Disclaimer: Anything you see here that remotely resembles the plot of Eldest and the characters involved are not mine.

Chapter 55: Bloodlines

With Thorn flying straight and fast like an arrow, Murtagh raced against Morzan's spell, which hurtled towards Hrothgar. He was tired, truly and fully, and he had no idea how they would face a team of well-rested Riders. He heard his brothers and their friends shouting behind him and took not much notice. He had to save the king.

The wine-red light was right in front of him. He raised his sword, knowing full well that it wouldn't really help. "Letta! Jierda!"

A burst of energy emanated from him, channeled through Eldsvard's fiery blade. Morzan's spell dissipated in a shower of small sparks. Murtagh slumped forward, exhausted beyond imagination. He never attempted so much magic before. And Morzan's sheer strength nearly blew him away.

"Murtagh!" Roran and Askanir reached him first, identical looks of terror and concern in their eyes. Behind them, Eragon was shouting instructions to the dwarves, maybe to protect Hrothgar.

"I am fine," Murtagh said. "But we need to fight."

"You're in no condition to do that," Vanir scolded, Diamanda bobbing her head in approval. As the female Riders arrived, he pulled out a massive diamond that almost glowed with energy. "Here. My mother gave this to me before we departed. It is to be used only for emergencies, but I think this counts as one. We need to replenish our energy."

The Varden's army charged toward the Forsworn to buy them time. At the head was Brom, pale blue blade flashing like ice. Murtagh focused on the gem that Vanir was holding out, drawing in as much energy as he could in the short amount of time. With dragon and Rider sharing, it was quickly depleted. It wasn't enough, but it had to suffice.

At least their muscles were soothed.

Are you ready? Thorn asked, his excitement mingling with Murtagh's rage.

Murtagh looked up, at Morzan who was trading spells with Brom. More than ready. He hefted Eldsvard with a savage smile on his face.

Leading the Riders, Murtagh and Thorn launched themselves toward Morzan and Alfara. Before the other Forsworn could intercept them, they were also locked into battle against fellow Riders. Focusing himself, Murtagh joined minds with Thorn. Together, they launched an assault against Morzan's iron-hard defense. The first Forsworn turned to face him, and it was the first time that Murtagh beheld his face that close.

He looked no older than twenty-two, maybe twenty-three, though he was at least five or six times older than that. His face was made of harsh, cruel angles, his hair as dark as night. His most unsettling features were his mismatched eyes, one blue and one brown, both holding a mad spark. He did not speak, though. He merely regarded Murtagh with curiosity as their minds battled against each other, like a child observing an unfamiliar object.

His mind was another thing. While Murtagh could sense his connection to the dragon amidst his strong resistance, there was also something else – a multitude of voices that sounded imprisoned far, far away.

Thorn and Alfara let out mighty roars, the two mighty beasts crashing against each other. They struggled to gain advantage, and though smaller, Thorn was actually holding his own quite impressively. Snapping and snarling, they tried to get their jaws around their foe's neck. All the while, Murtagh and Morzan struggled desperately.

"Brisingr!" Morzan yelled, and a blast of red flames bloomed from his hand, as massive and as hot as dragon fire.

"Skolir," Murtagh retaliated frantically, shielding him and Thorn at the last minute.

The dragons reared and renewed their struggles, and they plunged toward the ground amidst yells of the two armies and the roars of the other battling dragons. Murtagh could barely keep his grip on Eldsvard. Morzan shouted out something, but it seemed like he wasn't casting spells – or he couldn't. The dragons disengaged, Thorn shooting off and circling Alfara. The she-dragon eyed him viciously.

Message from… Luneria, Thorn said, lashing at Alfara. Two magicians are battling Du Vrangr Gata. Not sure if Brom knows.

We can't do anything right now, Murtagh said, quickly raising shields as Alfara opened her maw and sent out jets of wine-colored flames again.

"Is that how you greet your father, Shur'tugal?" Morzan called out.

Aesyr and Sardonis followed Vanir and Diamanda toward the younger Riders, who had particularly smaller dragons. They left Eragon and Arya to deal with Kialandi and Formora, Roran to face of with Enduriel, and Nasuada partnering with Katrina to battle Insilbeth and Kifain. If they tried to join that fray, they would be killed before they knew it.

Vanir glanced at her. Are you ready?

As ready as can be. Aesyr raised her white blade, its pearly surface glinting in the shifting light.

