Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon or related characters.

A.N. Sorry this one took so long, I was hit with inspiration and I just had to write it all down. You'll all be happy to know that I've written three future chapters. Distant future, I'll admit, but they are written.

Make sure you guys read the Author's Note 2 from the last chapter. It's just to clear up a bit of confusion a few of were having.


Chapter 12

"I'm bored," Bree stated, standing up. They had stopped for the night in sheltered hollow in the ground. A small fire had been built and the horses had been picketed where there was sufficient grass. "Someone spar with me."

"Not me," said Eragon, raising his hands and indicating his still bandaged ribs.

She looked at Brom, who shook his head. "Perhaps our young friend would assent; I would very much like to see how well he can defend himself. I will try and heal Eragon's ribs while you fight."

Bree turned her gaze to Murtagh who was adjusting the feathers on some of his arrows. He looked doubtful. "I wouldn't wish to hurt you," he said.

Bree's put her hands on her hips, heatedly tapping her foot. "Are you saying I can't defend myself?" Eragon looked up and made a cutting gesture across his throat, indicating Murtagh shouldn't answer. "Well?"

Murtagh looked between her and Eragon, unsure of what to say. "It's just that you're a girl, and sword fighting is dangerous. It takes a lot of practice to be able to defend yourself from an attack." He looked to Brom, "Why would you encourage such a thing?"

Brom just shrugged his shoulders, helping Eragon to remove his shirt. "She needed to know how to defend herself if she was going to be travelling with us." He smiled mischievously. "She might just surprise you. The swords are dulled with magic; just watch your knees, she'll go for them first."

"Hey! That's not fair. You can't tell him what I'm going to do." She exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips in indignation.

"Alright then, if you're sure the blades will not be sharp."

"Great!" said Bree, back to her good mood. "Just hand your sword to Eragon to fix and come fight me," she said, running her fingers down the blade of her sword, using magic to remove the keen edges.

They circled each other slowly, Bree knew what to expect when she fought Brom or Eragon; where their weaknesses were, what moves they were likely to make, what moves they had the most trouble blocking and those they could block easily so weren't worth her time and effort. After a few minutes Eragon called exasperatedly, "Just get on with it will you, you're starting to make me feel dizzy, circling around like a pair of vultures."

Bree didn't take her eyes from Murtagh's as she answered. "I'm fighting you next, so just watch what you say." Eragon laughed. Murtagh made to attack while she was distracted. She easily blocked his first blow, angered at how weak it was. "If you're going to fight me do it properly. This is practice for the real thing, it isn't a game." She backed this up with a determined swipe at his knees, almost knocking his feet from under him.

"I warned you," Brom remarked calmly as he unwrapped the bandage from around Eragon's ribs. Murtagh just huffed as he rubbed the side of his leg where the sword had struck.

The fight increased in severity from there, Murtagh's strikes becoming faster and harder with each blow Bree managed to block. After another minute or two, he managed to knock the sword from her hands by putting pressure close to the hilt of her sword, then turning his until her grip loosened.

"Well done," he remarked. "I'm surprised that you are so good. Most girls I know wouldn't even have been able to tell one end of a sword from the other, let alone lift it. I apologise for implying that you couldn't defend yourself."

"What did you think we did before you came along; sit around the fire and catch up on our needlepointing?"

"Okay, I'm next," said Eragon as he stood and cautiously stretched his arms over his head. "Thankyou Brom, it feels much better."

"Just try not to get hurt again in the next day or two." He leaned back against one of their bags to relax while he watched them spar, smiling fondly at Eragon.

Eragon drew Zar'roc from its sheath. Since the Ra'zac had caught them in the cathedral, he had taken to wearing it at all times. He had not carried Zar'roc nor used it in combat, except when he and Brom sparred, because he had not wanted people to see it. It didn't concern him anymore. The Ra'zac had seemed surprised and frightened by the sword; that was more than enough reason for him to wear it. "Who's first?" he asked, looking to where the two fighters had collapsed by the fire while they waited for him to dull his sword.

Murtagh looked up and was about to offer to go first, but stopped on seeing Eragon's sword. His eyes narrowed. "That sword. May I see it?" he asked, getting to feet.

Eragon hesitated, reluctant to relinquish the weapon for even a moment, then nodded. Murtagh examined the symbol on the blade intently. His face darkened. "Where did you get this?"

"Brom gave it to me. Why?" The others had now stood as well and were looking on in concern.

Murtagh shoved the sword back and crossed his arms angrily. He was breathing hard. "That sword," he said with emotion, "was once as well-known as its owner. The last Rider to carry it was Morzan; a brutal, savage man. I thought you were an enemy of the Empire, yet here I find you bearing one of the Foresworn's bloody swords!"

Eragon stared at Zar'roc in shock, then looked questioningly to Brom. He realised that Brom must have taken it from Morzan after they fought in Gil'ead. "You never told me where it came from."

