A/N: Once upon a chapter – namely chapter 1 – there was a warning... If you don't remember, go and check, please, and see whether you're alright with it.
And yes, I'm perfectly aware how little has happened in the last two chapters. Frustrating, isn't it? Guess who else got frustrated? Right, Taggy. And with that part of Morzan within him... Believe me, I don't always understand him, either.
To Talitian: Thank you so much! I'm very happy that the story continues to appeal to you, even though we'll have to see about your guess... :)
War is like love, it always finds a way – Bertold Brecht
Chapter 11
31st Grain Moon
Sleep was not an option.
The night would not last long anymore, but Murtagh had given up on finding rest a while ago, ignoring his scolding dragon, who had eventually resigned and gone hunting.
He was lying beneath a hazel bush, chosen in the evening because the ground underneath had still been dry. Over the hours, however, the persistent drizzle had leaked through the foliage, and now heavy drops were falling on Murtagh's face in a constant rhythm. He could not care less, though, as long as Eragon would not wake.
Murtagh tightened his grip on the body in his arms and checked with one hand whether his cloak was still covering Eragon's head, which was resting on his chest. He had lain like this all night, kept awake not so much by the fact that his own head was unprotected from the wetness, but instead by the worrying that kept him busy, the what-ifs, the fear for Eragon.
It had been close. Far too close.
When Thorn had descended from the sky and Murtagh had fully seen the danger Eragon was in, the realization just how much the younger one meant to him had struck full force. He could have slain the Urgals right there and then, his body had screamed to do so, but he had called both his dragon and himself to order once Eragon had been shielded. Killing Durza was one of his priorities, after all, and someone had to take command of the Urgals after the Shade was dead. They were not to be trusted, certainly, but Murtagh would rather see himself in charge of them than anyone else, and that would not be possible if he started slaughtering them now. But they never should've attacked Eragon in the first place, for Tornac's saddle clearly shows my emblem… He would give a lot to know their current orders.
Murtagh's eyes snapped open. What are they doing in Du Weldenvarden in the first place?
He knew the king would not have sent them, because he did not want them anywhere near the egg. Therefore, it must have been Durza ordering them here. But why?
Thorn? Murtagh was wide awake, frustrated as so often that he did not yet see the whole picture.
Rider? Thorn's voice was diminished, demonstrating how far he had flown.
I simply don't understand… There must be something we're missing.
Probably. Thorn was gliding back and forth over a patch of ground where he had seen a boar duck for cover. Mhm, pork.
Thorn! Murtagh turned on his side, turning Eragon with him. The younger one melted perfectly into his body and briefly distracted Murtagh. He never tired of touching Eragon. Let's see. He focused on the conversation. From the day I met Durza in Ceunon to the murder of the guardians of the eggs about five weeks passed.
Thorn heaved a huge, mental sigh. How many times have we been through this?
How often has there been a band of Kull coming after Eragon?
The dragon only grunted.
Thank you. So… you said Durza arrived in Uru'baen on the twenty-third last month and reported to Galbatorix right away. And a day later the king sought you out…
… And, as I've told you before, a slightly annoyed Thorn continued, he wanted to know why you had suspected Jeod to be involved and whether perhaps you had had previous information. His tone became sarcastic. I did not even have to lie saying that you always, always have to know everything.
Amazing how well we match in some respects, eh?
Aye. Thorn chuckled and sent Murtagh an image of himself diving down towards his prey, finishing the unequal hunt within an instant, breaking the boar's neck with a clean bite.
Murtagh waited a few minutes, knowing better than to interrupt his dragon while he was still ravenous. Then he wanted to know what else I knew, right? he eventually asked. And you asked back how I could with Durza talking to and killing my source.
I am in awe about your ability to remember what I've told you. Told you more than once, actually. Slowly a deep contentment coming from Thorn filled their bond.
Good pork?
Of course. I chose the boar, I chose the time, I did the hunt. Of course it's good.
Murtagh ran a hand lightly over Eragon, careful not to disturb his sleep, and wondering whether he might be fond of hunting, too.
Three days later I heard Galbatorix yell at Durza, Thorn carried on unasked for. Then Durza left – heading for Teirm, Shruikan told me – and it can only be to gain more news about Jeod… Demeca can't have told him too much.
