A/N: It suddenly occured to me that after this chapter, there's only one more chapter left.

I would like to thank Happygirl122 for putting the idea of writing this in my head. Cuz the story probably would have ended pretty blandly without it.

I hope it doesn't disappoint. Enjoy. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.


CHAPTER TEN

Like any other battle, it was a horrific scene. The noises of swords clashing, of men screaming, of battering rams and machines of war all echoed in the night. Smoke filled the air from the fires that he and Thorn had started, filling the darkness with an eerie light. All around him, he felt the people dying, felt their conscious minds slipping away. He tried to ignore them, tried not to feel their pain as they passed. Many of them he had killed himself, and even though he knew this was necessary, it still hurt.

He had done this before. He had learned it was necessary to kill early on in life. There were times he never felt remorse, instances when he even found taking a life exhilarating. When he and Thorn first tested their new power in battle, he had thrown aside all his inhibitions, and the conscience in the back of his mind telling him what he was doing: slaughtering his friends, the people he had once fought alongside. He found his power overwhelming, and he enjoyed it, especially as he killed.

He had no choice in the matter. Why then should he be reluctant? Why should he apologize for a life that wasn't his choosing? Why should he apologize because Galbatorix wanted them all dead? Why should he apologize because the Varden had made the choice to stand against him? Why should he apologize for everyone else's choices?

Even now, as he surveyed the carnage, he wondered why he should feel sorry. Why should he feel pain for those who had chosen to die here?

He pulled his eyes from the battlefield below, looking to the golden spectacle in the sky.

When he had been told a dragon was coming to the battle, he expected to find Eragon and Saphira. He hadn't expected another dragon and rider, and when he did see them, he was overwhelmed with fear and anger.

His anger outweighed his fear, and he and Thorn now raced to face their unknown adversary.


Lightning split the sky as the red dragon leveled out, facing the other rider. He opened his jaws, his loud battle cry shaking the earth beneath them, challenging the other dragon. Murtagh held Zar'roc firmly in his hand, looking through the hazy atmosphere as the golden dragon drew closer. He returned Thorn's challenging cry, his formidable wings spread far as he raced toward them. Murtagh took a moment to examine him more closely, and noted the missing leg.

His attention went to the rider on his back - the obvious elf. Murtagh faced him directly, using his anger to cloud his conscience as both dragons met in the sky, colliding violently. The wards that surrounded Thorn repelled the larger dragon's attacks, and in turn, wards blocked Thorn's strikes as well. Murtagh felt the attacks eating away at his supply of magic, but it wasn't enough to worry him. He had only one thing on his mind, as he lifted his sword high and struck at the elf, taking opportunity as they were close enough.

The other rider deflected his his blow easily, his foreign eyes meeting his briefly. Murtagh felt the press of his consciousness against his own, and kept his barriers strong. He kept his concentration firmly on the battle as both dragons attacked again, claws and fangs grappling for one another.

After a moment of unsuccessful attacks, both dragons drew apart. Thorn put some distance between them, circling in the sky, keeping his gaze locked on their adversary. The gold dragon took a moment to regain his composure, before he attacked again. Thorn swerved out of the way of his larger body, weaving his way around to attack him from the side. In the wave of the motion, Murtagh took another strike at the rider. Their blades rebounded off one another, sparks flying. The dragons howled as they continued to strike, wearing down their respective wards. Murtagh knew they wouldn't last forever, and that was when the battle would truly begin.

The golden dragon drew away, flying several meters higher, circling in the sky as he sought to get an advantage over them. Thorn was quick to follow him, his smaller body having maneuverability and speed where the elder dragon did not. His jaws snapped as he reached for the gold dragon's throat, missing him by hairsbreadth as the other pulled away. The dragon's large legs came up to slam Thorn from underneath. He and Murtagh were thrown back a distance, tumbling in the air before Thorn steadied himself.

He leveled just as the other dragon came at him again, his body slamming against Thorn's. Once again, Murtagh was close enough to the rider to exchange blows. He threw all of his strength into his attacks, trying in vain to best the elf. The both of them lurched and swayed as the dragons scuffled, turning over in the air as both fought for dominance.

Lightning flashed again, illuminating them momentarily.

Both forces drew apart, circling each other in the air, going higher, drawing further away from Gil`ead below. The city was nothing more than a burning spectacle in the distance, the noises of its battle lost to them.

The gold dragon opened his powerful jaws, fire from within illuminating the air between them. A torrent of fire streamed at them, bombarding their wards before Thorn had a chance to evade it. Murtagh shielded his eyes from the intensity of the light, staying alert for the dragon's next attack. The stream of fire ended a second before the dragon attacked them from beneath. Once again, Thorn latched onto him.

Murtagh swung powerfully at the elf, watching Zar'roc rebound off his gold blade. The feeling of his consciousness was increasing, and Murtagh knew there was no way he could counter it. Overwhelming a human was one thing; he had never battled an elf before. He didn't think he could break his resolve, or take control of his mind, even if he wanted to. He suddenly realized that no matter how powerful he and Thorn were, this elf and his ancient dragon were still greater. He hadn't been able to defeat Eragon in their last encounter, and he wasn't even an elf.