"He never told you?" asked Murtagh, a note of disbelief in his voice. "I can't think of any reason for you to have concealed it."

Bree stepped between them then, taking a hand of each boy in her own and pulling them gently towards the fire. "I was going to give you until after dinner, but now seems as good a time as any. Brom, you'll need to hear this too so come sit down." She looked around their small group, motioning to Saphira that she could come closer if she wished. "Does anyone to say anything before I start?" They all avoided looking at her. "Very well, Murtagh is the son of Morzan."

"What?" asked Eragon, his head snapping up look at their newest companion. "Is that how you knew about Zar'roc?" Murtagh nodded.

"I assume the sword brought up some memories, he'd rather have left forgotten," said Bree. "He was not raised with Morzan or his mother but in a separate location. Morzan feared what the other Rider's might do if they found he had a son, not out of love, but because they might one day use the boy against him. Morzan threw the sword at him when he was about three years old and he still has the scar.

Murtagh's mother spent the majority of her time with Morzan, but I'll get back to her later." She shot a look of warning to Brom. "His mother had disappeared for a few months and died shortly after returning. She had been ill. Then Morzan was killed by Brom and Murtagh was taken to the king's palace in Urủ'baen to live and continue his studies. I'm not entirely sure of what happened then but he fled not too long ago and now he's here with us."

"How do you know all of this?" Murtagh questioned, avoiding her gaze.

"I'll explain later, but there's more you all need to know first." She took a quick drink from one of the wineskins, handing it to Brom when she was done. "Remember when I said Murtagh's mother had disappeared for a few months?" They all nodded. "She was pregnant and didn't want another child of hers to be subjected to Morzan and his unpredictable rages."

"She could not have been pregnant; Morzan would have known and would not have let here leave so easily." Murtagh interrupted, but Bree was watching Brom's face. His expression was set and she knew he was aware of what was coming.

"She was. Brom knows it too."

"How would Brom know?" asked Eragon, perplexed.

"Because he was the one that had gotten her pregnant, then he stole Saphira's egg and had to flee to the Varden. I think she had already died when he found out, I can't quite remember the details anymore. That's when he left for Carvahall, a sleepy little village in the middle of the spine."

"Sounds like a good place to hide out," said Murtagh. "I doubt the Empire would look for such a man as you in a place like that."

"What do you mean?" asked Eragon.

Bree looked to see if Brom would tell them, when he didn't move she said instead. "Brom was once a Rider. His dragon was also called Saphira." Saphira lifted her head.

I was aware he was a Rider but I had not known his dragon's name.

And you didn't tell me? Why?

He asked me not to, she said simply.

I would have never suspected that he was a Rider. Brom! He really is an old man, as old as the Foresworn. Everything he has taught us about magic he must have learnt from the Riders themselves. He spoke Saphira's next thought aloud. "Saphira wants to know what happened to your dragon."

When Brom again made no move to answer, instead continuing to examine his hands and shake his head, Bree spoke. "Morzan killed her. Brom got his revenge, killing him with his own sword; with Zar'roc. But, as Morzan drew his last breath so did his dragon. For a while Brom thought that Shruikan was the last dragon and then he discovered the existence of the three eggs. Galbatorix kept much from even his faithful Foresworn."

"You were one of the Foresworn?" asked Eragon, after a brief pause. "So that's why you hid in Carvahall; to escape those in the cities that might recognise you?"

"Brom, you need to tell this bit." Bree sat back, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Brom sighed, his hand going to forehead, after a moment he pulled at his beard, then looked carefully at Eragon. "I was there to watch over my son, if only from a distance." His smile was sad but there was a fondness in his eyes as he looked over Eragon. "You grew up to be a magnificent young man and I am very proud of you."

Eragon just sat there, frozen in shock, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Finally Murtagh spoke, "But that would make my mother…his." He was looking intently at Eragon.

"I didn't find out until after I'd come to know about all of you. You see, there are traitors within the Varden that know who Murtagh's mother is and they hear the name of Eragon's through his thoughts, they just put two and two together, tell Galbatorix and then Murtagh told Eragon."

"How do you know this? You're speaking as though it has yet to happen. Are you some sort of seer?" Murtagh asked his earlier question again.

Bree heaved a sigh. "I'd love to say 'let's go with seer' but that would be a lie and I have just outed a lot of your secrets, so, I'm not from this world." She held up a hand to prevent Murtagh's comment. "My name is Brianna Scott, I'm nineteen years old and where I come from you are a character in a book, like the ones in my bag. You're just part of a make-believe world someone wrote down on paper."

"You have this book with you?" he asked.

"At home I do but whoever included the ones I have with me now seemed to think it wasn't necessary. Or that it was dangerous. We use the same language as yours in my world. For me it's English but you call Alagaësian."

"And according to this book someone in the Varden is a traitor," he stated evenly.