So he got to Teirm before Grimgald and Marus did. Again Murtagh did the math, but it was the same result as always. If only we knew whether he's here now because of something he learned about Jeod, or because he was supposed to retrieve the egg after Teirm in any case…
How are we to know? But he sure means trouble. If we only found him soon… Shruikan can't stand him either. He will back us when we kill a stinking Shade.
Murtagh snorted. I'm not afraid of the consequences.
Thorn mentally snorted in response. … Yet. He had hit the mark as only someone could that was so often in Murtagh's mind.
Murtagh grimaced, postponing the still unsolved problem of dealing with Galbatorix after the planned murder of Durza. Please, tell me again of Grimgald's death. I know there was magic involved, but how precisely still escapes me… He swallowed, tightening his grip on Eragon. Damn! He was a good man!
It was two weeks after Durza's departure. He came from the west, from Teirm perhaps. I saw him enter the city – still looking fine – and I was close when he singled out your captain, Grall. Thorn paused. I've not seen anything the like before. He had not yet said a single word when his face already turned red and he staggered. Grall steadied him, but all the old man managed was pointing at me, at your crest on my saddle, and in the direction of the north. Last, he croaked something like 'blond stranger' – and dropped dead to the ground. Thorn fell silent. I'm actually sorry about this, he eventually said, surprising them both. Grimgald was a decent human.
A curse, Murtagh spat. There is no other way. I know it was Durza. But… blond stranger? Why did Grimgald bring Eragon into this? What did they all learn in Teirm? Why is Durza hiding like a mouse? What are the Urgals doing here?
As always: I don't know. And enough for today. We'll be in Osilon soon, and there will be things at hand to deal with first. A horde of charging elves, for example… Be patient for the rest.
Murtagh shook his head. What if we don't learn-
Murtagh! Enough! Thorn cut off their connection, but only after gently brushing on his Rider's consciousness with his mind.
"What is it about you, little one?" Murtagh whispered into Eragon's ear. "What did Grimgald mean? You're like no other, I already know that, but that doesn't solve the riddle." He had never told Eragon about the words Grimgald had ushered before his death - had never told him about the death in the first place. "Hmm? Will you ever reveal your secret?" He placed a chaste kiss on the other's cheek.
Eragon murmured something in response, and Murtagh immediately stilled. For a moment, all he could hear was the rain dripping to the ground, making a sound whenever it hit a leaf. Then Eragon said some more, raising his voice on the last syllable. It was his strange tongue, English, and while Murtagh did not understand a word, he found it sounded far too coherent for someone asleep.
"Did I wake you?" he asked quietly with what he hoped to be regret in his voice. Maybe he's in a kissing mood? Some diversion would be appreciated.
"Whaddaya say?" Eragon mumbled, twisting at Murtagh's side until he had turned around, looking out at the older one from beneath the cloak with sleepy eyes. "You're all wet!" he exclaimed a moment later, far more awake.
"I don't mind. Have you slept well?"
Eragon displayed a mixture of nodding and shaking his head. "I'm not sure about your sword," he said, the topic seemingly still fresh on his mind. "You truly need it, and I… I can't do much if there is an… an enemy. Not even with a sword."
"No discussion anymore. I've made up my mind. And I'll start teaching you attacks in the morning."
"But that won't help. It will take very long until I can-" Eragon jerked and sat up straight, his eyes wide and his head turning from left to right. "Murtagh!" he whispered, "what was that? Did you hear that?"
Murtagh smiled up at the dishevelled blond. Then another howl could be heard, and as the weather prevented sounds from carrying far, Murtagh knew the animal was not far away. "Have you never heard a wolf before?"
"A wolf? No! I mean, I know wolves, but I have not heard it like this, only in teevee… you remember teevee?"
"How could I forget? Come, lay back down with me." Not waiting for a reaction, he simply pulled Eragon down again. "You're not afraid, are you?"
"No." Yet a brief, nervous smile touched Eragon's lips, belying his words. "Not with you," he said with more conviction.
"Without me you needn't be, either. Only big packs in long, hungry winters pose a threat; all others are shy enough."
Eragon had settled back in Murtagh's arms, but not back below the cloak. "You never told me," he said eventually. "About the wolf, in the beginning."
