"Move your feet Murtagh!".
He moved like a goddamn serpent, or that was at least what he hoped to imitate as he lunged forward with a swift stab and seized the initiative.
His teacher's face broke into a wide smile. "Yes! That's more like it. Now keep up the pressure". Tornac yelled with a commanding tone, as he batted away strike after strike.
It had been a few weeks since he had been rather violently thrown into this world of fantasy and magic, but that didn't deter Tornac from sparring with him one bit. Not that he had told his pseudo father about any of that. No need for him to think Murtagh had gone insane.
He didn't even know how the hell he had ended up here. One moment he was driving by the countryside, jamming some 80s music and then suddenly a god's damned truck collided with him
He was most likely dead on impact.
Nevertheless let it not be said that he was bad at adaptation. Within a day of realizing just where he was, he'd taken Tornac and bolted from Uru'baen with a pair of horses faster than you could say dragon. No need for Murtagh's only friend and father figure to die in a blaze of glory whilst escaping through the main gates.
He didn't even know if he was Murtagh or the 21st century man from before, and where had the original Murtagh even gone? Though from what he'd been told the Murtagh of this world had been in a coma-like state for three days due to some unknown illness, so perhaps he was simply hitching a ride in his corpse.
Now that was a macabre thought.
But from what he remembered when he'd read the inheritance cycle it never mentioned Murtagh being that sick. Perhaps some divine intervention simply made sure that Murtagh's soul would leave its mortal coil so he could take over?
It was maddening. Especially if one considered that he still retained all of the memories, skills and attachments of the son of Morzan.
Well, his skill with a blade was a relative thing of course, whilst his muscles tried to do one thing his brain wanted to do something completely different. It hadn't been hard for Tornac to notice that his form was off, and the man had immediately begun trying to get him back to his old self.
He was slowly improving though, and trying his hardest to let this body's muscle memory do most of the heavy lifting.
His mind slowly went back to the situation at hand, meaning him trying to corner Tornac against a nearby tree and land a good hit.
They were currently deep within the eastern part of the forest surrounding the spine. His main objective of course being to reach Carvahall and hopefully make contact with Brom, preferably without the elder rider leaving him a head shorter for thinking him an enemy.
Apparently he had merged with Murtagh's body quite a bit of time before Saphira would even hatch for Eragon. A year or so in fact from what he had gathered, so he silently prayed that Brom would be able to teach him magic. He really fucking hoped he would be able to do learn it without a rider's bond, since he sincerely doubted that Thorn would ever hatch for him now. What with him being a completely different person from the original Murtagh.
The most dangerous people in this world that would no doubt have an interest in him due to his lineage, were unfortunaetly all lethal individuals with magic at their beck and call. Not that he discounted learning the way of the sword, it would certainly prove very useful in the future. That being said, he didn't quite fancy being killed with but a flig of a finger by some degenerate wizard or having his body taken over by malevolent spirits.
Their bout finally ended with Tornac sweeping his legs, making him lose his balance and land flat on his arse in the middle of the small clearing their camp was located in. His mentor's blade wasn't far from his throat afterwards.
"You still have a ways to go, Murtagh".
Yeah, he really hoped he was able to learn the arcane, otherwise he might as well let Shruikan eat him.
Carvahall had been an absolute pain to find if Murtagh was completely honest with himself.
It wasn't on any map that they could locate, so all they had to go on was word of mouth and the directions that various traders they met along the way could give them.
The further away from Uru'Baen and "civilized society" they travelled the more perilous the road became. Therefore as they closed in on the infamous mountain-range that was The Spine, Tornac and Murtagh decided to join a group of fellow travelers on their way to Therinsford.
The two of them Traveling close to The Spine alone would have been foolish at best and deadly at worst. He certainly had no intention of running into a marauding band of Urgal's or some unwashed robbers with only Tornac as backup.
Not to throw any shade at Tornac of course. The man could no doubt slaughter a few Urgals easily before they overwhelmed him, but unlike Eragon he didn't have a dragon and his parental figure wasn't a century old deadly ex dragon rider.
The journey from Uru'baen to Therinsford had taken literal months, a far cry from the modern transportation that he had been used to before. After arriving at the bigger but less organized village that was Therinsford, Murtagh and his protector had against the advice of their former companions decided to brave the rest of the way to Carvahall on their own.
Luckily they saw neither Urgal nor man whilst on the road, and so it was with some relief that they arrived at Carvahall, months after their mad dash from Uru'Baen.
At present the two of them could be found standing upon a small hill overlooking the quaint village below.
"This Brom fellow certainly found the perfect place to live in exile" Tornac commented at Murtagh's side.
