ELDEST VI

"WELCOME home, Murtagh."

The betrayed boy, the former lover of Nasuada, the prized warrior of the disposed Karem rose to his full height. Healing skin ripped in the movement, and he could feel blood well up from the exposed flesh, painting his gray tunic and causing it to stick to his back. Zidda came and helped him to his feet, and Murtagh leveled his green eyes at his true King, Galbatorix Hosteaux, Emperor of the New Broddring Kingdom.

"I see you have brought friends." Galbatorix said as he shifted the heavy gold crown that sat above a bush of sandy blonde hair. He smiled warmly at Murtagh, but the boy noticed that the smile thinned and vanished as he caught sight of Zidda, and The Twins further behind him.

"I was caught behind enemy lines. These three helped me escape." Murtagh said between grinding teeth. The pain was unbearable. The Twins had offered to heal him, and Zidda implored him to heed their advice, but Murtagh refused. He would carry these scars as a reminder of what Morzan's legacy granted him, and of what he would do to Nasuada once he found her. The thought of the black woman made his heart speed up in dangerous wroth, a anger so vile that Murtagh saw the change in Galbatorix's eyes.

"What happened to you?" The King asked, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"Karem was defeated, as you no doubt know. I was recruited by the Varden, and I escorted the Langfeld bastard's vizier, Nasuada, to the Dwarib Kingdom. There, an Elf mistook me for my father. I was whipped and tortured until I confessed for the deaths that Morzan delivered."

Galbatorix abruptly rose from his throne. He came to Murtagh, and Zidda backed away from the two men as they stood. Murtagh eyed Galbatorix's unchanging face, and gasped in surprise as Galbatorix hugged him close. He held Murtagh's head, gingerly avoiding his lower back, as to not cause Murtagh pain.

"They will pay for this. I've always seen you as my own son, just as I saw Morzan as my little brother. I promise you, they will pay."

The arduousness of his journey, combined with the betrayal of Nasuada and the others combined with the reassurance from Galbatorix caused Murtagh to weep. Sobs racked him, and he buried himself into Galbatorix's chest, crying so vehemently his tears fell like blood. Galbatorix stroked Murtagh's hair, cradling him like a toddler. Murtagh felt shamed then- If Nasuada hadn't turned on him, if the Elf hadn't found his true lineage, would he still fight for the Varden? How could he betray the man who had cared for him when Morzan was stricken by madness, a man who had saved him from the worst of Morzan's beatings? Murtagh may share his father's face, but Galbatorix was the one who had raised him as if he was his own son.

"I'm sorry," Murtagh rasped as tears squeezed through his shut eyes. "I'm so sorry."

Galbatorix delicately pushed Murtagh away at arm's length, his own green eyes staring into Murtagh's.

"I have never truly believed in this war. I find that conflict is only worth the blood if it is fought for just cause. But now, my poor boy returns to me bloodied and ravaged. I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS! I AM GALBATORIX, SLAYER OF VRAEL, KING OF ALAGAESIA!"

Galbatorix's voice reached high in the throne room, causing long-forgotten dust to shutter and fall to the ground from atop old statues and even older glass windows. As the particles fell, they caused the light of the throne room to become distorted, giving Galbatorix and ethereal aura. Tears still fell from Murtagh's eyes as he looked at Galbatorix.

This was strength. This was power. Orrin would stand no chance against Galbatorix.

Breathing hard, Galbatorix produced a napkin from a pocket inside his regal robes. He dapped at his forehead, lifting the shining crown slightly. Finally, his eyes zoned in on Murtagh.

"Do you want revenge?" Galbatorix asked.

"More than anything. I will kill them all."

Galbatorix looked past Murtagh, and saw his companions.

"What would you have me do with them?"

"They are true companions. Zidda has done me no wrong, and has been with me from Karem's tower, through the lands of near-Surda, and into the depths of the Dwarib Kingdoms. The Twins saw the injustice of Orrin's regime, and have abandoned him. You will find that they have precious information about the Varden's doings, and their future plans."

"Zidda . . . and you two, I will have you dressed and fed."

At once, a servant led the three of them away.

"My father once spoke to me of an inheritance. He said he had a gift for all three of his sons. I am the only one here today. I wish to claim what is mine by rights, the eldest son of Morzan." Murtagh requested.

"It is power. Power that you can use to destroy our enemies. I will grant you this, Murtagh. Your father fights in the North against some creature calling itself Magebane, but the true war has not yet begun. The Forsworn are here, with their dragons. But there is something more."

Galbatorix took Murtagh by the shoulder, and lead him away from the throne room. They walked amongst twisting corridors and dark hallways, passed massive glass windows that gave Murtagh a dazzling view of Uru'baen: Towers that picked at the clouds, giant clusters of stone buildings that housed hundreds of people, and magnificent spires that stood watch at the center of clean-cut city squares. They passed all of this, however. Walking in complete silence as they descended stairs that led deeper and deeper into the abyss of Galbatorix's castle. It got so dark that Galbatorix cast a spell, and soon an orb of azure fire led the way for them. Finally, they came to a small closed door. Galbatorix eased Murtagh forward.

"It will only open for those who carry Morzan's bloodline." He said softly. Frowning, Murtagh placed his hand on the old and cool stone. His palm tingled as the slab drew itself in, and Murtagh looked back at Galbatorix.

