The bright blue of the sky filled Eragon's view. Wind blew around him and completed the feeling of total freedom. The freedom he could only reach when he was on Saphira's back, flying hundreds of miles above the ground. But Eragon knew that as soon as Saphira's paws touched the ground, he and his dragon had duties to attend to. They had a war to win, an army to lead, and a brother to defeat.

Pain filled Eragon's heart when he thought about his half-brother. He knew that he shouldn't blame himself but it felt like everything that happened was because of him, Eragon. The twins only captured Murtagh because he was Eragon's best friend and could possibly have to Galbatorix valuable information. But he didn't even had to go that far. It was Eragon's fault that Murtagh was with the Varden in the first place.

'You're thinking about him again, aren't you?' he heard Saphira's soft voice in his head. He sighed and nodded. She could always feel when he thought about his greatest failure.
'It wasn't your fault, Eragon. They wanted him not only because he was your friend. He is Galbatorix's property; he always was, even then. He wanted him back, Murtagh is too valuable. He is Morzan's son.'

Yes, of course Saphira was right. She was always right. But that didn't stop Eragon from blaming himself for letting his best and only friend down. It was still his fault and it would always be. Nothing anyone said would change this.

Saphira's low growl pulled Eragon out of his self-pity.
"What's the problem, Saphira?" He got her answer in form of a picture of the desert underneath them. Her sharp eyes had spotted a big ruby elevation and both of them recognized it immediately as Thorn, his brother's dragon. But both of them could see that the normally tall dragon was not standing but lying crumbled on the ground, unprotected and easily visible from afar. Something must be terribly wrong.

Saphira was obviously thinking the same thing because she shot with scaled wings down to the ground and in the direction of the red dragon. When Saphira landed with a loud strike of her tail, Thorn lifted his head a few inches. When he saw them he didn't growl, he just looked at them with sad and defeated eyes. Eragon was taken aback by the hopelessness that could be seen in those big eyes.

But the blood red eyes closed and Thorn's head sank back on his folded legs. Eragon heard the tired voice of the dragon in his head.
'Finish what he started. Won't take you long.' The finality in the voice shocked Eragon. He had never imagined such a giant animal, full of the greatest power, giving up.

But when he approached the still dragon, he understood Thorn's reason. The wings that were protective folded over his body had lots of scraps and wounds. Blood floated freely from them. Eragon could see one particular large wound that reached from the left shoulder of the injured dragon down to the right side of the belly. Eragon flinched. There was only one thing that could create such a wound: a dragon claw.

'Who did this to you, Thorn?' asked Saphira, oblivious to the answer. Thorn's left eye opened and a red and a blue gaze met when he answered.
'Shruikan.' Saphira stared at the red dragon. Eragon could feel her disbelief. The fact that another dragon hurt Thorn so badly hit her hard. She always loathed humans for doing that, for harming each other. She didn't understand how they could harm their own species. She always looked over all the times she fought Thorn and said that they were force to do this by Galbatorix. But now the proof, that her race was never better than the other, was lying right in front of her. And it made her sick.

All their thoughts were interrupted by Thorn's painful scream. It was a cry full of pure agony. To listeners it must sound like a wounded animal that took his last breathes. But Eragon who shared and understood the bond that connected Thorn to his rider recognized the pain as the rider's pain, not the dragons. Worry gripped Eragon's heart. In the back of his mind a small voice told him that he shouldn't worry for his enemy's well being but the feelings for his brother quieted the voice quickly.

"Where is your rider? Where is Murtagh?" asked Eragon. Saphira shot him a surprised look when she heard the hardly hold back panic in her rider's voice. But nothing mattered to Eragon in this moment. All he could think about was the absence of his older brother.

Thorn's eyes opened again and looked at Eragon. Never in his until now short but bloody life had Eragon seen anything as sad as this before. Thorn's eyes looked hunted and lost, but most of all they were pleading and he could see that Thorn feared that his plea would be dismissed.
'Help him, please!' he said and lifted his wings carefully.

And underneath the huge red wing lay a motionless form. Eragon recognized his older brother and once best friend immediately but the condition he was in made Eragon stumble back. Murtagh's once white shirt was now almost stained black by his blood. Eragon couldn't see where Murtagh was injured since the whole shirt was soaked. But the mass of the blood told him already that there was no hope for the older boy. Nobody, at least not he and his friends were able to help his brother. It was a wonder that Murtagh was still alive.

The moment the shock wore off, Eragon rushed over to the injured man. He pressed his fingers against Murtagh's throat and felt for a pulse. Red shining eyes followed every movement that was made around the Red Rider. Eragon felt them boring in his head when Thorn longed for eye contact. But Eragon's whole mind was focused on the still body in front of him. Panic started to rise in Eragon when there was nothing underneath his searching fingers.