"Yes. You're being awfully calm about this. It took weeks to fully convince Brom and Eragon," Bree said in shock.

"I trust you and, judging from their lack of reaction, it would appear that they do as well." He met her gaze for the first time during the night's long conversation. "I have little reason left to doubt you, you know too much about me; about all of us. My only worry is that the information you have will be easily found by others, you have said yourself that there are those in Varden that can read the thoughts of others. I have spent many years developing my shields so as to not allow their prying. It may have all been worthless if they can just go through you."

"Oh that." She rubbed the back of her neck guiltily. "I'm kind of not readable. Try," she said in response to his cynical look. The look quickly melted into one of confusion, she could feel him trying but he wasn't succeeding.

"It's as though you are not there. I feel no defences but I cannot find anything to hold on to. Can you read thoughts as well or does this 'gap' prevent it?" he questioned, leaning forward with his hands resting on his knees.

Bree felt his presence leave her mind. "I can certainly read thoughts," she gestured to Brom and Eragon. "They can't keep me out, they don't even notice when I'm in their thoughts. I can see where their defences are, or what I assume would be their defences but it is little more than a distortion I just have to slip through, then I'm in. as long as I don't think too loudly no-one knows I'm even there. It certainly makes speaking with Saphira easier."

"You've been in my thoughts?" he asked warily.

"At first it was only to see if I could and then, sometimes, it was to check you were alright when you were longer than usual at hunting." She was watching his reaction as she spoke, noticing a frown begin to appear. "I didn't go deep, just the surface thoughts." She assured him, then jokingly asked, "Do you really think I have pretty eyes?" She sidled up to him and batted her eyelashes. Eragon laughed and she turned on him glaring.

"You're pretty!" Eragon placated quickly, shuffling closer to Brom for protection.

Bree smiled at him then, giggling when she noticed Eragon glare at Saphira, whose teeth were pulled back as she made a hissing sound. During their girl time earlier, Bree and Saphira had talked about Eragon's dream. He had told her about his dream before falling back asleep; Bree had felt their conversation as she'd stroked his hair. Saphira had been worried that Bree would resent Arya and Eragon's growing attachment to her, but had been happy to be persuaded that Bree felt for Eragon the way she did her younger brothers back home. She missed them terribly and assured the worried dragon that she could only see them in Eragon, and there was no way she would date one of her brothers.

Murtagh had leant back in alarm at Saphira's strange behaviour relaxing only slightly when Eragon explained to him that she was laughing.

"Why did you never tell me that you were my father, or that you were a dragon rider?" Eragon asked Brom, the mood once again becoming sombre.

"Some memories are too painful to retell." He placed a hand on Eragon's shoulder. "I was not sure at first where your mother, Selena, would have gone. It had been nearly two years since the night I had last seen her when I arrived in Carvahall. I approached the inn keeper and was told where I could find your uncle, Selena's brother Garrow, and his wife. When I knocked on the door, and saw two happy children playing in the front yard, I pretended to be looking for work. Your uncle was very kind, offered me some chores in exchange for a bed and a hot meal. I moved to the inn the next day. You were loved in that that house and I knew you would be safer there then with me, especially if the Empire should discover my whereabouts."

"You could have at least told me about Zar'roc, if not Murtagh."

"If I had told you the name of Zar'roc's owner and of its origins, what would you have done?"

Eragon thought carefully about his answer, "I suppose I probably would have run away at the first opportunity."

You would do well to rid yourself of that sword, Saphira said with distaste. I know it is a peerless weapon, but you would be better off with a normal blade rather than Morzan's butchery tool.

Perhaps, said Eragon. This blade probably killed many Riders in its time, he thought to her, his revulsion clear. And even worse, dragons! It felt unsettling to hold the sword of the man who had betrayed the Riders to Galbatorix. He said aloud, "even so, I'm going to carry it. I don't have a sword of my own. Until such time as I get one, I'll use Zar'roc."

Murtagh flinched as Eragon said the name. "It's your choice," he said, getting up and returning to the pot hanging over the fire, keeping his gaze lowered.

Bree pulled Eragon to his feet. "Come fight me oh Master Swordsman, then after dinner we can all go to bed and wake up refreshed. There'll be plenty of time to talk on the way to Gilead."

Sweating and breathing heavily after her duel against Eragon, Bree flopped to ground beside Murtagh nodding as he handed her a bowl. Eragon had won again, of course, but Bree definitely felt she was getting better. As long as she didn't attack too soon, she could keep Eragon at bay for several minutes. If she ever found herself in a fight, she was confident that she could hold her own until someone came to help her.

Saying their goodnights, the four human companions drifted off to sleep to the light snores of Saphira and the muffled whinnying of the horses.


A.N. How does everyone like this story so far? I'll have to assume you like it a little bit if you've read this far in. Okay, the next chapter will be out soon.

Happy reading guys.