Age of the Dragon 1: Return of the Riders

Chapter 12

Mere moments after his admission, Saphira burst through the trees with her fangs bared. Fallyn stepped forward, unconsciously protective of him.

"You are his heir?" Eragon reached for his sword. "You knew?"

His last comment was aimed at Fallyn.

"How could I not?" she answered evenly.

"I didn't choose this!" Murtagh's voice twisted with anguish as he stepped around Fallyn and tore at his clothes desperately as he bared his torso. "Look!"

He turned his back and Fallyn's blood boiled at the sight of the scar that marred his back.

A large, silvery scar that stretched from right shoulder to left hip, knotted against his tanned, muscled skin.

"See that?" Murtagh said bitterly. "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."

He spoke rapidly as if the effect of talking about this trauma lifted some heavy burden from him.

"I was lucky, I suppose - there was a healer nearby who kept me from dying," Murtagh continued.

Fallyn's hand hovered over the scar, as she struggled to comprehend what she was hearing. She knew... knew... Morzan was a nasty piece of work. But the thing that struck her...

"Where was his mother in this? Why would she let this happen to her son?"

"You must understand," Murtagh said, sounding frantic. "I don't love the Empire or the king. I have no allegiance to them, nor do I mean you harm!"

"Then your father," Eragon faltered as he removed his hand from his sword's pommel, "was killed by..."

"Yes, Brom," Murtagh said detachedly, freezing as Fallyn's fingers brushed the scar. When her hand pulled away, he pulled his tunic back on, and glanced at her curiously, seeing an expression that was mixed with fury and sadness as she turned away.

A horn rang out behind them.

"Come, run with me!" Eragon cried out.

Murtagh shook the horses' reins, and Clathus snorted as he nudged Fallyn forward.

Saphira stayed close to Eragon, and Fallyn could tell the dragon distrusted Murtagh immensely.

"This seems hard to believe," Eragon commented aloud as they ran. "How do I know you aren't lying?"

"Why would I lie?" Murtagh sounded bewildered.

"You could be-"

"Murtagh is the spitting image of his father," Fallyn cut him off. "When I first saw him, I almost ran him through on the spot."

"It's true," Murtagh verified.

"Then I need to know," Eragon pressed. "Do you serve the Empire?"

Fallyn turned, jogging backwards with an extremely frustrated expression.

"Fenedhis lasa, da'len," she snapped "If you distrust him so, why don't you just let your dragon kill him and be done with it? Why do you pester him with questions he has no hope of answering satisfactorily to you? You've travelled at his side for months now, and not once has he tried to turn you over to the Empire or kill you."