A/N: It's Update Day! Yay! Hey guys, I have Chapter 16 ready, and that I am surprised of. Anyway, yes, Murtagh is having quite an abudance of problem, mostly with inner turmoil. You know. And, for those of you who don't already know, Cithri is a little town/village/city (your choice) in between Aberon and Melian (see Cithri desciption for that).
DISCLAIMER: I know, I know, I haven't put the disclaimer in for, like, fourteen chapters. I don't own Inheritance Cylce, CP does. And I hate it when people put something witty like 'but I will, as soon as I kill Christopher Paolini!' because that's just not going to happen. :)
Please review, and happy reading!
~CHAPTER 16~
Living in the past wasn't working for Murtagh anymore. So long he'd been trying to relive the happier times that had been torn so brutally away from him: Learning swordplay from Tornac in the days of his innocence; escaping from Uru'baen, his father, and Galbatorix and being blissfully free; helping Eragon, Brom, and Saphira, the first time he had ever trusted anyone at all with his back. Even being captive in the Varden had been better than training day in and day out with Galbatorix.
All of these good memories, periods when he had been at peace, or at the very least, somewhat content with himself, were marred by misfortune and sadness. Tornac, of course had been murdered years ago; Brom had been killed, and Saphira and Eragon no longer trusted him the way they had despite their best efforts; and the Twins had taken him back to Galbatorix.
Murtagh refused to think that this was the root cause of his bitter attitude, but deep down, he knew it was so. It was time to make new memories.
Thorn sensed his partner's nostalgia, but having not been with Murtagh by any means except memory, could do nothing to quell his rider's feeling of sadness or wistfulness. Murtagh almost smiled. Almost. Thorn was the only family he had left beside Eragon, and through Eragon, Saphira.
The journey had been virtually silent since the magic lesson. They had been flying for seven hours, nonstop. Nasuada was groaning and muttering more and more intermittently.
An hour later, Murtagh was still cursing his bad luck, and now, his family name.
A family of dragon riders indeed, he thought disgustedly, what kind of dastardly act did I commit in prior life to deserve this? Son of Morzan, last of the forsworn. Bah! I am the son of no such bastard. What did I do to deserve this?
Of course, the rider had been asking himself this question ever since he was old enough to understand what kind of man his father was, and the answer was becoming no clearer. He remembered and rued that day...
"Tornac?" the young boy asked, about eight or nine at the time, pale enough to make any ghost jealous, and ice blue eyes that were simultaneously ghastly and beautiful. The boy sheathed his small dagger - his first dagger - and handed it to the tall, lean man who stood next to him.
"Yes, Murtagh?"
"Where does father go when he's away? I'd ask him, but I'm afraid he'll yell and slash his sword again, like he did when I asked him about mother." The youth gingerly felt the red, ragged scar on his back. It still pained him something awful at times, but the healer would put poultices on it to alleviate the pain. It was as if it angered Morzan to see his heir growing up and thinking and asking questions for himself.
Tornac sighed. "As you know, your father works for the king, long may he live," the man added, glancing around then rolling his eyes at the ridiculous phrase that was required by law to be tacked on to any title for the king.
"Yes," said Murtagh, nodding eagerly.
"And you know that he travels with-" the name of the banished dragon was slurred in Murtagh's mind.
"Yes, yes," the boy replied. "But where does he go?"
Tornac fiddled with the small dagger in his hand. He knew what kind of treacherous acts his little charge's sire committed; word traveled fast among the servants. But he figured the time was right for the child to know...
"Your father-"
"Can't we land now?" Nasuada complained, breaking Murtagh's train of thought. "It's been-" she consulted her new-found timepiece- "eight hours since we left Aberon."
The rider irritably grumbled internally. "We can stop in CithrÃ, for the moment. "You obviously aren't accustomed to flying for the entire day or more. But that's going to have to change. This trip may take longer than I anticipated."
Nasuada scowled behind Murtagh's back. Anything Murtagh thought she could handle, she was sure she could take ten times worse.
"Never mind," the young lady curtly. "I want you to tell me about your training with Galbatorix in Uru'baen."
The rider grimaced. He should have seen this coming, he realized in hindsight. He'd been attempting to avoid this particular topic.
"Training? More like imprisonment," he retorted to distract her.
"Call it what you like," Nasuada replied calmly. "Let me tell you, it is essential that we know exactly what Galbatorix taught you in Uru'baen. Eragon and Saphira will be able to use the information to gain the upper hand over the king and with you on their side- if you so choose to aid the Varden- Galbatorix will be at our feet."
"There's not much to tell..." skirted Murtagh. Memories that needed replacing made their way to the forefront of his mind.
"Also, withholding information not helping us defeat Galbatorix. That is what you want, isn't it?"
Murtagh sighed, reluctant to completely spill his guts. Still, quietly, he recounted everyday's schedule, then what he had learned.
From what Nasuada could tell, the red rider wasn't that much more skilled than the blue rider. He just had much more power, providing he had at least an eldunarya on his person.
And the schedule had proved to be even less important. There was not magical combination of events that made a man invulnerable, as it turned out.
What Nasuada did learn, and would have to relay to Eragon as soon as possibly possible, was:
Galbatorix did indeed have lots of eldunarya. Lots and lots. And there was no way that Murtagh could fathom yet to defeat the king.
"Give me some time," said Murtagh, to console Nasuada, who was groaning loudly. "I'm sure I can think of something."
Fifteen minutes later, to ease the uncomfortable silence the trio had fallen into, Murtagh took the food out. It was quite an entertaining acrobatics act. The rider, who had done this countless times, received new chills from the nervous laughs emanating from Nasuada as he removed their rations from the saddlebags.
Are you hungry? Murtagh asked his dragon.
No, the dragon replied, I just went hunting last night. I'll have a strip of meet or two, though.
Murtagh threw a strip of dried, cured pork out into empty air in front of Thorn. As the dragon caught the food, his jaws shut with a resounding snap, rattling Nasuada, who was trying, as delicately as possible, to make a meal out of the miniscule amount of provisions the red rider had unevenly divvied out between the two of them.
Murtagh absently chewed his food as he studied Nasuada. She folded the rough cloth napkin and placed it in her lap. She carefully balanced the water skin on one knee and lifted her meat off the other. She took a bite - and promptly spit it out. She snatched the water skin up to rid her mouth of the apparently utterly offensive taste - and promptly spat that over Thorn's side as well, knocking the water skin down with it.
"What is this?" She demanded.
Murtagh didn't understand what was wrong with the food. "Breakfast ale. Haven't you ever had it, princess? And now you've gone and lost the water skin." The rider tutted and shook his head in mock disdain.
Murtagh was chiding her like a young child, and Nasuada wasn't going to take it sitting down. The only thing stopping her was the leg straps.
"And just how many years are you to my senior?"
Murtagh shrugged. "I'm twenty."
Nasuada gave his a cold-eyed stare. "So am I."
"Are you are you going to finish that?" asked Murtagh, gesturing to the rations in her lap. The young lady rolled her eyes.
Thanks for reading! The next one will probably be from someone else's POV. Probably. I try to get these done as fast a I possibly can, and those require a bit more thinking...
Chao, and REVIEW, please.
-Seastar97