Yayyyyy! Want to know why I say that? Well, now that I have gotten through the rush of Eragon and Murtagh's 'escape' and all that jazz, I can finally focus a bit more on the good ol' mysteries and plots for which I was originally excited in this story. See? Yay!

His and Hers, They and Them

In only a few days, the small party had exited the Hadarac Desert and skirted the Beor Mountains in search of a valley that, according to Arya's short discussion with Eragon, would lead to the entrance of the Varden's hideout. At first, since their run-in with the slavers and Eedom, they had excellent luck outrunning the Urgals. Now, however, as they entered a heavily forested valley that seemed minuscule compared to the sky-touching mountains, their pursuers were dangerously close. All three humans were exhausted beyond belief, having only stopped to water the horses and each traveler trading lead of the steeds while the other two slept in the saddle.

Hoping that the Urgals would miss the little valley and pass them by, they stopped for a moment in a clearing in the midst of the oversized, drooping trees. Having been forced to fly over the crowded foliage, Saphira landed in the small meadow with a look of possible bewilderment. Both Murtagh and Nora looked up at the sheer hillside with significant concern. Though Eragon was obviously relieved, for them, it was the embodiment of the saying, 'out of the frying pan and into the fire'. They felt…trapped.

"The Varden are hidden at the end of the valley," Eragon naively commented. "If we hurry, we might get there before nightfall."

Murtagh grunted uncomfortably, irritable from the hard ride, saying,

"How are Nora and I going to get out of here? I don't see any valleys joining this one, and the Urgals are going to hem us in pretty soon. I need an escape route."

"Don't worry about it," was the impatient response. "This is a long valley; there's sure to be an exit further in. Watch Arya – I'm going to fly with Saphira. We'll meet you up ahead."

"Be careful."

Then, Eragon took off from the clearing, leaving his companions with the senseless elf. Nora glowered with frustration as she followed Murtagh in picking their way back through the close-knit trees. The chaos of running had hardly allowed her to recover from her imprisonment. While Eragon had finally gotten around to healing the rest of her injuries soon after their escape, the trauma of being tortured and barely sleeping for days on end had only been retained with the recent chaos.

She didn't dare perform any but the most basic spells, such as lifting a water skin or starting a fire. Things like scrying and raising water from the earth as Eragon had done in the desert left her hardly able to sit straight (the one time she had tried it, she received quite a reprimand from Murtagh). On top of it all, she was reckless, as proven by her carelessness before and during their journey through the Hadarac, and irritable even in comparison to the boys.

"Who does that boy think he is?" she growled half an octave lower than her normal speaking voice. "I'd say that I'd love to have an opportunity to say 'I told you so'. But he'd probably get himself killed that day. He just…doesn't understand! Murtagh, when he finds out (and he will find out), he won't understand what we've gone through for this freedom. We've looked forward to this for years and this dragon-riding…twit…is turning it into my worst nightmare. I ran away from home to get away from all of this, not get tossed into the eye of it!"

"I know, but he doesn't know yet, Nora."

The girl scoffed. For all of his brooding anger, Murtagh always seemed to suddenly get all cool and collected when she got a little snappy.

"What if we can't get out of this? We'll be trapped into going to the Varden. From my one run-in with their kind, they don't like me on the whole much more than the elves. And with this elf, they'll be ready to hang me before you can say 'sanctuary'. In case you forgot, people like us are not exactly welcome among the ranks of Galbatorix's enemies."

Snarling at the fitful woman draped over Snowfire, Nora gave her twitching leg a smart kick from the saddle. Murtagh shot her a reproachful glance.

"What difference would the elf make?"

"For Arya, it's personal. I just want to be away from all this. I don't want to be involved any more. Maybe we can hide away in some remote village or go beyond the reaches of Alagaesia's map to see what virgin lands lay beyond."

"Me too."

He would have said more, but the sight of giant tracks on the ground sent him into silence as he investigated.

After it got too dark to continue their barrage of rocks onto the Kull Urgals below them, Saphira and Eragon spotted their destination at the end of the valley and landed in a clearing in what they guessed was Murtagh and Nora's path. Seconds later, they came charging out of the trees on foot, driving the horses before them and not slowing upon seeing the dragon and Rider. Eragon leapt off of Saphira, allowing her run to the river for easier passage for her bulk, and matched his friends' pace.

