Author's note: Hello. So here it is. The ending. This chapter is longer than any of the other chapters, and I hope it will make a good ending. I want to thank everybody who have read this story :D .. I know that there must be like thousands mistakes, and I will do my best to find them and correct them someday. Thanks to everybody who have reviewed! You are really great, and reading my reviews make me so happy.

Enjoy the story! ;D

Chapter 9
Freedom

"Murtagh." Eragon's voice was hoarse. "You don't have to do this. Please. We can help you and Thorn escape from Galbatorix, if you would just …"

Murtagh laughed bitterly. "No, Eragon. You can't help us. Don't you get it? We have no choice. You know what happened to the golden dragon and its Rider! As soon as Galbatorix realize, I have you trapped - and he will soon - he will connect himself to my mind and keep an eye on me."

Thorn growled to confirm his words. Saphira snapped at him with her giant jaws, but it did not seem to frighten the red dragon.

Leave him, Saphira, instructed Eragon. This is not his fault.

They have a choice. There was no mercy to trace in Saphira's cold voice, nor in her eyes as she looked at Thorn. They can choose to die in order to save Alagaësia. But they will rather live their pathetic lives and let everybody else suffer.

Suddenly Thorn growled again, but this time it was inside Eragon's mind. I respect you, Bjartskular, do not doubt that, but you are blind if you don't understand my situation. Do you think Galbatorix will let us kill ourselves just like that? Of course he won't! Even if we tried and succeeded, he would still have my Eldunari, and if we should fail … Thorn shuddered. Then he would punish us so severe that just cutting your legs and arms off would be less painful. What if it was your Rider? Eh? Do not blame us for a situation we can't avoid.

"He is right." Murtagh's features turned dark. "When I was brought before him by the Twins after having escaped him and fought alongside his enemies, the Varden, he was so angry that he tortured me to the edge of death several times. He put images in my head … false memories of you and Nasuada dying, of me killing you … and he let me believe that it was true. I tried to fight him, but he was too strong, and eventually I broke. Thorn and I went through a similar scenario when we returned from the Burning Plains without you two, and we do not wish to do so again."

"Still …" Eragon tried to come up with an argument, though his voice sounded less confident now. "It's not an excuse for dooming the free people of Alagaësia."

"For me it is." Murtagh scowled at Saphira who still growled at him and Thorn. "I never asked to be a part of this war. All I want is to free Thorn and myself and then get as far away from Galbatorix as possible. And I don't intend to do anything else."

"Not even if it could save thousands of people? Including Nasuada and I?"

Murtagh hesitated and looked at Thorn. Then he shook his head. "No."

Don't waste your time, Eragon. Saphira stared evil at Thorn, and he could feel the rage boiling inside her. As I said: they have a choice. And it looks like they have made it.

If you ever thought you could trust us, then you were stupid, said Murtagh in a cold voice. I made it clear from the beginning that it would end up like this. You are coming with us to Urû'baen, as Galbatorix ordered.

Despite of Murtagh's harsh words, Eragon could not suppress the disappointment he felt. It was true that Murtagh had said that he would take him and Saphira to Urû'baen. But that was before they had come back to help him take care of Thorn. Before they had overheard his conversation with Nasuada. Before Eragon had revealed that Brom was his father, and before they had slaughtered the creepy beasts together. Eragon had thought that all these things meant something, and that it had made them become somewhat … friends again. Though he hated to admit it, he had enjoyed working together with Murtagh - it had felt like the time they were just two friends travelling and fighting together. It had given him an idea of what it would have been like if he and Murtagh had grown up together as brothers ought to. But now he realized that while all these things had meant something good to him, it had just meant more pain and guilt for Murtagh. More the king could mock him about.

"It's late." Murtagh's voice was hard and still cold as a winter night. He avoided Eragon's gaze and looked at the dead creature instead. "Now we find a place to sleep, away from that thing. And tomorrow we head for Urû'baen."

We will find a way to get out of this, Eragon, said Saphira in an attempt to calm him down. She felt his sorrow as her own. I promise you.

Don't count on it, dragon, said Murtagh hollow. And in that instant Eragon knew that Murtagh - who was still connected to his mind - had seen and felt the disappointment Eragon had inside him. And yet … yet he refused to defy the king's orders.