"I didn't? But I told you that- Ahh. You didn't understand a word, right?" Eragon nodded and Murtagh laughed quietly. "Well, it was about wolves in general. You had asked whether I considered them good, and the only answer to that can be yes, for these animals mean something to me." He paused, thinking of a way to explain. "Wolves are… connected to my family, I guess. It goes back far longer than Morzan's long life. It's tradition that some families have an animal as… hmm… symbol perhaps. For us, it's the wolf, but I've come to learn that it's more than only symbolic. In my life, a wolf, or a sign of a wolf, has always been an indicator for a decision that is correct." He smiled. "I must inform you that now, with the howling, nothing can convince me of not leaving Orúm with you."
Eragon grumbled something incomprehensible and then fell silent. After a while he asked, "What was the decision in the beginning?"
"Well, I chose to take you along, did I not? To get to know you. I'd like to think that it was a good decision…"
Eragon smiled at him. "I like it when you say that."
"Do you?" Murtagh stored the information away. "How could I not think that, though," he tried some more, "when I like you so?"
Eragon's smile turned radiant. "I like hearing that, too, because I like you, too."
Definitely kissing mood, was the last logical thought on Murtagh's mind only an instant later.
---xxxxx---
---xxxxx---
Shall I fly another circle? Thorn put some effort into hiding his annoyance, but he could not fool his Rider.
One week had passed since the rainy night, and for the past three days Murtagh and Thorn had been in the vicinity of Osilon, searching and finding the spot of Durza's ambush on the egg's guardians. The place, however, was heavily guarded by elves.
Meanwhile, Rider and dragon had run into more than one message clearly meant for them, calling for a meeting. Remarkable about this was that the sender was definitely of elven nature. Still, all three days nothing had happened. Osilon was on high alert, but both Durza and his Urgals as well as the host from Ellesméra were either somewhere else or extremely well hidden.
Murtagh shared his dragon's impatience; by now it had even turned into downright anger on his part. We should answer their call and meet them.
Thorn growled audibly, as their presence was known anyways. That would be madness! It's as clear a trap as it could possibly be.
I know, but what else can we do? Circle over the city till the day the world ends? Murtagh was looking down, watching the small figures rush from one side of the open spaces in Osilon to the other. Just because the last clash never led anywhere…
It didn't? Thorn played his trump. It made us nearly lose Eragon to the Kull! And if I heard correctly, he wasn't completely believing you that our fight was only in self-defense.
Murtagh grumbled a curse. Bad luck. But this I can always call a trap, if need be. Now stop circling!
Circling is better than ending up as roasted dragon… Oh, wait, they don't eat meat. They'll only kill me, then.
Afraid?
Thorn leashed out with his tail, the tip just long enough to hit Murtagh over the head. Watch your words, Rider!
Murtagh remained calm. What now? Are you a dragon, or a rabbit?
Thorn roared his anger at the taunt and automatically descended somewhat.
A rabbit that can fly, apparently… Go down already, we're going in! It's the only way.
You're in trouble for the rabbit! Thorn breathed a tremendous flame, turning the air around him into a large, hot ball of fire. When the first elf below them called a warning at the change of action, the dragon dove down. You know that taking off will be nearly impossible down there? If this fails, I will follow you to each and every life after and burn you to death!
Murtagh drew Zar'roc, readying himself to jump off. Yes, I know. And there are no lives after this…
I'm a dragon! Thorn roared anew, both internally and externally. I will create the lives after this, if need be! He was almost to the ground now, and very briefly communicated a completely different mood to his Rider. Watch out and make me proud!
I'll follow your example!
Thorn crashed down into a small clearing, smashing several young trees in the process. Due to endless practice, Murtagh found the exact right moment to jump off and not be paralyzed by the impact of the large body hitting the ground at such a speed. He lost his balance, but was immediately on his feet again, turning in a flash, sword protectively in front of him. Thorn turned likewise and sent darting flames in all directions to keep the first elves showing at bay.
About fifty, Thorn reported, his vision catching even those that were still hiding in the shadows.
Adrenaline was rushing through Murtagh's body, which had been prepared to be immediately charged. All armed?
Yes. All prepared for battle, but waiting…
"You wanted me?" Murtagh hollered, looking at the elf closest to him, who stood about forty yards away out in the open, studying him. Murtagh smirked. "Here I am!" He tore his gaze away and slowly made a complete turn, catching as many eyes as possible. "Get me… if you can!" What are they waiting for?
