Chapter 1

Murtagh walked silently through the forest, careful not to tread on any broken twigs. He heard faint yelling in the distance and quickened his pace a little. He was getting closer, he could tell. He had been tracking them for so long. He had to be close now.

He could here them talking to each other. Murtagh pulled softly on Tornac's reigns to guide him along. He then hid behind a large tree and knocked his bow, ready to attack. He peered out from behind the tree. There they were, standing in the middle of a small clearing. The Ra'zac.

"Yes." He whispered. "Gotcha!" He took aim at one of the Ra'zac and let the arrow fly. "Missed!" He growled. The Ra'zac didn't seem to notice. Murtagh took notice of two other people, bound by ropes. "So that's why you came here is it?" He strung his bow with two arrows this time and sent them hissing into the clearing. The Ra'zac ducked behind some boulders and Murtagh could no longer see them. He cursed and moved as quietly as he could to the other side of camp for a better aim, Tornac following close behind. Both Ra'zac were still crouched behind the boulders, but now that Murtagh had moved, he had a better target. He fired more arrows towards them willing them to hit his foes. One of the arrows lodged itself into the smaller Ra'zac's arm. It let out a wild cry and sped towards the road, kicking the younger of the two people as it fled. The other Ra'zac picked up a dropped dagger and flung it at the boy. The man, who looked much older than the boy, suddenly threw himself up then jumped sideward in front of the boy. The dagger struck the old man in the side and he fell limply into the dirt.

"NO!" screamed the boy, but then he sank to the ground and said nothing more.

Murtagh made his way slowly into the clearing when he saw it; a magnificent blue dragon with glimmering scales. It had a long snake like neck and sapphire eyes. "Wow." Breathed Murtagh, he couldn't help but stare at it. "So the rumours were true!" The dragon snorted at him then growled a little. "Easy, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help."

He cautiously made his way over to the old man. His face looked familiar, but Murtagh could not place a name. He gently removed the dagger from his side and cut his tunic so he could get a better look at the wound. The wound was short and thin, but Murtagh could tell it ran deep. Blood spurted from it and the old man groaned weakly.

"Urgh!" groaned Murtagh as more blood continued to pour from the cut. He tore the tunic a little more then ripped up some a spare blanket. He tied it together then secured it over the wound to try and lessen the blood flow. Very gently, he transported the old man over to the remains of an old campfire, where he lay quite peacefully.

Murtagh then moved towards the boy but the dragon swooped down in front of him with a deafening roar.

"Ok, ok!" He shouted, taking a step backwards. "Just let him die then!"

Murtagh stomped off towards the campfire and set it alight using a couple of stones. He crouched down to face it, his bow in his hands. He then looked up at the dragon and continued to watch it, feeling cautious; it could lash out at him at any moment. He sat there for a few hours, mulling over his thoughts. Should he continue his chase of the Ra'zac or should he stay to help this boy? He was obviously a Dragon Rider, either that or the dragon belonged to the old man. But why were they travelling together? And why did this man look so familiar?

"Who are you?" The boy asked suddenly. He was sitting up a little further, pain etched into his face.

"Murtagh." Replied Murtagh, still keeping an eye on the dragon. "And you?"

"Eragon." He paused, "Why did you help us?"

"I was tracking the Ra'zac and found you here."

"You know who they are?"

"Yes."

Murtagh's gaze rested upon Eragon. He had muttered something that sounded like 'Jierda' and the ropes binding his hands suddenly snapped. Murtagh gasped loudly. Was that magic?

Eragon tried to stand up, but gasped and fell backwards. Murtagh got up and started towards him but the dragon blocked his path again. It was growling at him.

"I tried to help you earlier, but your dragon wouldn't let me near you!"

"Her name's Saphira." Said Eragon, then he stared at Saphira for a moment. Saphira growled again then backed away, eying Murtagh as she did so.

Murtagh still kept an eye on her but rushed over to Eragon and helped him to his feet. He guided Eragon to the fire he had made and lowered him to the ground.

"How is he?" asked Eragon, glancing at the old man.