His mentor had been apprehensive at first when they started this journey, and damn near mutinous when Murtagh finally explained exactly who they were searching for.
Suffice to say that Tornac was not at all pleased at the fact that they were searching for the killer of his ward's father.
It had taken a lot of convincing. Mainly by telling the truth and then bullshitting at the speed of light. He made it clear that no, Brom would most likely not want to kill him, and yes he did actually have a half brother in Carvahall. Murtagh also explained in a deadpan tone that the reason he knew this was due to visions from when he was deadly ill.
That last part was total bullshit of course.
At first it didn't seem like Tornac believed that last bit at all, but he eventually acquiesced.
Murtagh surmised that his friend must have seen some incredible things when in the employ of Morzan and Selena for him to take what was said at face value.
Alas, after being bullied into it by Tornac the two of them set out for the northern part of Carvahall in search of Garrow's farm. His friend wanted some hard proof that his ward at the very least had some family in this god forsaken place.
His words not mine.
Garrow was just about finishing up for today. Eragon and Roran were sitting idly at the dinner table talking animatedly about Eragon's latest hunt that he'd just returned from.
He did not consider himself a particularly superstitious man, but he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief every time his nephew came home from The Spine unharmed.
This time the young lad had come home carrying a young deer over his shoulder. A great smile had been plastered across his face and Garrow couldn't help but feel paternal pride. Selena's son was growing up to be a fine young man.
It was a rather normal afternoon. Most of their chores were done for the day and nothing much was planned, so it came as something of a surprise when a pair of knocks hitting hardened wood were heard from the front door.
He grumbled under his breath, earning an amused look from Roran as he rose and walked towards the door to see who had come to visit at this time.
If Sloan had come all this way to complain about his son and Katrina again, then that blasted butcher would get a piece of Garrow's mind.
His son was perfectly courteous. Thank you very much.
When the door opened, Sloans ugly mug did in fact not greet him.
Instead two strangers wearing fine but worn traveling clothes stood outside his house. A good pair of horses with packed saddlebacks hung in the background.
Swords hung at their sides and Garrow was immediately on guard. The one who Garrow guessed had knocked was the eldest of the two. He was a tall and large man with chainmail jingling underneath his traveling leathers every time he moved. He hovered over the younger man a step behind him, a protector of some sort then?
His unease did not abate as he looked the younger man over. He was perhaps of an age with Roran, but with that noble look about him, so alike the one Selena had met in the village tavern years ago.
His mind paused briefly as old memories came to him and he studied those features closer.
"You!" He nearly shouted. Only just managing to keep his voice at a reasonable level, with one hand raised and a finger pointed at the specter from the past. He idly wondered how much of an earful he'd have received from Marian about manners had she still been alive.
As he looked the now alarmed man over once more he almost slapped himself for being so dense at times. Selena had left with that stranger decades ago. The possibility of this being the same man was slim to none, and there were some differences between the two now that he looked closer.
"I'm sorry if I caused undue distress. I hear the resemblance is uncanny" The young, but also apparently polite man explained. He could hear some commotion from behind him, no doubt Eragon and Roran both were coming to investigate what was happening.
Garrow studied the strangers one last time before settling on the youngest at last.
"Who are you?". He settled on at last, not quite a demand but still forceful enough. This was his home and these people had arrived unannounced.
"My name is Murtagh and this is my friend Tornac". The youngest explained whilst pointing at the elder. Instead of elaborating further the young man simply reached inside one of his pockets and produced a glimmering gold medallion.
He gingerly held it within his hands before handing it over to Garrow. It was a fine piece he noted as he took it. Even Garrow's inexperienced eyes realized that his family could eat for months by selling this trinket. He looked questionably at Murtagh.
"There is a small portrait inside. The medallion belonged to my mother".
Utterly confused by this turn of events, Garrow opened the medallion hoping to be done with this nonsense soon enough. Inside of it was indeed a portrait, one of such detail that he had never seen its equal.
He nearly dropped the priceless piece of jewelry in shock upon looking closer.
Through the portrait, none other than his sister stared back and Garrow swore that for a moment he could feel her joy and happiness through the picture. In her arms was a small baby with tufts of dark brown hair so like Murtagh's.
Only then did he notice the small inscribing on the medallion.
Forever in my heart. Murtagh
He turned his eyes to look at Murtagh in disbelief. He had no reason to believe that Eragon had any siblings running around. Otherwise surely Selena would have also brought them here.
But now family had come to him.
He walked towards Murtagh, ignoring the way his protector Tornac tensed at his side. With strong hands he clasped his lost kin's shoulder affectionately. Murtagh looked at him with a small smile, before reciprocating the gesture of physical affection.
