A/N: Originally, this story was just going to be a one-shot, but thankx to HollyandMisltoe for the idea, I decided to keep going...atleast until my muse runs out. I'm not sure how many more chapters I'll write, but for the time being, I will keep going. I hope you enjoy it, and if not, sorry you're dissapointed.

Disclaimer: Don't own it anymore then a squirrel owns its nuts.

Warnings: I'm beyond spoilers now...only warning here is a shirtless Murtagh...I'm sorry, I just had to put it in :)

Oath Under Evil
Chapter 2
By: StriderX

The flight back to Urû'bean is spent in a companionable silence both my Rider and I are grateful for. It appears that the more skilled we become in magic, the louder the world around us seems to scream. Even the smallest of creatures are aware of how unbalanced mankind has made the world. Not that I blame men entirely. The elves and dragons had much to do with the situation as well. The only race that is really innocent in all this is the dwarves. If not for the dragon's constant pestering, I am sure the dwarves would have had nothing to do with any of these wars of madman, enemies, and allies. But all such things are in the past now. Today, as the cold autumn rain drenches this dull world, I see that the things that really matter are the simple joys of life—much like the warm silence embracing the bond reforged with my dearest friend and Rider, Murtagh.

It is early morning now; too early to bother to stir. Under cover of night, I was able to find a secluded crevasse for us to rest from the pelting rain amongst the base of the hills not five leagues southeast of the black mountain Helgrind. We would be expected back in the king's castle soon, but after having Murtagh nearly fall off my back with exhaustion; the king can wait another day. The crevasse isn't quite large enough for both us to fit comfortably; I don't mind the rain. After much protesting on Murtagh's part, I finally managed to convince him that he needs the shelter more then I do. And now, four hours later, with my tale and backside numb from the rain, I can't help but smile as I look upon my young friend.

Sleep is an amazing thing. No matter how deep the sorrow, how embedded the worry, every line and shadow on his face seems to simply wash away in the cover of sleep. It is here that I realize how young he really is. Stripped to the waist—his tunic and cape drying by glowing embers left from a small fire in the corner and armor thrown haphazardly to the side—he is curled into a ball in the crook between my arm and neck, snoring softly in the comfort of my breath warming the chilled air. Deep umber hair falling over long-lashed eyes closed to the world and its troubles hides the blemishes of battle and worry scratching his skin.

We should leave soon, but I won't wake him. I haven't seen him sleep so peacefully in many a month.

Not many hours later, I wake again to feel Murtagh stirring from his sleep. Opening my eyes, I find him smiling back at me with clear, refreshed eyes and calmed features. 'You look better, young one,' I say with a snort; blowing the unruly bangs from his face.

He shrugs and stretches gently; testing his muscles still sore and tense from battle. 'I feel better. Better then I have in a while,' his tone is light and strong with a crisp clarity only morning can bring. 'Thank you for stopping, Thorn...I didn't realize how tired I was.'

A low chuckle rises in my throat as he stands and tends to the quenching fire, adding a few twigs and leaves to the dimming embers. 'A dragon is not quick to forget the limits of his Rider, Murtagh.'

He grins as the fire slowly simmers to life. 'Yes,'he thinks through a small laugh—not the tragic, morbid snicker as I have grown accustomed to, but a real, pure...giggle. 'Yes, and I should be glad for it...I seem to recall nearly slipping off your back at some point last night.'

I nod. 'That was when I remembered your limits.'

Breakfast is a simple affair; I don't need to eat for a few days more and Murtagh has nothing more then a modest meal of bread and jelly. As he ate and dressed, we talked of the weather, the strength of his armor, and the wet leather of my saddle; never did we address the inevitable eventuality of returning to Galbatorix' hold. Such a peaceful morning is too rare a thing to destroy with thoughts of the despair and suffering that awaits us. But, like all good things, it seems, our rare morning conversations had to end eventually.

After strapping on the last of his battle armor, tying his pack to the latch on my saddle, and securing Zar'roc to his belt, Murtagh looks out to the gloomy day fogging the valley ahead and sighs sadly. 'I guess it's time,' he says softly; nervously.

His feelings mirror in my own as I stare out at the landscape behind him. Craning my neck to see the world outside, I ruffle Murtagh's hair with a heated breath and work my best to comfort both of our nerves. 'Together. Never forget, Murtagh, I'll always be right here behind you.'

The weight on our bond slowly lightens while he turns to me with a friendly smile; shaking his head with amusement as I purr helplessly under his fingers scratching the sensitive scales of my chin. Leaving me to enjoy the refreshing scratch, he climbs up onto my back and pulls his helm over his head in protection from the rushing torrent outside. 'Ready?' he says after a minute.

He knows my answer regardless if I speak, so I remain silent; content to reply in action instead. Turning sharply to stick my head out of the cave and backside in, I quickly examine the sky's conditions before crouching low and loosening my wings. 'Hold on...this may be rough,' sensing Murtagh laying flat against the saddle with limbs strapped securely, I dig my claws into the muddied dirt and jolt forward; running until cleared of the confined space of the hilled crevasse. Clear valley on each side, I bend my knees and push off.

The strain of the roaring rain against my thin wings pulls against my every muscle, but still, it is quite refreshing. Further and further up we soar with every passing second. The worst of the clouds pass us by in a flash of lightening until...Poof! The black clouds part before us like a velvet curtain, leaving the gloom of the musky morning behind and opening the way for a beautiful day of cloudless space and golden rays beating down from the sun. Murtagh whoops an exhilarated cry as he throws off his helm for an unobscured view. Securing the metal mask to the saddle packs, he shakes his head of soaked hair and welcomes the sun's glow. We may be slaves on the ground, but up here, we truly are free...even if just for a moment.

TBC

A/N2: Well, there you have it, Chapter 2. Hope you like. Now, if you'd be so kind and leave a little review before you go? Thankx a lot. A writer's work means nothing unless they know someone is appreciating it.

Till next time,

Strider