Chapter Seventy-Nine: Fate

Murtagh grinned. Then he said, "Thrysta vindr," and a hard ball of air coalesced between them and struck Eragon in the middle of the chest, tossing him twenty feet across the plateau.

Eragon heard Saphira growl as he landed on his back. His vision flashed red and white, then he curled into a ball and waited for the pain to recede. Any delight he felt in Murtagh's reappearance was overwhelmed by the macabre circumstances of their meeting. An unstable mixture of shock, confusion, and anger boiled within him.

Lowering his sword, Murtagh pointed at Eragon with his steel encased hand, curling every finger but his index into a spiny fist. "You never would give up."

A chill crept along Eragon's spine, for he recognized the scene from his premonition while rafting the Az Ragni to Hedarth: A man sprawled in the clotted mud with a dented helm and bloody mail – his face concealed behind and upthrown arm. An armored hand entered Eragon's view and pointed at the downed man with all the authority of fate itself. Past and future had converged. Now Eragon's doom would be decided.

Pushing himself to his feet, he coughed and said, "Murtagh… how can you be alive? I watched the Urgals drag you underground. I tried to scry you but saw only darkness."

Murtagh uttered a mirthless laugh. "You saw nothing, just as I saw nothing the times I tried to scry you during my days in Urû'baen."

"You died, though!" shouted Eragon, almost incoherent. "You died under Farthen Dûr. Arya and Mark found your bloody clothes in the tunnels… and…" he struggled for a moment, tears threatening his vision.

A shadow darkened Murtagh's face. "No, I did not die. It was the Twins' doing, Eragon. They took control of a group of Urgals and arranged the ambush in order to kill Ajihad and capture us. Then they ensorcelled me so I could not escape and spirited me off to Urû'baen."

Eragon shook his head, unable to comprehend what had happened. "But why did you agree to serve Galbatorix? You told me you hated him. You told me-"

"Agree!" Murtagh laughed again, and this time his outburst contained an edge of madness. "I did not agree. First Galbatorix punished me for spiting his years of protection during my upbringing in Urû'baen, for defying his will and running away. Then he extracted everything I knew about you, Saphira, and the Varden."

"You betrayed us! I was mourning you, and you betrayed us!"

"I had no choice."

"Ajihad was right to lock you up. He should have let you rot in your cell, then none of this-"

"I had no choice!" snarled Murtagh. "And after Thorn hatched for me, Galbatorix forced both of us to swear loyalty to him in the ancient language. We cannot disobey him now."

Pity and disgust welled inside of Eragon. "You have become your father."

A strange gleam leaped into Murtaghs' eyes. "No, not my father. I'm stronger than Morzan ever was. Galbatorix taught me things about magic you've never even dreamed of… Spells so powerful, the elves dare not utter them, cowards that they are. Words in the ancient language that were lost until Galbatorix discovered them. Ways to manipulate energy… Secrets, terrible secrets, that can destroy your enemies and fulfill all your desires."

Eragon thought back to some of Oromis's lessons and retorted, "Things that should remain secrets."

"If you know, you would not say that. Brom was a dabbler, nothing more – Mark may have been onto something, but still too noble to do much with it. And the elves… all they can do is hide in their forest and wait to be conquered." Murtagh ran his eyes over Eragon. "You look like an elf now. Did Islanzadí do that to you?" When Eragon remained silent, Murtagh smiled and shrugged. "No matter. I'll learn the truth soon enough." He stopped, frowned, then looked to the east.

Following his gaze, Eragon saw the Twins standing at the front of the Empire, casting balls of energy into the midst of the Varden and the dwarves. The curtains of smoke made it difficult to tell, but Eragon was sure the hairless magicians were grinning and laughing as they slaughtered the men with whom they once pledged solemn friendship. What the Twins failed to notice – and what was clearly visible to Eragon and Murtagh from their vantage point – was that Roran was crawling toward them from the side.

Eragon's heart skipped a beat as he recognized his cousin. You fool! Get away from them! You'll be killed.

Just as he opened his mouth to cast a spell that would transport Roran out of danger – no matter the cost – Murtagh said, "Wait. I want to see what he'll do."

"Why?"

A bleak smile crossed Murtagh's face. "The Twins enjoyed tormenting me when I was their captive."

Eragon glanced at him, suspicious. "You won't hurt him? You won't warn the Twins?"

"Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal." Upon my word as a Rider. Eragon blinked at the phrase, turning his gaze back to Roran.

Together they watched as Roran hid behind a mound of bodies. Eragon stiffened as the Twins looked toward the pile. For a moment, it seemed they had spotted him, then they turned away and Roran jumped up. He swung his hammer and bashed one of the Twins in the head, cracking open his skull. The remaining Twin fell to the ground, convulsing, and emitted a wordless scream until he too met his end under Roran's hammer. Then Roran planted his foot upon the corpses of his foes, lifted his hammer over his head, and bellowed his victory.

"What now?" demanded Eragon, turning away from the battlefield. "Are you here to kill me?"

"Of course not. Galbatorix wants you alive."

"What for?"

"Murtagh's lips quirked. "You don't know? Ha! There's a fine jest. You know of the new Forsworn. He can't kill you or your dragon if he wants his vision to become a reality… And what a vision it is, Eragon. You should hear him describe it, then you might not think so badly of him. Is it evil that he wants to unite Alagaësia under a single banner, eliminate the need for war, and restore the Riders?"

"He's the one who destroyed the Riders in the first place!"

"And for good reason," asserted Murtagh. "They were old, fat, and corrupt. The elves controlled them and used them to subjugate humans. They had to be removed so that we could start anew."

A furious scowl contorted Eragon's features. He paced back and forth across the plateau, his breathing heavy, then gestured at the battle and said, "How can you justify causing so much suffering on the basis of a madman's ravings? Galbatorix has done nothing but burn and slaughter and amass power for himself. He lies. He murders. He manipulates. You know this! It's why you refused to work for him in the first place." Eragon paused, then adopted a gentler tone: "I can understand that you were compelled to act against your will and that you aren't responsible for killing Hrothgar, though you assisted in it. You can try to escape, though. I'm sure that Mark, Arya and I could devise a way to neutralize the bonds Galbatorix has laid upon you… Join me, Murtagh. You could do so much for the Varden. With us, you would be praised and admired, instead of cursed, feared, and hated."

For a moment, as Murtagh gazed down at his notched sword, Eragon hoped he would accept. Then Murtagh said in a low voice, "You cannot help me, Eragon. No one but Galbatorix can release us from our oaths, and he will never do that…"

Though he wanted to, Eragon could not deny the sympathy he felt for Murtagh's plight. With the utmost gravity, he said, "Then let us kill the two of you."

"Kill us! Why should we allow that?"

Eragon chose his words with care: "It would free you from Galabtorix's control. And it would save the lives of hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Isn't that a noble enough cause to sacrifice yourself for?"

Murtagh shook his head. "Maybe for you, but life is still too sweet for me to part with it so easily. No stranger's life is more important that Thorn's or my own."

As much as he hated it – hated the entire situation, in fact – Eragon knew then what had to be done. Renewing his attack on Murtagh's mind, he leaped forward, both feet leaving the ground as he lunged toward Murtagh, intending to stab him through the heart.

Mariah shoved her way through the battlefield, past rows of soldiers ready to spike her on their lances. She drew Ancalë as she neared and let out a cry as Eragon lifted his blade for a killing blow. In a golden flash, her Rider's blade stopped his strike. Lunging, she fell into a shielding position, laying the sword across her back to reflect the stroke, twisting when she felt the weight of his attack in her hands, and shoving him back.

Zar'roc slid down the edge to the hilt, forcing Eragon to instinctively slip into a series of swift maneuvers. He regained his footing quickly - too quickly for her to avoid the next blow. Her helm came down over her head with jeweled feathers decorating the sides, gleaming, and inset in gold. A guard over her nose brought the helm around her face in the shape of a heart; he could just see the sharp edges of her cheekbones as she moved, then her exposed face as it wretched away, Zar'roc catching just under the lip. It clattered to the ground with a dull thud as she swung around to block the following blow. She knew where it would be coming from; his fighting style was all too familiar, even after months apart. Resistance met his every strike with surprising strength. The swords collided and sparks flew as the metal scoured against one another, locking at the hilts once more.

He looked towards her face and faltered. With a twist of her hand, his sword went flying, landing across the plateau by Thorn's paw. Bright, slanted, jade green eyes watched him cautiously as blood traced down her face, a bright crimson streak across her high cheekbone. He stepped back, feeling Saphira's warm scales brush against his sword arm. Eragon lowered his blade slightly, staring. She gazed back into his eyes, piercing blue beneath his hair plastered to his face. The angles of his face were foreign, his appearance un-familiar, but she had not forgotten the color of his eyes.