He realized that he and Thorn might not win this battle, and he knew what that would be mean for them.

Thorn's painful shriek pulled him from his fearful thoughts. The other dragon had broken through his wards, his large ivory claws digging into Thorn's side. Blood fell from the gashes, but Thorn continued to fight. He attacked the other dragon's underside, his feet breaking through his scales, drawing blood. The next cry was not Thorn's. The red dragon pushed his advance, sinking his teeth into the top of the other dragon's left wing.

The dragon pushed Thorn off, and they separated for a minute. Murtagh took the respite to heal Thorn's injuries, as he knew the other rider would do for his dragon. As soon as Thorn's pain receded, he zoomed toward his adversary again. He slammed harshly into his left side, where he did not have the leg to defend himself. The force of the strike sent them plummeting toward the ground as the two of them battle ferociously.

The gold dragon clawed and kicked at Thorn relentlessly, but the young dragon held on. He clawed the gold dragon along his ribs and underside, tearing at his scales. The gold dragon cried out in pain, before he struck Thorn with his tail, driving one of its long spikes into his thigh. It was Thorn's turn to scream.

The dragon drew back, a fire igniting in his jaws once again. Thorn had no time or chance to escape it, and was engulfed in the searing flames. Murtagh felt the heat of the blast, even though Thorn's body protected him from it. He felt the dragon's pain as his own, screaming for his companion to pull away.

The other dragon ceased the flames just as they pulled apart, breaking away from their descent to the ground. Thorn straightened himself in the air, and Murtagh tried to grasp the severity of all his injuries. But Thorn ignored his own pain, looking only to the other dragon, intent on defeating him. Before Murtagh had a chance to heal his wounds, he charged the other dragon again.

Murtagh felt the first droplets of water hit his face as the dragons clashed. He fought the other rider, struggling as the elf moved quickly and skillfully, besting him where few others ever could. The two dragons continued to tear into one another, continued to rend flesh and draw blood.

As quickly as they met, both pairs parted again. Thorn flew higher into the sky, into the rain pouring down on them. Murtagh took the opportunity to heal a few of Thorn's more serious injuries, and to also replenish himself with some power from the Eldunari. He felt himself tiring, not physically, but from the mental strain this battle took. He knew they couldn't last forever. They needed to find a way to end this.

"Fly higher!" he shouted over the wind.

Thorn did as he said, flapping his wings to carry them into the clouds. They gained considerable height over their opponent.

"Higher!"

He watched them through the haze as Thorn circled above, looking for a spot to attack and catch them off guard. He knew they were looking for them. Thorn had to move quickly.

He tucked his wings in and angled downward, cutting through the sky and toward the other dragon for a final confrontation. Murtagh knew they wouldn't last far past that. If they didn't end it now, the golden dragon would.

Thorn slammed into the dragon's right side, sending them tumbling. Thorn continued to batter him, even as the other dragon wrapped his legs around him. He pressed him against his larger body, attempting to crush him in his mighty hold. Realizing what he was doing, Thorn tried to pull his way out. But the other dragon was stronger, and held him down. The young dragon cried in pain, clawing at the other's chest in a vain attempt to break free. His howl reached a new intensity as the gold dragon's teeth sank into his hind leg.

Murtagh was barely able to focus on his companion. He was too busy defending himself against the other rider's attacks. He wanted nothing more than to end Thorn's pain, to break him out of the other dragon's hold. He knew the other dragon was intent on killing him, just as the elf would not hesitate to drive his golden blade through his heart.

His frustration over the battle, and the anger that had continued to escalate from the beginning suddenly overwhelmed him. "Curse you for not showing yourself sooner!" he shouted at the elf, at his stoic, confident expression. "Curse you! You could have helped us! You could have-"

Murtagh froze, his voice stopping abruptly. Fear and panic overwhelmed him as he felt something break through his mind - an invading, violating presence. It drove away his thoughts, took the control from him, caused the world around him to black out for a second. He was hardly aware that everything was spinning around him, and the sky was growing close and closer.

His panic turned to revulsion as he realized what this was, and recognized the familiarity of the presence within - the iron chain that held his soul. Galbatorix.

Murtagh felt himself moving, found his lips forming words though his voice was not speaking. He couldn't comprehend what was being said, but he faced the elf and watched him in his anger and defiance. He saw the city of Gil`ead below them, and felt the pain in his lungs as he struggled to breathe the thin air. But he could do nothing about it.

He feared for Thorn, and knew he must be terrified, for Galbatorix's presence invaded them both, held them both captive and controlled their every move.

He heard Thorn scream in agony, and felt his pain as his own as the gold dragon continued to hold him, sinking his fangs deeper into his flesh. Murtagh longed to pull away, to comfort and heal him.

He heard the anger in Galbatorix's voice, felt it within his invaded mind. His muscles clenched as Galbatorix worked them, like a puppeteer pulling his strings. He felt the anger drive his actions, as he lifted his sword, dealing blows with the elf once again. His body moved like it never had before, with a skill and technique that was not his own. He watched in fear and anticipation as the elf defended himself.