"I saw you dropping rocks with Saphira – ambitious," the other man panted. "Have the Kull stopped or turned back?"

"They're still behind us, but we're almost to the head of the valley. How's Arya?"

"She hasn't died," Murtagh spat, suddenly putting the emotion in his voice on a tight leash. "Is there a valley or gorge ahead that I can leave through?"

Having completely forgotten about that issue, Eragon tried to remember if he had seen a possible escape, but couldn't think of any, so he tried being tactful in his response.

"It's dark, so I might have missed something, but…no."

Swearing with explosive venom, Murtagh screeched to a halt, yanking on the horses' reigns to get them to stop. Nora likewise ceased movement, looking at Eragon as if he had snuck up on her bathing and said 'boo'.

"Are you saying that the only place I can go is to the Varden?"

"Yes, but keep running. The Urgals are almost upon us!"

"No!" the dark man yelled, stabbing an accusing finger in the boy's chest. "I warned you that I wouldn't go to the Varden, but you went ahead and trapped me between a hammer and an anvil! You're the one with the elf's memories. Why didn't you tell me this was a dead end?"

"All I knew was where we had to go, not what lay in between. Don't blame me for choosing to come."

"I'm not going to risk putting myself or Nora in the hands of those people!" Murtagh hissed, gruffly turning away. He was rigid, his shoulders tensed and his hands on his hips. Nora wasn't much better. Having sunk to a crouch upon hearing the news, she bent her head down, gripping her knotted black hair tightly in her fists.

"Why have you stopped?" questioned an alarmed Saphira.

"Don't distract me," the Rider snipped back before saying out loud, "What's your quarrel with the Varden? It can't be so terrible that you must keep it hidden even now. Would you rather fight the Kull than reveal it? How many times will we go through this before you trust me?"

"The Urgals!"

"I know," he growled again. "But we have to resolve this."

"Quickly, quickly."

He wanted to know about both companions, but Eragon decided to try Murtagh first. Besides, he was acting a little more fitful about it than Nora…sort of.

"Murtagh, unless you wish to die, we must go to the Varden. Don't let me walk into their arms without knowing how they will react to you. It's going to be dangerous enough without unnecessary surprises."

At last, Murtagh turned back to face Eragon, his breathing fast and hard like the panting of a cornered wild animal. His breathing slowed only a little when he glanced at Nora, who looked up, mirroring the expression of torture in both his voice and face.

"You have a right to know," he said, slowly and painfully. "I…I am the son of Morzan, first and last of the Forsworn."

At a loss for words, Eragon's mind raged with conflict.

The Forsworn never had any children, least of all Morzan. Morzan! The man who betrayed the Riders to Galbatorix and remained the king's favorite servant for the rest of his life. Could it be true?

Saphira, also in shock at the news, suddenly came crashing through the trees to his side, facing Murtagh with bared teeth. Nora, who had been previously sitting helplessly between them, now bounded up away from Saphira to Murtagh's side, as if she was ready to take on even the dragon in his defense. A cautionary hand went to the sword on her belt.

"Be ready for anything. He may be able to use magic. And Nora could be stronger than we thought," Saphira warned.

"You are his heir?" Eragon asked, instinctively reaching for Zar'roc. Was he really working for the king all this time?

"I didn't choose this!" Murtagh screamed, tearing off his tunic and shirt to bare the tanned, muscular flesh beneath and turning his back to the other boy. "Look!" Eragon uncertainly complied, straining to see his back in the darkness. Sure enough, stretching from his right shoulder to his left hip was a white, knotted scar that spoke of unspeakable torment. With all secrets gone, Murtagh now spoke swiftly. "See that? I was only three when I got it. During one of his many drunken rages, Morzan threw his sword at me as I ran by. My back was laid open by the very sword you now carry – the only thing I expected to receive as inheritance, until Brom stole it from my father's corpse. I was lucky, I suppose – there was a healer nearby who kept me from dying. You must understand, I don't love the Empire or the king. I have no allegiance to them, nor do I mean you harm!"