Eragon's eyes moved up her armor. Her heeled boots made her just shorter than Murtagh, as she wheeled around and walked to the man. Her gait was sure and in two strides she had reached the red Rider. Around her throat was a heavy, worn, scarlet fabric, dropping to her calves. The wind picked up the dull roars of war and the clashing of metal on metal from the field, and rushed the battle cries up the side of the cliff to meet them. Her hair whipped behind her, the wind snagging at the cloak around her throat, giving her wings.

"Move." Murtagh said quietly.

She stared at Murtagh, conversing silently, I cannot stand idly by while he destroys you.

A look of confusion spread across Murtagh's face. What happened? Sudden change of heart?

I'm not letting either of you die today.

Murtagh's jaw set, "We have orders. Now move." Obeying, she moved – right in front of Eragon, staring down Murtagh with the defiance he'd grown accustomed to.

With a vague motion, her sword tapped against his, ready to stop his blade if he moved. I am not letting him kill you, and you aren't bringing him back to Galbatorix, not while I still draw breath.

"You won't be able to sweet-talk your way out of this one," he said, stepping closer to her, lowering his sword despite his words and gripping her arm firmly, staring down at her.

I'm not trying to. She said, staring back at him.

As Eragon watched them, a sudden realization dawned upon him: she had been the one to stab Hrothgar. An uncontrollable rush of anger flooded through him. He steeled himself to speak. "Step aside." Eragon's fingers twisted into a fist as he shifted, moving behind her.

"No." That one syllable coming from her lips shattered his soul, more than he'd anticipated; as though he'd been gleaning some hope that it wasn't her. Standing between them, she stood defiantly, not sure who to hold her back to, which one needed protecting. Breaking away from Murtagh, she walked to Eragon, standing in front of him. With her heels, they were nearly eye level. "I'm not letting you murder each other… unless you're willing to do it through my dead body."

"I should," he said. "You're both on the same side." She watched as his hands shook, could hear his heart beat faster, louder as she tried to calm her own.

Her lips twitched and twisted into a heartless smile. "You're right. I've murdered in cold blood. I've lied and deceived people in order to get what I wanted. We both know you should kill me now, but you won't. You won't because you're you, Eragon Shadeslayer, savoir of Alagaësia. So, I won't argue with you. Arguing with you always has worn me out, because you're too stubborn to lose, just like me. But unlike you, I've finally learned when to give up." She blinked once, her hair falling over her face as the wind came again. "I deserve nothing more than death, but I know you won't be the one to give it to me, so take me to Nasuada. She will be more than willing to deal me the punishment I have earned. Murtagh will come with."

He narrowed his eyes at her, "Why would he do that?"

Mariah glanced over and saw Andrar flying up to them. Arya and Mark have abandoned the battle to save Eragon from the two of you. They'll be upon you momentarily. In her distraction, Mariah didn't see Murtagh raise his sword, but felt him move past her and lunged forward. Ancalë cut through his hand-and-a-half blade like water and sent the pieces flying off the edge of the cliff. Andrar landed, snarling at the three Riders. Murtagh recoiled and glared at her. She met his gaze, A promise was made between us, now let me fulfil it.

With both men disarmed she watched them carefully, twirling her sword once, holding it out in front of her. The brightsteel rang loudly against the stone as she dropped the sword at her feet. She looked up at Eragon's stunned face and fell to her knees, then speaking in elvish - so Arya and Mark could hear as they reached them - said, "I surrender my blade to you, Eragon Shadeslayer, and relinquish command of the Empire's Army. With faith, I offer you the lives of Dragon Riders Mariah Dawnsinger, Murtagh Morzansson, and Princess Kieran, daughter of Galbatorix, as well as their dragons - Andrar, Thorn, and Nasreen - and pray for the Varden to have mercy upon them. I promise you, my companions will offer no resistance."

All the while inside of her mind, she could hear Galbatorix shouting at her defiance. Mark's mental guard was cracking under the energy the king was exerting to gain control back, but it was done. As the barrier broke, she felt a sharp pain, her eyes rolling into her head as she collapsed.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah Dawnsinger