Dunei - A Murtagh Love Story - Eragon Fan Fiction

Chapter 17

   They stood their speechless. Disbelief blossomed through Lorena. The hurt was evident in Murtagh's eyes, and Lorena forgot what was so terrible and instead reached out for him, wanting to comfort him.

The sound of crashing trees stole their attention, Saphira burst through the vegetation to stand at Eragon's side, fangs bared, tail raised threateningly.

"You are his heir?" asked Eragon, surreptitiously reaching for Zar'roc.

"I didn't choose this!" cried Murtagh, anguish twisting his face. He ripped at his clothes with a desperate air, tearing off his tunic and shirt to bare his torso. "Look!" he pleaded, and turned his back.

Lorenas' breath hitched. There, against Murtagh's tanned and muscled skin, was a knotted white scar that stretched from his right shoulder to his left hip—a testament of some terrible agony.

"See that?" demanded Murtagh bitterly. He talked quickly now, as if relieved to have his secret finally revealed. "I was only three when I got it. During one of his many drunken rages, Morzan threw his sword at me as I ran by. My back was laid open by the very sword you now carry—the only thing I expected to receive as inheritance, until Brom stole it from my father's corpse. I was lucky, I suppose—there was a healer nearby who kept me from dying. You must understand, I don't love the Empire or the king. I have no allegiance to them, nor do I mean you harm!" His pleas were almost frantic.

Eragon uneasily removed his hand from Zar'roc's pommel. "Then your father," he said in a faltering voice, "was killed by..."

"Yes, Brom," said Murtagh. He pulled his tunic back on with a detached air.

A horn rang out behind them, prompting Eragon to cry, "Come, run with me." Murtagh looked to Lorena.

"Let's go." She whispered. They pulled on the horses' reins and forced them into a tired trot, eyes fixed straight ahead, while Arya bounced limply in Snowfire's saddle. Saphira stayed by Eragon's side, easily keeping pace with her long legs.

"You're tale is hard to believe. How do I know you aren't lying?"

"Why would I lie?"

"You could be—"

Murtagh interrupted him quickly. "I can't prove anything to you now. Keep your doubts until we reach the Varden. They'll recognize me quickly enough."

"I must know," pressed Eragon. "Do you serve the Empire?"

"No. And if I did, what would I accomplish by travelling with you? If I were trying to capture or kill you, I would have left you in prison." Murtagh stumbled as he jumped over a fallen log.

"You could be leading the Urgals to the Varden."

"Then," said Murtagh shortly, "why am I still with you? I know where the Varden are now. What reason could I have for delivering myself to them? If I were going to attack them, I'd turn around and join the Urgals."

"Maybe you're an assassin," stated Eragon flatly.

"Maybe. You can't really know, can you?"

"This is ridiculous!" cried Lorena. "What motivation would Murtagh have for revealing his heritage, if he were to betray you? None I say." She tugged harder on the horses reins. "Just keep a look out for any valley Murtagh and I can leave through."

They could hear a waterfall growing louder. The horn sounded behind them again. Lorena glanced over her shoulder, expecting Urgals to rush out of the darkness. The waterfall throbbed dully ahead of them, drowning out the sounds of night.