Sorry for the delay. I was busy, so I had no time for writing. Hopefully, you can forgive me.
A light breeze blew across the seemingly endless plain, bending the golden blades of grass and the other frail plants which appeared to pop up from every patch of soil, no matter how small it was. Nothing seemed to move in the vegetation which dominated the rolling plains until a lone human betrayed his position.
What could Thorn do during this time? He should have been back by now unless he's hunting with Shruikan, thought Murtagh as he stretched his body, a slight groan escaping him as he did so. He slowly got up, brushing the dust and remains of dried grass from his bloodied leather vest and leggings. A wry smile sculpted on his face at the uncomfortable, slightly sticky surface of the vest when he ran his hand across it. Most of the blood had been absorbed in the vest, and the once red color now turned into a sickly dark due to coagulation. The smell reeked of death as well, something which made Murtagh cringe whenever the putrid scent would enter his nostrils.
After he finished cleaning his clothes, Murtagh looked over yonder, but there was no sign of Thorn's whereabouts. With his mind drifting towards the young ruby dragon, the pungent smell of death slowly began to fade.
I wish we could have spent more time together, away from the veiling mist of these permanent tasks handed by Galbatorix… Now that I think of it, I wonder how it would have been if I touched Thorn's egg long before I first met Eragon… thought Murtagh with a bit of spite as the image of his brother standing in Saphira's saddle coalesced in his mind like a patch of smoke, suddenly condensing into a regular shape. Then, the image vanished as fast as quick as it took shape as a blast of red energy erased its existence.
I guess it would have been a much…different…story.
A slight metallic noise was made when Zar'roc was yanked out of its sheath. Placing its tip firmly onto the ground, Murtagh used the sword as a support to lie down comfortably without too much trouble. Carefully, he placed it onto his lap. The blade, which was usually gleaming every time sunlight would reflect off its surface, appeared to had lost that property as a thin layer of dried blood covered the tip, all the way towards the middle while smaller drops were splashed over the lower part, including the pommel.
Exhaling, Murtagh placed the sword on the ground. With his right hand, he ripped a small bundle of driedgrass and then proceeded to clean the sword, his face bearing a solemn, yet serious expression that would confuse anyone who would try to decipher his emotions.
I did what I had to in order to protect Thorn and myself. There were no other options, not after Galbatorix took control of my body and used my hand to extract his vengeance upon that Rider.
Quickening his up and down motion, Murtagh threw the grass aside before he ripped another bundle, replacing the former one which appeared to have scratched off Zar'roc's color.
Slowly, the blade began to regain its original color as Murtagh's persistence began to pay off. Placing his hand on the pommel, the young Rider quickly flipped the sword, restarting the vigorous rubbing motion.
Although his mind was focused on this simple task, the recent events seemed to give him no peace, even though Murtagh tried his best not to ponder on them too much. But it was not that easy, not when his own hand ended the life of a Rider older than Galbatorix himself, a potential savior that, through his knowledge, could have known a way to break the king's grip that bound Murtagh to his will.
After a few more strokes, Murtagh discarded the grass and inspected the blade briefly before he placed it into the sheath. The embrace of the earth met him once again as he lay on the ground, shifting his body to the side for a better position while his mind drifted towards the only being that understood him better than anyone.
Even though he was happy that his dragon became so attached to Shruikan, he could not help but feel a slight pang of regret in his heart. Murtagh only spent time with Thorn during missions and sometimes after them, but that was all of it. Most of the time, Thorn would rush straight to Shruikan when their task would be done. Even the comfort and the protection provided by the warm body of his partner-of-soul-and-mind became a distant memory as Murtagh often had to sleep in the stiff, uncomfortable cot while Thorn slept alongside Shruikan.
Murtagh eyed the grass with nostalgia as he remembered the time when Thorn hatched for him, a time when the two of them were inseparable. Those were one of the most memorable moments of his life, and the thoughts and the misery of being a slave to Galbatorix paled in comparison to the happiness he felt. He was not alone anymore when the ruby dragon chose him as his Rider.
Murtagh extended his hand, looking briefly at his Gedwey Ignasia before he slapped himself onto the head, what am I thinking? I should be happy that Thorn found someone that cares for him during these miserable times of captivity. But Murtagh was not convinced, for he cared for his dragon as much as Shruikan did.