She focused on the Rider on the pale yellow dragon, who was shorter and slimmer, but was armed with a mean-looking Rider's sword with a curved blade. As soon as Sardonis approached, Aesyr felt the mental attack begin and she began to fortify her mind the way that Brom taught her. It was slow, difficult work. She never truly mastered mental defense. Sardonis helped her, but together, they could barely keep off the Rider.

Sardonis collided with the yellow dragon, and the two began to fight, trying to gain the upper hand. With their twisting and snarling, it was all Aesyr could do to keep her mind protected. She let out a cry as the dragons disengaged. The black dragon hurtled toward his foe again with a loud roar. It seemed like neither of the two combatants could breathe fire yet, which was good. Aesyr would have passed out from exhaustion if she had to block dragon fire. We have to do something.

Around them, the other battling dragon and Rider teams began to land, taking the battle to the ground. That seems like a good idea, she told Sardonis.

Does it? Sardonis roared as the yellow dragon landed a scratch on his shoulder.

With a curse, Aesyr clutched the saddle. "Blast it, just listen to me, will you?"

Very well. Sardonis disengaged with the foe and spiralled to the ground wearily. They landed near a plateau, where Eragon, Murtagh, and Arya were battling against Formora, Morzan, and Kialandi. Aesyr dismounted, and her foe did the same. The moment they did, their dragons took to the air and circled each other menacingly.

The Rider of the pale blue enemy dragon landed, and Diamanda crashed behind Aesyr. She could hear Vanir's frantic words of healing. The other enemy Rider, tall and a bit bulky, stood beside his ally. Vanir stepped forward, brandishing his blade and glaring at them as Diamanda took to the skies, following his sky-colored foe. "Traitors," he hissed. "If there's one thing I hate, it would be those kinds of people who side against those who betrayed their own allies."

"Does it look like I wanted this to happen?" The buff Rider removed his dented, battered helm, revealing a youthful face framed by pale hair. He couldn't have been older than seventeen or eighteen. His features were pale and pointed, his nose crooked as if it was once broken. "When Nalsalaarum hatched for me, the king took my family hostage, forced me to swore oaths, and fight for him. I am just a sword master's son, nothing more."

The other Rider glanced at him, and pulled up her helm's visor, revealing a face that Aesyr knew a lot. It was Nasuada and Melikir's estranged sister, Himeria. Her resemblance to her twin was uncanny, though a jagged scar ran across the bridge of her nose, and her golden eyes were paler. She smiled coldly. "So, we meet on the battlefield, Rider of a stolen egg. I do not know you," she said, giving Vanir a brief glance. Then she turned to Aesyr. "But you, you are Frederick's adopted daughter, correct? The Twins told me you are actually Selena's. You are lucky that my oaths as Ajihad's daughter prevented me from telling the king about Selena, who spied for the Varden as Morzan's wife."

A cold wave of rage and confusion bubbled within Aesyr. "You lie!" she spat. "You betrayed us, you betrayed your own father! All because you were jealous of Nasuada and Solaris. I overheard her talking about it in Ellesmera! Well, your actions paid off. Your father is dead. I suppose you and the Twins plotted that."

Himeria's eyes darkened. "Plotted it? I was not informed of it until Volsalaarum hatched for me and we were both asked to swear oaths to Galbatorix."

"You both make me sick," Vanir hissed. "You are a shame to the name of Riders."

"Despite everything that happened, believe us, we never wanted some of these things that have transpired," Himeria said. "But that does not mean that we will not fight you. Thrysta vindr!"

A powerful shockwave of compressed air hurtled toward Aesyr and Vanir. Vanir grabbed Aesyr's hand. "Skolir!" The spell rebounded toward the male Rider.

"Isilude!" Himeria screeched.

Isilude staggered back but regailed his bearing. He raised his massive pale blade and charged, backed by Himeria. Vanir parried his blow, and Aesyr flung herself toward Himeria, blade first. "You should have died! Died rather than betray your own family and your friends."

Himeria shook her head. "The world needs Riders. Galbatorix does not want to kill any dragon or Rider. He does not wish to eradicate us. The old order was old and corrupt, he simply wishes to make it new. With us, he can filaly eliminate the need for war. We can restore and improve the Riders."

"Delusions," Vanir yelled, ducking from Isilude's blow. "Galbatorix is a deluded madman."

"He destroyed the Riders in the first place, aye," Isilude himself admitted. "I've no love for him. We could have been friends, but I must play out his twisted dreams for him."