Without even looking at his half brother, he laid a hand on Saphira's neck and said into the air: "Let's find a place to sleep. And preferably far away from that thing." He wrinkled his nose. "The fact that that monster is so … evil and careless and would kill another living creature just because of some personal issue makes me want to be sick." He paused. "And the dead creature does not smell too good either."

Still not looking at a now scowling Murtagh, he walked past him and the red dragon, into the darkness that hopefully would cover him and hide the feelings that his face and mind betrayed so easily.

Next morning Eragon woke up and immediately felt miserable. Five seconds passed until he remembered why. The disappointment from yesterday practically kicked him in the gut, and he rolled over, trying not to think of the cruel things that would happen to him and Saphira now, thanks to Murtagh. The sun had barely touched the sky, and both Saphira, Thorn and Murtagh were still sleeping. The thought of just running away crossed Eragon's mind, but he quickly banished it again. Murtagh had replaced the wards that prevented him from using magic, and without magic - even with magic - they would be no match for Murtagh and Thorn.

What will the Varden do now? thought Eragon sadly and recalled the faces of Nasuada, Arya, Elva, Angela, king Orrin and all the other people who probably would die when Galbatorix' army attacked again.

Eragon, your sorrow overwhelms my dreams and makes me lose courage. Saphira yawned and opened her eyes. When she saw him, her voice turned gentle. Oh, little one … are you all right?

Yes, answered Eragon, but they both knew that the answer was as much a lie as when they had first found out that Murtagh was the Red Rider. I'm fine.

We will come up with something, Eragon. Saphira nudged him with her nose and tried to send him comfortable thoughts. I know we will. We can't let Galbatorix win this war, right? Eragon …

Not now, Saphira. I'm sorry, but I just can't believe in it right now. I feel so … lost.

Eragon, despite his usual stupidity, Murtagh had a point yesterday. We all knew that they had to do this, and that they would do it, as soon as the beasts were dead. You are not the only one who wishes that things had gone different. She bowed her head in a sad gesture. For a short while I fooled myself too. I was so happy to be with another dragon, and I was happy to see you happy. I felt good. But now is not the time for regrets and thoughts of what could have been. Now we must think of the Varden and the future, and their only chance lies with us. You and I, Thorn and Murtagh, are on different sides.

You are right, Saphira. He sighed. Of course you are right. Somewhere inside me I knew that Murtagh and I could never be friends again. I told myself that many times, but I was just … unwilling to believe in it. Sorry.

Do not apologize for having feelings, Eragon. That already makes you ten times the man Murtagh is.

"You wish," mumbled Murtagh, and both Eragon and Saphira turned their heads in surprise. They had thought him and Thorn to be asleep. Eragon resisted the urge to kick him, and instead he tried to conceal his thoughts. He could not, though. Murtagh's magic was too powerful.

Thorn growled welcoming, as Murtagh rose from the ground and fastened Zar'roc to his belt. The Rider laid a hand on Thorn's nose, and they seemed so close. Eragon's mind clung to Saphira's in a mental embrace. As his sadness turned to anger and hate towards Murtagh, he began to feel slightly better, and whatever he and Saphira had to go through now, they would go through it together. It was a rather comforting thought.

Murtagh started a fire and made them breakfast. It was nothing special. Just some bread and four eggs. The Red Rider gave his bread to Thorn and started eating two of the eggs. Without looking up he said: "You should eat too. We will have to fly day and night for at least two days, and you'll also need strength for … well, later."

Eragon did not bother to answer, but he gave the bread to Saphira and started eating eggs too. The two half brothers said nothing, and their dragons did their best not to look at each other. Eragon knew that Saphira pitied Thorn, but he also felt anger from her. He could not really define if it was only towards Murtagh, or if she also was angry at Thorn.

Suddenly the four of them stiffened. They had all heard - or rather, felt - the sound of an arrow being shot. For two seconds none of them moved. Then the arrow - closely followed by twelve others - penetrated the air and landed close at their feet. Thorn growled, and Murtagh jumped to his feet. "Damn!" he said.

