The Dark Hours - Eragon Fanfic

Chapter Twenty Two: Life and Death

Thorn flung himself from the outcropping that loomed over Uru'baen, hurtling down towards the city street where Saphira had just fallen after being wounded by the projectiles that the soldiers had fired at her.

The sky had barely lightened over the eastern walls when the Varden attacked, and Murtagh had to draw energy from the Eldunari, having gotten no sleep since the night before last.

The wind whipped through his hair as he brandished Zar'roc, his eyes locked on Saphira's rolling form, as she struggled in the street.

Thorn landed, scattering Imperial soldiers as he shook the ground. He roared and fired a blast of flame at Saphira, but her wards deflected it.

Saphira leapt over a row of buildings, frantically flapping one injured wing as her claws brought pieces of the roof hurtling down towards the street. Thorn pursued.

Once again the dragons wreaked havoc on a city as they pursued each other relentlessly. Murtagh was whipped around as Thorn clawed and slashed at Saphira. He clenched his teeth to keep from biting his tongue when Thorn jumped and landed on another street.

The sounds from the walls echoed over the city, as men shouted and the Varden army began battering at the gates.

Fools, Murtagh thought angrily, hearing the screams of dying men.

He had just turned his attention back to Saphira and Eragon when Saphira took another leap, and batted her wings back, escaping a swipe from Thorn. At that moment, Murtagh's eye caught the tip of Saphira's wing, as it brushed through the upper level of one of the houses... and went straight through.

Murtagh felt a jolt down his spine.

They didn't...

With no hesitation, he jabbed out towards Eragon with his mind, and he felt... nothing.

They're not real, He realized, but he didn't say it to Thorn, who was firing another jet of flame at Saphira, nearly cooking some imperial soldiers in the process. Murtagh's mind raced, and he swiveled his head around, searching the city for a sign of the real Saphira.

They have to be here somewhere. If they're not here fighting us, then they have a plan... some sort of feint...

For a moment, Murtagh was torn. He could allow Thorn to continue fighting this mirage of Saphira, giving Eragon and whoever was with him the opportunity to enact whatever secret plan they had concocted, to try and get one over on Galbatorix. Murtagh didn't have any faith that they could defeat the King in this, their final confrontation, but if the plan included rescuing Nasuada...

He hesitated for a long few moments as Thorn continued to batter and harass the fake Saphira, which, Murtagh now noticed, had not once touched Thorn, and was running away at any opportunity. The elves were skilled at their deception.

He tried to think through his options as the noise of battle raged around him.

The King had taken Nasuada to the throne room–he knew this because he'd shouted at one of the terrified guards after finding her cell empty. Eragon and Saphira were likely heading for a direct confrontation with the King, meaning they would try to find a way into the throne room–past the many wards and traps that he and his spellcasters had erected during the night.

Once they got the throne room, the King would overpower them and demand they give oaths of fealty. If they refused–which they would–he would begin to use force. There was a chance that he would use Nasuada to persuade Eragon–hurt her, or worse, kill her, in order to get him to submit. Murtagh could not allow that to happen.