"Galbatorix is a madman," Aesyr said. "He destroys and manipulates for his own good. Please, we can find a way to break out of your oaths, join us."

"Even if we'd like to, he already knows our true names." Himeria laughed, and it was tinged with fear and desperation. "We are to do his bidding forever. Letta!" Beside her, Isilude uttered the same spell.

The sheer force of magic threw Aesyr and Vanir back, bound by invisible ropes. Immobilized, they tried to break free with their own spells.

"Letta. Risa." The two new Forsworn turned their attention on the black and white dragons, holding them in place, several feet above them.

"Not even we could manage that, and they still look fully human," Aesyr whispered. "What is happening?"

"I do not know…" Vanir let out an exhausted huff. "Forgive me. I was not able to be of much help."

"We did our best." Aesyr released her magic, forsaking the attempts to free herself.

Himeria approached them, grabbing their swords. "These should rightly belong to Galbatorix, to be handed out to Riders of the future who will earn them. It is so easy to take you back to Uru'baen now. Such a shame that we are simply here to test your strengths and see how much improvements must be done on you."

"Daughter of Ajihad, your father would not have wanted this. You will cause your family no end of grief," Vanir said.

"And that is something which does not matter to me anymore," Himeria said, though her voice shook.

After his initial words, Murtagh heard nothing more from Morzan, even when they took the fight to the ground. Eragon and Arya eventually joined his side, dueling Formora and Kialandi, respectively. Morzan laughed with glee as he parried the younger Rider's blows. "Do you not know better than to fight your sire?"

"You are not my father. You are a monster." Murtagh staggered backward as Morzan disarmed him, pushing him to the ground. Zar'roc's sharp blade was against his neck.

"Oh, but I learned valuable information from the Twins." Morzan grinned, madness etched on his ugly face. "How interesting it was for me, to find out that you and your brother claimed to be sons of Selena. My wife. I have also heard tales of a young girl in the Varden who is your sister…"

"Brom said that our father was a good man. You are nothing but good."

"I am a very good man, and a good husband." That reeked of lies. "Join us. You and siblings will be given places of honor as my children."

"Never." Murtagh glared at the man who claimed to be his father, clinging to the last shred of hope that Brom's words left him. "You are not my father."

"Letta!" Morzan flung out his arm, and Murtagh was immobilized. Grunts denoted that his friends were also bound.

"You bastard! Let us go," Eragon snarled.

Formora cackled and shook her head. "What disrespectful creatures these are. Are you sure that you sired them, Morzan?"

"He didn't," insisted Murtagh, clinging on to Brom's words.

"Deny it all you want, but you and I are of the same blood." Morzan spoke in the Ancient Language, which was the language of truth. But elves have mastered the art of twisting the truth enough to suit their needs. And what you believe to be true isn't necessarily so. "I have seen your skills with my own eyes, my son. As much as I would love to take you and your friends with me, now is not the time." He nodded to Kialandi and Formora.

The two elven Forsworn strode toward the Riders, taking their swords. With a mad cackle, Kialandi kicked Arya's side, ignoring the twins' protests. "Too bad I am under orders," he crooned. "I would love to hear you scream and moan before I let you rejoin your sire."

Arya did not cry out. She gave Kialandi a look of pure loathing. "If an afterlife exists, I am sure that you would not earn a place in the same kind as my father's."

"I do not see why you would like to take their lives." Formora licked her lips and eyed Murtagh with interest before turning her back. "They would do better as playthings."

"Enough," Morzan said. Despite what Brom said about them losing their minds, he seemed comparatively saner. No wonder he was in charge. "Do not fear, once you join us Galbatorix will return your swords when he sees that you have earned them."

"Those are not his to give away, bastard." Arya snarled.

"Face us like true Riders," Murtagh called out.

Morzan's lip twitched. "We shall see each other again. Farewell, my sons." He turned and mounted Alfara, his two companions doing the same on either side of him.

Around them, the other Forsworn were taking flight, including the two younger ones. Once they vanished over the horizon, the spells on the Riders and the dragons were removed. Arya surveyed the brothers with so much concern in her eyes. "Do you believe a word that he said?"

"Well, if Mother spied for the Varden, and it is known that she was able to get so many classified information…" Eragon began.

Murtagh shook his head. "No. No matter what her faults are, I do not believe that Selena would let him sire her children. Besides, I have consulted with Brom before the fight, and he confirmed that he knew our father. He said that he loved us. Monster that he is, I do not think Morzan has the capacity to feel anything so good like love."