Letting his guard down a little, Eragon wondered if it was the truth.

"Then your father…was killed by…"

"Yes, Brom," was the answer as Murtagh pulled his shirt on with a resigned air.

"Come, run with me." With Saphira this time running with them, Eragon briefly asked,

"Your tale is hard to believe. How do I know you aren't lying?"

"Why would I lie?"

"You could be–"

Their minute-long batting back and forth led nowhere and he and Saphira were forced to believe that Murtagh was telling the truth. But then there was Nora, trotting on the other side of Morzan's son. He couldn't help himself…

"And, Nora, what are you?" She shot an almost demonic scowl at him in the dim. "Are you Murtagh's sister, his lover, or just a loyal bodyguard?"

She continued looking ahead, giving Tricia's reigns a sharp yank before replying.

"You know nothing, boy. Look through your memories of me and tell me to my face that I'm your enemy. Saphira knows that I will never harm you on my own accord. I swore it to Saphira. Besides, it's probably better if your reaction is as…genuine as possible when I am recognized…for your own sake."

"But…"

"I would not advise continuing that sentence," Murtagh muttered.

The trumpeting of an Urgal horn behind them gave a little more life to their legs.

Saphira, with Arya on her back, was the first to dive into the water that was supposedly the entrance to the Varden domain; then went Murtagh, followed by the horses. Murtagh, after diving in, bobbed up for before disappearing into the roaring falls. Eragon, sheathing Zar'roc, glanced back at Nora with a look of both anticipation and fear before leaping into the froth.

Nora herself held back for a brief moment, looking back at the humungous Urgals charging at her, quickly closing the distance between her and death. But what would she face with the Varden? She valued her life, but she also valued her freedom and the anonymity that had come with her stay in Carvahall. That and her most dreaded way of dying was, of course, drowning. But, if she went in there, once she was recognized…

Praying to whoever might be listening, she sheathed her weapon and dove in. The waterfall pummeled down on her head, driving her to the bottom of the river. Beyond the overpowering drumming of the water, she thought she heard faint yelling even as the air began to escape from her lungs. Thankfully, she hit the gravelly bottom soon enough to kick off and reach the surface. Her lungs screamed for air, but what she found at the surface was almost worse than drowning.

Strong hands pulled her out of the water and dropped the sopping wet girl onto a hard rock surface. She coughed and spluttered, leaning her forehead against the floor. Through her thick mat of draped, dripping hair, she could see a faint blue light…and booted feet.

"None of that!" an oily male's voice hissed. "If you say or do anything I don't tell you to, he will die."

"What do we have here?" an identical voice asked. At the same time, the owner of the boots suddenly grabbed Nora by her hair and forced her to stand.

"Leave her alone!" Murtagh growled from nearby, resulting in the dagger at his throat drawing a few drops of blood.

"We said 'no talking'. Now, everyone inside."

The travelers reluctantly followed their captors inside and through an archway, down a long winding corridor, and into a large stone room big enough for Saphira, whereupon the doors were tightly sealed. There would be no escaping now. Surprisingly, though, their weapons had yet to be taken. The two identical bald men, one of which was still holding cruelly tight to Nora's hair, were probably magicians…and they seemed to think they were pretty good.

"Just give me two seconds and I would…"

"Don't even think about it," Saphira suddenly interrupted.

Nora skeptically rolled her eyes to look at the dragon, her head being restrained by baldy's fist.

"Why not? Can't I fantasize?"

"No."

"There's an injured," Eragon began to explain, but a gesture from the other magician cut him off. He spoke a moment later.

"Do not speak! It must wait until you have been tested." Murtagh was then promptly tossed over to a guard, who also put a blade to his throat. "Remove your weapons and slide them to me." Eragon was allowed to remove Zar'roc and his bow and quiver himself, pushing them in a pile to the warriors; however, Nora and Murtagh had their weapons removed for them. The girl thought she heard a chuckle from the dwarf when one of the guards took an entire minute to find all of the daggers hidden on her person.

At last, Eragon convinced them to take Arya to a healer.

