Chapter Twenty-six-

"So, um, what is this with Jazira, the female Dragon Rider anyways?" Bronte asked and Murtagh saw the teasing grin that alighted his face. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Thorn beat him to it.

'Oh, yeah he's got it bad, don't you lover boy?'

Murtagh gave Thorn an ineffective shove as Bronte burst out laughing. Through fits of gasping for air he said,

"Oh, I already had that figured out master Dragon, by the way he was blushing and defending her before." Murtagh could feel the squirm of pleasure Thorn exuded at being addressed in such a fashion. He punched Bronte on the arm, receiving a head lock in return. Joyfully the young men rambled about, bashing against the walls in brotherly sport, and alarming more then one kitchenmaid who was sure the world had come to an end as they saw the lads going after each other, apparently without mercy to one another's bruises. The great red beast lumbering after them, his teeth bared in what everyone else thought was anger, but proved to the two fighters to be laughter. At last the longing for air overwhelmed that of beating each other to a pulp and the rather harmful game ended. Still laughing Murtagh and Bronte resumed walking tending to their wounds with almost indecent humor.

"And what about you Bronte? Have you ever had your paths cross with a women who has piqued your interest?" Murtagh had meant it in a teasing manner and was therefore surprised to see Bronte start twisting his hands, looking down at his feet and to see a faint flush creep into his cheeks. Loosing the pretense of teasing Murtagh said,

"So who was she?" He felt a slight pang as he saw Bronte swallow, a mist entering his eyes.

"The noble man's, who I worked for, daughter." Murtagh raised his eyebrows, looking at his friend as he asked,

"How did you, a slave, mange that?" Bronte let out a sound between a laugh and a sigh.

"I may not have the rugged, charming look in which you seem to think that you have, but I am not without my own, ah, appeal. She was quite lovely." Murtagh grinned a little at his friends hesitation, but it was rather hallow when he though of how dumb he must look and sound when talking about Jazira. Despite these thoughts, he could not help in ask,

"What happened to her then?"

"Um, her father got wind of it and sold me. That's why I ended up here, though I plan on buying my freedom someday and proving that I am worthy of her." Murtagh found that he did not quite know how to respond to that so he remained silent. They walked in peace for a little while before Murtagh, let out a chuckle.

"What is it?" Bronte asked, a smile lighting his face though he did not know the reason behind it.

"Oh, I was just thinking of a promise we made when we were younger. You know the sort that all boys make, unaware of the importance of women in one's life."

"Ah yes! You must be referring to the one we made after seeing the young lord and his lady kissing rather violently in that passage. I believe you, rather then me, became most distraught."

"Oh, don't give me that! You were just as disgusted as I was. But never mind, my point was, that look at us now! Both pining after girls, who, when without, we make absolute fools of ourselves and when with we become even greater blockheads!"

"HA! Speak for yourself friend, but as much as I have enjoyed this interesting conversation I stand in fear of being wiped if I don't return to my duties. The Dragon Room is right around the corner." He face grew serious as he stopped to look at Murtagh. "Don't get killed, okay?" Murtagh nodded as he watched his friend walk off.

'I liked him very much. He is the kind of man I can respect,' Thorn stated as they set off again. 'I can see why you took to him as friends.' Murtagh laughed, remembering when he had first met Bronte.

'I met him when I ran into him, knocking us both to the floor. We were about seven then, and I told him off for being in my way, demanding an apology. By then I was used to having the servants cower in fear of me I was sure I had the upper hand, so when he stood up looked me in the eye and said 'No.' I was shocked. I remember drawing up to my full hight saying, 'Don't you know who I am? I am your master, and am of higher rank.' His reply was, 'If that's true they should have taught you better manners.' We were best friends after that, and he was the only person I have ever met that did not care who my father was.' Thorn chuckled with him as they entered the Dragon Room. Instantly the pleasant atmosphere changed as they saw the king, Shruikan and the Twins all waiting. It was time.

"Catching up with old acquaintance are we Murtagh?" Galbatorix strode to Murtagh, grabbing him by the upper arm, and dragging him to a table where an assortment of armor lay, polished. "Get dressed! The time has almost come." Murtagh started to strap on the light weight pieces of metal while Galbatorix saw to it that Thorn was also given armor. Once they were both assembled, which took a surprisingly small amount of time, Murtagh clambered up onto Thorn's back where a black leather saddle had been placed. Circling them like a vulture, Galbatorix purred his pleasure at the sight of his rider and Dragon. Then taking from a pocket in his great robe, Galbatorix produced a small piece of iron cut into a round shape and handed it to Murtagh. Instantly the contact with his skin and the strange piece made Murtagh realize that this was an instrument of great power.

"Use when one of you gets injured," The king said as Murtagh slipped the metal into his belt. "to save your energy. The hearts are in your saddle bag, use wisely. Remember I want Saphira back here in good condition. Later, after I use her in the ways I find best, I will allow you to do with Eragon as you wish, as a reward if you do this job correctly." With a yell he sent them off, Thorn's roar filling the air behind them as he leaped off of the edge of the cliff into the air. Soaring upwards Thorn took them high into the clouds where the wind that rushed past them had the chill of winter. They flew in the direction of the looming Beor Mountains, to where the kings soldiers had already been dispatched.

Neither said much, both finding it odd that only moments ago they had been laughing with Bronte as if nothing had happened, like there wasn't a war going on, like they didn't have an unpleasant task ahead of them. Murtagh drew his cloak closer around him, though it did very little to keep out the chill. Thorn flew fast, keeping in mind his riders discomfort in the cold and wind. Murtagh started to block his more personal memories as they drew closer to the Burning Plains. The King's last words echoed in his mind, "I will allow to do with Eragon as you wish," but he didn't know what he wished. The very thought of fighting his brother, of capturing him and taking him to the place where he himself had suffered so much cruelty was a thought he didn't like to entertain, yet the blossoming anger in his chest would not be up rooted. The thoughts whirred around his head giving him such mixed feelings that he really didn't know what to think in the end.

Eventually Thorn flew lower, even dipping down by a river and allowing his claws to skim the waters surface. The air was warmer down below the clouds making the spray that flung into Murtagh's face feel good.

'We are almost there, my rider,' Thorn said, as he rose a little higher into sky.

'Yes, and you will at last meet my family.'

'It's about time.'