He is a dragon, so it should not be surprising that he enjoys the presence of one of his kin more than mine… Something like this was bound to happen anyway, so pondering about this is futile.
Murtagh quickly cut the flow of memories, forcing his mind to think of something else. The calming rustle and the gentle moves of the grass blades helped lessen a bit of his worries. Being alone in the middle of the wilderness made him feel at peace with himself. The serene atmosphere was so different compared with Uru'baen and its vile chambers.
The distinctive flapping sound of wings could be distinguished from the rustling of the plants, and Murtagh quickly looked towards the sky. He was a bit disappointed when the coal black form of Shruikan was the one approaching, with no signs of the glistening ruby hide of his dragon.
Murtagh crossed his arms, watching with interest as the large bulk of Shruikan touched the ground, sending vibrations through the soft soil while dust was blown into the air. Forcing his eyes shut to prevent the dust from entering his eyes.
For a dragon his age, Shruikan was not as large as one would expect. Although his wingspan was considerably larger than Thorn's, his body size was relatively small compared to the gargantuan form of the golden dragon, which was at least three times larger than Thorn. Shruikan, however, was easily twice as tall compared to Murtagh, and his impressive height, the sharp, ivory claws and the pristine horns and spikes that ran across his back gave him an intimidating appearance.
The thick dust barely dissipated when the lustrous blackness of Shruikan's bulk occupied a large part of Murtagh's view. Murtagh opened his mind so he could speak to the black dragon, but he was beat to it as Shruikan lowered his body into a crouch, bringing his large snout to Murtagh's eye level.
We need to skip the proper greetings, son of Morzan, for a group of elves is making its way towards this location. Climb on my back and let us fly swiftly, for Thorn is no match for those enraged two legs. The deep, yet calm and smooth voice of Shruikan made Murtagh flinch in surprise as he could barely notice when the dragon entered his mind.
Shocked by the disturbing piece of information, Murtagh could barely find his words to speak as he gazed into the amber eyes of Shruikan.
Why could he not come with you then? It is not necessary to fight the elves as long as we fly high in the sky.
Shruikan growled disapprovingly, I thought you already knew the answer to that question, Murtagh. Thorn's wound is not a superficial one meant to inflict temporary pain. It is much more than that, for a dragon's tail provides the necessary balance while flying. Losing a part of it, even a small one, is a heavy blow dealt to any dragon, and the gold one knew this as he aimed to inflict as much damage as he could before his demise.
His amber eyes, a fountain of knowledge, were tarnished by grief and worries, and Murtagh could not help but feel privileged to be in the presence of such a wise, majestic dragon. Wanting not to seem disrespectful, Murtagh took a few steps towards him and extended his hand, touching the warm, smooth black scales. The moment was short lived as Shruikan snorted a puff of smoke, lifting his head off the ground.
The formalities your race is used to are unnecessary in a time like this, Murtagh. Make haste, for we know better than anyone what elves are capable of when enraged.
Y…yes I completely agree with you, Murtagh coughed sickly as the black smoke irritated his nostrils, but he quickly exited the intoxicating atmosphere as he made his way towards Shruikan's side.
Murtagh frowned when his eyes set upon the natural gap which was not only missing the sharp spikes, but a saddle as well. This is definitely not one of my good days, thought Murtagh as he jumped onto Shruikan's back. Or at least he tried to, for his feeble jump was anything but high enough to reach Shruikan's back.
Murtagh tried frantically to grab onto something, but the smooth black scales were anything but a good support for him to climb on. Falling onto his back, Murtagh released a loud groan at the impact.
Shruikan snarled in irritation and turned his head around so he could face the pathetic sight, you are disturbingly clumsy today, small one.
Murtagh smiled wryly, feeling a bit apprehensive at the sight of the sharp, exposed teeth of Shruikan's bared snout, maybe I am, but you cannot put the blame on me, seeing as this is the first time I need to ride upon your back.
I could carry you in my claws if climbing upon my back is difficult for you, growled Shruikan playfully.
