Author's Note: Okay, I realize this is a ridiculously quick update, two in one day...but chapter 11 was actually ready for posting yesterday--I just couldn't upload it for some reason. Computer troubles, I guess. Anyway, still not too much action in this one, it started getting really long...and, alas! Murtagh still doesn't have a chapter mostly to himself. But he's coming, never fear! Now...review replies!

alsdssg: (laughs) Yes--they are the cool characters. Murtagh is still coming...I think he's THE trickiest character to write, so far.

kewlkid: glad you like the before-chapter bits!

amanda: Hmm...I don't know if Durza and Arya would agree that they make a lovely couple, but they are great to write about--somehow they just...feed off each other and take over the story. I hope to bring them back in soon, because I love writing them.

JaDE-rUst: ...! (blush) I'm very flattered...you give me too much credit--they're not bad characters, they just needed a little love. And yes, Durza does rule. A lot. (laughs)

12: Wind and Flame

"Um…Murtagh?"

"Yeah, what?" Murtagh said, leaning back in his chair as he awaited his chapter.

Subieko shifted nervously in her own chair, not meeting his eyes. "Well…remember how I said the next chapter would be about you?"

"Yes…?" Murtagh said slowly, his eyes narrowing.

"It…um, well…it can't be."

"WHAT!?"

Subieko cringed, biting her lip. She had seen this reaction coming. "It's just that, with the plot…you really do need to come in a little later. Brom and Eragon have some more stuff to do…so, another chapter or so of them, okay?"

"But—"

"Tell you what," Subieko said hastily. "I'll put a special part with you in at the beginning, okay? Okay? So you'll be in the chapter, just not in the plot much yet."

Murtagh grumbled, slumping in the chair. "…fine. Whatever. It's not like I really care anyway!"

"He's always so emo," Eragon whispered to Saphira.

"I heard that!"

Eragon made a sound like 'eep!' and scurried away.

Murtagh leaned back against a smooth rock, sheltered from the sun by an old willow tree. He and his horse, Tornac, were camping beneath its current of branches, waiting for nightfall. It was too dangerous to travel by day—the King's troops were everywhere, and Murtagh was sure Galbatorix would have men searching for him.

Tornac snorted, nudging Murtagh. "Shh...I'm fine," Murtagh whispered to the horse, stroking his nose. "Just trying to figure out where to go next…"

Spreading his tattered map of the Empire on the ground before him, Murtagh thought hard. How could he hide from the most powerful man in Alagaesia? In a neighboring country? But no—he'd never make it across the border.

How far can I really go before I'm caught? I have to find somewhere to stay quiet for a while, until the search dies down a bit…if it dies down.

Then it came to him. The best place hide was the last place anyone would expect him to go…and the last place the King would expect Murtagh to go was right into his hands.

Checking the position of the sun, Murtagh saw that he had plenty of time to rest before nightfall. He settled down to sleep, smiling. Soon, he would be free of Galbatorix once and for all…

"Gil'ead," Murtagh whispered as he drifted off. "I've always wanted to see it…"

-o-o-o-o-o-

Many leagues away, Eragon and Brom were traveling as fast as they could under the same sun. They had found—that was what Brom called it—a pair of horses to carry them and their belongings. They had also 'found' some supplies, much to Eragon's dismay.

"Brom, I can't believe you! What're we going to do if they catch us!?"

"They won't catch us," Brom said. "These are their best horses."

"That's even worse!"

Behind them, they could still faintly hear the shouts of "Thief!" and "Get them!" But with their head start and the fine horses Brom had chosen, they were soon out of reach. Therinsford was behind them, although not as far behind them as Eragon would have liked.

Saphira was riding in front of Eragon, her claws digging into the saddle. She was keenly interested in the scenery, often nearly falling off the horse as she tried to look everywhere at once. Eragon was too upset to focus much on the landscape, however.

"Brom, we're thieves now! We broke the law!"

"You're not a thief—I am. And I didn't steal them, I just borrowed them. This are desperate measures."

