A Friendship Forged

If I hold on long enough, an opportunity at escape will have to present itself, Murtagh told himself as he was marched back through the hallways toward the dungeons. I will take my dragon and we will leave, far beyond the reach of the empire. It had to be possible and it could only be a matter of time.

He had thought that Galbatorix would have him taken back to the Hall of the Soothsayer, so he was greatly surprised when the soldiers untied him and roughly shoved him into a bare, grey, stone cell dimly light by one barred window in the wall near the ceiling.

As the door closed behind him Murtagh noticed something move in the far corner, where the shadows were deepest. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he wondered what horror the king would force him to confront now in an effort to break him.

Afraid as he was, Murtagh forced himself to breath deeply.. Whatever will happen, will happen, he told himself. I can do this and I will not give in. Galbatorix promised I would not die, so I can endure anything short of that.

Then he yelped out in terror and took a step back as something shiny-red leapt out of the dark, straight at him, at such speed it was only a blur in the air.

It struck him before he even had time to throw up his arms to protect himself, knocking him over onto the cold, hard floor. Still trembling, he found himself staring into the crimson eyes of his little dragon; or maybe not so little anymore.

Murtagh realized that it must have grown at an unimaginable pace, for the dragon sitting with its front claws on his chest was, from head to tail-tip, almost as long as he was and weighed accordingly.

Then he heard it: a clear, mental voice calling his name. Murtagh!

The young prisoner stared at the dragon, unable to tear his gaze away, unable to understand what had just happened.

Murtagh!

Murtagh gasped slightly as he felt its presence against his and understood that the voice was that of his dragon. He didn't even try to block it out of his mind; he didn't want to.

"Yes," he whispered through the pressure on his chest.

A playful gleam appeared in the dragon's eye. Caught you!

Its amusement at having startled him like that was so obvious that Murtagh couldn't help smiling. You did, he answered with his thoughts, knowing now that it would hear him. Are you going to let me up?

The dragon released him and Murtagh pushed himself up on his elbows, wincing as the stripes on his back started throbbing again. He guessed that some of them must have torn open again.

Murtagh sensed his dragon's mood changing and he realized that it felt his pain through their newly forged, mental link.

Dark, aggressive thoughts began radiated from its mind. Someone hurt you? What happened, it asked with obvious concern. Standing up, Murtagh saw that it reached up, just below his elbows in terms of height. He didn't answer, but the dragon persisted. Tell me!

Murtagh leaned against the wall and slid down it. The dragon came and curled up next to him as if they had known each other for the whole of their lives, and so the newly fledged dragon rider began to recount all that had happened.

Time passed as Murtagh talked. The only times the dragon interrupted was to ask an occasional question about what a word meant or what something he mentioned looked like. Its ignorance surprised Murtagh at first, till he remembered that it had only hatched a day or two ago and that it had never been outside, so he slowly figured out how to explain what a mountain looked like and what a tree was by using the images his memories rather than just his words.

Despite the circumstances, Murtagh found that he truly enjoyed having someone to talk to. His dragon's personality was as real and as intricate as any person's and its affection for him was so obvious that Murtagh couldn't deny that he care about it, too. Soon his halting sentences grew steadier and easier and even some of his pain seemed to subside as he recounted stories of his travels with Eragon, before things had taken such a nightmarish turn.

The sparse light outside the window faded and soon darkness took over the cell. With it came the cold and then the awareness of hunger. Murtagh pulled his knees up to his chest and let out a shaky sigh. The walls around him seemed to come in closer in the dark, opressive and threatening. The dragon pressed itself closer to him, trying to keep him warm. He placed a hand on its neck affectionately. We will find I way out of this, he told it, we just have to stay strong and wait for the right opportunity.

Eventually, as the moon silently drifted higher in the sky filled the cell with a pale, ghostly light, he finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

‡

High above, surrounded by the bookshelves lining the walls of his study, the king of Alagäesia leaned over to the water basin that stood by his finely carved desk. Its surface, rather than the reflection of the room, showed the cell where his prized prisoner lay curled up next to the red hatchling in the square of silver light cast against the floor through the small, high window.

A faint smile curled the edges of the king's lips. The two were bonding and it would make them both all weaker. He enjoyed the twist; the bond between dragon and rider had always been their strength and yet, since he had taken power, he had found that said strength could so easily be used against them, to serve his own ends.

Straightening up, Galbatorix ended the scrying spell and turned away from the basin toward the window and the dark night behind it. He was surprised to find that a certain anger had found its way into his mind and for a moment it confused him. After all, his plans were proceeding as intended, yet the expected satisfaction seemed to elude him.

Considering himself the rational type, Galbatorix decided to analyse his thoughts and was even more angered to find the cause of his discontent was ... envy!

Of my prisoner? He wondered at it until his gaze fell upon one of the many objects that carried his insignia: the black dragon with outstretched wings; an image of Shruikan. He glared at it in hate! Shruikan was nothing! Nothing compared to his first dragon, Jarnunvösk! How he missed the true partner of his heart and mind.

So that's it, he thought, understanding what bothered him so about the scene of the prisoner and his dragon. Well, their bond will be their undoing soon enough, he told himself, and the satisfaction will come in watching it happen.