Murtagh had a hard time in understanding the growl Shruikan just released. He learned from Thorn that dragons used a variety of growls in order to convey their emotions, and they instinctively knew their meaning. But for Murtagh, who was a human, it was almost impossible to distinguish their growls, even if the intensity, the frequency and the tone differed from one another.
N-no… no that- that would not be needed, said Murtagh with quickness as he remembered one time when Thorn did this to him. The excruciatingly uncomfortable position, the feeling of something pressing against his body and the powerful air currents that zipped by him forced Murtagh vow he would never experience something like that again.
With incredible speed, Murtagh rose from his position and jumped as high as he could, landing straight onto the gap. Immediately after that, he released a painful groan as the impact of the landing was harsher than he had expected.
You escaped this time, small one, but we still wasted unnecessary time because of you. Should something happen to Thorn, I promise that next time we will fly together I will not offer you the privilege of staying upon my back, snorted Shruikan as he rose from his position.
Murtagh quickly grabbed the large ivory spike in front of him to avoid falling.
Privilege? It is anything but a privilege to have your legs skinned off by the terrible, tough scales of a dragon, thought Murtagh.
Shruikan lowered his body into a crouch, then leapt as high as he could, leaving deep gashes into the soft ground. The powerful beat of the massive wings created powerful air currents which bended the frail plants as the dragon flew off.
What is it you think, Murtagh? Came the unexpected voice of Shruikan.
I-I said that- I am… grateful for being able to fly onto your back. I have… always wondered if you are a better flier than Thorn, stuttered Murtagh as he cursed himself for forgetting about his mental link with Shruikan.
I never thought such menial question would concern you, small one, but you can come and sit on my back while I fly with Thorn and help him hone his aerial skills.
That is something I cannot refuse, thought Murtagh with a bit of reluctance as he looked at the ground below, which passed by with great speed.
Shruikan flew at a relatively low altitude to avoid wasting more energy for the little benefit the air currents provided. Briefly before meeting with Thorn, Shruikan and Murtagh discussed different ways of dispatching the group of elves as effectively as possible while also preventing them from gaining the upper hand.
It did not take long for them to reach Thorn's location due to Shruikan's great speed. As soon as he had the occasion, Murtagh opened his mind to Thorn, allowing feelings of joy to flow across their bond. The ruby dragon moved in to greet the two of them as soon as Shruikan touched the ground.
Murtagh quickly dismounted Shruikan and patiently waited for Thorn and Shruikan to exchange their usual greeting by rubbing each other's neck with their snouts. Shortly after that, Thorn moved towards Murtagh and brought his snout down, gently nuzzling the Rider's shoulder.
I am so glad that the elves did not reach you before I did, said Murtagh, rubbing his hand along the red scaled snout of Thorn.
The dragon hummed in pleasure at the contact, I am not a defenseless buck, Murtagh, and I certainly do not have the mind of one. If they would come, I would have fled before they even knew it.
Murtagh released a low chuckle as he continued to stroke the smooth scales with his hands, I never doubted your decisions or your fighting capabilities, oh mighty dragon.
Shruikan approached, brushing his snout against Thorn's side. Thorn released a surprised growl and turned his head around to check on the source of the disturbance. Murtagh laughed at Thorn's quick reaction, which looked like someone poked him with a hot stick.
His laughter was immediately silenced when Thorn turned his head around, snarling in irritation.
A deep growl silenced the both of them as Shruikan lowered his body onto the ground, there will not be long until the elves will be here, younglings. Their senses may not be as fine as a dragon's, but they are still superior to a normal human.
Murtagh closed his eyes, opening his mind to his surroundings. A multitude of insects and insignificant life forms were living in the vicinity: in the soft soil, on the different plants, on the blades of the grass, or in the air where their buzzing would annoy a traveler to no end.
Murtagh concentrated, extending his mind even further, but there were no signs of the brilliant consciousnesses of the elves.
I cannot reach them with my mind. They must still be away from our location, or they simply decided not to pursue us anymore.
Shruikan growled, summoning Murtagh's attention, they did not. I have caught the distinctive scent of one of them on the breath of wind.
Thorn's nostrils twitched as he sniffed the air, Shruikan is right.
Murtagh sighed, since there is no other way around it, we should make a plan. He paused, delving deeply into his knowledge of elven tactics in order to overpower them swiftly. Shruikan, their numbers will influence our decisions greatly. Do you know how many are they?
