Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon or related characters.
A.N. Don't worry too much if Murtagh's eyes are popping out a little bit, I just squeezed him a little too tightly. If any else wants to hug him, they're going to need to push his eyes back in when they're done.
Chapter 9
For a long while, Eragon was aware only of the burning in his side. Each breath was painful. It felt as though he had been stabbed. His sense of time was skewed; it was hard to tell if weeks had gone by, or only a few minutes. When consciousness finally came to him, he opened his eyes and peered curiously at a campfire several feet away. His hands were still tied together, but the drug must have worn off because he could think clearly again. Saphira, are you injured?
No but the rest of you are. She was crouched over Eragon, wings spread protectively on either side, covering Brom who lay next to him in their shadow, Bree a short distance away.
Saphira, you didn't make that fire, did you? And you couldn't have gotten out of those chains by yourself.
No.
I didn't think so. Eragon struggled to his knees and saw a young man sitting on the far side of the fire.
The stranger, dressed in battered clothes, exuded a calm, assured air. In his hands was a bow, at his side a long hand-and-half sword. A white horn with silver fittings lay in his lap, and the hilt of a dagger protruded from his boot. His serious face and fierce eyes were framed by locks of brown hair. He appeared to be a few years older than Eragon and perhaps an inch or two taller; closer in age to Bree, though a head taller at least. Behind him a grey war-horse was picketed. The stranger watched Saphira warily.
"Who are you?" asked Eragon, taking a shallow breath.
The man's hands tightened on his bow. "Murtagh." His voice was low and controlled, but curiously emotional.
Eragon pulled his hands underneath his legs so they were in front of him. He clenched his teeth as his side flared with pain. "Why did you help us?"
"You aren't the only enemies the Ra'zac have. I was tracking them."
"You know who they are?"
"Yes."
Eragon concentrated on the ropes that bound his wrists and reached for the magic. He hesitated, aware of Murtagh's eyes on him, then decided it didn't matter. "Jierda!" he grunted. The ropes snapped of his wrists. He rubbed his hands to get the blood flowing.
Murtagh sucked in his breath. Eragon braced himself and tried to stand, but his ribs seared with agony. He fell back, gasping between clenched teeth. Murtagh tried to come to his aid, but Saphira stopped him with a growl. "I would have helped you earlier, but your dragon wouldn't let me near you. I had thought the girl was, since it was her I saw use magic, but as soon as I'd gotten the chains off the dragon rushed to stand over you."
"Her name's Saphira," said Eragon tightly. Now let him by! I can't do this alone. Besides, he saved our lives. Saphira growled again, but folded her wings and backed away. Murtagh eyed her flatly as he stepped forward.
He grasped Eragon's arm, gently pulling him to his feet. Eragon yelped and would have fallen without support. They went to the fire, Eragon sitting down again while Murtagh went to look Brom over. "How is she?" asked Eragon. Bree was lying on a blanket by the fire; a strip of cloth was wrapped around her throat, blood staining the surface.
"She'll be fine, just a shallow cut. I've put a dressing over it to keep it clean, there wasn't much blood. I think she exhausted herself using that magic. You're lucky, that dagger would have gone straight to his chest. He'll be fine to, I think." He stood and moved to kneel by Bree, checking the makeshift bandage. "He got a nasty blow to the head. We'll just have to wait until they wake up." Tucking the cloth back around her neck, Murtagh stood and moved to sit by Eragon. "Now we'd better see how much damage the Ra'zac did to you." He helped Eragon to remove his shirt, then whistled. "Ouch!"
"Ouch," agreed Eragon weakly, looking down at his left side. A blotchy bruise extended down his side from just under his arm to where his ribs ended. The red, swollen skin was broken in several places. Murtagh put a hand on the bruise and pressed lightly. Eragon yelled, and Saphira growled a warning.
Murtagh glanced at Saphira as he grabbed a blanket. "I think you have some broken ribs. It's hard to tell, but at least two, maybe more. You're lucky you're not coughing up blood." He tore the blanket into strips and bound Eragon's chest.
