Thanks to my thirteen reviewers! The most I've had for one chapter! You guys are AWESOME!! I really hope you enjoy this chapter. It was a lot fun to write. :)

Disclaimer: See Prologue

Chapter Nine

Noon was fast approaching the two travelers as they trudged through the soft sand of the Hadarac Desert. They barely spoke two words to each other since leaving the campsite a mere half an hour ago – until an angry growl filled the silence. Murtagh glanced at Nurélia with an eyebrow raised.

"Was that your stomach?" he asked.

"I told you I was growing hungry," she replied simply.

"If you were as persistent as your dragon, I'm sure your stomach would have no reason to growl by now." She smiled.

"Perhaps, but I would prefer something that wasn't breathing before I eat it."

Murtagh seemed to be in thought as they walked further on. She glanced at him curiously but didn't have to wait too long to hear what he was thinking.

"May I ask you some questions?" he asked.

"You may ask, but whether or not they receive an answer is entirely dependent on the question," she answered teasingly and with a smile.

"Oh, well, that's not fair," he said, returning her playful smile. "I answered all of your questions."

"True, but I suppose mine didn't require a difficult answer."

"Perhaps mine don't either."

She laughed softly. "All right, ask away." Murtagh looked pensive, as though trying to figure out which question he'd like to ask her first.

"Well, I know that human Riders develop elven features after a time, but you couldn't have been a Rider long enough for those changes to take affect so significantly, could you?"

"I'm not entirely sure how long one must be a Rider for those changes to occur, but I suppose they wouldn't affect me too much." Murtagh gave her a confused look. She realized the vagueness of her answer and laughed. "I'm part elf," she explained. Murtagh nodded in understanding. "I'm only a quarter, though. You see, my grandmother is an elf, while my grandfather was human."

"So your parents are . . . ?"

"My mother's human; my father's half and half."

"Oh, I see. Do you have any siblings?"

She looked at him, a hint of suspicion in her eyes. "Why are you so interested in my family?"

Murtagh shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I'm just curious."

Nurélia gave him another suspicious look before saying, "I'm an only child. My mother wasn't able to have children for awhile, and then I was born. After me, she couldn't conceive anymore. Do you have any siblings?" she shot back. His expression was hard to read.

"One. A younger brother," he replied.

"How old is he?"

"Sixteen?"

"Was that an answer or a question?" she asked, laughing. He didn't say, and she let it pass. "Did you have anymore questions for me?" He thought for a moment, his face appearing grateful for her overlooking his lack of a response.

"Only one more – for now. How did Blaze's egg turn up in your possession? Galbatorix and the Forsworn could save only three eggs, and they're all accounted for. Plus, none of them were the color of fire." Nurélia tightened her jaw at his statement of Galbatorix 'saving' three eggs, as though he was some kind of hero. She waited for almost a minute for her temper to subside before answering.

"Blaze's dam gave the egg to my grandmother, who was told that the dragon would hatch for one of her descendants. I just happened to be that descendant," she said. Then she looked around the desert frenetically. Murtagh looked, too, just not with as much enthusiasm.

"What are we looking for?" he asked. Nurélia avoided his gaze.

"I don't know where we are."

"Oh. Well, that's easy. We're in the Hadarac," he said simply. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Cute."

"I thought so."

Ignoring him, she thought to Blaze, I need you to guide me. I've lost my way.

You and your sense of direction, he replied. She smiled, knowing that Blaze had a photographic memory, so when he flew, he memorized the land.

That's why I have you.

I don't even know where you are.

"Nurélia," Murtagh called. Still ignoring him, she closed her eyes and focused all of her attention on Blaze.

Look through my eyes, she told him. She felt Blaze enter her body and opened her eyes so he could look through them. Murtagh seemed a little taken aback, but as before, she ignored him as Blaze and she looked around.

You were heading too far North, he said. Weren't you guiding yourself with the sun?

The sun was what got me lost. It's in the middle of the sky; I can't tell what direction it's moving toward.

Just head this way for about a half a mile, and then head east for another three miles.

Right, like I know how long a half of a mile feels, let alone three. Blaze sighed heavily.

Why do you always have to make directions so difficult?

What are you complaining about? It's not as though you have something else you could be doing. Could you please just help me out right now? she asked impatiently.

Okay, I'll stay with you until you reach the half mile, and then I'll point you east.