Eragon felt a small hope flicker in his mind and looked at Saphira. Could this be …? Had the Varden really found them? Just thinking the thought seemed to be hoping too much. But then Eragon looked into the distance and lost all doubt. Arya - along with Blödhgarm and the other elven spell casters - came riding towards them on the little fast elven horses. Behind them came at least hundred of the Varden's men on regular horses, and he could spot Nasuada and Roran among them. His heart raced. He did not want any of them to get hurt, and he knew what Murtagh was capable of. But then again, the Varden could not afford to lose him and Saphira.

Murtagh drew Zar'roc from its sheet and placed himself in front of Thorn. The red dragon roared - scaring a lot of the Varden's horses - and showed his fangs. "You! Don't move." Murtagh sent Eragon and Saphira a quick look. "If you as much as think of running away now or aiding them in any way, I will not hesitate to hurt you so much you wish you had never been born. And to kill all of them."

"No one has to get hurt," said Eragon calming, though he was not calm himself at all.

Arya stopped her horse about twenty metres away. Behind her everybody else stopped too. She dismounted and laid her sword and bow on the ground. "I am unarmed," she said in a loud, clear voice. "Will you let me get close so we can talk as civilized people? I wish to negotiate with you, Red Rider."

Murtagh hesitated ten seconds, obviously talking to Thorn. Then he nodded. "Leave your weapons and men behind, and swear in the ancient language that you won't kill me for the next three minutes. Then you can talk, and then we can negotiate."

"Then you do the same, Rider," she answered. Murtagh nodded, and they both swore in the ancient language not to kill each other for three minutes. Then she walked towards them, graceful as a swan. Eragon bit his lips. He wished that Blödgharm or one of the other elves would have done this. But at the same time he knew that Murtagh was more likely to listen to Arya than to any other.

"Eragon, Saphira. I'm glad to see you alive and well." She bowed her head to them, as if they had been to a dinner party and not in a hostage situation. "Murtagh, son of Morzan. Thorn. I cannot truthfully say that I am as delighted to see you."

"Well, most people aren't. I've never really figured out why; must have something to do with the whole I-am-going-to-kill-you-on-the-king's-orders-if-you-don't-do-as-I-say-thing." Murtagh shrugged.

Arya did not seem affected by his sarcasm. "I have, however, been searching for you. You have been cooperating with Eragon in an attempt to find and kill the strange creatures that harassed our land. I suppose your mission is complete?"

"It is," Murtagh confirmed, now not showing any feelings.

"I have heard that you have been ordered by Galbatorix to bring Eragon and Saphira to Urû'baen, once this mission was over?"

"That is true."

"Is there anything I can offer you that would stop you from during such a thing?" Her face became somewhat gently. "Murtagh, you have helped save my life. And you have been aiding the Varden several times. It is hard for our people to think of you as an enemy, and we want to help you. Please let us do that. Come with us, both of you, and we will fight Galbatorix' magic together."

"Hah, you sound like Eragon now. I thought you were wise, but just like him you are making it sound so simple." He laughed humourless. "Don't you understand, elf? After the Burning Plaines Galbatorix has been watching me carefully. He doesn't trust me anymore than you do! If I make as much as one wrong decision, he will punish me and force me to do otherwise. What part of that is it that you people don't understand?" His face was now like a distorted mask of pain, and his voice was hoarse and helpless. "I have no choice."

Arya said nothing for a while. Then she sighed. "Then there is no more to talk about. We cannot let you take Eragon and Saphira. And apparently, you can't let us take them."

"You cannot win." Murtagh's eyes were dark. "I'm too strong for you. You will all die."

"If Eragon and Saphira are forced to serve Galbatorix, then we will all die." Arya's voice was like steel. "Farewell, Murtagh, son of Morzan. And farewell, Thorn, dragon of blood. We will kill you now." She turned around and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Murtagh's voice was strong, but Eragon could sense a trembling. Arya turned around, slowly.

What do you think he wants? asked Eragon. He and Saphira had been silent during Murtagh and Arya's conversation. No option seemed good at the moment.

I don't know, little one, but he's hardly going to invite her to tea, that's for sure. She paused. All I feel from his mind is determination.

"I don't want people to die," said Murtagh. "We all know that this battle will end with magic. Whoever is strongest in magic will win. Right? So let's just skip the part where I slaughter your - excuse me - pathetic little army and jump to the part where I kill you and your elves and take Eragon and Saphira with me."