I don't know. Thorn made a step and watched the elves closest to him jump back and retreat between the trees. Trap…
I know! "One of the men you hate most is standing right in front of you, and you duck? You hide? What would your ancestors think?" Suddenly a shiver ran down Murtagh's spine, releasing another dose of adrenaline. What was that? "You cannot possibly be of the same people that once came from Alalëa!" He noticed how the earth beneath his feet began to shake. I can't sense anything!
Me neither! Thorn's mental voice had the same edge to it that Murtagh's had. I can't- Blast it! He rushed forward to stand directly at his Rider's side. Ellesméra has come!
Murtagh noticed the elven army the same moment Thorn did, and his blood froze. The elves from Ellesméra was still far off, on the other side of the city, but urged their horses to great speed. Where have they come from?
Suddenly a violent hiss close to his ear had Murtagh move to the side, and not one second too late. An arrow missed him only by inches.
Osilon had opened the fight.
Thorn proved his immense speed despite his bulky body and leaped forward. He immediately killed the first two elves within his reach with his claws, biting off the head of a third. His spiky tail lashed from right to left, knocking down a few attackers, but soon the elves avoided it. Instead some tried to jump on him from the trees.
Murtagh stayed close to the front of his dragon and fended off a warrior attacking with two blades. A knife came flying for him, and he swiftly crouched down, only to cut through the legs of the elf opposing him on his way back up. Two new elves immediately replaced their fallen comrade, coming at Murtagh from both sides. He stepped back and whirled around – directly into the open blade of another elf. This one, though, was too close for Zar'roc to keep at bay. Murtagh's left immediately reached over his shoulder for Orúm, but there was only thin air. In the last instant, he managed to draw his dagger instead and ram it into the throat of the elf.
In the meantime, the host of Ellesméra was nearing at great speed.
From the corner of his eye, Murtagh saw a figure jump on his dragon, and Thorn's head snapped back, letting go of his latest victim. A female warrior lifted one scale with all of her might, then she drew a short, thick knife with her free hand. With one swift and strong thrust, she buried the blade in the soft spot where the scale overlapped the next, piercing through the flesh underneath. Thorn howled, unused to being vulnerable on his back. Not able to reach the elf himself, he rushed to the nearest tree and crushed her between his body and a thick branch. When he turned around to move back to Murtagh's side, he saw that the mounted army was almost there. Rider!
Having killed the two elves attacking him, Murtagh now found himself opposed by a small group of warriors, coming at him from all angles. Like a flash he moved in a circle; so far, Zar'roc's length hindered their progress.
Murtagh! To our right! There's a larger clearing where I could take off! Thorn arrived next to his Rider and eliminated two elves by setting them aflame. Run!
Flee?
Flee and live, you fool…
Knowing his dragon to be right, Murtagh buried his sword in the nearest elf's throat, and, when drawing his weapon back out, he threw the dying man in the path of the other elves. Then he turned around and ran.
During the flight, he darted sideways every other step, keeping an eye on Thorn whose pace was hindered by the forest surrounding them. We're almost there. Hurry! We must- For an instant, Murtagh's step faltered, for he suddenly saw Arya and Islanzadí appear on the other side of the open space ahead, surrounded by about three dozen elves, rushing to meet dragon and Rider. They have split up! Faster! We must get there first!
However, it was only an instant later that he came to an abrupt stop.
Not far away in front of him, closer to his position than to Arya's, emerged a figure out of nowhere: Durza. And from the ground, as if they had lain there hidden all along, jumped a large horde of Urgals.
Murtagh did not have to say a single word. With a piercing scream erupting from both Thorn's and his lung, they were moving again, straight towards Durza, flight from Osilon momentarily forgotten.
He's dead! Thorn mercilessly smashed young trees beneath him, his fire not yet reaching the Shade. I'll break his lousy neck!
With a malicious grimace Durza watched them approach, the air around him crackling. Then, slowly and theatrically, he shrugged and turned around, slowly walking towards the oncoming elves. And those, Murtagh realized with astonishment, seemed not to see the Shade – all eyes were still on him.
He rushed right into the first Urgals, killing them as if they were not a good two feet taller than he was. From the corner of his eyes he constantly watched Durza, who was now at the edge of the large clearing, only a few yards away from the charging elves.