"Go on," He urged. Morzan walked into the room, Galbatorix behind him, his cape hissing as it slid across the floor. Murtagh saw what looked like a casket, a rectangular block of granite covered by a fitting piece of obsidian stone. Red jewels covered the obsidian, and cast the room in a blood-colored light. Murtagh touched the corner of the obsidian, and again felt his fingers twitch within themselves. After that sensation, the obsidian slowly scraped against the granite, revealing the contents of the sarcophagus.

"This is your inheritance. What was meant for you and your brothers is now yours alone." Galbatorix said behind Murtagh. He saw a curved sword with a ghost-metal blade, transparent yet shining, reflecting all the light around it. The hilt was of silver, fashioned in the likeness of a dragon's head, the hiltguard took the form of four curving horns, effecting surrounding the long hilt, which ended in rounded pommel that contained a blue gem.

"The sword of Vrael." Galbatorix informed, and Murtagh lifted the sword in his hands. It was heavy, and he could feel the lingering essence of Vrael fight against him. Murtagh knew that Riders put a portion of their spirit within their blades, and even though Vrael was long dead, he lived within his sword. Murtagh put the blade down within the bed of the sarcophagus. Next he found two gauntlets crafted of red dragon-scales. He picked them up, and again he could feel power within them. But this time it melded to his will, adjusted to the ebb and flow of Murtagh's own spirit, as opposed to fighting against the tide.

"The hands of Evander. With these, you should be able to wield Vrael's sword easier. They were both elves, and Evander's gauntlets will block the interference from Vrael's lingering spirit."

Murtagh nodded solemnly, and placed them down. Finally, he came to the last object. His fingers slid off the curved surface, and Murtagh frowned as he took two hands and grasped the thing solidly in his grip. He raised the object to his eyes, and saw in the dim-red cast of light, a veiny and round egg within his hands. Galbatorix was silent, and Murtagh could feel the anxiety and anticipation within him. Suddenly, Murtagh felt burning on his left palm. He cried out in pain as he attempted to free his hand, but it was stuck to the side of the egg. He fell to the ground as his back flared in agony, but suddenly, the pain vanished.

Galbatorix loomed over him, a shadowy silhouette with burning green eyes.

"One of the three eggs we salvaged from Doru Araeba." He said silently. Murtagh gasped as a tiny red dragon climbed up onto his chest, inspecting him with large childish eyes. It had a long tail that ended in a sharp dagger of bone, while tiny horns curled backwards from a square head. Two wings flapped at Murtagh tiny digits the corners of the webbed limbs as it stood on juvenile legs that reminded Murtagh of the predatory feet of eagles. He could feel the dragon's mind, feel its thoughts. It was hungry, but beyond that, it burned with love for Murtagh. It said his name, and Murtagh could hear it within his own mind.

"A dragon." Murtagh said breathlessly. Galbatorix helped Murtagh up as his new dragon clung to his tunic.

"I will have your gifts brought to you once you have a chamber of your own. You will also begin to train with Alauinel tomorrow." Galbatorix said, and Murtagh bowed his head. He knew of Alauinel, but he had never met her before.

"I hate to separate you from your dragon, but it must undergo the turning."

Murtagh followed Galbatorix out of the crypt.

"Turning?" He said, question ringing in his voice. Galbatorix did not respond, but simply traveled down an adjoining hallway. Murtagh furrowed his brows and walked in Galbatorix's wake, his dragon chirping happily. Galbatorix came upon a massive wall of runic stone, inscriptions glowing as the Emperor of Alagaesia raised his hands, causing the stone to rise.

"Your father never took me for a scholar. But I learned things from Shruikan. He is the dragonspawn of an ancient beast that is said to have reigned terror upon all humanity. He inherited all of his father's knowledge, and chose me has his Rider when he had already hatched eons before. He had been spared by Rayun'haurtubbi. Thank the Xoshan for that much."

Murtagh's eyes widened as he was greeted by a massive room of bright metal walls, while a beam of light rose from unseen depths, surrounded by a floating circle of shining stone.

"Galbatorix you have- Morzan? No, no, his son! And what's this . . ." A man appeared before them, middle-aged and wizened, bearing a strong bearded face while a giant sword hung from his back.

"This is Murtagh, Morzan's son. A newly made Rider." Galbatorix said with a grin.

"Good. Shruikan has just finished." The man announced as something shifted within the beam of light. A figure stepped onto the circular stone, a humanoid figure basked in silver. The color drew away from the figure's body, revealing pale and human skin. A face was seen, while red eyes peered down at them as long black hair fell down to the figure's waist. Wings sprouted from the man's back, and he alighted softly to where they all stood. Red eyes flashed at Galbatorix, and then settled on Murtagh's dragon.

"I see you have succeeded in hatching the egg." The dark man said. His voice was smooth, delicate like water passing over rounded pebbles in a slow-moving stream.

"I see. This is Morzan's son, Murtagh." Galbatorix nodded at Murtagh's direction. The man smiled, and revealed a mouth full of sharp teeth.

"I find Morzan's face within yours, young human. You will make a great warrior."

Murtagh stepped away from the man as wings were pulled into the being's back.

"What are you . . ." Murtagh asked as he warily eyed the creature.

"I was once a dragon. But now I am much more. I am Shruikan, an Eldeena partially restored."

Murtagh was breathless as Shruikan took his dragon, and placed the tiny reptile into the beam of light.

"We will show the Varden, this new Rider, and all of our enemies what true power is." Galbatorix roared as Shruikan took to the air, massive wings spreading wide as he flew about the spire of light.