Chapter 5: Stormclouds

Thorn's vast wings beat the air as he rapidly flew northward, leaving Surda behind as the invaders forces covered the country. Murtagh cursed his powerlessness against these foreigners as he pulled his cloak tighter against himself to ward against the chill. He was a skilled warrior, and Thorn was terrifyingly strong, but even their combined might wouldn't be enough to stop an army, and they were flying much higher than they normally would to better avoid detection from the ground. He had been horrified to find the capital of Surda in flames when he passed through, on his way to Ilirea. His journeys had taken him far abroad, and he had flow over the south sea, gladdened to finally see the land of his birth again. Now, however, things looked bleak.

As he had passed over the city, dozens of flying lizards, which Murtagh had learned were called wyverns by the barbarians from a soldier he had captured and interrogated, had flown up to assault Thorn, but the dragon was the stronger and faster, and managed to escape, though not without tearing apart a dozen of his attackers while sustaining only a few minor wounds himself.

Everywhere he looked, the countryside was at the mercy of the invaders. Murtagh did what he could for the small villages that were preyed upon by raiding parties, but ultimately, he knew he needed to reach Ilirea as fast as possible. Nasuada would gather her forces there and prepare for a counter-attack to retake both her lands and Orrin's, and he meant to stand beside them.

Murtagh, Thorn's mellow voice pulled him from his reminiscing. Look. Murtagh glanced in the direction that Thorn indicated, but in the twilight of the early evening, his human eyesight was woefully inadequate to see anything clearly. He pushed his mind into Thorn's, taking advantage of the dragon's superior vision to examine what had sparked his curiosity.

Thousands of feet below them, a number of soldiers on horses stood in the center of a small collection of ramshackle houses. Even from this height, he could easily see that the horseman were not Alagaësians. As he watched, some of the soldiers dismounted, walked over to one of the houses and kicked in the door. A pair of them went in, and seconds later came out with a struggling figure held between them. This was all that Murtagh needed to see, and he signaled Thorn with his mind.

As he withdrew from the dragon's consciousness, Thorn tilted his wings and fell into a steep dive. The wind tore at Murtagh as he clung to Thorn's back. As the ground rushed up to meet them, Thorn flared his massive wings and swept over the small hamlet, grabbing a pair of soldiers off their horses with his forepaws. He wheeled as he reached the edge of the houses and dropped onto the ground, crushing the screaming men beneath his enormous bulk.

Thorn dove off his back, drawing Zar'roc in a fluid motion and slipped into the village. He crept between the houses, staying out of sight until he came to the center of town. The soldiers were bewildered, having no idea what had taken their companions. Several had hands on their weapons, though Murtagh could see that one still held the girl he had dragged from the house, tearing at her clothes as she screamed and struggled to escape from him.

The Rider didn't hesitate and leaped forward from the shadows, beheading the occupied soldier with a single blow from his glittering blade. The girl screamed as blood fountained out of the stump of the soldiers neck and splattered her. Murtagh ignored her and attacked the remaining soldiers, who had been alerted to his presence by the girl's shrieks. It had been many years since he had last drawn his blade in anger, but he had kept his body honed, and as a Dragon Rider, no ordinary human could hope to compete with him.

Two soldiers fell in as many swings, before the remaining barbarians drew together, presenting him with a wall of blades and shields. He smiled grimly and murmured a few words in the ancient language, and they keeled over as their hearts stopped beating. He walked amongst the bodies, ensuring that they were all truly dead before wiping off his blade and sheathing it. As he turned back to the girl, he could hear a murmur of voices coming from every direction as people unlatched their doors to see who had saved them. Many of them quickly slammed their doors shut again as Thorn carefully crept into the village, the ground shuddering with each step. Murtagh ignored them, and crouched down in front of the girl, who had fainted.

With another word from the ancient language, the girls eyes fluttered and she regained consciousness. As her eyes focused on her surroundings, she shrieked. Murtagh looked over his shoulder and came face to face with Thorn's massive snout.

"Could I have a little room please?" he asked in annoyance. Thorn snorted and withdrew; turning to examine the corpses of the soldiers, he carefully settled his bulk onto the ground.