Arya did not speak for half a minute, and Eragon hoped that she would come up with something better. He did not know how strong Murtagh was, but last time they had fought him, they were hardly able to beat him. And back then Arya and the other elves had had Eragon and Saphira with them too.

"And why would you try to make such a deal?" the elf princess asked.

Murtagh smiled wryly. "Maybe I'm not all bad. Or maybe I just know that it will come down to this in the end anyway, and I don't want to waste my time." When she did not answer, he continued: "Take it or leave it, elf. The result will be the same."

"Well …" Arya looked down in the ground. Then she suddenly looked up and yelled: "Thrysta!"

Eragon knew that the word had many uses, including stopping one's heart. Murtagh was taken by surprise and for a very brief second, it looked like he was beaten. But then a snarl twisted his features, and he muttered a counter spell. Thorn growled low, obviously supporting him, while the other elves stood behind Arya, all with their eyes closed. The rest of the Varden army watched in awe and concern.

After what seemed like an eternity, though it probably only was about four minutes, one of the elves behind Arya passed out. Murtagh did not even seem tired yet, though his hands were made into fists, and his face was hard. Eragon! Saphira said. We have to do something.

Yes, I know, but what? Eragon watched Arya with concern. If she died … Murtagh warned us. If we do something, he will just kill all of them and hurt us.

Eragon, he will kill them anyway, if we don't do something! If we distract him - or just join forces with them - they might have a chance of winning and saving us. She roared helplessly and looked fiercely at him. Why do you hesitate? I have no control over my powers; you will have to perform the magic! Is it because he is your brother? Because you thought that he was still the same? I've told you before, Eragon: Murtagh is dead. Only the son of Morzan is left, and we have to destroy him. I am as sorry as you are, but it has to be done.

You are right, Saphira. He sighed. I know … I know that things will never be the same. But you can't deny that we have bonded over the last few days. Don't you think it could prove useful to have such a bond to Galbatorix' best warrior? If I attack him now, all that will be lost.

I see your point, little one, but I am afraid that such a bond would be just as useful for Galbatorix and Murtagh than for us. Please … we have to do this. Together. I will stand by your site. When Eragon still hesitated, she nudged his arm with her nose. Arya will die. Roran will die. Nasuada, Angela and all the others will die, if you don't do something now.

I know. He took a deep breath and gathered all of his strength. Let us become one, Saphira. I need you.

I will always be here for you, little one.

Eragon closed his eyes and found Arya's mind, but he could not contact her. She protected her mind with all her power. Murtagh probably did the same; he had withdrawn from Eragon and Saphira's mind some time ago. Eragon decided to try and break into his mind. If he could do that, the Varden would have won. If he could not, Murtagh would still be really districted, which might allow Arya to win in their showdown. Saphira approved of his plan. Together they first freed themselves of the spell that prevented them from using magic - that was not difficult when Murtagh was fighting Arya - and then banged into Murtagh's mind and made him turn his head to look at them. His face was dark of anger and fury. Finally he seemed a little exhausted; a drop of sweat ran down his cheek. Eragon did not look away, and with their gazes locked together the two brothers fought a battle with their minds.

"Eragon!" Eragon was not distracted by the anger in Murtagh's voice. "I gave you a chance, but this is it! I swear I will cut your fingers off, one by one, and send them to your elf friend!"

Eragon laughed. "You only say that because you are scared. And you know what, Murtagh? You have good reason to! Because you're going to lose this battle!"

"I am stronger than all of you," Murtagh snarled.

"Your have more powers. That is not the same as being stronger. I would rather have died than give you to Galbatorix. But you can't bring that sacrifice; not for me, not for the Varden, not even for Nasuada. That is your true weakness."

"Or maybe I just don't want to bring that sacrifice! Why should I? Tell me that, brother … why should I give up any hope of life to let a group of unorganized rebels and a seventeen year old farm boy and his blue lizard rule? Do you think you can do better than Galbatorix? Because I don't. But they have fed you with so many visions of their golden future, so you have come to believe in them. Like I believed in Galbatorix once. I know you are not like me; you want to believe in a better future. I have already given up on that."

"That's not true!" Eragon yelled, but he could not find an argument. "What you say is not true!"

Murtagh laughed wickedly. "Keep telling yourself that."