Arya smiled. Though it was known that she felt differently with Eragon, she was still a good friend. "It is good to hear that you would not let such lies ruin your spirit."

The other Riders – sad, defeated, swordless – joined them with their Riders. They watched the Varden rout the Empire with ease, some of them gathering around a pair of very familiar corpses. The Twins. And standing nearby was Garrow with a bloodstained ax.

Did we truly win? Murtagh asked Thorn.

I do not know… it depends on what you meant by winning.

Eragon followed his friends, winding their way slowly through the abandoned battlefield, helping those they could, staying with those they could not until the end. No one talked about what transpired during their duels with their chosen Forsworn. Maybe it was better that way.

He hoped against hope that what Murtagh said was true, and that Morzan was lying.

I cannot live with the fact that I was sired by a monster, he admitted. But I most likely wasn't, right?

Does it matter who sired you? What matters is who raised you, made you who you are, Saphira whispered. Garrow, Brom, and Oromis are more your fathers than Morzan could be. If he is truly your sire, that is.

They found Orik and Hrothgar were talking to a cluster of exhausted dwarves a small distance from the battlefield. Hrothgar positively beamed as he approached the exhausted Riders. He nodded to Murtagh. "Rider, it seems like I owe you my life. And have you routed the Forsworn?"

Murtagh forced out a smile. Eragon knew how difficult it is. "It is my pleasure. You have adopted me and my brother. We owe so much to you, King Hrothgar. Saving your life, it is a small thing in comparison. As for the Forsworn… nay, we were unable to defeat them. Forgive us."

Hrothgar's eyes softened. "It is no one's fault, young one. Blame not yourselves. We have called for a meeting at the command tent. It would be better if you all join us."

They wound through the group of tents, where the survivors were busy trying to pull themselves back together – assisting survivors, sorting out scavenged supplies, and mourning the dead. Eragon looked away. He wanted to help ease the survivors' pain, but he was out of energy. Among them was Garrow, who was being hailed as a hero by some of the Varden. He looked up as the group approached. His dark eyes flicked to the dwarves, then to the Riders.

"Father!" Roran stumbled wearily to his father, clumsily throwing his arms around him.

Hesitating, Eragon and Murtagh approached. "It is good to see you alive, and well, Uncle," Eragon said. "But it seems like you were unable to stay away from the battle."

Garrow grinned. "It is good to see you two, my lads." He gave the three boys a quick hug. "You have changed."

"We shall tell you more about that later." Eragon smiled and moved a little away. "Uncle, I would like to formally introduce you to Hrothgar, mighty king of the Dwarves, and Orik, his heir."

Garrow bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet the both of you, and I am honored to stand before you, Your Highness."

Hrothgar smiled, his eyes twinkling merrily. "And it is my pleasure to meet you. As I can see, you are a great man, and an even greater father, for you have raised three of the mightiest heroes to walk upon Alagaesia." He nodded to the Riders. "Orik and I shall proceed. We will await you in the meeting, Shur'tugalar."

Eragon joined his family, pulling an exhausted, half-teary Aesyr with him. They caught up with Garrow and introduced him to Vanir, who smiled and exchanged pleasantries before giving Aesyr a quick glance. Then, he looked away.

It seemed like Roran and Murtagh noticed that quick exchange too.

I wonder what transpired during their fights? Eragon mused.

We will hear in due time, do not fear, Saphira assured him.

Slowly, they walked toward the command pavilion, accompanied by Garrow. Inside the pavillion, they found Orik and Hrothgar talking quietly in Dwarvish. Melikir and Faolin were talking worriedly, while Brom stood in one corner with an amused smile on his face.

Melikir looked up as he noticed the new arrivals, the dragons busy pushing their head and necks, generally avoiding getting entangled. "So there you are! You show up after the fighting is over, avoiding all contact? The eight of you had us all worried! The Forsworn and those two mysterious Riders flew away, and we saw no sign of you!"

"Sorry," Nasuada muttered. "A lot has transpired there."

Brom laughed. "I told you both, and did you listen?"

Faolin scowled. "We, unlike you, have siblings who threw themselves into what looked like a hopeless battle."

"It was hopeless," mumbled Arya.

"We have someone to introduce to you," announced Roran. Though tired and obviously upset by the fight that transpired, he motioned to his father. "This is my father, Garrow son of Cadoc. Father, this is Lord Melikir, Nasuada's elder brother and leader of the Varden. And this is Faolin, ambassador of the elves and Arya's elder brother."

