscape that spread out before him. The warm light eased a few of his worries and a small, almost unnoticeable, little flare of hope grew within him. He had delusions about Brom but I sensed that he would be willing to agree to a sort of truce if I proved my worth. As for Eragon and the dragon, Saphira, he would see what happened there.

And then there was Zoe. He didn't know what to make of her or the offer of trust – of friendship – she had decided to extend to him without seeming to mind that it could be rejected or that, even more importantly, it should not be offered to someone like him. It was strangely touching that she had offered, however, and spoken to him as if he was an ally and not an enemy. If only because of that courtesy and quiet acceptance, he would consider the offer and words she had spoken.

Well, he would do his best with the cards he was given and hope that, in the end, he didn't destroy everything. The future was, to his eyes at least, clouded and he did not feel the need to search for things that may or may not be there. But for now, with the morning sunlight warm upon his face, he felt more at peace then he had for a long while.


Another chapter for you guys! Let me know what you think of it and check out my changes to the earlier chapters! I am still working on my revisions but its coming. Again - thank you for reading and please review. It really does inspire me to get writing and posting! :)

This is an edited chapter posted on January 6th, 2014.

Note posted on January 6th, 2014: Hay booklover19 I know you are reading this story from the beginning and I love your comments (thank you so much!) but I am going to warn you – this story is in the process of being rewritten even as I am writing the future chapters. And, as you continue, you may notice that some chapters seem more mature and developed then others. Maybe a big difference? Lol These are the chapters that I have adjusted because, as you pointed out, I have grown as a writer and I understand my characters better than I did before as well as the direction I want them to go. I am also better with grammar and not so worried about posting things quickly but more focused on length and content. Once more: thank you for your support and interest in this story! It means a lot that someone would want to go through this story so meticulously and I feel quite honored. I hope you manage to wave through the choppy waters of my attempts at writing a good story. It does get smoother as you go. J I promise it does!