Don't listen to him, Eragon. Saphira sent a wave of calmness and wave towards him. Maybe the Varden have no better chances to be good rulers than Galbatorix, but we have what he doesn't have: good intentions. Galbatorix has given up on that just like Murtagh.

Thank you, Saphira. He really meant it. Thank you.

They continued their mind battle in silence. Another three elven spell casters had fainted, and while he was looked at them, four more fell to the ground. Arya was soon the only person still standing. He knew he had to do something for them, so he found Arya's mind, and she sensed it was him and let him in.

Arya. He did not have to say more. She could feel all his relief and gratefulness, since they were so close connected with their minds, and she returned it. From the depth of her mysterious mind he felt feelings similar to his own.

Eragon. I am glad you are okay. I … we have all been so worried. Murtagh sent a new wave of energy towards them, and he saw Arya tremble. She was very weak now. Eragon, I am not sure we can defeat him this time.

We can, said Eragon confident. I still have Brom's ring. There is enough energy stored in there to move a mountain. But you are the one in combat with him, so I have to transfer the energy to you.

Do it, but … She hesitated. Don't leave me. If I faint, it is up to you to end this battle.

I will never leave you.

Before Arya could answer, Saphira broke into their conversation. You love him, he loves you, we all love each other. Come on, we have a evil half brother and his pet to defeat!

Even Arya smiled a little at that. You are so wise, Saphira, as always.

The three of them let their minds melt further together, and as one - strengthened by the power of Brom's ring - they attacked Murtagh again. This time they managed to break through his defences, and full of joy they used the spell to keep him and Thorn stiill while Roran - who along with Nasuada had joined Eragon, Arya and Saphira in front - tied his hands at his back. Thorn roared and would have killed Roran without thinking twice, but Saphira held him in place and threatened to cut off Murtagh's fingers. That made the red dragon realize that they had lost, and he did not cause further troubles. Murtagh was unconscious.

"Eragon! Saphira!" Nasuada hugged him, and Eragon laughed and hugged her back. He had missed her too. Saphira hummed happily. "You are all right! And you have slain the hostile creatures and managed to capture Galbatorix' Rider! I am so happy!"

"Cousin." Roran smiled, and he and Eragon shook each others hands. Saphira rolled her eyes and grabbed both of them and gave them a dragon-version of a hug. Everybody laughed. "I'm also glad to see you again, Saphira," laughed Roran.

Eragon drowned in all the people who wished to congratulate him and Saphira and welcome them back. He was happy, of course, but his gaze kept drifting to the ground where his half brother Murtagh now was gagged and bound. Arya - still pale and slow from exhaustion - and Blödgharm gave him some drops of something that Eragon guessed would suppress his magic, and then they carried him away. Only Saphira noticed that he saw it.

You did what you have to do, Eragon, she said. And I am so proud of you. Today you really showed that you are Brom's son, and that you don't have the weakness that also Morzan suffered from.

I am proud of you too. And now we are safe. He embraced her mentally.

Several days later they were back in Surda where the Varden once again had headquarters. Apparently Nasuada and Orrin had left a small army to watch over Feinster, but the city had promised its allegiances to the Varden. When they finally were back, Saphira had to spend most of her time guarding Thorn, so Eragon had a lot of time on his own. He used it to train with Brisingr and to talk to Nasuada about the Empire's plans. The Varden intended to attack Gil'ead soon. He knew that they gave Murtagh something to suppress his magic, and that he currently was in a tent near the Nighthawk's, and that there were at least ten men watching that tent at all times. But he did not go there. It was a funny thought that a morning some days ago, they had sat together and eaten eggs. Saphira comforted him, of course, and told him that he should not worry about Murtagh anymore. The Varden would decide what was to happen with him.

One morning Eragon was once again alone. Thorn had not eaten in a long time, and Saphira, Blödgharm and some of the other elves were on a hunting trip. Instead of grabbing Brisingr and go to the training grounds, he found Murtagh's old sword. He swung it around; its balance was still good. Without really thinking he fought an invisible enemy in the tent. His moves became faster and faster. But suddenly - as he was turning on his heel to block an attack from one of his now many invisible opponents - the blade met another blade and simple broke. Eragon dropped it, and the pieces of Murtagh's old sword fell to the ground. He looked up and saw Arya standing there with her beautiful elven sword.

"You almost hit me," she said expressionlessly.

"I'm sorry," muttered Eragon.

