Disclaimer: Don't own Eragon.
Okay most of this chapter is from the books, I swear the next one will be more original.
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"You will serve our master very well, yesss," hissed the Ra'zac.
"If I do, I will kill you," said Eragon forcibly, not taking his eyes off of the two creatures. Dual cold chuckles served as a response.
"Oh no, we are too valuable. But you...you are disposable," said a Ra'zac. A ways away, Saphira growled at them, helpless to fight due to the restraining chains, shackles, and muzzle fitted over her massive, blue body. Smoke rose from her nostrils like incense. The Ra'zac ignored her. On the ground, the form of Brom moved and his groan could be heard. A Ra'zac picked him up, tossing him into the air.
"It'sss wearing off."
"Give him more."
"Let'sss just kill him. "He has caused us much grief."
"A good plan. But remember, the king's instructions were to keep them alive," responded the taller Ra'zac.
"We can sssay he was killed when we captured them," said the other.
"And what of thisss one?" The Ra'zac gestured at Eragon with his sword. "If he talksss?"
"He would not dare," chuckled the other one, drawing a dagger.
"And the sssick one?"
"She isss delirious. She will not lassst long." Eragon could make neither heads nor tails of this. He watched as the Ra'zac considered his companion.
"Agreed." They grabbed Brom, dragging him into the middle of the campsite and dropping him to his knees. The old man sagged to one side. Eragon struggled against his constraints.
"None of that now," hissed the tall Ra'zac, nudging the young Rider with his sword. His head lifted suddenly and Eragon heard him sniff. He was alert, wary. The other Ra'zac held Brom's head back by his hair, holding the dagger to his bare throat.
An arrow whizzed through the air, imbedding itself in the Ra'zac's shoulder. The taller one ducked, avoiding a second arrow. He joined his companion and they looked off furiously into the darkness from which the arrows had flown. Brom sat up, looking around, disoriented.
"Get down!" shouted Eragon. As Brom scrambled over to him, his eyes glimpsed something pale in the darkness. It was a hand, raised in the air, twisting casually. It dropped in time to avoid a particularly low-flying arrow, not reappearing. A small boulder hid it's owner from view.
Eragon's thoughts were interrupted as the Ra'zac fled by, one kicking him hard in the side as he passed. The other grabbed the dagger from the ground as he retreated, throwing it back at Eragon. Brom threw himself in front of Eragon just in time.
He fell to the ground, blood staining his shoulder where the dagger's hilt stuck out of his flesh.
"NO!" cried Eragon, doubled over in pain. He closed his eyes, hearing footsteps, and then his world went black.
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Eragon didn't really wake. He eased into consciousness, first aware of his breathing, then of his pain. He had no sense of the time passing him by until his consciousness was fully recovered. He opened his eyes, staring around. A fire sat a few feet away, crackling merrily in the darkness. The drug from the Ra'zac no longer fogged his mind and he reached out for the blue dragon.
'Saphira, are you injured?'
'No, but you and Brom are.'
Eragon became aware of the wings that covered him. Saphira seemed to be right beside him, watching over him protectively.
'Saphira, you didn't make that fire, did you? And you couldn't have gotten out of those chains by yourself.'
'No.'
'I didn't think so.'
Eragon sat up painfully, spotting a young man sitting across the fire. He seemed a few years older than Eragon, not young, but not a man, with dark hair that extended to his chin. His eyes were gray, and they were fixed on Eragon.
"Who are you?" asked Eragon.
"Murtagh," replied the stranger simply, flexing the fingers that clutched his bow. Eragon noticed his hands were still bound and he moved them up over his feet so they were in front of him.
"Why did you help us?"
"You aren't the only enemies the Ra'zac have. I was tracking them."
"You know who they are?"
"Yes." Eragon looked at the ropes around his wrists, focusing his magic on them.