Thank you; that's all I ask, she replied and then turned to Murtagh, who was sulking from being ignored for so long. "Follow us," she said to him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Us? You mean" – recognition flashed in his expression – "Blaze is in you? Right now? I knew that it was possible for a Rider to enter his or her dragon, but I didn't think it was possible for a dragon to enter his or her Rider."

"We've practiced this a thousand times," Blaze explained to him through Nurélia's mouth. Her voice sounded deep and raspy, yet still her voice. Murtagh seemed surprised for a moment but covered it quickly. "Plus," Blaze continued, "Nurélia has more magic in her body than you do, as she is part elf. I'm not even sure if it's possible for a human Rider."

"Okay, that was a little weird," he said. "Did you know that your eyes turned gray earlier and then just then when, I'm assuming, Blaze spoke?"

"They did?" Nurélia asked, amazed. "Neat!"

"Yeah, well, it's a little disturbing." Nurélia smirked.

"Are you scared of little ol' me?" she asked, her eyes dancing.

"No," he scoffed. "I never said I was scared."

"Really? Because it sounded like it to me."

"Me, too," Blaze said through her. Murtagh grimaced slightly. Both Nurélia and Blaze laughed, which sounded very awkward as Nurélia's voice swayed between her normal laugh and the one affected by Blaze. Murtagh shuddered.

"All right, let's just keep moving," he said quickly and walked on. After a half mile, Blaze told Nurélia which direction east was and left her body.

"He's gone," she told Murtagh, smiling to herself. He kept silent. After a few minutes or so, he said in a firm voice, "I wasn't scared."

"I know. You're fun to tease, though," she said.

They walked on for what felt like ages to Nurélia since Murtagh wouldn't talk to her to make the time pass by quicker. Then all of the sudden, she felt her foot catch on something, making her fall flat on her face. Murtagh's laughter was heard as she spit sand out of her mouth.

"Ow," she moaned and picked herself up off the ground. She wiped her face and dusted off the sand from her front.

"Do you trip over your own feet often?" he asked, his voice humorous. She glared at him.

"I didn't trip over my own feet!" she said, irritated. "There was something in the sand!" And with that she marched over to the place she fell, searching for whatever tripped her. Murtagh's face was skeptical but his expression merged into surprise when she pulled a strange looking piece of leather out of the sand. Nurélia recognized it at once. She smiled at him.

"I just found Blaze's saddle."

… … … … …

Back at the campsite, they both sat around the fire with their dragons close by. Nurélia made a vegetable stew, while Murtagh roasted some meat over the fire to put in his. While they were eating, Murtagh looked up from his bowl.

"I still can't believe you have never even held a sword." Nurélia shrugged her shoulders.

"My grandmother didn't approve of physical fighting. She taught me ways of defending myself with spells instead of actual weapons. She always said that waving metal sticks around wouldn't help me if I were in any real danger." Murtagh sat aghast.

"Does she know anything about the world today?" he asked. Nurélia looked at him.

"She lived through the Fall of the Riders. What makes you think that she doesn't know what she's talking about?" Murtagh brushed the question aside.

"Even so, every Rider ever known has known how to fight with a sword. They all had blades the color of their dragons." His face was pensive. "I'm going to teach you how to fight."

"What?" she asked, taken aback. "Why? I just told you of a couple reasons why I never learned, and now you feel like you need to teach me?"

"Look, Nurélia, I understand that your grandmother has witnessed some tough times; I mean, she's an elf. She saw the fall of their city, Ilirea, the Fall of the Riders, and Galbatorix's claim to the throne, but for a Rider to survive in the world today, she needs to learn how to wield a sword."

"Says you," she replied. Murtagh sighed heavily.

"It's getting late. We'll talk more about this tomorrow." He doused the fire and set up his sleeping roll. Nurélia shook her head and turned to Blaze, who was watching their entire conversation.

I don't care what he says, she told Blaze. I'm not fighting him. She unrolled her blanket by Blaze's underbelly. He brought his wing over her. Hey! You can move your wings now.

Yes. I still can't stand, though.

I'll figure out a way to free you, Blaze. I promise, she said with a yawn. She fell asleep to his deep humming.

... ... ... ... ...

The next morning, she awoke to find Thorn and Murtagh gone. Do you know where they went, Blaze? she asked him.

All they said was that they would be back soon.

How long ago was that?

About a half an hour.

So the question is: How long is soon? The words were barely said when Thorn landed. Murtagh dismounted holding two wooden swords. Nurélia rolled her eyes.