"I know." Now her voice was gently. She picked the tip of Murtagh's old sword up with her bare hands and gave it to him. Then she laid a hand on his cheek, so he had to look at her. "Here. As a memory. Because it is only a memory, Eragon."

He tried to look down in the ground, but her eyes would not let him go. "I know," he said reluctantly. "But if Galbatorix dies, then he will be free. They both will. And then …"

"And then the Varden will have him executed for his crimes. And if they should pardon him, then the dwarves will want his head. And if also they should pardon him, then every man, woman and child in Alagaësia who have suffered under the Empire will blame him and demand that his life is taken away, just as he helped taking theirs." He could see pain in her face, but she was determinate. "You know what you have to do. You know what he wants you to do."

She was right. He knew. And then a part of him realized that Murtagh would never be free. Murtagh had never been free, not even when they travelled together. Having Morzan as father had not physically forced Murtagh to do anything, but it had forced everybody else to believe that he was evil. Murtagh had struggled against that all his life, but chains like that were just too heavy and too strong. There was only one kind of freedom left for his half brother.

"Trianna has cast a spell over the tent." Eragon's voice was hoarse. "I heard her say it. Weapons cannot be brought into it."

"What you hold in your hand is no longer a weapon," Arya answered. She laid her hands over his and said quietly: "I never got a chance to tell you, but … I was glad that you were with me in that battle. And if I have a choice, I will never leave you either." She paused and looked intently at him. "I believe that you will do the right thing. Both of you."

And then she turned around and left his tent.

Eragon sighed deeply and hide the tip of Murtagh's swords under his shirt. Then he contacted Saphira. He did not say anything, but he did not have to. She felt his intentions and agreed with him, for once without complaining. Then he went to Nasuada's tent.

He found her sitting alone, starring out in the air with empty eyes. "Eragon," she greeted him when he entered. "I am sorry, I was just sitting here … thinking."

Eragon laid a hand over her hand, just as Arya had done with him. She looked at him, and he found the tip of Murtagh's old sword. He could see that she recognized it. "We have to do this now," he whispered. A tear rolled down her dark chin, and it was quickly followed by others. "I am sorry."

She nodded faintly. "I know. Somehow I have known all along that it would be best to end it like this."

"Will you accompany me?"

She nodded again, but she kept crying. Together they walked towards Murtagh's tent, and since they were a Rider and leader of the Varden, the guards let them in without asking any questions. He was still connected to Saphira, but she and Thorn were too far away to be back in time. Maybe that was a good thing, at least for Thorn.

The tent was dark, and it took some time for their eyes to get used to it. Eragon mumbled: "Brisingr." and made some small fire balls that floated in the air above them. The fire enlightened the tent. It was almost empty. There was a pile of hay in one corner and some old blankets and a pillow. Murtagh was sitting in another corner with closed eyes. His hair and clothes were a mess, and though he was no longer gagged and bound, a thick iron chain that was fastened to a pole that was pushed far down into the ground, ensured that he did not go anywhere. Maybe it was just the bad light, but Eragon thought that he looked thinner too.

"Murtagh?" he called. When his brother did not react, he kneeled to the ground beside him. Nasuada did the same. "Murtagh?"

Finally Murtagh slowly opened his eyes, but it was obvious that the light from the fire made it difficult. "Eragon?" he mumbled. "Nasuada?"

"Yes, it's us," answered Nasuada and tried to give him a little smile. The tears just made it seem like she was in pain. She sniffed and brushed some dust of his chin. "It's us."

"Where is Thorn?" Murtagh tried to move, but he was very weak. The chain rattled every time he moved his foot. "This drug you give me … it protects me from Galbatorix, but I can't feel Thorn. Is he alright?"

"Yes, he is fine." Eragon took a deep breath, not really knowing how to tell Murtagh what should happen. "Murtagh … I …"

"You are here to kill me, right?" Murtagh laughed hoarse. "Why else would you be here?"

"We wish there was another way," said Nasuada.

Murtagh took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. "Me too, Nasuada. Me too."

Eragon sat down beside him. "Are you afraid?"

