Disclaimer: When I publish my own book, and for some reason write a 'fanfiction' on for it. Then I'll gladly say THIS IS MY BOOK but until then…I have the must distinct pleasure to say that Eragon and Eldest are not mine, for if they were… the main character wouldn't be so much of a jerk throughout the story…

Chapter seven:

Murtagh sighed looking around the room. It was dull and dreary, and the chill wasn't getting much better. He looked down at the man beside him. They were similar in appearance however; Adron's face was rounder and his eyes (when opened) were brighter.

It was then, during the quiet moments of captivity, that a constant pressing at his conscience made him realize that someone very familiar was frantically trying to contact him. In fact, the franticness of this particular contact was so enormous that said contacter was flying above the city scaring crying out as he did so. This would be all well and good, except that this particular cry sounded suspiciously like an angry roar and the civilians of aforementioned city were currently praying to the gods to save them from the perdition of their lives.

Yes dearest? Murtagh asked trying to ease the young and frantic dragon's fears.

Where have you been? Galbatorix is throwing a fit, I'm out of my mind with worry, you haven't contacted me in four days, Shruikan's ready to burn the city to the ground to stop Galbatorix from launching a full scale massacre to find you, you've blocked all communication, your mind is fuzzy, and the last thing I heard from you is that you were in pain! The dragon yelped as he swooped once more over the city, eyes frantically searching for what they couldn't see.

Well, I'm sorry that Shruikan's upset, do tell him that I'm alright and he shouldn't worry about me to much or Daddy Galbatorix may believe he actually cares for my existence. Cant have that can we?

You're mocking me!

Indeed I am Thorn. Calm down, I'm alright.

Where are you? Do you know that at least?

I'm not that alright.

What's wrong with your head?

Slight concussion, nothing serious.

What in gods' names happened to you Murtagh?

Do you want me to answer you seriously, or would you like the drawn out exaggerated and lengthy tale of the many evils I faced in order to have this blessed conversation with you? There was a long pause, and Murtagh sat up straight, easing himself to his feat. Adron mumbled in his sleep, but didn't awaken. The teen stretched, his muscles aching from being cramped up so much in the cold.

Are you alright? Seriously, how bad are you?

I'm not great, but I'm not too bad off. Head hurts a bit, ribs are worse…can you find me?

Do you have a hint?

I was going down Marks Street when I had my impromptu run in with the slavers…now I'm somewhere underground I think. Freezing too…not feeling to good at the moment, probably getting sick. Stone's granite I think, not to sure, it's a bit dark in here. My only window is the barred thing on the door, and it's not shedding that much light in here.

That doesn't help to much.

Not really.

I can sense you though, you're nearby. Not to many stone houses though…

Should be easier then.

Should be, usually isn't. The bottoms of the houses could be stone, while the tops –

Are wood. I get it. Something else…my cell mate said something about his father being here. If that's the case then it's big. Also, can you manage to get…everyone out? Not just me?

Are you kidding?

Never with you. There was a silence and the ridiculousness of that comment wasn't stated. Both knew that though Murtagh never smiled and always seemed very melancholy, when it came to the two of them he was fairly light tempered – and he had a knack for dry humor that many just did not understand.

I will try. I think I'm getting closer. Should I alert the King? Murtagh groaned inwardly at the thought of the king seeing him in this particular state. While any state would grant the king permission to degrade him and tell him that he was not dressed appropriately, didn't look suitable, and did not have the right demeanor, he had the distinct feeling that should said King see him in this particular state there would be no end to the continuous comments on how much of a failure he was.

Thorn, you truly know what's best for me. You decide.

What would you like me to do, rip the roof off?

That would be nice…

Throw it to the side? Crush the passerby's

I never said I liked them…

I'll see you soon.

Bye.

At that particular moment the door opened, and Murtagh looked up at the faces of his captors. There were two of them, both tall with broad shoulders. They held large thin clubs tightly in their hands and advanced into the room, door being left slightly open behind them. They shared ashen faces with dark looks in their eyes.

Murtagh went back to Adron, his hand moving towards his shoulder to wake him. The older man groaned, opening his eyes. Looking at the two slavers he groaned again.

"Stew Head, couldn't you have woken me to a better sight then ignoramus?" The teen forced himself not to make a comment about the ridiculous nickname, and shook his head at the statement.

The club that the one on the right had was raised and it fell hard on Adron's arm, breaking it instantly. The man let out a yell in pain, falling to the left at the strike. Murtagh felt his blood run cold as he fought the urge to not fight.

"Slaves do not speak unless spoken to." The attacker snapped making a move to strike him again. Unable to resist the need to help Adron, Murtagh moved in front of him defiantly. The other shook his head with a sigh.

"What do you think you're going to do kid? You can't fight remember?" Murtagh didn't answer as he clenched his fists. The man in front of him glared at him – raising his club and preparing to crash it down on the teen's shoulder.

Thorn, now would be the opportune moment to stage a rescue!

Hang on!

The pain was indescribable as Murtagh collapsed beneath the blow. Somewhere far away he could hear the roaring of his dear friend, and forced himself to stay awake long enough to be found. Out of the corner of his eye, the teen noticed the club being raised once more. Hissing he turned to face the blow when the man was tackled. Eyes widening in disbelief, Murtagh stared in shock as Adron punched the slaver hard in the jaw twice, before striking him to unconscious. His broken arm was just sagging uselessly as he pushed himself to his feet and turned to face the second clubber.

"Murtagh, the door!" He yelled as he plowed into the other slaver who was in a state of disbelief as well.

"What?" The teen asked, shaking from his state.

"Open that door!" Instantly he snapped into action, throwing the door open and wincing as bright light met his eyes. It didn't take long, and soon Adron was right beside him as they pulled the cell door shut behind them – locking the slavers inside. "What were you thinking?! Are you mad?! Have you finally lost it?" Adron asked whirling on Murtagh. The teen unconsciously stepped back, pressing himself against the wall. "You can't fight remember?! So why act all brave and high and mighty and look like you know what you're doing, when you're as useless as fish on land?"

"I'm sorry…"

"You know what…fine. Thank you for trying to help, but honestly kid, your might have been the best fighter in the world before now…but with that promise over your head, it's not gonna matter one bit."

"I know…but-"

I found you, duck your head, roof's coming off!

"Duck." Murtagh yelped looking up.

"Duck?" the other man asked giving him a look.

"Duck!" His hands went to Adron's hair, pushing his head down as the roof began to lift, sending parts of the wall parading down beside them. There was loud screaming, and doors were flying open as people tried to escape from the insanity of it all. People around them were pounding on their own locked doors screaming for help. "Thorn, tone it down some!" Murtagh screamed up, knowing the dragon would pick up on the comment. However the roof was soon completely removed, and gone from sight. In it's place was a rather upset looking dragon who had locked eyes with his Rider and was bending his head to get closer.

Adron was staring at the dragon with bulging eyes. Murtagh extended a hand and toughed Thorn's muzzle as he nudged the teen with it. Around them people were screaming, but it all seemed to be falling on deaf ears.

You look terrible. Thorn said

So do you. Murtagh said in good humor. Wait for me? I need to help my friend find his father, then may you carry us home?

I will always wait for you my friend…

Windstar: I apologize for the delay!