Eragon shook his head despairingly. Brom had told him to wait with the supplies they had purchased while he went to look for horses. At the time, Eragon had been puzzled by Brom's insistence that they leave at once, and by a less-traveled route. He had also been puzzled as to how Brom had paid for everything.

"And where did you get fake coins anyway?"

Brom shrugged. "I had Horst forge me some. They're not hard to make, you know, just a bit of iron in dim lighting. These were fairly low-quality counterfeits, too—it's all in the acting skills, my boy!"

"It's not something to be proud of!" Eragon said.

Brom just laughed. "Eragon…I realize this isn't the most honorable thing to do, but we have almost no money, and we need to save what we've got. We won't get anywhere on foot, especially not if we need to make a quick exit at some point—and we probably will, at least once. Right now, our primary concern is survival."

Eragon was silent for a moment. "Are…are we really in that much danger?"

Brom's face was serious now. "Yes. The Ra'zac know you were in the village, and that you left—they'll be searching for our trail, and we need to put some distance between us and Carvahall. Every mile counts."

Saphira nudged his hand, worried. As far as Eragon could tell, she couldn't understand Brom the same way as she understood him; Saphira knew that Eragon was worried, but not why. He tried to reassure her, but she wasn't convinced.

"We'll be okay," he whispered; he felt silly talking to Saphira in front of Brom. "I'll never let them hurt you, or separate us."

Brom watched the two with a faint smile. "I think we'll head for Yazuac—we might be able to get some news there, see what the gossip is. If there's anyone searching for you, we need to know about it. It'll be a chance to get our bearings."

"I thought we had to be careful," Eragon said.

"We will be," Brom replied. "We can be cautious and still do something."

They rode on in silence for a while. Then Eragon stirred. "Brom…?"
"What is it?" Brom said, cringing inwardly. He had a feeling he knew what Eragon was about to ask him.

"Where are we going to go?"

"I just told you, Yazauc," Brom said.

"I don't mean where are we going right now—I mean, where are we heading, in the end?"

Brom sighed. "…I don't know, Eragon. I don't know."

"What will we do?" Eragon asked.

Brom straightened up and looked Eragon in the eye. "I'm going to train you, Eragon. You and Saphira will grow strong…strong enough to fight the King. Strong enough to bring back what this land knew under the Riders…"

Eragon swallowed hard. That was a tall order for a fifteen-year-old boy and a baby dragon. "Brom?"
"You and your questions! What do you want to know now—the whole history of Alagaesia?"

"Just one more?"

"…fine," Brom said, digging in his pouch for his pipe. Something to calm his nerves, that was what he needed.

"…what if I can't do it?"

Brom choked, exhaling a puff of smoke. Turning his head, he saw that Eragon was staring ahead of him, biting his lip. "You—what?"

"What if I'm…not any good at this—this dragon rider thing?" Eragon said softly. He was gripping the reigns so tightly, his knuckles were white.

"Dragon rider thing!?" Brom said, his eyebrows snapping together. "Eragon, dragon riding isn't some sort of job you decide to do—it's what you are! And you're going to be a dragon rider—a great one—whether you like it or not!"

Eragon was silent for a moment, and Brom wondered if he'd over done it. But then Eragon began to laugh, his face clearing. Brom smiled, shaking his head.

Kids these days, he thought.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"We have to cross…that?" Eragon said, staring out across the wide, open plains. Tall grasses rolled ahead as far as he could see. Eragon had never seen anything so flat before. After a life in the mountains, it was almost terrifying.

"That," Brom said simply. "It's only about, oh…four days or so. Hopefully we won't see any bad weather—windstorms can be terrible out there. We should fill up the waterskins, too," he added, gesturing at a stream nearby. "We won't find any more water until we reach Yazuac, and we don't dare try crossing the plains unless we have enough."

They set out through the endless grasslands, the sun beating down on their heads. Eragon's eyes soon began to play tricks on him; Saphira laughed uproariously when he nearly fell out of the saddle, twisting to check if those shapes he saw out of the corners of his eyes were really imaginary.