Suddenly the air around the Shade shifted, and Murtagh thought he heard Arya's frantic yell over the rest of the noise. Finally the elves were aware of who else they were dealing with.
An Urgal had come far too close to Murtagh, threatening to simply wrestle him down. Murtagh whirled around until the unprotected back of the creature was partly revealed to him, and he stabbed his dagger upwards through the ribs, hitting the liver. The Urgal stood paralyzed, then dropped down soundlessly.
Looking ahead again, Murtagh found the Shade engaged in battle with the elves. Arya and Islanzadí were fighting side by side on horseback, hindered to reach Durza by a dozen or so Urgals. At the same time, Murtagh heard the noise of the main part of the elven host behind him, louder than before, coming closer. Thorn looked back and confirmed that they were almost there.
Damn! For a brief moment, Murtagh stood unmoving and uncharged, gaping for air. We can't get him where he is!
No! Thorn growled. But they can still get us! Out of here! Quick!
He resumed rushing towards the clearing, and without hesitating Murtagh followed. The distraction caused by Durza granted them enough open space to reach their destination. When Murtagh climbed on Thorn's back a moment later, he saw the Shade and the royal elves still locked in furious battle, spells and blades attacking and blocking. Go! He looked ahead and up, urging his dragon on.
Suddenly a once familiar mind touched on Murtagh's, wishing frantically to be heard. His head snapped back, and his eyes locked with the blazing green ones of Arya. He allowed for her thoughts to flow freely.
Eragon! she cried, sending an image of the blond along. See him safe, Murtagh!
A giant Urgal axe came crushing down and felled her horse, and Arya rolled to the ground. A second later she emerged again, sword within seconds buried in the Urgal's throat, but the mental connection was fading. Eragon, she whispered. Safe him!
Arya? What do you- Curse this! Furiously Murtagh tried to rebuild the contact, but to no avail. Where Arya's mind had been, there now was only a thick, impenetrable wall – and suddenly a battle cry. Durza, Murtagh saw, had singled out the warrior princess, attacking full force.
What does he want? Murtagh nearly yelled the questionat Thorn. And what did she mean?
Later! Thorn stopped his Rider's thoughts and spread his wings, made a giant leap into the air, and with a last great effort gained altitude, though not without some arrows hitting his soft underside. He howled, first in pain, and then, when leaving the trees below, in triumph. Madness! I told you! But it takes a bit more to stop me… Stop us!
A great noise from the ground had Murtagh look back down again, and he found the elves clustering around the place where Arya had been, screaming in anger and anguish. Durza, however, was nowhere to be seen anymore.
Neither was Arya, Murtagh realized.
He swallowed hard. If the Shade had overpowered her and vanished with her… That was a fate Murtagh did not even wish for Arya.
His eyes stayed on the ground, searching, when the figures grew smaller and soon vanished as the red dragon sped away to the northwest.
---xxxxx---
---xxxxx---
"You're bloody again!" Eragon's tone was full of both accusation and sorrow. He crouched down next to Murtagh at the little pond, watching a little helplessly while the older one washed his face and arms.
I'll never get clean like this… Murtagh cursed, swiftly undressed, and jumped into the water. At the moment, he could not care less whether Eragon was able to handle the naked skin or not.
He had found the younger one safe and unharmed, and the worry Arya had placed in his heart had diminished. She must have been mistaken. There was nothing in particular that Eragon needed protection of; it was only the overall situation that was threatening, and Murtagh was already doing his best to get him away from danger.
He dove down below the surface and stayed there until his lungs were burning, searching for the distraction that the physical pain was granting him.
In total, the day had left behind a hollow and very unpleasant feeling in his stomach. Going to the elves without a real plan had been foolish, killing so many had been unnecessary regarding the fruitless outcome, Durza so close and yet unreachable had him angry, and having to flee the battle in the end… The fact that Thorn felt even worse about this was not much of help. Fights always left Murtagh edgy, and lost fights were a torture.
He splashed through the surface, drinking in the air in big gulps. His gaze fell on his companion, who was still watching him closely. I need Eragon, he eventually realized, I need him close.
He waded back to the bank and pulled his shirt into the water with him, crudely washing the blood off. Eragon then did the same with his trousers and shortly after with the vest, too, and Murtagh nodded gratefully. "Thank you."