"I saw that," he said. "And I know you're probably thinking that swordsmanship is a waste of time, but you never know; you may actually enjoy it."

"Really?" she scoffed.

"Yes. Here," he said, handing her one of the swords.

"Where did you get these anyway?"

"Thorn and I were searching the desert for them. We found one right away, but the second one took some time. That's what took us so long," he replied. Nurélia narrowed her eyes at him while he gave her a playful grin.

"Funny," she said unenthusiastically. Murtagh's eyes danced.

"We flew to a place where we knew some trees grew and shaped them by magic out of one."

"Now, how hard was that to explain?"

"It wasn't as much fun, though." He spun his wooden sword once by his side. "Now, come on. Get in a stance that feels comfortable to you," he said while taking a stance of his own. She stood where she was. Murtagh charged her, bringing his sword up to hit her. She blocked him, though, and made for his side. He parried her blow, but then had to turn around to block another toward his opposite leg. Her sword kept advancing with incredible speed to where Murtagh could only do enough to block her. He was pushed more and more backward until he realized that she was almost ten feet away, yet her sword was still advancing on him. He was so focused on the sword that he didn't notice she wasn't even holding it. A broad grin spread across her face. The sword, however, wasn't through with him yet and made for his side once again. Unfortunately, Murtagh wasn't paying much attention to the sword, which struck him rather viciously on his hip. He shouted out in pain, making Nurélia release the magic on the sword. It dropped lifelessly to the ground. She rushed over to him.

"Oh! Murtagh, I'm so sorry! Let me heal you."

"No," he said shortly. "That's all right; you've done enough." She suppressed a smile.

"I told you that I didn't want to learn, and this is one of the reasons why." He looked at her, rubbing the place where the sword hit him.

"I wouldn't have gotten hurt if you would have fought me instead of your enchanted sword."

"How are you so sure of that? My grandmother told me that even the least experienced elf is vastly better than a human."

"Maybe so, but you're only part," he said, grimacing in pain.

"Are you sure you don't want me to heal that?" she asked gently.

"I'll do it," he replied, muttering the words to heal himself.

"Why didn't you just stop the sword with magic if you couldn't block it with your sword?" she asked.

"I was a little distracted at the time since realizing that no one was attached to a sword I was fighting with. I didn't have much time to think, much less shout out a spell." Nurélia smiled mischievously. He grabbed his sword and picked up hers, handing it to her. "Here; we'll try this again - but this time, no magic."

"No, I don't think so."

"You'll have to fight me sooner or later."

"Then I choose later," she replied simply. "You were right about one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"I did enjoy it."

"Yeah," he scoffed. "I'm sure it was a lot of fun for you, watching me struggle with a possessed sword." She laughed and went to check on Blaze, leaving Murtagh to stare after her in frustration.

They ate lunch in silence, though Nurélia noticed Murtagh's pensive expression throughout the meal. She stared at him curiously.

"What are you thinking about?" she finally asked. He glanced up.

"Hmm?" he replied clearly distracted. She smiled and repeated her question. "Oh, I was just thinking . . . have you ever tried to free your dragon? You're obviously skilled enough in magic to at least try."

"No, I haven't actually. Do you think I should?" she asked, pondering the possibility.

"It's worth a shot."

What do you think, Blaze? she asked him.

I wouldn't mind not having to sit here any longer, and if there is a possibility of that changing sooner than expected, then I say go for it.

Nurélia gathered her magic and cautiously poked and pried her way into the spell. She made sure to be extra careful as a spell could backfire and she most certainly didn't want that. She searched for what felt like hours, but couldn't find a weakness in the spell. Finally, she gave up. Her eyes were sympathetic toward her dragon.

I'm sorry, Blaze.

"Do you think we could break it with two Riders?" Murtagh asked. Nurélia shrugged her shoulders.

"I suppose there's no harm in trying." Nurélia reached for her magic, searching again for what seemed to be an impossible spell to break. She was about to give up when she found a tiny hole in the spell. She worked at the hole, making it bigger and bigger to where she felt the spell weaken and then give way altogether.

Blaze roared enthusiastically as he was finally free of his spell. He soared up in the air, twisting and looping. Then, he and Thorn told their Riders that they were going to find food. Nurélia smiled at her dragon.