Eragon slipped the shirt back on. "Yes…I'm lucky." He took a shallow breath, sidled over to Bree, with trembling fingers he undid the bandage and looked at a line running across part of her neck; the wound short, thin and not too deep. As he had learned when Garrow was injured, a wound inflicted by the Ra'zac was slow to heal. He hoped this wouldn't be the same. One of the most important things he had learnt about Bree over the last weeks was that if she was in pain, even from a splinter, you needed to keep out of her way. If the wound didn't heal quickly, she'd be the one taking revenge on the Ra'zac. And they'd go down; just as he did the day he was naïve enough to comment on her mood, mentioning it must be that time of the month. Even Brom had winced at the glare Eragon received before she lay into him with the sticks they'd started their sparring with while they taught her basics. He'd found himself on the ground, the end of the stick uncomfortably close to some vital parts, hearing her icily remark, "Now say that again." He'd muttered sorry several times before she stepped back and she'd stomped off to sit under a tree, happy again a half an hour later.
He peeled off his gloves while furiously searching his mind for the healing words Brom had taught them. Help me, Saphira, he implored. I am too weak to do this alone.
Saphira crouched next to him, fixing her eyes on Bree. I am here, Eragon. As her mind joined his, new strength infused his body. Eragon drew on their combined power and focused it on the words. His hand trembled as he held it over the wound. "Waíse heill!" he said. His palm glowed and the skin on Bree's neck pulled together, as though it had never been broken. Murtagh watched the entire process.
It was over quickly. As the light vanished, Eragon sat, feeling sick. We've never done that before, he said.
Saphira nodded. Together we can cast spells that are beyond either of us.
Murtagh examined Bree's neck and asked, "Is she completely healed?" Eragon nodded. "Will you be able to heal yourself? You look tired."
"I can only mend what is on the surface. I don't know enough to fix whatever's damaged inside. I've done all I can for a while; my bruise will have to wait until I've rested and until after I've healed Brom." Eragon closed his eyes for a moment, utterly weary. "My…my head seems to be floating in clouds.
"You took quiet a blow to the head yourself and you probably need to eat," said Murtagh. "I'll make soup."
While Murtagh fixed the meal, Eragon painfully edged his way over to Brom. There was indeed a large lump on the side of Brom's head, a graze at the top with a little dried blood. Eragon sighed in relief; Brom's breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. He glanced toward the fire and wondered who this stranger was. His sword and bow were of the finest make, as was his horn. Either he was a thief or accustomed to money – and lots of it. He almost laughed, had Brom not thought the same about Bree when they first met?" He glanced toward the fire again, noticing Murtagh had taken his sword with him and it now rested on the ground by his feet, within easy reaching distance. Why was he hunting the Ra'zac? What have they done to make him an enemy? I wonder if he works for the Varden.
Murtagh handed him a bowl of broth. Eragon spooned it down and asked, "How long has it been since the Ra'zac fled?"
"A few hours."
"We have to go before they return with reinforcements."
"You might be able to travel," said Murtagh, then gestured at Eragon's ribs. "It will be very painful."
Eragon nodded, "We don't have much of a choice though."
Murtagh agreed. "They will need to be strapped to their horses though." He looked between Brom then over to Bree. She had begun to stir.
"No one is strapping me to anything!" she snapped, struggling to a sitting position. Eragon grimaced, yep; she was in pain, definitely in pain. He should have healed Brom first, at least then she'd still be unconscious. Her glare travelled from him to Murtagh. "You," she hissed, pointing at Murtagh. "Come here so I can hit you. What took you so bloody long?" Eragon sighed, oh good, he thought. It's not me she was mad at.
Murtagh hesitated, glancing in confusion at Eragon who just shrugged, mouthing "best to get it over with quickly." Cautiously, he approached the seated girl, offering his hand to help her to feet. She took it, nodding in thanks before promptly elbowing him in stomach. She staggered over to their bags, heaving hers onto the back of Maybell's saddle, tying them down.