Murtagh turned back to the girl, and did his best to smile reassuringly. "You don't have to be scared of him," he said gently, "he won't hurt you." She stared back at Murtagh, her eyes wide. "What's your name?" he asked gently.

"Kamila," she responded hesitantly. "Are…are you a Dragon Rider?"

"Yes," he responded with a smile. "Are you hurt?" At his question she started shivering and burst into tears. He hesitantly embraced Kamila, as he tried to reassure her. "It's alright. You're safe now." After a few moments the girls sobs abated and she pulled away from him.

"I…thank you Sir Rider," she said hesitantly. "If you hadn't come when you did…," she trailed off and shuddered. He nodded, unsure of what to say, and stood. As he helped her to her feet, a crunching noise came from behind him, and he whirled, hand dropping to his sword. He was greeted by the sight of Thorn gathering up the dead soldiers in his mouth.

What are you doing? He demanded.

Cleaning up, the dragon replied simply. As the last soldier joined his comrades in Thorn's cavernous jaws, the massive ruby dragon rose to his feet and carefully crawled out of the village, no easy task, as he was larger than any of the houses. Murtagh sighed and turned back to the girl, who had gone white as a sheet.

"Is he going to..." she mumbled.

Murtagh chuckled weakly. "No, he doesn't eat people. He's just moving them so you won't have to worry about the bodies." As the dragon departed, people began to peek around the edges of their doors. He turned and raised his voice to address the entire town. "It would be best if you left as soon as possible. The countryside is crawling with raiding patrols, and sooner or later another one is going to stumble onto this town."

At his words, several doors were opened fully, and the townspeople carefully emerged. "And where might we run to?" a man demanded. "Where can we go to escape these devils?"

"You could try to head north and reach Ilirea or the other northern cities," he said plainly, looking around the growing group of villagers. "However, I'd bet that these invaders are between you and the capital. My advice would be to go south, to the mountains, and seek asylum with the dwarves."

The crowd began muttering at his words. "Why should we just uproot ourselves? Our families have lived here for generations. This is our land," a voice shouted from the crowd, and others murmured in agreement.

Murtagh shrugged. "Then you can stay and wait for the next group of raiders to find you. The choice is yours. If it were me, I'd pack what I could carry, and leave at dawn." Without another word, he turned and strode past the villagers toward the shadowy bulk of Thorn at the edge of the hamlet. The dragon was curled up on the ground, watching Murtagh with a single glittering eye.

She's following you, Thorn said, amusement clear in his voice. Murtagh raised an eyebrow and turned as he heard the footsteps behind him.

Kamila trotted up to him, her hands wringing her torn dress. "I believe you, Sir," she said hesitantly. "If…uh…if it would be possible…that is–"

"I'm sorry Kamila, but it would not be wise for you to come with me." Her face fell as he spoke, and he quickly explained. "It's my duty to help the people of this land, and I can do that best by heading north, the capital, to fight. You'd be in more danger if you travelled with me than you would on your own."

"I…I understand," she said, looking at the ground. Murtagh laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Trust me. Dragon Riders have a tendency to attract danger to themselves. Go south and find the dwarves. They'll protect you. If anyone questions you, tell them that Eragon Shadeslayer's brother sent you, alright?" Her eyes went wide at the mention of his half-brother's name. He frowned for a moment. "Don't tell them that I'm a Rider though," he hastily added. "The dwarves and I haven't always gotten along, and if they knew which brother sent you...," he trailed off, unwilling to elaborate to a stranger. She nodded, still awestruck. "Good. Be careful out there Kamila. Farewell." He turned quickly, climbed up Thorn's scaly leg and settled into his saddle.

A group of villagers had begun to gather at the edge of the town, though none of them would come close to the massive dragon. Murtagh raised a hand as Thorn spread his immense wings. With a mighty leap he launched himself into the sky, and they resumed their journey north. As they flew, Murtagh rummaged through his saddlebags and drew out some hard bread and munched on it while he flew. Too many villages across the land were in similar situations to this one, and he couldn't save them all. If nothing else, this war showed him the necessity of the Riders, and he felt Thorn's agreement. They were a force to be reckoned with, but they couldn't be everywhere.