Always thinking about your stomach, aren't you? He blew smoke out of his nose and took off. She laughed to herself. Their dragons were gone for quite a while. Darkness soon enveloped their camp and there was still no sign of them. Nurélia wasn't worried, though. She and Murtagh sat around the fire, watching the flames lick the firewood as a child would with a stick of candy. A cool wind breezed through the campsite, making her shiver slightly.

Murtagh must have noticed, because he said, "Are you cold? You're sitting next to a fire."

"I'm facing the fire, yet my back is exposed to the wind. It gets a little chilly every now and then."

"Oh." Murtagh rose and began to shift through Thorn's saddlebags. He extracted a blanket and put it over Nurélia's shoulders. "There," he said softly in her ear. She looked up at him, smiling, their faces only inches apart.

"Thanks," she said in the same tone. He returned her smile, but then cleared his throat and stepped away from her.

"So, uh, what about your language?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, you couldn't have only spoken in this language back home, could you?"

Finally realizing what he meant, she replied, "My grandmother taught me the Ancient Language so I could learn magic, but before her, I did have another language, yes."

"Say something in it," Murtagh said, sitting down beside her.

"Why? You wouldn't be able to understand it."

"I know. I just wanted to hear what it sounded like."

"What shall I say?"

He shrugged his shoulders saying, "Whatever comes to you."

Nurélia thought for a moment. With Murtagh completely oblivious to what she was about to say, she smiled to herself and said, "I ekíl nidneps emít tiw uöy."

"That sounds really neat," he replied, his expression passive. "So, what did you say?"

"Well," she said still smiling. "I said that – you know, it was so much easier when I knew you wouldn't understand me." This made Murtagh much more eager to know what she said, which showed through in his voice when he repeated his question. She smiled shyly. "I said… that I like spending time with you."

"Yeah, me too. I mean, with you; I like spending time with you, too." Her smile broadened. Murtagh then looked at her, uncertainty in his expression. She frowned a little, unsure of the look Murtagh now had.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking at him curiously.

"I, uh, have to tell you something . . . but I'm afraid of what will happen if I do." She gazed into his eyes, searching for some kind of a clue. He looked away before she could get one.

"What is it?" she asked gently. There was a long pause where they both anxiously sat beside one another, though both had a different reason for being so nervous.

Murtagh finally spoke; his tone was insistent. "You have to understand that before you, Galbatorix had a massive influence over Thorn's and my perception of the world and how we thought."

"What are you saying?" she asked, her voice sounding worried. Murtagh hesitated, staring into the fire. She began to rise, but he grabbed her arm gently, his eyes pleading for her not to leave. She sat back down.

Blaze and Thorn appeared out of the dark sky; their eyes filled with confusion at the tense situation. Neither Rider looked at the dragons. Then, Murtagh spoke.

"Thorn and I were sent to capture you and your dragon to bring you two to the King of Alagaësia," he said in a feeble tone. A horrified expression replaced the apprehensive one upon Nurélia's face. She stood up, looking down at him.

"It was you then," she said unemotionally. "How did you lie to me in the Ancient Language?" Murtagh then stood, gazing into her eyes as though trying to make her understand.

"When I told you of the man who attacked you, I really believed he was another person, not who I really am. But the person who was with you for the past two days, was the real me. It must be that I'm too far away from Galbatorix; I don't know, but for some reason he doesn't affect me out here."

He reached out to her, but she evaded his touch and took a step backward. She looked at him, her eyes full of hurt and anger. "How can I believe anything you say?" she whispered. She turned from him and mounted Blaze. Murtagh appeared at her feet.

"Nurélia, wait! Please!" he pleaded. She looked away from him and shook her head.

Your legs are going to acquire some very nasty wounds riding me like this, Blaze warned.

I don't care. Just get me away from him.

Blaze spread his enormous wings, and with one single leap, they were high in the air.

This is my longest chapter so far. I hope you enjoyed it! Well, I mean, except for maybe the end. That's a little shakey. Also, I apologize for taking so long to update. School's been hectic.

For my anonymous reviewers:

luva: Thanks again! But for a really creative story, you should read Naïve Awareness by alsdssg. It's long, but worth it. :)

BlindSeer: That's all right. Thanks for reviewing anyway! I like Blaze, too. He's one of my favorite characters. :)

Super-hero Fan: Thanks for your review! I think you might enjoy this chapter. I think it pretty much answered most, if not all, of your questions. :)

FireDancer: Thanks for reviewing!

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