"Jierda!" he said and the ropes snapped apart. He heard Murtagh breathe sharply. Ignoring this, he struggled to stand, but faltered with the pain. Murtagh moved to help, but Saphira growled, stopping him dead in his tracks.
"I would have helped you earlier, but your dragon wouldn't let me near you, nor the sick girl," he said.
"Her name's Saphira," said Eragon, but his eyes narrowed in confusion. "What sick girl?"
"Was she not traveling with you?" asked Murtagh, furrowing his brow.
"No, it was only me, Saphira, Brom, and the horses," said Eragon. "What sick girl? I remember the Ra'zac mentioning her as well." Murtagh looked apprehensively up at Saphira.
"I'll show you if she will let me help," he said.
'Let him by! I can't do this alone, Saphira. Besides, he saved our lives.' Saphira grudgingly lifted her wing at Eragon's mental words, allowing Murtagh to help him to his feet and aided him in walking to the fire where Brom lay unconscious next to a young girl of small stature. She was unfamiliar to Eragon, yet she stirred something in his memory. Her long, light brown hair was draped over her shoulder and her lips were moving rapidly, though her eyes were closed. Murtagh helped him into a sitting position.
"How is he?" asked Eragon, looking at Brom.
"Bad," replied Murtagh. "The knife went right between his ribs. You can look at him in a minute, but first we'd better see how much damage the Ra'zac did to you." He helped Eragon remove his shirt, whistling when he saw the wound. "Ouch!"
"Ouch," said Eragon, looking down at the bruise that covered his side, bleeding in a few places. Murtagh pressed it, causing Eragon to yell out in pain and Saphira to growl in warning. Murtagh grabbed a blanket, tearing it into strips to bind Eragon's chest.
"I think you have some broken ribs. It's hard to tell, but at least two, maybe more. You're lucky you're not coughing up blood."
"Yes...I'm lucky..." said Eragon distantly, slipping his shirt back on over the makeshift bandages. He moved to Brom, moving the bandage that covered the wound.
"I wouldn't do that. He'll bleed to death without it," warned Murtagh as he examined the girl. Eragon looked anyway.
'Help me, Saphira, I am too weak to do this alone.'
'I am here, Eragon.' sent Saphira, joining him and looking at Brom.
"Waíse heill!" said Eragon. His palm glowed over the wound and the cuts slowly closed, leaving it good as new. 'We've never done that before' he sent to Saphira.
'Together we can cast spells that are beyond either of us' she responded. Murtagh looked over.
"Is he completely healed?" he asked.
"I can only mend what is on the surface. I don't know enough to fix whatever's damaged inside. It's up to him now. I've done all I can," he said, looking from Murtagh to the unconscious girl. "What's wrong with her?"
"She's feverish and her feet are injured pretty badly. I think she may have been traveling with no shoes," said Murtagh, moving so that Eragon could see her feet. They were grimy, covered with dirt, blood, and sweat. One ankle was swollen twice it's size and a multicolored bruise extended up the length of her left leg. Her knees were scraped minor above the mess. Murtagh looked at him. "Can you heal her?" he asked.
"Only the injuries. The fever will have to be treated by other means, though," he said. 'Saphira, I need your help again.'
'Who is she?' asked Saphira.
'I don't know. She reminds me of someone though...help me.' Both dragon and Rider combined their strength once more, watching as the many slits and cuts sealed themselves flawlessly, leaving un-bruised, yet still bloody feet. Eragon looked at Murtagh. "Is she hurt anywhere else?" he asked.
"Saphira wouldn't let me examine her closer earlier," replied the dark-haired boy. "But we'll have to wait until she wakes. How far do you think she walked this way?"
"I don't know," said Eragon, looking at the pretty girl's pale face. Small beads of sweat were appearing and she made a low whimpering noise as she continued to move her lips slightly. Eragon was suddenly possessed of a feeling unfamiliar to him. "My...my head seems to be floating in clouds..."
"You probably need to eat. I'll make soup," said Murtagh.
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