Hey guys! Ya, I finally have the time and inspiration to right this off-the-wall chapter. Don't really need to know quite yet what you guys think I should do with it. But please, I may need to soon. So give me some input! Or you may have to wait even longer for the next chapter! But, without further ado, here's four, White walls and siren calls.

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Eragon winced at the bright onslaught of light which suddenly over took his eyes. As they adjusted, he was shocked at what he saw. He lay on a strange, elevated bed with steal rails. Hooked to one of the rails was a little table. On it was a brown bowl filled with some sort of stew and a strange, clear glass filled with an orange liquid. He supposed the table could move over towards him.

He tried to reach out to try, but his right arm wouldn't budge. He looked down to see it adorned in a heavy looking device of cloth and something which made it itch terribly. His left arm was fine, safe for a few bruises and cuts. One strange thing though was a small tube running out his arm to a small bag of water.

A chair sat by his bedside. He was boxed in a small room by white walls, with a strange box-shaped device and a small painting of a vase being the only thing to break it. People moved within the box shaped device. Eragon was trying to figure out what it was when he noticed something…else.

"Where are my clothes!" he said as he looked over the garments he wore. He wore a simple blue…dress? Its sides were tied up and it smelled of nothing he'd ever smelled of before. He frantically looked around for his clothes. They were nowhere in sight.

This is all Galbatorix's doing. He resolved. But why would he take my clothes? Maybe to slow me down… he reached out with his mind, determined to find his best friend.

Then he felt a huge, familiar presence. Saphira?

There was no response, but he knew it was her. Suddenly, he remembered what Galbatorix said and cursed. They were still in this weird world!

He felt her sending him pictures, emotions. But there were so many attaching him at once that he felt as if his head was going to explode.

Slow down Saphira! The confusion all stopped instantly. I can't understand. He could feel her high disappointment and quickly added. But I want to…I need to know some things, girl. And since talking obviously isn't going to work, we'll need some other form of communication…I got it! I'm going to asked you simple questions. If the answer is yes, send me red. No, send me blue. If you're not sure, send me purple.

He could tell she was listening intently, so started with his first question. Does Galbatorix have me?

Blue. And with it, a wave of relief washed over him.

Well then, who?

Silence. Then he remembered he could only do yes or no questions.

Is whoever has me from the world?

Purple.

Do you think they are?

Red.

He paused for a second, trying to think of a few questions. Have I been out over a week?

Red. Panic showed its ugly head again in his mind.

Two weeks?

Blue.

Good. Now Saphira, are you near by?

Before she could answer, a knock on the door brought him back to the real world. The door opened and a woman in a sleeved white dress entered. She smiled at him as he looked her over. She wore a fairly plain hat wit a red cross. A name plate on her dress called her by the name of Nurse Mary Beth. She came to his bedside, heels clanking on the cool floor.

"Hello, good to see you're awake. Wasn't sure you were going to make it, but you're a real fighter, aren't you? Your brother's here. Would you like me to send him in?"

"My brother?" he asked. Why would he be here?

"Yes, he's right by the door." She motioned to a shadowy figure in the doorway. "Come in Mr…"

"Moore. Mike Moore." Answered the figure as he stepped into the light. Murtagh gave Eragon a snotty glance as the nurse wasn't looking. Eragon returned it as she turned again to leave.

"I'll just leave the two of you here." She said as she shut the door.

"We need to talk." Murtagh said, looking at the door to ensure it didn't opened again.

"There's nothing left to say except maybe this! Brisingr!" Eragon replied. A stream of scaling hot fire shot from his left palm.

"Letta." Murtagh simply answered. But Eragon pushed on, driven by hate not to stop. "Do you really think you can keep this up for much longer, little brother? Your magic is failing you; just as your dragon's speech is." Eragon backed off. As much as he wanted to deny Murtagh's claims and shut out all he said, it was all true. He could feel his magic, loosing. Strength, speed, everything. Murtagh smiled. "There's a good boy. I won't fight you when you're like this. Even though you're a pain in the butt. As long as you're in here, I called a truce. Galbatorix wanted to take you while you were here, but I convinced him otherwise. Said if he wanted full control of you, it'd be best to beat you when you're highest, not lowest. Then he'll know what it takes to keep you in control."

"Where is here?" Eragon asked, puzzled.

"This is Virtue Clinic. Kind like an infirmary." Murtagh answered. He picked up a clipboard supporting a large stack of paper. "And according to this chart, you're here because of two fractures of the humerus in your right arm, one break of the left femur, one break of the right fibula, one fracture of the right patella, and three broken ribs." Murtsgh gave a strange look at Eragon. He almost though he saw…concern in those dark eyes. "However did you manage that?"

However much Murtagh wanted to know, he could see two things indicating he would not get an answer. One was the look of pride on Eragon's face had returned. The other was that the nurse was coming with a shot of drug to allow Eragon painless sleep.

"I've got to go." He said. Then, without missing a beat, he added, "and when you feel better, do me and the rest of the world a favor and put some clothes on!" he said, placing down several clean shirts, pants, and underwear.

As he slipped out of the room, something startled him. It was that infernal thing again! The cell phone. He had no idea how anyone could operate such a strange device, but Galbatorix said it was necessary to blend in.

Somehow though, he figured out how to answer it and found himself talking to he that he hate most.

"Where are you, boy?" he yelled into the phone.

"Where are you?" Murtagh through the question coolly. He could not let him know where he was. Luckily, he did not pursue the matter.

"I need you to go and get something of ours and bring it to me."

"Why can't you?"

"Because…"

"Because why?"

"Because! Am I not in charge of you? Why must you turn everything into a fight!"

"Just give me one small reason."

"…I got into a fight."

"With who?"

"Let me talk, boy! Apparently we can't hunt without a permit…"

"You didn't…"

"He had it coming…telling me to drop to the ground. Me!"

"Hadn't you just told me it was illegal here to get in a fight with the police? You're just lucky he didn't open fire! From the books on it, I heard that would have been terrible…" Murtagh scowled. Wish they had opened fire. He thought with a chuckle under his breath.

"What was that you were just thinking boy! You forget I know!" he screamed at him in furry. Suddenly the line went dead. Murtagh turned back one last time at his sleeping brother. He looked so peaceful. For a moment he hesitated, then mumbled, "Ku ala um'hu." And with that, he left.