"Well …" Murtagh hesitated, but then he shook his head. "Not really, no. I have lived with Galbatorix, so there is no kind of pain I haven't experienced. I am only worried for … for Thorn, you know. If he will be alright without me. How the Varden will treat him. He has already experienced pain and slavery by me site, and I don't wish for him to follow me into death too." He turned his head to look directly at Eragon, who sat beside him. "You will look after him, right?"

"I will," Eragon promised. "I will be as loyal to him as you have been to me, and I will save his life as many times as I owe you mine." He smiled wryly. "That's quite a few times."

Murtagh made a noise that was some kind of a laugh. "It is."

"Here," said Nasuada softly and gave the sword tip to Eragon. She had been holding it the on the way to the tent, and it was only reluctantly that she gave it away. Eragon took it, and Nasuada cried silently again. "I have to go now. My duties are already waiting for me." She rose to her feet, but bowed down and kissed Murtagh on the chin. One of her many tears rolled down his chin instead of her own. "Farewell, Murtagh."

He grabbed her hand and hold it for a few moments. Then he whispered: "Farewell, Nasuada."

Just before she ducked out of the tent, she turned around and said: "I want you to know that you will not die as a villain as you said. You are a hero in your own way, and I admire you. And as you know, it is not easy to get my respect."

He smiled, a true smile, and she left.

Eragon looked at Murtagh, and Murtagh looked back at him. They were silent for about half a minute. Eragon wondered what Murtagh was thinking. If it had been him in Murtagh's place, then he would have been afraid. Not only for the pain, but for … death. And most of all for Saphira. Dragons could survive without their Riders, but it was still a scary thought not to be there for her.

Eragon raised the sword tip and looked at it. It was sharp. Sharp enough to pierce through flesh and skin and hurt a man's heart. The owner of the sword sure had hurt his heart. He took a deep breath and looked back at Murtagh. "Let's do this."

"Give that to me," said Murtagh.

Eragon raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Give the tip of my sword back to me."

"What do you mean?"

"Even now you have to ask questions!" Murtagh grinned weak. "I will do it. I will prove to you - and to the world - that I am not Morzan. Only then can I truly be free. Besides … you never were comfortable with the whole killing-thing."

"But … but …" Eragon was confused. He sought Saphira's mind, and she calmed him down, though there was not much more she could do for him when she was so far away. He really wished she was here with him. Still uncertain he asked: "But what about your oaths? And Galbatorix?"

"Your drugs keep Galbatorix away from my mind, just as it keeps my mind away from Thorn," Murtagh answered. "And my oaths … yes, that is a problem. I swore not to kill myself or be killed by anyone else. But there is a way … a loophole …" He blinked and locked Eragon's gaze. "If you swear in the ancient language to kill me now, then I can do it. Galbatorix made me swear not to kill myself as long as there was another solution. If you swear to kill me, there is no other solution." When Eragon hesitated, he said: "Please. Do it. For me."

"I don't know …"

"Please! I really want to do this. To prove to my little brother that I am worth remembering."

"Alright, then." Eragon took another deep breath and nodded slowly. "Alright. Here." He gave him the sword tip and then he swore in the ancient language that he, Eragon Shadeslayer, would kill Murtagh, son of Morzan, immediately.

Murtagh smiled. At first his smile was wide and looked kind of mad, but then it slowly vanished and was replaced by determination and … peace. He grabbed the end of the blade with both hands, and with no more hesitation drew it into his own chest.

That scream … Eragon would never forget the scream that escaped his brother's mouth as he plunged the tip deeper into his chest. It was like he wouldn't take any chances, like he had to be absolutely sure that he really would die. His breath quickly became ragged and hoarse. Eragon felt the tears sting in his eyes, and when he looked at Murtagh, he discovered that his eyes were full of tears as well. Maybe they were from pain, but Eragon did not believe so. Finally there were no more sound left in Murtagh, and the scream vanished. He pulled the sword tip out and threw it on the ground. It was totally covered in blood.

"I guess …" Murtagh coughed before he continued, "… I guess that all there is to do now is wait. Will you wait with me, Eragon? Little brother?"

"Yeah …" Eragon cleared his throat and tried to sound normal. "I have nothing else to do, so why not?"

Murtagh smiled. His breathing became more and more difficult. Eragon thought it weird that this was last time ever he would speak to Murtagh. Last time ever he would see him alive. Last time he would know how it was to have a brother.

"So …" Eragon looked at the Red Rider. "Are you afraid now?"