As they flew, a plan began to form in his head. They would head north to Ilirea, and seek an audience of with Nasuada and Orrin, to convince them to speak Eragon if they had not already. He knew his brother wouldn't leave Alagaësia undefended if he knew of the plight of the people. Even a handful of the more experience Riders could help the people throughout the countryside, and more importantly, turn the war in their favor. After several minutes, he hunkered down on Thorns back and allowed the dragon's wingbeats to lull him to sleep.

An hour or two later, he was jostled awake as Thorn landed lightly on the ground. Murtagh sent a questioning though to the dragon. I too must sleep occasionally, Thorn grudgingly replied, and Murtagh chuckled at the difficulty with which the dragon admitted his weakness. He slipped his legs out of the saddle straps, and climbed to the ground. Thorn settled his bulk onto the ground, and Murtagh lay next to him, wadding up his cloak to use as a pillow. He cast a few quick wards which would alert him if anyone approached the pair, before quickly dozing off next to the mighty dragon.

Thorn woke him early the next morning, before the sun had yet risen, and Murtagh ate a quick breakfast on the ground before they took flight again. From their dizzying height, Murtagh easily made out the shape of Lake Tüdosten covering the horizon on their right. The morning passed without incident as Thorn hurried on, revitalized by his short rest. At noon they stopped to rest, and Murtagh ate some more of his meagre rations, while Thorn basked in the sun. Their break was cut short as they spotted a cloud of dust far to the west, and they hurriedly took flight again, though not after Thorn reluctantly rubbed his belly in the dirt to obscure his glittering scales. Against the stark blue sky, Thorn's crimson hide would be visible for leagues.

More cautious now, they flew eastward, attempting to move away from the paths that the invaders would likely take to reach the northern cities. After their first encounter with the wyverns, Murtagh wasn't eager to try his luck against more of them. A lone Rider and dragon, though formidable, could be brought down through sheer numbers. As they moved eastward, the lake grew larger. Around dinner, they came to the northern shore, and passed over Furnost, though they didn't dare stop to see if the people needed help. A town of that size would likely attract a substantial force of soldiers, and Murtagh was not foolish enough to believe that he would be victorious against more than a handful of barbarians. Murtagh ate in the saddle, rather than risk landing and being seen by the troops that were likely scattered around the town. Unfortunately this caution cost them valuable time, and by nightfall, they found themselves at the edge of the Hadarac Desert, still several hours' flight from Ilirea.

Resigned to the fact that they would be delayed another day, they landed, choosing to save their strength for whatever the morrow brought. Murtagh again cast wards to alert him to intruders, but the night passed without incident.

Again they rose before dawn, eager to reach the capital as quickly as possible, though they were dismayed to find that overnight clouds had blown in. While they would provide cover, they were ominously dark, and in their travels, they had learned to respect the fury of nature. Knowing that time was short, Thorn pushed as fast as he could, flying through the thick clouds, while Murtagh huddled on his back, unwilling to tire himself out by using magic to make himself comfortable. I didn't take long for the accumulated moisture to soak through his clothes, forcing him to periodically dry himself, or risk freezing.

In this way they were able to take the most direct path to Ilirea without being spotted by any soldiers that they might stumble upon. In the past, Murtagh might've been worried about them losing their way, but again experience had taught him otherwise, as Thorn's sense of direction was impeccable. A few hours before noon, Thorn reckoned that they were close enough that they would be able to see the city if they dropped out of the clouds. Deciding to risk it, Thorn allowed himself to sink, until they passed out of the clouds and into the clear air. While Murtagh expected the grim sight of a city under siege, he was stunned by what he saw.

Below them a might army was spread out around the city, while Ilirea burned.

4/9/15: This ones a little shorter than normal, but given how fast I wrote it, I'm rather pleased. I was trying to write the next chapter, and I was suddenly struck by a great idea for where to take the story, and ran with it, and two hours later this is what I came up with. Depending on how far this streak of inspiration carries me, you might see another chapter within a day or two, though I make no promises. Since I wrote this one so fast, there might be a number of grammatical and spelling errors in it. Don't hesitate to point them out to me, or just give feedback of any kind. -SW