The black dragon looked towards Murtagh, the tip of his tail swishing from side to side, there were six of them, but more could join on the way and reinforce their numbers.
Murtagh gripped his chin with his right hand, thinking. Their numbers may not be a problem for the three of us, for Shruikan has slain more experienced elves, but the problem lies in their coordination. If they fight like a true team, coordinating their offense and defense, they may pose a serious problem.
Murtagh rose up from his position, frowning, I will cast a few preemptive wards to block certain spells.
Thorn growled softly, wards take a great deal of energy every time they deflect an attack, Murtagh. If you protect the three of us, your energy will be spent long before the battle would come to an end.
Murtagh smiled as he put his hand on Zar'roc, this blade has it, but I prefer to keep it for when the need will be dire. As for the energy needed for the wards, it will be supplied from the eldunarya.
Murtagh could see that both Thorn and Shruikan were not pleased with his decision, but none of them made any visible objections.
Connecting his mind with the captive soul of a dragon, Murtagh began to chant in the ancient language, saying words that would protect them against the biting cold, the toughness of the earth, the blazing fire and the whistling wind. He finished by muttering the needed enchantments that would protect him and the dragons alike by any metal that would strike them.
Murtagh gasped as he finished the enchantments, but did not feel any strain on his body after casting the necessary wards.
The wards I cast use a fixed amount of energy that I supplied before beginning the spell and their effects would falter as soon as that energy is depleted.
You have made a wise choice, Murtagh. Wards are dangerous, especially when there is not knowing of the capabilities your enemy possesses.
No words were exchanged between the trio for a short while. Murtagh and the dragons exchanged silent and uneasy looks between them. Murtagh easily noticed that Thorn was the tensest out of the three, for he was also the one that experienced terrible things during this day.
Murtagh also felt nervous every time he thought about how the clash between him and the elves would end. Different scenarios took place in his head while he tried to imagine the best way in dispatching them all swiftly and without mercy, but there was no easy way around it. Every time he thought that a strategy would pay off, one of the elves would either incapacitate him with magic or sneak behind and attempt to kill Thorn. It was this thought of being unable to protect Thorn that slowly induced this state of uneasiness and kept him away from finding a good offensive plan.
Do not worry about me too much, little one, for I will not allow any elves to part me from you. Their puny swords will not even inflict a scratch on my scales as long as I will tear them apart with fang and claw, came Thorn's soothing voice.
Murtagh took a step back, apparently surprised that Thorn found out about his inner thoughts, I know, Thorn, and I do not doubt your strength even a little. But…these elves cannot be compared to ordinary men. I cannot help but think that one of them will manage to parry my sword, dodge Shruikan's claws and evade your flame breath, and if that happens…
Murtagh barely had time to try and put his emotions in order when he found himself on his back, pinned by an angry red dragon.
That will not happen, little one, for you underestimate the capabilities of a dragon. Our fine senses allow us to quickly react to incoming attacks, and our enemies know best what happens when they pit their useless metal objects against our fangs and our claws, snarled Thorn, bringing his snout dangerously close to Murtagh's face.
You…made your point, Thorn, apologized Murtagh as drops of saliva slowly dropped onto his shoulders, chest and even face. Pleased with his achievement, Thorn retracted his snout, but not before nuzzling Murtagh's face.
Murtagh smiled wryly as he quickly extended his hand, ripping a bunch of dry grass so he could clean the viscous saliva off his face.
Thorn gave him a strange look, but quickly changed his gaze towards Shruikan as the black dragon was most likely conversing with him.
Murtagh almost managed to clean a particular large drop of saliva that stained his shoulder when Shruikan's deep growl alerted him.
They are here, young ones.
I hope it's not as bad as I think it is, since it's one of my clumsy updates. After I had almost done the Roran chapter, a revelation struck me, and with my current plot, delaying the Murtagh chapters would lead to some annoying inconsistencies. I know there's some lack of description, but I can't fix it now at 3:30 AM in the morning, not when tomorrow is a big day.
Comment, critique, or even post a message, they all help me one way or another. The next chapter is going to detail this second battle, where the elves are actually prepared to face Murtagh. It's going to be a very interesting fight, I assure you.