Then, the Twins proceeded to examine the Rider's memories, painful though it was, apparently. Murtagh came next, though he bravely refused to allow the invasion into his mind. Then…

At a signal from the Twins, the guard threw Nora to the ground. Steeling herself and glaring hatefully at the bald men, she rose to her knees and defiantly whipped her hair out of her as yet covered face. The Twins' eyes widened and their lips twitched with distaste. Despite how time and trial had caused her face to thin and her demeanor to become lax, they apparently somehow recognized her, though she did not recall ever seeing them.

Then there was a brief moment when daggers seemed to lash out at her mind. The walls closed in about her and hammers of pain struck at her consciousness. Yet she resisted. Using every bit of strength that she had, she pushed back against the Twins' conjoined efforts to break through her barriers. Despite the mental agony, there was something invigorating about the conflict. She remembered the time she had bested one of the king's greatest magicians and the countless times she had used magic to conceal herself from the eyes of the world. Rather than draining her, she felt the battle renewing her strength. The Twins were evil. They were the reason Murtagh was barely able to stand on his own feet. They were pawns of Galbatorix in the very midst of the clueless Varden.

The Twins were the ones who broke the contact. Nora tried to lash out with her mind – spurs of icy fire – but they hid behind their own safeguards before she had the chance. They staggered backwards, holding each other upright until they recovered, glaring down their sharp noses like vultures. Exhaustion finally overtook the woman and she slumped back down.

With a few quick words to the soldiers, they stormed out.

Collapsing against the wall and joined by Saphira, Eragon looked as if he had been struck by lightening.

"N…Nora," he stuttered after a moment, "…what was that all about? They didn't even bother trying to look at your memories."

Curled up with her forehead pressed against the stone floor, Nora slowly slid back to a kneeling position, leaning her hands on her knees. Her contest of minds seemed to have lasted several minutes, at least…was it really so short that no one even noticed.

"Did you not see?" she asked in surprise, shocked at the shakiness of her own voice.

"See what? They just looked at you for two seconds before their knees got weak. Did something else happen?"

"Psh. More than you know."

Shaking his head, Eragon inquired after Murtagh's impressive hold-out against the Twins, to which he replied by explaining that he had training, then the Rider turned to his dragon's injuries.

"I hope they bring food soon," Murtagh growled, leaning his head back against the wall, feeling rather dazed.

"Why are you here?"

He blinked at Eragon's question.

"What?"

"If you really are Morzan's son, Galbatorix wouldn't let you wander around Alagaesia freely. How is it that you managed to find the Ra'zac by yourself? Why is it I've never heard of any of the Forsworn having children? And what are you doing here?"

The boy's voice eventually had risen to a shout. Murtagh sighed.

"It's a long story."

"We're not going anywhere."

"It's too late to talk."

"There probably won't be time for it tomorrow."

Wrapping his arms around legs, resting his chin on his knees, and slowly rocking back and forth, Murtagh stared at Nora, who was in the same spot as before, laying on side and using her arm as a pillow. The corset-vest she wore drew attention to her delicate hourglass figure and her frizzy wet curls stretching tendrils around her neck and shoulders down to the floor gave her a rather roguish look. He couldn't say it for most women, but she fit the part of the wanderer perfectly.

"It's not a… I don't want to stop…so make yourself comfortable. My story will take a while." Eragon shifted to lean against Saphira, but Nora remained where she was, staring blankly at the wall. How to begin… "As far as I know…I am the only child of the Thirteen Servants, or the Forsworn as they're called. There may be others, for the Thirteen had the skill to hide whatever they wanted, but I doubt it, for reasons I'll explain later.

"My parents met in a small village – I never learned where – while my father was traveling on the king's business. Morzan showed my mother some small kindness, no doubt a ploy to gain her confidence, and when he left, she accompanied him. They traveled together for a time, and as is the nature of these things, she fell deeply in love with him. Morzan was delighted to discover this not only because it gave him numerous opportunities to torment her but also because he recognized the advantage of having a servant who wouldn't betray him.