When he emerged from the water, Eragon had his face tactfully averted, but when Murtagh put his wet and cold clothes back on, he saw the other peep more than once at his body, and so he was careful to avert his scarred back. "What do you think?" he asked some time later, following an idea. "Would you warm me?"
"Mhm," Eragon agreed quietly, grabbing his cloak and approaching Murtagh, then draping it around him, finally a smile on his lips. "Wet clothes are not good for you," he said in a very motherly tone.
Murtagh smiled back, glad that Eragon yet refrained from blaming him for going into Osilon with the clear intention of picking a fight. He was certain that the younger one would bring it up at a later point. "Do I get more than the cloak?" he asked playfully and leaned in for a kiss. Only a moment later, the gentle meeting of their lips turned heated, and Murtagh buried his hands in Eragon's hair and pulled him down to the ground with him.
On his own accord, Eragon moved to lie on top, pressing his body full force against the other's. "You're cold," he whispered when the contact had lasted a moment. "That's not good. I don't like that." A bit hesitantly, he ground his hip against Murtagh's, and straight away his breathing turned a little raspy – as did Murtagh's. "I-I'll make your bo-body warm itself."
Murtagh's heart missed a beat. "Eragon," he whispered back, "I need you! Show me I'm alive!"
Blue eyes were narrowing, and Eragon drew back a little, biting his lower lip.
Murtagh hastily shook his head. "Only as far as you will go. Please!" His hands began to roam up and down Eragon's back, and he claimed the other's mouth in a searing kiss, taking away the chance to reply just yet. Without breaking the kiss, he pushed Eragon off and turned on his side, his free hand now stroking the other's stomach and slowly moving downwards.
Soon, Eragon broke the kiss and he stared at Murtagh wide-eyed, but made no move to interfere. When Murtagh's hand moved further and brushed in the lightest possible way over Eragon's groin, a little squeak escaped him, and when the hand moved upwards again, he raised his hips in anticipation to meet it.
Yes! Murtagh locked eyes with Eragon, his heart warming at the trust he saw there. Slowly and for his standards very tenderly he began to caress Eragon through his trousers, and the younger one tensed his body, not wanting to miss the slightest touch. At the same time they began kissing again, but it were sloppy, careless kisses this time. Both their attentions were wavering greatly.
The flesh beneath Murtagh's hand was soon hard, and he smiled. Wanting it or not, a male body at sixteen is both a curse and a blessing… Yet he could not blame Eragon for how little time it had taken, because his body was in just the same state. Not stopping the ministrations, he rubbed his hip against the side of Eragon's body, searching for friction, finding it.
Eragon's breath turned more shallow by the moment, and he moaned several times into Murtagh's mouth. His hands were locked in Murtagh's hair, unconsciously pulling at it with quite some force.
Using his lips and tongue to coax Eragon into accepting what came next, Murtagh's hand briefly left Eragon's groin and moved to the belt. He swiftly unbuckled it and opened the trousers right after, and then his hand slid inside and encircled the younger one's length.
The next moan contributing to their kissing originated in Murtagh's throat.
"Co-cold," Eragon complained a moment later between two laboured breaths. "It's… so cold." Still, his hips moved against Murtagh's steady hold, trying to force the hand into movement.
"Is that all that's bothering you?"
"… Yes."
Holding back no more, Murtagh began to pleasure Eragon in earnest, running his thumb over the extremely sensitive head every now and then, sending Eragon into a constant shiver and eliciting a series of quiet whimpers. Thank you, little one, Murtagh thought, bathing in the feeling racing through his body. Thank you for allowing me at least this.
It did not take long until Eragon, his face flushed, arched his back and froze, covering both himself and Murtagh's hand in his essence. After that he lay motionless for a while, glowing, his breath slowly returning to normal. Only then did his hands begin to imitate Murtagh's earlier actions, searching what already was an aching hardness in Murtagh's trousers. However, he did not once meet the other's eye.
Murtagh growled quietly and closed his eyes, absentmindedly wiping his sticky hand in the damp grass around him. Strange how they do it in Montana. Oh well… In his current state it did not matter much. The pent-up tension of the day and the sexual frustration of weeks quickly reigned over his body, and soon he tilted his head back and let the fire spread through his veins. His climax came fast and hard.