"I'm not doing these all by myself, you know." She looked pointedly at Eragon, who just smiled apologetically raising the edge of his shirt so she could see the bruise, hearing her gasp.
"Oh no! Eragon, are you okay?" She rushed over to kneel beside him, pressing gently at the sight of the bruise. Eragon hissed in pain, but whereas she had growled in warning at Murtagh, Saphira said nothing to her, only moving in to take a closer look herself. Bree fussed over him for a minute longer, interrupted when he mentioned that had best continue on. She nodded and stood, swiftly sitting back down again as her head began to spin in dizzying circles.
Eragon hoisted himself painfully to feet, then limped painfully over to Snowfire, leading him around to stand next to Brom. Murtagh helped him to lift Brom's sagging body and secure him to Snowfire's saddle. "I never thought I would see a sight like that," Murtagh said, an odd note to his voice. The girl's robe was tied at the waist and was fitted to where all her curves were visible. He had noticed when she'd glared at him that her eyes were blue, not just any blue, but a stormy grey-blue; shining with intensity, whether in anger or exhaustion he did not know. Her hair had started to come loose from its tie and framed her face in wispy, brown curls.
Eragon made a shushing gesture. "Don't let her hear you say stuff like that, she's cranky when she's sore."
Murtagh inclined his head in acknowledgement as the girl in question got to feet and came to stand by them, Leading Maybell and Cadoc, who were had all of trio's packs dispersed between their two saddles.
Eragon agonizingly pulled himself onto Cadoc's saddle. "Thanks for helping us. You should leave now. Ride as far away from us as you can. You'll be in danger if the Empire finds you with us. We can't protect you, and I wouldn't see harm to you on our account."
"A pretty speech," said Murtagh, grinding out the fire, "but where will you go? Is there a place nearby that you can rest in safety?"
"No," admitted Eragon.
Murtagh's eyes glinted as he fingered the hilt of his sword. "In that case, I think I'll accompany you until you're out of danger. I've no better place to be. Besides, if I stay with you, I might get another chance at the Ra'zac sooner than if I were on my own. Interesting things are bound to happen around a Rider, and someone needs to be here to protect her until you fight again."
Bree had been listening to their conversation, head moving from side to side as though she were watching a game of tennis, one eyebrow arched in amusement. "Of course you're coming with us." she smiled at him, all signs of her earlier annoyance gone. "Now hop on your pony and let's go." Murtagh didn't look too pleased at having the giant warhorse called a pony, but he complied, fetching the horse from where he was picketed by the boulders. "There are some caves ahead that we can lay low in for a little, at least long enough to have a rest." She mounted Maybell and reached to take Snowfire's reigns from Eragon, ignoring his protests. "You're having enough trouble holding onto Cadoc's. Now, if you don't shush you'll find yourself riding Saphira, wrapped in a blanket like an invalid. Do you want that?"
"Saphira wouldn't-"
"Saphira agrees with me." She turned to the dragon. "Don't you Saphira." She nodded, fixing Eragon with her large, dark eyes.
Behave, or I'll put you on my back myself. Smelly horses. I don't really understand why you insist on riding them all the time, she snorted in disgust, Cadoc skipping to the side as smoke issuing from her nostrils blew across his face. See, unreliable things.
"How far are these caves?" asked Eragon in defeat.
"I'm not sure but Saphira should be able to see them from the air, they're made of sandstone," she added for the last for Saphira's benefit, looking at the dragon who nodded, opening her wings and leaping aloft.
"Shall we then," Murtagh asked.
Eragon wavered, unsure if he should accept help from a complete stranger. Yet he was unpleasantly aware that he was too weak to force the issue either way. Bree seems to trust him, and she acts as though she expected him to be here. If Murtagh proves untrustworthy, Saphira can always chase him away.
"Join us if you wish." He shrugged.
Murtagh nodded and mounted the grey warhorse. Eragon tried to reach for Snowfire's reigns again, but Bree pulled them back out his reach, poking her tongue out at him as she did and looking pointedly at Saphira. Eragon sighed and turned Cadoc away from the camp, into the wilderness. An oxbow moon provided wane light now that the storm and its clouds had passed, but he knew that it would only make it easier for the Ra'zac to track them.