"Thus, when Morzan returned to Galbatorix's court, my mother became the tool he relied upon most. He used her to carry his secret messages, and he taught her rudimentary magic, which helped her remain undiscovered and, on occasion, extract information from people. He did his best to protect her from the rest of the Thirteen – not out of any feelings for her, but because they would have used her against him, given the chance… For three years things proceeded in this manner, until my mother became pregnant."

There, Murtagh paused, noting Nora's sad reaction. But he continued.

"My father was, if nothing else, a cunning man. He knew that the pregnancy put both him and my mother in danger, not to mention the baby – that is, me. So, in the dead of night, he spirited her away from the palace and took her to his castle. Once there, he laid down powerful spells that prevented anyone from entering his estate except for a few chosen servants. In this way the pregnancy was kept secret from everyone but Galbatorix.

"Galbatorix knew the intimate details of the Thirteen's lives: their plots, their fights – and most importantly – their thoughts. He enjoyed watching them battle each other and often helped one or the other for his own amusement. But for some reason he never revealed my existence.

"I was born in due time and given to a wet nurse so my mother could return to Morzan's side. She had no choice in the matter. Morzan allowed her to visit me every few months, but otherwise we were kept apart. Another three years passed like this, during which time he gave me the…scar on my back. I would have grown to manhood in this fashion if Morzan hadn't been summoned away to hunt for Saphira's egg…"

He finished his tale, explaining how his mother had mysteriously run away for months and died soon after her return; how his father had been killed and he had been brought to the king's palace to grow up; how Galbatorix had sent for him and whispered sweet lies into his ears. He explained the king's dream of bringing the rule of the Riders back into a world of peace and prosperity. He explained how the king had ordered him to slaughter the innocent villagers, how he ran away and fled to an old friend, and how he listened to news of the Empire until tales of the new Rider had reached his ears. But Eragon still didn't understand.

"So why don't you join the Varden? They'll distrust you for a time, but once you prove your loyalty they'll treat you with respect. And aren't they in a sense your allies? They strive to end the king's reign. Isn't that what you want?"

"Must I spell everything out for you? I don't want Galbatorix to learn where I am, which is inevitable if people start saying that I've sided with his enemies, which I've never done. These…rebels are trying not only to overthrow the king but to destroy the Empire…and I don't want that to happen. It would sow mayhem and anarchy. The king is flawed, yes, but the system itself is sound. As for earning the Varden's respect: Ha! Once I am exposed, they'll treat me like a criminal or worse. Not only that, suspicion will fall upon you because we traveled together!"

"It isn't that bad. I'm sure that they won't be -"

He was interrupted as the door was cracked open and there appeared three bowls, a loaf of bread, and a hunk of raw meat.

"Finally!"

As they began eating, Eragon kept glancing at Nora.

"What about you, Nora?"

The girl looked wide-eyed over the spoon in her mouth.

"What about me?" she deadpanned.

"Your story. I've heard Murtagh's. Don't worry about trying to outdo him. This isn't a competition."

She laughed at his dry humor, but said nothing, electing to ignore him, finish her soup, and sleep without another word in the dim light of the cave. Saphira and Eragon fell asleep almost as soon as they were done eating.

Not wanting to even look at Eragon at the moment, Nora moved closer to the wall and lay down with her back turned towards her companions, leaning against her arm again. As she closed her eyes, she felt a hand on her waist. Smiling to herself, she gently grabbed it with her free hand and drew it closer, finally allowing herself to relax.

A figure tore through the torch-lit halls and crashed through a door that looked like all the others – solid, wide black archways. The door closed behind her with a loud crash that bounced off of every corner of that section of the castle, causing several dogs to bark and more than one servant to raise a head from their pillows and grumble about how 'she's at it again'. 'She' was rather surprised that the door hadn't been knocked off its hinges.

The servants knew little of her, despite her eternal presence, though she was infamous for her temper tantrums that shook the flooring and her tendency to haunt the inner depths of the palace. They made her out to be a spoiled child with unnatural powers or maybe she was possessed… They were all false. Others yet pitied her. None had lived her life. Her 'tantrums' had only occurred three times before, though they stuck in everyone's minds. There had been good reasons for those fits of anger and grief. Every time. This time was the most frustrating of all.