Afterwards he granted himself some time to both relish the afterglow and watch the gorgeous man at his side through lidded eyes. Thank you…
---xxxxx---
---xxxxx---
What do you think could happen? Thorn asked. We've left him behind so many times… Or are you just eager for the next step and don't want to miss the moment?
Be quiet! Murtagh patted his dragon goodbye and turned towards Ceunon. It's only that I've never been this far away from him, he explained over a growing distance, never further than a day's flight. Now he's more than two days away. What if anything happens? I never found out what Arya meant…
Murtagh! Go find Marus, and then we'll go back and you can fuck him.
Murtagh cursed at his dragon. I am worried, Thorn! That is what this is about, nothing else! Go hunt!
Sure… Thorn did not specify his remark and languidly took off. I'll be back in an hour… Rider?
What? Murtagh asked impatiently, stopping in front of the main alehouse in which he sensed Marus.
I like him.
I like him, too. Murtagh closed the connection and walked in.
Marus was sitting close to the door, and apparently he had been watching the door – immediately he took notice of Murtagh and jumped to his feet. "Milord." He swallowed hard.
Murtagh stopped a yard away from him and inclined his head a fraction. "Marus." He scowled when he perceived the fear in the other's eyes, having completely forgotten about it. He had been with Eragon for so long now, and the young man had stopped fearing him weeks ago. What have I done to Marus in the past? What have I not done? He cleared his throat and softened his voice. "Good to see you unharmed."
Marus frowned. "Milord?"
He doesn't know… "Let's go somewhere private." Murtagh led the way back outside and into a dead-ended and deserted alley. "Have you come here from Teirm?"
"Yes, milord." Marus kept his distance, his expression full of questions.
Murtagh nodded, shuffling one foot through the dust on the street. I can do this right! "Grimgald is dead, Marus," he quietly told the ground. When he finally looked up again, he found Marus' face frozen; only the mouth was quivering. "I don't know yet how it happened, but he dropped down dead in Uru'baen. I… He was a good man. He taught me just as he has begun teaching you. Honour his legacy!"
"Milord." Marus nodded slowly and mechanically.
Murtagh shook his head. He had no time for this. "I need to know what happened in Teirm. May I?"
Marus nodded again, and again it felt as if he had not really heard. "Of course, milord."
Murtagh sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, then pulled off one glove and extended the hand to touch Marus' temple. Red hot magic immediately flowed through him and towards the contact, and with a strange, tingling feeling, he entered Marus' mind.
The contact was one of the things that greatly differed from the relationship of other high-ranking men and their soldiers. Every single one of Murtagh's guard had to agree to a spell in the beginning, a spell that opened their minds to their lord. It was how Murtagh had sensed Marus in Ceunon over quite some distance, and it was also how he was now creeping into Marus' memories by making physical contact. Murtagh could use it to spy on his men's loyalty, as well – the original purpose of the spell in Morzan's scheme – but he had not done it thus far, and never planned on doing so. He knew the spell was wrong in the first place, and the last weeks, which had messed with his thoughts and outlook on the world so greatly, had increased that feeling. But at the moment, he was very glad to have a retelling of the events that would be far more comprehensive than Marus' frightened mutterings.
Murtagh closed his eyes again and merged with Marus' mind.
"Nothing." Grimgald grunted and took a last, long look around in the remnants of Jeod's study. The furniture was mostly hacked to pieces, the draperies of the windows hung down in shreds, and books were shattered everywhere, torn out pages littering the floor.
Marus had a sheet with some scribbling in his hand, which was not quite like a page in a book, but to him every letter looked just the same anyways. "If only one of us could read…" He threw the sheet away and followed his sergeant out the door, carefully stepping around the corpse of a dead servant.
Grimgald spat when they were out on the street again. "Damn this Shade! I'm certain he took all important information when he played havoc with this house."
Murtagh rushed through blurred memories of his men walking through Teirm, stopping again when he sensed some excitement on Marus' part.
"It's him!" Marus whispered, although the noise on the large, crowded marketplace would have drowned even a scream. "Disguised… but that's him, right?" A cold shiver ran down his spine, and he could not tear his eyes away from the tall, purple-clad man about fifty yards away from them. Durza had drawn his hood deep into his face and was looking at the wares on a foreign-looking stand.