"Which way," he asked, turning to look at Bree, wincing as the movement pulled at his side.
"Don't know; I'm following you."
"I thought you said there were caves nearby?"
Bree shrugged, saying, "There are. I'm not sure which way though, last time you just sort of headed in the right direction. Saphira found the caves as she was flying."
"Oh, this is one of your book things isn't it?" she nodded. "Alright, which way is Dras-Leona.?" Bree pointed one way and Murtagh another. Looking where Murtagh pointed, Bree changed her mind and moved her arm that way as well.
She shrugged, asking, "What?" when they both looked at her. "Honestly Eragon, you know I couldn't navigate my way out of a paper bag."
"So we'll head this way then." Eragon turned Cadoc towards the direction opposite that of the Dras-Leona and the Ra'zac's lair.
During the ride, though Eragon wanted to question Murtagh further, he kept silent, conserving his energy for riding, and for healing himself and Brom when they reached the caves and stopped. Near dawn Saphira said, I have found those caves, they are about two miles ahead of where you are.
They found her sitting at the base of a broad sandstone formation that curved out of the ground like a giant hill. Its sides were poked with caves of varying sizes. Similar domes were scattered across the land. Saphira looked pleased with herself. I found a cave that can't be seen from the ground. It's large enough for all of us, and then begrudgingly added, even the horses. Follow me. She turned and climbed up the sandstone, her sharp claws digging into the rock. The horses had difficulty, as their shod hooves could not grip the sandstone. They had to pull and shove the animals for almost an hour before they managed to reach the cave. Brom nearly sliding off at several points as they struggled up the path.
The cavern was a good hundred feet long and more than twenty feet wide, yet it had a small opening that would protect them from bad weather and prying eyes. Darkness had swallowed the far end, clinging to the walls like mats of soft black wool.
"Impressive," said Murtagh as he and Bree carefully slid Brom from the saddle, Bree's legs buckling under the old man's weight. Once Brom was safely situated on the ground, Murtagh stood and brushed his hands on his tunic. "I'll gather wood for a fire." Eragon hurried to Brom, clasping his limp hand anxiously and watching his craggy face.
"He'll be fine Eragon, you'll see. It's just a little bump." Bree gave him an encouraging smile as she pulled him over to their supplies, setting him to pulling out what they'd need for dinner while she unrolled their blankets, spreading one over Brom. Despite her words, Bree was worried, she was a modern girl after all, and she knew the kind of damage that could result from such an injury.
They worked in silence for a minute before Eragon broke it by asking softly, "Is Murtagh alright? He won't murder us in our sleep?"
Bree laughed and smiled reassuringly at him, "No, of course he won't."
"Alright," Eragon was still wary but said, "I trust you." There was another moment of silence. "He was there before, wasn't he? In your books."
Bree frowned, "Yes he was. But as that Ra'zac put its dagger at Brom's throat, I was so scared he wouldn't be, that maybe something we'd done, something I'd done, had changed things."
"Was that why you asked me to stall? I hadn't a clue what you wanted me do, my thoughts were so fuzzy."
"I know what you mean; it took me ages to find your thoughts after the Ra'zac had poured that stuff down my throat. You're lucky you were unconscious; it tasted awful and burnt my throat on the way down." They stopped their conversation as Murtagh re-entered the cave, arms loaded down with wood.
Bree left Eragon sitting by Brom and went to Murtagh light the fire he had built, whispering "Brisingr" to the wood, watching as small yellow flames started to dance through the pile.
They ate quietly, and then tried to give Brom water, but the old man would not drink. Stymied, they lay down on their bedrolls and slept, each with a sword by their side and Saphira guarding the entrance to the cave.
A.N. Okay, so Brom is still alive, though not quite kicking at the moment. He's just suffered a blow to the temple region, so he needs a longer nap then Eragon, who was really just dazed by his bump to the head, and Bree, who'd gone too far using magic and passed out for a minute or two.
