An: Sorry for the wait on this chapter. A Statue called "the end of the trial". Hope you enjoy! Italics are dream and bold italics are memories.
The cold stones pressed into his face. Murtagh moved stiffly. How long had he been out? He didn't know. How many days had gone by? He knew it not. He closed his eyes, thinking back to his dream:
There was the ominous sound of horses hooves as they plodded along side him. There was a female next to him teaching the ones following them the ways of the ritual.
"Murtagh…" The female said. "Are you alright? You are rather quite."
"No. I am fine. It's just what lies ahead. It is hard for me to do this every year. It brings back terrible memories."
"I wish I could sympathize, but I can't."
"Don't worry bout it…It can not be helped."
He turned away from her concerned face. Tears on the brink of spilling. He smiled as he remembered the past, before they died.
They were traveling along a deer trail. Rushing away from where he was once held captive by the changers. Their pace slowed as the distance between them grew.
"Murtagh… I missed you…"
Murtagh stopped in his tracks and grabbed his younger brother into a hug. Something he never thought he'd do.
He shook his head and looked ahead. They were advancing quickly to the ravine they needed to go. The woman next to him had stopped talking and looked ahead.
"The aura of death grows strong here. I can barely stand it."
"Here is where the changer lord died, and where my brother was grievously injured. Along with his lover." Murtagh explained to the dumbfounded group behind them.
"Master Murtagh…It's getting late and the ponies are weary. Shall we stop for the night. Just this once?" A young male asked, a green dragon perched on his shoulder.
"Yes…for now, Joel. Let our steeds rest."
The stopped and dismounted their ponies. The dragon were a flutter and there was pandemonium. Murtagh told them to settle or daddy Thorn would be displeased. He landed next him the minute he said this. His red scales shining in the darkness. Then a white dragon landed next to them. Her eyes glinted in the firelight, a pale white. Murtagh sat down with the sacrificial spear he spent his many years perfecting. The ash wood was smoothed to perfection. In it was carved and intricate pattern that held dragons and elves. Around the staff were two roses, intertwining with each other. Their stems embracing one another. At the but end of the staff the two roses met. Their petals mixed with each other. Near the spear point there was blue ribbons of different shades tied to the end. The point was red in the dimming light, as if it had dried blood on it.
"It's beautiful…" The woman told him, setting herself next to him. "How long did it take you?"
"Many years." He replied, setting it on the ground. He put his arm around her and began to cry. He could no longer take it. The pain of the memories were full upon him. The blood and the cries of the dying. The pain in his eyes as his lover died in his arms. His last words, their plummet off the cliff to the lands below it. The screams of pain as his dragon went with. The blood rushing from his wounds, the cut across his dragon's eye. Then the scream of death from the changer. Those memories he tried so hard to suppress had come back. When he was spent he gathered the group and they went about their business.
The dragons took flight over their heads. Their owners smiling in the joy of being chosen. As their parents had told them, a rider was a noble position. The fog from early morning dissipated showing the ravine Murtagh so hated. He told them to stop and wait for him in the distance, this was his moment, He brought his horse, Snowfire, to the rim. The wind blew, making his clothing blow towards the ravine. His shaggy hair covering his eyes. He held the spear at his side, the red blade glinting madly in the light. Then suddenly the sun broke the horizon, casting shadows across the land.
"To you my brother and you lover, I give this spear. This spear many a countless year have I toiled to make it. May it suffice in your needs for I grieve to this day! Your names I shall not forget and your valor to be passed by may tongue! Your past is to be pasted by my tongue! May you linger within theses stories! Be at peace…Eragon…and…Arya…My brother and his lover!." Murtagh yelled to the wind. Throwing the spear down into the ravine. A chill ran through him as Eragon's voice echoed in his head. "One part brave and three parts fool. To me you are brave."
Murtagh turned Snowfire around and trotted back to the group. The heaviness he carried for many years was gone.
Murtagh was crying. He had to get out, before it was too late. He had to keep them from dying no matter what, he would die in their place.
"Have you too had the dream?" A soft female voice asked from the dark corner. "It is to come true…no matter what you do…"
An: Well that's about all…Joel and the women are my characters. I hope you enjoyed it…Please review.