The Name of Names

~30: The New Rider~

The time ticked away, and eventually Murtagh returned to his room, where later in the day a servant was summoned to get him for dinner in the great hall. Murtagh accepted—as he was hungry—and decided he would just keep to himself the whole time. He didn't feel comfortable around strangers, unless he was fighting them, which was another matter entirely.

They entered the hall, where the servant showed him his designated seat, which Murtagh noticed with some bitterness was almost as far away from Nasuada as possible. He was seated next to a girl, with silky copper hair, and dressed in a long red dress. As he sat down and waited for the meal to begin, she struck up a conversation with him.

"You are Murtagh, correct?" She asked.

Murtagh jerked his head in confirmation, not doing anything particular to keep the conversation going, but almost wishing for her to keep talking.

"My name is Ismira," she continued, "The new Rider."

That interested Murtagh somewhat, and his eyebrow lighted up slightly, "Oh?"

She nodded, and the conversation fell silent until Murtagh decided to continue it, "Where are you from?"

"Carvahall. The new one, of course." She added, and the conversation picked up from there. The dinner passed quickly, with brief moments of silence, until one of the two would think of something to start it back up.

When it was over, Murtagh left to his chambers, recooperating, and getting to bed quickly.

The next day, Murtagh woke up early, not sure what had awoken him. Flipping back the covers, he remembered the previous day's events and almost winced as the painful memory of her rejection came back crystal clear.

Standing up quickly, and grabbing Zar'roc from where it was sitting, propped next to the bed, he strapped it on and opened the door, exiting out of it. Closing the door quietly, Murtagh went to the balcony again, where he found himself staring out at the overall city.

Thorn had just left to hunt, and their connection was just barely feel able at his distance.

He flicked a piece of hair out of his face, noting how long it had become. It was almost chin length, and though he knew he could probably cut it with magic, he didn't especially care to, so had left it alone for some time.

"What are you doing out here, all alone?" A smooth and quiet voice asked him, speaking from the doorway that lead to the balcony.

Murtagh whirled around, his hand going to Za'roc's hilt before he recognized Ismira, and dropped his hand.

Her silky red hair was pulled back from her face, and braided down her back. The rest of her hair was loose, reaching almost to her waist. Her eyes were emerald green, sharp and attentive to every little detail. She was dressed in a midnight black dress, with long draping sleeves, and a braided brown belt around her waist.

Her red lips turned up in a smile, "I can leave if you wish."

Murtagh shook his head and waved a hand somewhat distractedly, before allowing his mask of emotions to come into place. "No, feel free to join."

Strangely, he felt that her company would be most welcome while Thorn was gone.

She walked next to him, leaning against the rail. "Beautiful, isn't it?" she commented, glancing at him.

He nodded once, staring straight ahead.

He flinched as he felt her hand on his arm. "You alright?" she asked softly, and their eyes met. His hazelnut brown, and hers emerald green.

Murtagh flicked his gaze away, changing the subject, "How is your dragon," he hesitated, "What's his name?"

"Fenrir." she answered, dropping the subject as well, and following his gaze out over the city.

"When do you leave for your training?" Murtagh asked, feeling the need to continue the conversation. Something about her mannerisms put him at ease, dulling the pain of Nasuada's rejection.

"I believe we'll leave when Fenrir can fly while carrying me. So it should be a few months yet." She leaned both her elbows on the railing. "Although in the meantime I've been practicing on my own." She was quiet for a moment before an idea seemed to hit her. "Do you want to practice mind defense now?" Ismira suggested, adding quickly, "You don't have to, of course."

Murtagh shrugged, "Why not?" he knew how to defend his mind well, as it was the only sanctuary that hadn't been ruined before Galbatorix did so using his true name. And it would be interesting to see how strong she was.

She smiled, and immediately her mental probe jabbed into his defenses, momentarily shattering them before he threw them back up. She was surprisingly strong in her attacks, and Murtagh concentrated on his hands, allowing their image to fill his mind and block everything else out, giving Ismira no foothold in his mind.

Ismira rested her hand on his arm, turning him gently to face her. Murtagh kept his focus sharp as he looked at her, beginning to be confused.

His mental probe searched her mind for anything to give him an advantage, but there was nothing. Which surprised him, considering she had only been a Rider for a relatively small amount of time.

"You have been practicing." He commented, and her red lips turned up in a smile as she started to move in closer towards him. Her hair framed her face beautifully, and her hazel eyes twinkled.

Murtagh kept his defenses up as gravity seemed to be pulling them closer. And then, Ismira tilted her head up, pressing her lips lightly against his.

Murtagh's defenses faltered, but that was all she needed to slip through them.

Her mental touch was light as she sorted through his mind, gently not letting him gain control again. She did all of this as they kissed, and Murtagh was still in shock for the second it took for everything to happen.

Then, she found what she wanted, buried deep in his mind, and her probes turned to icy daggers as she yanked the Name away from him.

She separated from him, still close and looking into his brown eyes. "Goodbye, Murtagh." She whispered, and then left, leaving an immobilized Murtagh.