Somewhere inside, Murtagh was almost hoping the elf would win. Galbatorix deserved at least one defeat, even if that defeat meant their death.

His hope vanished as he watched the elf convulse unexpectedly and unprovoked. The gold dragon suddenly released Thorn's leg and desperately tried to push him away. But they were caught in Galbatorix's web, and could move no more than Thorn and himself. Murtagh watched in horror as Galbatorix swung Zar'roc through him. The red blade smashed against the rider's gold sword, knocking it from his weakened grasp. It went tumbling to the ground below, leaving him defenseless.

The gold dragon's howls of fear and anger filled the night, mixed with Thorn's cries as he tried to push him away.

Zar'roc was a flash of crimson in the night sky, as Murtagh's hand sliced the blade across the elf's back, from shoulder to hip.

For an instant, Murtagh felt the scar on his back sting.

A blast of magic from the other dragon sent him and Thorn tumbling, breaking the web Galbatoix used to hold them in place. The dragon barreled away from them, flying with all the speed he had toward Gil`ead. Through Murtagh's eyes, Galbatorix watched them with sick satisfaction.

A warm tear ran down Murtagh's cheek, lost in the rain that drenched him.

The dragon howled like he had never heard before, his cry full of both rage and grief. He turned abruptly from the city, his focus only on the two of them. He flew back at them with double the speed, and Thorn dove to meet him. Murtagh was a spectator, as the two dragons came within reach of each other. Thorn dove to the side unexpectedly, attempting to flank him. The gold dragon was faster than him still, his powerful jaws catching Thorn by the tail.

His closest friend cried out in agony as the bone and flesh was torn from his body, blood raining from the half of his tail that was left. Murtagh shook inside from his pain, and would have screamed if the ability wasn't denied him. Even Thorn could not take the moment to process his pain. He attacked before the other dragon had time enough to face him. His sharp white fangs flashed in the darkness as they clenched around the dragon's skull, sinking into the back of his neck. With a quick, wrenching motion, he extinguished the dragon's life.

Thorn detached his teeth from the dragon's flesh, his howl once again filling the air - a keen of anger, pain, and grief. Murtagh was suddenly aware that Galbatorix's hold from him was gone, and in his disorientation and pain, Thorn started falling, plummeting to the ground without direction.

For the moment, Murtagh didn't care. His gazed was fixed on the falling dragon, and the lifeless elf that was still strapped to his saddle.

Half way down, Thorn regained his senses. The dragon leveled out, descending to the ground with more control, though his flight was still shaky. The other dragon crashed into the ground loudly, spewing up dirt and debris as he landed a distance away from the city.

In a matter of minutes, Thorn landed, crashing to the ground in an uncoordinated heap. Murtagh thrashed around, and Zar'roc fell from his gasp from the jar of the landing. He quickly fumbled with the straps that held him to the saddle, and slid from the dragon's back, crashing beside him.

Thorn's cries continued to fill the night. A puddle of blood was quickly forming beneath them. Beyond everything else in his mind, Murtagh knew he had to heal him.

He was stopped before he could start, the invading presence once again in his mind, tearing through his thoughts and desires. Bring me his heart of hearts, Galbatorix commanded simply, yet sternly.

Murtagh stared at his wounded friend longingly, aching inside with his agony, knowing what he endured now that their minds were linked again. Clenching his jaw, and closing his eyes, he turned from Thorn and inevitably faced the dead dragon. When he opened them again, he saw the creature's broken body, and the elf who had been thrown from his saddle upon impact. He tried to ignore him, tried to disconnect and drive all thoughts from his mind as he retrieved Zar'roc.

His dragged his feet through the hard dirt, his sword's blood-covered tip dragging after him. He stood before the dragon's massive bulk, gazing at his torn flesh, trying not to associate him with his own crying dragon.

He had his orders, no matter how much he wanted to - and one day prayed he would - defy them.

Murtagh drove Zar'roc through the dragon's body, his arms shaking as he did so, his eyes taking in the gruesome sight. Clenching his muscles, bearing through it, he tore through large body, looking for the Heart of Hearts. It was not there.

Thorn continued to howl behind him.

He stepped back, gasping. He stared at his work, at the body of the dragon he had mutilated further than necessary - at the blood that drenched the ground beneath his feet. It covered his sword and his hands. Zar'roc slid from his grasp, crashing to the rain-soaked earth. He gasped again as Galbatorix withdrew from him entirely, leaving him alone. He continued to step away from the dead dragon, but he could not pull his eyes away.

He back stepped all the way to Thorn, drawing on the power of his Eldunari. "Waise heill," he uttered. He felt the power flowing through him, and finally turned his eyes back to his companion. He watched the flesh around his tail meld together, stopping the flow of the blood. He stared in horror at the incompleteness of his work, at the half of Thorn's that was still missing. His dragon looked at him with fearful eyes.

Murtagh sunk to his knees beside him. His tears fell silently as he looked to the city, and the battle that was still raging - a battle he knew they were bound to lose.


A/N: Please review and tell me what you think. :)