"Nephew" Garrow uttered like a prayer.
The sudden gasps from Eragon and Roran behind him did not go unnoticed, but he couldn't really bring himself to care at this point. His sister lived on in not just one, but two children.
He turned around. His son and nephew no doubt thought he had lost his mind with the grin he now sported. He had no delusions about the fact that he was a no nonsense sort of man, and very rarely showed outward emotions, but this was cause for celebration.
He was about to invite his long lost nephew and companion inside for a good hearty meal when a deafening roar echoed across the wind.
"Morzanson!"
Whipping his head around, Garrow saw that none other than Brom, the weary old storyteller stood upon the road leading towards his farm.
He noticed Murtagh at his side was eyeing the barmy old codger with a nervous expression and Tornac seemed but one wrong move away from drawing his sword.
He heard an audible sigh from Murtagh and an utterance he didn't quite follow
"Jesus Christ".
Murtagh eyed the supposed Bane of the Forsworn with some apprehension. He had hoped to confront the man on better terms and not be ambushed like this.
He was dressed in rough leathers. His silver hair falling in wild streams down his face. He had obviously tried to intercept them with great haste, though how he knew their location was a mystery.
He really needed to learn magic as soon as possible.
"Peace Brom, please" Murtagh spoke up, waving his hands in a passive gesture whilst moving towards the man and hopefully out of earshot of the others.
"The hell are you doing Murtagh'' Tornac's rough voice yelled at him as he tried to stop his young charge , but Murtagh simply pinned him with a resolute stare. Tornac might be his protector, but in this archaic world Murtagh was still his superior.
"Stand down Tornac. I'll be fine".
He looked murderous in that moment "Like hell you'll be" and Murtagh couldn't help but feel deep affection for him in that moment, having a personal bodyguard that cared for you felt kind of nice.
Like Garrow had done to him he grabbed Tornac's shoulders, willing him to understand. "I will be fine," he repeated.
Something in his expression must have seemed convincing, for in that moment his oldest friend sighed audibly, but in the end Murtagh received a hard nod. He would not interfere unless absolutely necessary.
He really hoped Tornac would just stay put. He might be a great swordsman but Brom could likely end them both in seconds.
He walked towards the ex rider in that moment. The man was a fair distance from Garrow's farm, which made that great greeting roar of his rather more impressive in hindsight.
Eye contact was kept the whole way, with Murtagh trying to appear as non threatening as possible.
It was probably a bit of a lost cause though. He did resemble the murderer of Brom's dragon partner to a ridiculous degree.
Finally he came to a stop in front of the man. A quick glance at Brom's side showed that his hand was clenching the hilt of a ruby sword.
Zar'Roc no doubt.
Brom apparently noticed where my gaze went, for his eyebrows twitched just a tat in apparent dark amusement. The irony was not lost on Murtagh.
Cheeky old bastard.
"Look". He started out in a soft voice. Making sure none of their nearby audience could hear them. "I know what you think when you look at me, but I am not like Morzan". Murtagh chewed on something for a moment as Brom obviously didn't look convinced in the slightest bit.
Deciding to just gamble he went for the jugular. "Alright how about this then. I'll swear to you in the ancient language that I mean no harm to you or, oh I don't know… your son Eragon".
Brom's eyebrows damn near disappeared into that uncontrolled mob of silver hair.
"How?"
The incredulous look on his face was then replaced by the suspicious one that he had targeted Murtagh with during the whole ordeal.
"You should include Garrow and Roran in that vow"
Paranoid much?
"Of course" Murtagh agreed and struck out a hand, hoping that the gesture wasn't lost on medieval man.
Fortunately it was not and they indeed shook hands like two cordial individuals. Brom could have refrained from attempting to drill a hole through Murtagh's own eye sockets with that piercing gaze of his though.
Luckily Murtagh's former education under the watchful eye of Galbatorix had included some knowledge of the language of the grey folk, so he wasn't completely clueless.
With Brom's assistance he was guided through what words to say, and by the end the elder rider's eye's had softened exponentially. Such was the power of the ancient language. "I..I'm sorry" he said at last, appearing to stumble over the words. "I see I have acted quite rashly".
Murtagh just smiled and shrugged. "It's understandable. From what i've been told Morzan was a right prick". He sighed then, honestly tired of this day's ordeal but now they had to resolve this in a way that wouldn't be too suspicious.
"You can repay me by helping me do a bit of theater though".
Brom turned to look at me questionably then. "Theater?"
Murtagh grinned as he turned towards Tornac, Garrow and his family in the distance.
"Indeed".