He continued to press his palm against Murtagh's neck while beginning to speak to his not corresponding friend.
"Murtagh? Murtagh! Come on, don't do this to me! Come back here now! Murtagh!" He stared in the handsome face and gulped. He couldn't let him die, he had to be alive!

And just when the thoughts of losing his friend threatened to overrun him, he felt the faint heartbeat pulsing against his fingers. It was so weak that he first thought that he had imagined it but a few seconds later he realized that it really was what he was searching for.

With his hands still on the other's throat he tried to transfer some of his energy into the weak body. It was a useless effort since his brother's body was stripped of all its power and absorbed his energy like a black hole. The energy transfer would do neither of them any good.

The only possibility to safe Murtagh's life was to get him to strong and powerful healers. He had to bring him to the Varden. Just the thought made Eragon shudder. What would his army say? His allies? His friends? And most important what would Nasuada say when he brought the enemy home? But he had no choice.

Carefully he ripped Murtagh's shirt open. And the sight took his breath away. Only a sword could have torn Murtagh's stomach open like this. And Eragon could see that the sword's target had been Murtagh's heart, which would have led to his immediate death. It had not succeeded, not yet at least. He was still breathing, faint and not constant but he was.

He didn't dare touching the wound. Instead he turned to Thorn.
"If you want him to have a chance of surviving, you have to let me take him to the Varden. He won't be in any danger, I swear. I'll look out for him. He will be safe with me." he tried to reassure not only the dragon, but himself too. Nothing would happen when Murtagh was in his care and he would be no threat to the Varden in the condition he was in.

Thorn nodded slowly but his eyes never left his rider when Eragon carefully slid his arms under Murtagh's knees and his back and lifted the older boy. With surprise Eragon noted that he was lighter than he thought. Murtagh was way too light for his own health. Someone – probably Galbatorix himself – made sure that Murtagh starved. Tears shot up in Eragon's eyes when he thought about the cruelty his brother had to endure under Galbatorix's imprisonment. And in the back of his mind the small voice of blame spoke up again.

Saphira crouched down to make it easier for Eragon to mound his dragon. He sat himself in the saddle, then laid Murtagh over Saphira's neck and tried to get a good hold on the young man. Murtagh's dark head lolled back until it came to rest against Eragon's chest. Carefully he brushed a black strand off the cold forehead. Murtagh didn't react to the touch.

Eragon turned to look at Thorn.
"I'll send Saphira back to you as soon as we arrive at the camp. And I'll send a healer, too." he said when Saphira got ready to depart. Thorn rested now on the less hurt left side of his body.
'Just … help him.' he said, close to the healing sleep. And with that, Saphira made a jump and they were gliding through the cold air.

Eragon could already see the camp of the Varden; they wouldn't take long to get there. And then the real trouble would begin. Eragon didn't dare thinking about it. He brought the enemy behind their lines directly in their middle.

Speed could decide over life and death at the moment. And Saphira didn't let her rider down. Just after a few minutes in the air, she was getting ready to land again. Eragon could see that she was dropping in the direction of Nasuada's tent. She obviously thought that the Varden's leader would be the best option in their situation. Eragon couldn't disagree with that. He knew that there happened more between Murtagh and Nasuada in the time he was with the Varden than they admitted. But he hesitated to extradite the helpless man to his enemies.

But he had no time to react because the instant Saphira's paws touched the ground, an elegant and confident young woman stormed out of the tent.
"Eragon, what's the matter? I awaited you back later because I thought you wan…" she stopped at the sight in front of her. Her eyes grew wide and her hands came up to cover her mouth.

"Oh my God! What happened?" she asked with sharp voice. Eragon didn't answer. He slipped off Saphira's back, pulling the lifeless form of his brother with him. He turned to his Lady who just stared at them. The sight that he offered must be vicious: covered in dark blood with his dying brother, his enemy in his arms.

He met Nasuada's normally soft but now terrified dark brown eyes.
"I need healers. Quickly! He is dying." And the Varden leader turned, hurrying to save the life of the Red Rider, their worst enemy, her love and the Blue Rider's blood and soul brother.

A/N: Heyy guys

This is my very first Eragon fanfic and I have to admit that it has been years since I read the Eragon books. I don't remember everything and I really don't want to read all 3 books again, so if I make a severe mistake please let me know and I will change it.

And you probably figured it out: I'm a huge Murtagh fan! He is the only reason why I'm still loyal to the Inheritance Cycle...

Please let me know if I should continue, since I'm very unsure of my work with Eragon

Thanks,
LaLaina