"Bad." Replied Murtagh "The knife hit him right between the ribs. You can see him in a minute, but first I suggest we tend to whatever damage the Ra'zac did to you." Eragon nodded then, with help form Murtagh, removed his tunic. Murtagh stared at the spot where Eragon had been kicked. There was a bruise which ran the length of his full left side. The red, swollen skin was broken in several places. Murtagh whistled. "Ouch!"

"Ouch." Agreed Eragon. Murtagh reached out and pressed lightly on the bruise. Eragon yelled in pain and Saphira growled again.

Murtagh glanced at Saphira then grabbed a blanket. "I think you've broken some ribs. It's hard to tell. You're lucky not to be coughing up blood." He tore the blanket into strips and bound Eragon's chest.

Eragon gently pulled his tunic back on. "Yes…I'm lucky" Eragon edged towards the old man and began to undo the bandage Murtagh had put on it.

"I wouldn't do that. Without it he could bleed to death!" warned Murtagh but Eragon ignored him.

Eragon took one look at the old man's wound then took off his gloves. Saphira approached them, her head bent low. Eragon held his hand over the wound and said "Waíse Heil!" His palm glowed and the old man's skin began to knit together.

When Eragon was finished, Murtagh bent down and ran and shaking hand over where the wound had been. "Is he completely healed?"

"No. I can only mend what is on the surface. Besides," Eragon closed his eyes "I Probably wouldn't have enough energy to heal him completely."

"You probably just need something to eat." Said Murtagh, and he pulled a pot out of his saddlebag. "I'll make some soup." He continued to make the meal, very conscious of the fact that Eragon was staring at him. He handed Eragon a bowl of the broth then sat there in silence. "How are you going to travel with him?" Murtagh jerked his head towards the man. "He certainly can't travel with that injury."

Eragon said nothing, apparently talking with his dragon. He then turned back to Murtagh and said, "If we could make a litter, Saphira could carry him to…well, wherever it is we are going."

Murtagh shrugged.

"Could you make one?" asked Eragon, "I haven't the strength."

"Wait here then." Murtagh found a couple of branches and secured a blanket to them. He then secured the old man to it and Saphira took off, the branches grasped in her talons. "Now there's a sight I never thought I'd see." Said Murtagh watching the dragon intently as it flew off into the darkness.

Eragon hoisted himself up onto his horse and turned to face Murtagh. "Thanks for helping us. But you should leave now. Ride as far away from us as possible. You'll be in danger if the Empire finds you with us. We can't protect you and I don't want to see you harmed because of us."

"Nice speech." Said Murtagh as he grinded out the fire. "But where will you go? Do you have some safe place to flee to?"

"No."

Murtagh stood up straight and faced Eragon, fingering the hilt of his sword. "In that case, I think I'll accompany you until you're out of danger. I've no better place to go and with you I have a greater chance of finding the Ra'zac again! Interesting things are bound to happen around a Rider."

Eragon seemed unsure of Murtagh's plan but agreed to let him join them. They rode all night under the light of a pale moon. It was not until dawn that Eragon informed Murtagh of a place to stay. It was a cave, high up in the mountain face.

"Saphira found it. She says you can't see it from the ground. But it's big enough to fit all of us, even the horses." Eragon told him.

Saphira then started to climb up the side of the rock. However, the horses were having some difficulty. Eragon and Murtagh spent almost an hour pushing and pulling the horses up to the cave.

The cavern was at least one hundred feet long and more than twenty feet wide. The far end of the cave was too dark for them to see into. They stood at the entrance, a small opening in one side, to take in their surroundings.

"Impressive." Said Murtagh. A short gust of wind whipped at his hair and ran down his back, causing him to shiver. "I'll gather some wood for a fire, shall I?" Murtagh clambered back down the cliff face again and started to gather fallen branches. When he returned to the cave, Eragon was sat beside the old man looking anxious and holding one of his limp hands. Murtagh said nothing and proceeded to build the fire in silence.

They ate quietly, then tried to give the old man some water, but he wouldn't drink. Stymied, they spread out their bedrolls and slept.