"Yes," Grimgald confirmed, shaking a little. "He's still here? Strange… Maybe-"
He was cut short by a tumult on the other side of the place, and both soldiers climbed on top of some boxes to get a better view. They saw a circle of people form around a woman who had broken down and now staggered to her feet, declining all hands wanting to help. Next to her was a black cat, pacing to and fro and lashing its tail in the air.
"Angela! Angela the witch!" Grimgald told Marus with astonishment. "Look! She seems… disoriented, somehow. Her eyes… She looks strange." He shrugged. "But then, you never know with these folks."
"Listen!" Marus silenced the older man, sending him an apologetic smile right after.
Angela had begun speaking, and all other noise died out.
"Change will come!" she cried, loud enough for everyone present to hear, but she was clearly not aware of her surroundings. "It will come, soon, but it will not meet any expectations!"
"A prophecy?" Marus asked, his heart beat increasing.
"Shhh." But Grimgald nodded.
"Change will come from the outside, with the help of the dragons!" she continued, her voice high-pitched. People were breaking into murmurs everywhere, but she did not hear them. "The wolf is raising a cub, but young ones grow old quickly! Grow strong quickly!"
Grimgald head snapped around and the two soldiers looked at each other, both swallowing. When Marus turned his attention back to the witch, his eyes briefly grazed the Shade, and he found him staring at Angela as well. It sent another shiver down his body.
"It's a cub with a light fur, the colour of the sun, and soon it will rise, and the dark will have an equivalent." Angela smiled, looking at something in the distance that no one else could see. "But what if dark and light unite? A great power… A great change, too?" Her smile faltered. "Only the everlasting shadow stands a chance now. It has seen the light before, but did not understand… Change will come!" she cried once more, and then fell silent.
Marus tried in vain to regain control of his shaking hands. Never had he been witness to anything the like before. "Gri-Grimgald…" he began, "the wolf. In connection with dragons…"
"Murtagh!" Grimgald agreed with a determined nod, clearly thinking hard. "Listen, Marus! I have a feeling that this means a lot more than the two of us can understand."
"The cub? Colour of the sun?"
Grimgald shook his head in disbelief. "Change will come from the outside, she said… But it is not for us to decipher." He paused, and suddenly his eyes were drawn to the Shade, and he stopped all movement whatsoever. Then a croaked yell escaped him.
Marus quickly looked in the same direction, and he found that the Shade's stare was not on Angela anymore, but instead on Grimgald. One clawed finger was twisting in front of his face, and then Marus saw Durza move his lips and lastly sneer. Finally the creature broke the contact and vanished in the crowd.
Grimgald flinched and ran a hand over his sweaty, ashen white face. "Curse him!" He sat down on a wooden cage and took a deep breath."And he knows who the wolf is, too…" The next words were spoken quietly, almost only to himself. "The wolf is raising a cub, she has said… the wolf is raising a cub… Heavens above! Marus!"
The addressee nearly jumped. "Yes, sir?"
"I will go to Uru'baen. I must report this immediately. Thorn must learn that he's dearly needed in the north."
"And I?"
"Ride back to where we have come from!" Grimgald ordered without a trace of doubt. "Ride like a demon. Change the horse on the way as we have done when coming here. Find Mur- No, trust that he finds you. Go back to Ceunon. Tell him of the prophecy. Tell him… Tell him I believe the Shade is coming for Eragon!"
Murtagh groaned and broke the contact, knowing instantly that his late sergeant's guess had been right. And if he took into account what Arya had said… She had been very close to the Shade at that moment. Had she learned something from his mind? And had he learned something from her in turn? Had he seen the cub in her thoughts, had he seen an image of Eragon?
The world around Murtagh started spinning, and the ground lost its solidness. Eragon! He wanted to scream, but no sound escaped him. Durza has come for Eragon! And he sure waited until I was far away… Helplessly he stomped one foot. Damn this world!
Without a word he turned around and ran, ignoring Marus, and also seeing nothing of his surroundings. Thorn! he yelled in his mind with all his might, running even faster. Thorn! I need you!
He stormed out of the city and saw his dragon approach at a rapid speed. Hurry! His heart refusing to work properly, he finally mounted his dragon, choking on the air he was breathing. Hurry, Thorn!
Once they were heading back to Du Weldenvarden, he silently called for someone else, called repeatedly, but now it was no more than a sob. Eragon…