Days passed in much the same manner. Eragon's sense of time and space drifted away from him, and he had no idea how far he and Brom had traveled. It seemed that they had been on the plains for an eternity.

Finally, at the end of the fourth day, Brom said that they were nearly to Yazuac. Eragon breathed a sigh of relief. The plains made his skin crawl; there was something unnatural about all that flatness.

"We may be able to reach (check name!) river in a few hours," Brom said. Then he looked up at horizon. "Oh no—Eragon, hurry, we've got to get to shelter—"

"Why—what's wrong?" Eragon said.

"There's a storm coming, a bad one, we can't stay out in the open! We have to reach the river, there'll be some cover there!"

Brom kicked his horse into a gallop, and Eragon followed suit, his heart beating like a drum. Would they make it to the river? Brom had thought they might reach the river by sunset at a relaxed pace—would they reach it in time at the gallop?

Safe?

"I don't know, Saphira," Eragon said. She huddled against him, digging her claws into the saddle.

By now Eragon could see signs of the storm as well. The plains were eerily silent; not a breath of wind stirred the long grasses. Massive clouds were stacked on the horizon, speeding forward as quickly as their horses could gallop. It was a race, and Eragon prayed they would win.

The wind was beginning to pick up again now, howling and throwing dust in their faces. The air turned chill, and the sky was dark. Thunder rolled, and Eragon could see flashes of lightning in the distance. He wanted to turn and flee the storm, but Brom kept riding straight into it, towards the safety of the river.

"Quick—get under cover!" Brom said, swinging down from his horse and scanning the area near the riverbank for shelter. He found it in a small copse of trees. They lead the horses inside and tied them to some low branches, whispering soothingly to them.

Brom and Eragon huddled in the shelter of a small pile of boulders, cracked and worn from countless storms like this one. Eragon wrapped his arms tightly around Saphira, shielding her from the wind.

"We'll be okay now, right, Brom?" he said, his teeth chattering.

Brom's face was tight. "I hope so."

And then, with a resounding crack of thunder, the rain began. It poured down on them in buckets. The trees provided some shelter, but not enough to keep them from being soaked to the skin. They soon looked as though they had gone swimming in the river.

Saphira wriggled uncomfortably, her wings dripping. She and Eragon shivered together as Brom kept an eye on the storm. Eragon didn't know how much time had passed—he thought he might have fallen asleep once or twice. At last, however, the rain slowed and came to a halt. The wind died down, and all was still.

Brom stretched with a sigh of relief. "At last! See if you can get a fire started, I'll go take a look at the horses."

Eragon began searching for dry wood, although he doubted he would find much. There were a few old branches lying around that were only lightly soaked; Eragon gather a pile and tried to light it. He raised some smoke, but not much else.

"Brom, it's too wet—there's no way we'll get a fire going."

"We need one," Brom said. "It was cold enough before we got soaking wet. Let me take a look."

Brom struggled with the flint and steel unsuccessfully for a while before growing frustrated and tossing them down. Eragon expected him to say that they would have to do without fire, but instead he closed his eyes, a look of intense concentration on his face.

"Brisingr!" Brom cried, and the pile of damp wood burst into flame.

"Wh—how—what did you--?"

Brom looked rather sheepish. "It's magic. You've heard the old tales, you know there are sorcerers and magicians in the world."

"Yeah, but I didn't know you were one!"

"Well, I am," Brom said gruffly, effectively ending the discussion. This didn't dissuade Eragon, of course.

"Wait—tell me how it works. How did you learn it? Can anyone learn it? Can I learn it!?"

"Hold your horses, will you?" Brom said, sticking his pipe in his mouth. "Let me get some supper cooked, you can wait at least that long, I hope."

Eragon didn't think so, but he managed to shut his mouth and sit down next to Saphira while Brom stoked the fire and put some water on to boil.

Hungry!