"A little." He couched again. "I'm mostly thinking of Thorn. But also … you know, the creatures we killed?"

"Yeah. They are kind of hard to forget."

"They wanted to destroy the dragon race, right? By killing Thorn and destroying the eggs. But … why didn't they just kill Saphira?" He saw the look on Eragon's face and quickly continued: "I mean … not that I hope they had done it, but if they wanted to destroy the dragon race, all they had to do was kill her."

"You are right …" Eragon frowned. "God, you are right!"

He laughed, and it felt good. Murtagh joined him, though his laugh was a bit weaker than Eragon's, since he had just plunged a blade into his heart. They laughed for almost a minute. Then Murtagh started coughing.

"I think … I think this is it, Eragon!" he managed to say between two coughs. His hands and clothes were covered in blood just like the knife, and now he bent over, pressing his hands to his chest like he was embracing himself.

"Murtagh!" Eragon turned pale and grabbed his brother's shoulders. Murtagh trembled and starting to go into convulsions. Spit fell to the ground from his mouth. Eragon started crying again, this time not trying to hide it. "Murtagh. Murtagh!"

Murtagh was laying down now. Eragon's hands were covered in blood too now, and he knew that no man could lose so much blood without dying. He kept squeezing his brother's shoulders, as much for his own sake as for Murtagh's. It was real … Murtagh was going to die. Really die. It had been what he wanted, but still … it was not fair. Not fair that the world would never accept a son of Morzan. Not fair that Eragon had finally gotten a friend like Murtagh, a friend that protected him because he wanted to, not because he wanted Eragon to one day slay Galbatorix, and that that friend had to die today. But as he looked at the sword tip of Murtagh's old sword, Eragon realized that his friend had been dead for a while now. And when Murtagh had insisted on killing himself, it was too kill the shadow he had become.

"Eragon …"

"Yes?" Eragon wiped the tears away and looked at his dying big brother.

"You take care of Thorn. If you don't, I swear I will become a ghost and haunt you to the end of your days."

Eragon smiled and sniffed at the same time. "I will. I promise."

"And you take care of Nasuada too. Make sure she survives this. She once said to me that everything would be good again one day, and I want her to be there to witness that day." His breathing was very slow now, and he was so pale that he might as well be a ghost already. "Take care of Saphira too. Tell her … that … despite everything I said, I know she is wise. Really."

"She will be glad to hear that." Eragon smiled wryly.

"And Eragon …"

"Yes?"

"Take care of yourself too. Now that I'm no longer here to watch your back … save you from dungeons, urgals, shadows and such … you'll need it."

Eragon was no longer able to answer. He could only smile through his tears. Murtagh took another deep breath, and then he closed his eyes. Five seconds later his breathing had stopped. Murtagh, son of the feared Rider Morzan, son of the woman Selena, Rider of Thorn Firescales, cousin of Roran Stronghammer, admirer of Nasuada Ajihadsdaughter, Galbatorix' right-hand-man, Brom's and Arya's saviour, and finally Eragon's former friend and half brother was dead.

Outside the tent Saphira waited for him. He laid a hand on her neck and she nudged him gently. He closed his eyes. Where is Thorn? he asked.

Somewhere. Grieving. When I told him what was happening, he flew faster than I have ever done to get here in time. He couldn't even sense Murtagh because of the drugs, but … I think that there have been some connection between them in the end, because when we got here … he was just sitting. Waiting. Watching. Until his Rider died.

Will he be alright?

Will you be alright? Saphira asked. You know what it is like to lose a person dear to you. You never fully recover, right? I think Thorn feels that way right now. He just needs time. A lot of time.

Eragon sat down on the ground, watching the sun playing with Saphira's scales, making them shine like diamonds. He is free now, he said. He freed himself. I said to him that he was too weak to do it, but eventually … he did it.

He will be remembered, said Saphira gently and sat down beside him so the ground was shaking. As a hero.

Author's note: So I did it. I killed him. Wow. Actually I had planned from the start that they would both survive, but somehow it just felt righ that Murtagh freed himself in the end. And also that he did it with his old sword, if you see it as a metaphor. It's strange to be finished with this story, since there have been going years between some of my updates.

Feel free to leave a review! And once again, thanks to all you gius who read and reviewed my story ;)