Standing in the middle of the richly furnished room with a stiff jaw, the girl's eyes suddenly found the full-length mirror. When they weren't whispering about her horrible anger and terrible sadness, the servants who didn't know her were marveling at her.

Even at fifteen, there she was - her full waist-length hair black as midnight and wild as a stormy ocean – her haunting eyes as gray as snow clouds – her lips delicate and firm – her figure strong, elegant, and tall. Her V-necked gown stiffly hung around her figure in dark red folds. They called her the Storm, the Ice Queen, the Black Stone. Only she knew her true name. It taunted her, ripped at her soul, yanked on the strings of her fate. Everything in her life was tied down and dictated to her. All she wanted was freedom. But, even with this, she was trapped. Especially with this.

This.

This fate.

This curse.

This mystery.

Why such emotion? Who was she to let her emotions take control of her. That's what he wanted. She dishonored the heritage she loved by losing control of herself. With one definitive cry, the damsel ran to the mirror and punched with her bare fist. It shattered deafeningly. She flattered herself by thinking of it as reflecting her life falling apart – her self-pity falling away.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Nora…Nora, please let me in."

With a wave of her hand, the door opened, admitting a dark young man in black leather. Only a few months older than Nora, he was her best friend and now…

"Nora, what did you do?" he growled grabbing her bloody fist and a dragging her to the adjacent washroom to clean the cuts with a towel.

Sitting on the edge of the large tub, Nora tried in vain to yank her hand away from the handsome boy.

"Leave it to bleed. I at least feel alive."

"Nora, why did you do that?" Murtagh sighed, dabbing gently at the slices and looking for slivers of glass.

"I wanted to see that I was an independent human being still and not some lifeless puppet."

Silently, he found a strip of white cloth and wrapped her hand.

"I know." Sadly, they walked back into the room to the large window. The moon seemed to light up the countryside beyond the horrors of Uru'baen. "We have a choice to make. Do you we bother resisting Galbatorix's wishes?"

"What choice do we have?"

"To run or resign."

A determined spark of anger flickered in Nora's eyes.

"He forces me to choose between my two greatest wishes."

"I'm flattered."

"Don't even, Murtagh. We have to run – now, before this goes any farther."

"How are planning on getting yourself out of here?"

"Myself? We are both going, my friend. I'll not leave you to the king's wrath alone."

"We can't both get out. One, yes, but two people…one of us die in the attempt and I don't want to risk it."

"No, Murtagh! I won't leave you."

"I'll follow you when I can. You can enchant a bird with your magic and I can send it out when I leave. We can choose a place to meet." She crossed her arms, knowing that it was the only way but not wanting to believe it. Several minutes went by with nothing said. "If you don't want to submit to the king, then this is the only way."

"He will still have a leash on us. Thanks to his cunning, whatever makes us happy will make him happy. That's the last thing I want."

"What if he does think of you as more than just a pawn?"

"That's like considering that Morzan thought of your mother as more than a pawn – and I know you're not ready to consider that." Another pause. "How long?"

"At least a year before their suspicions are low enough for me to get away safely."

"We might as well both try right now."

"No, Lenora. We both want freedom from this; this is the only way. Just think: once we're back together, we can get a look at what's beyond those maps we're always studying."

"Dras Leona – they wouldn't suspect us to meet up somewhere so obvious. I'll see you in a year. Let's get to planning."

Almost three years later, having settle in Carvahall, Nora surprised herself by dreaming of the elf Arya being ambushed by Urgals during her journey with the blue dragon egg. Tired of waiting for Murtagh's signal, she resolved to seek out the site of her dream. The night Brom had visited, she had scryed Murtagh, only to find a hard-to-interpret blur of him riding…somewhere.

After using her dreams as a map and trying to save the stubborn elf, she had followed rumors of strange travelers from one city to another in search of Murtagh. Scrying was of no use. She saw him, but not his surroundings, for some reason. Despairing of all other possibilities, she went to their agreed meeting place: Dras Leona. Fascinated and horrified by the great black cathedral, she had investigated the place through the back door, not wanting to attract attraction by entering from the front. That was where she found Eragon, cornered like a rat.

She didn't meet Murtagh again until Gil'ead.