"Me too, Saphira," Eragon said, smiling. "We'll eat soon. Are you okay now? The storm must have been pretty scary, huh?"

A rather indignant note rang in Eragon's mind. Wasn't scared! You were scared.

"Was not!" Eragon said, but his mind was elsewhere. He had noticed something odd about what Saphira had said. The way she used 'you' felt somehow different than the way Eragon usually heard it. But Eragon couldn't think of anything else she could be trying to say.

"Ah—here we go," Brom said, passing Eragon a tin pan and filling his own. "Now what were those questions?"

Eragon opened his mouth to repeat them, and add some more he had thought of while they were waiting, but Brom shushed him. Settling back against a rock, he closed his eyes as he thought of what to say.

"Magic…where to start…I suppose you can't really understand it without knowing about the Ancient Language. It's the language that speaks the true form of all things."

"It speaks the what?"

Brom sighed. "I suppose you've never heard the Shadow Philosophy. Put in plain terms, it's like this…imagine that you're sitting in a cave, and a fire is burning. On the walls of the cave, you can see the shadows of things. Now imagine that the things we see and hear and feel around us—the world—are those shadows."

Eragon sat there, looking completely confused, and Saphira was equally bewildered. Brom sighed again; he had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

"In other words, we can't see the true forms of the things around us—we only see their shells, their shadows. The Ancient Language calls things by their true names—it speaks of their true forms, as it were. You can't tell a lie in that language, because everything you say is true."

Eragon scratched his head. "Brom, if everything you say is true, then of course you aren't lying. What happens if you say something that isn't true?"

"You don't understand," Brom said. "You can't say something that isn't true—what you say will be the truth…even if you don't mean it to be. It's very dangerous to lie in the Ancient Language—no one who understands what it really is would dare."

Eragon stared at Brom in silence, his mouth hanging open. He had heard many, many legends and stories, but he had never imagined anything like this.

"The fire-spell I used before is fairly simple—I merely said the word for 'fire' in the Ancient Language, and willed the fire to where I wanted it. If you can speak precisely enough, desire it strongly enough, and will it with enough strength, you can make it happen…within limits, of course."

"What are the limits?" Eragon asked, leaning forward.

Brom scowled. "Don't look so eager—I'm making it simple so you can understand it, but that doesn't mean it really is. Magic is powered by your own strength, and if you overextend yourself…well, at best you'll knock yourself out and have to spend a few days resting, getting your strength back. At worst…"

He stopped, his face shadowed. Eragon shivered. "At worst?" he whispered.

'…at worst, you use up your life-force…you die."

Eragon swallowed hard. Suddenly he didn't want to learn any more about magic.

"Well, you don't need to worry about it," Brom said, seeing the look on his face. "Get some rest, we'll head into Yazuac tomorrow." He ruffled Eragon's hair lightly, then settled down to sleep.

Eragon settled down too, although more uneasily.

Worried?

"I guess," Eragon whispered. "I haven't been sleeping so well lately…"

Night pictures?

"You mean dreams? But yeah...I think. I wish I could remember them—I feel like they're important."

Don't worry. Please?

Eragon smiled, his eyes fluttering shut. "I'm not worried…we'll be all right. We're together, after all."

"Yaaay, the chapter is finished!" Subieko cried, throwing her hands in the air.

"Not much happened," Eragon said, frowning. "And the storm wasn't as exciting as in the book—Saphira didn't get blown off the ground, or anything!"

"That's because she's a baby. And anyway, Eragon, you couldn't have helped her fold her wings. If she had the muscles in them to fly, and those muscles couldn't close them, I don't think you pushing is going to help all that much!"

"Would so!" Eragon cried. "I'm really strong—I'm the main charac—"

"Oh, be quiet," Brom said. "It was a great chapter, Subieko—fantastic!"

You're just saying that because you got a good part. Well, I didn't! I demand a better part in the story!

"Then you're in luck," Subieko said, smiling. "I have big plans for you guys next chapter…"

Eragon gulped. "Why doesn't that make me feel better…?"