Melikir smiled. "It is an honor to meet someone who raised not one, but three mighty Riders."

"May the stars watch over you, Garrow-elda." Faolin's scowl melted into a smile. "Your sons talk about you a lot."

Garrow smiled back. "And I hope it is not all complaining?"

"Oh, more like worrying about you day and night," the elf replied with a laugh.

Brom cleared his throat. "It is a wondrous thing, seeing you here. But last I remember, you were on your way to Carvahall. And you definitely did not look like you've waged wars against kingdoms. But I did see you make short work of the Twins while I was busy pushing back the soldiers. That was amazing!"

With a snort, Garrow shook his head. "More like lucky. I did make it to Carvahall, and we did wage wars against soldiers sent by Galbatorix. I've seen Kialandi and Formora – mad as rabbits, both of them. We had to leave, or risk dying there. I have the entire village with me aboard the Dragon Wing with Jeod Longshanks and his wife."

"Ah, good old Jeod. We shall have a long talk soon."

"And you survived?" asked Arya, wide-eyed.

Murtagh shook his head. "You've seen what they were like. They were crazy, and it seemed like they had trouble grasping magic."

"That is the reason that we dwarves and the fair elves have been able to defend their abodes," confirmed Hrothgar. "The madness of the Forsworn prevented them from working together. They could not do feats of magic to break our defenses, locate our hidden cities."

"That is a general problem of most surviving Forsworn after the Fall of the Riders," admitted Brom, "which I shall discuss to you at a later time. Impending war and doom is never a good time for history lessons."

Melikir cleared his throat. "Garrow, you are forever in our debt. I do not know how we could have managed for longer with the Twins wreaking havoc. Both Brom and Angela's attentions were diverted elsewhere. We have limited supplies, but we shall make sure that everyone aboard has enough food and clothing. Anyone needing treatment for ailments or injuries shall also have it."

Garrow solemnly bowed his head. "Thank you. I could not ask for anything more."

"I'd like to ask the specifics of the story, but we are pressed for time. Too bad, it sounds like an amazing tale – and my sister knows that I love those. We shall talk more about this later. Now. The Forsworn. What happened there?"

The Riders launched into their own accounts – Roran matching Enduriel's blows before the mad elf suddenly gained access to magic, Kifain and Katrina locked in a matching duel, Nasuada's painful loss to Insilbeth… and Aesyr and Vanir told their tale. One of the new Riders turned out to be the son of a sword master working for Galbatorix… but the other one was Himeria.

Eragon felt a dull ache when he saw Nasuada and Melikir's anguished looks. He wondered how badly he would take it if an enemy Rider he had to face turned out to be his own brother. He pushed the thought away quickly. Best not to think about such painful possibilities.

"It is so hard to believe that she truly is an enemy now." Melikir looked up, his deep golden eyes gleaming dangerously. "But we must all do what we have to."

"Barzul." Orik let out a violent growl. "I watched her grow up!"

Eragon recounted their encounter with Kialandi and Formora until they landed, wherein Murtagh took over the story. He seemed to beat around the bush before revealing Morzan's claims – that he was the twins' father.

"B-but he cannot be our father," Aesyr said, widely glancing at the two men, then her brothers.

Melikir frowned and glanced at Brom. "Selena was spying for us as Morzan's wife."

"She was." Brom looked at his dented armor thoughtfully. "There was not enough love in that union, though. Selena simply took advantage of what information it offered, and Morzan simply thought she could be useful as a spy… though she did give him false information. I guess he was insane enough not to bind her to oaths, and Galbatorix did not really care about the personal lives of the Forsworn…"

"But how can you be sure?" Faolin asked, voicing what Eragon could not. "I mean, it was she who bore the children."

Brom's eyes flashed. He glanced at Aesyr and the twins. "Once we have rested and cleaned up, meet me in my tent. I shall introduce you to your father."

Eragon nodded, hope erupting in the depths of his chest. He exchanged looks with Murtagh.

No one spoke for a while. Then, Nasuada stepped forward. "No one must know about Himeria. At least, not yet. It might hurt the men's morale."

Melikir nodded thoughtfully. "This complicates things. But I am sure that with the right strategy, we can best the Forsworn and take on the king himself, especially now that the elves are about to move out into the open."

That was a slim chance, but it was still chance. "Maybe one by one. Fighting them – and the king – together might get us killed." Eragon let himself smile a little.

Brom cleared his throat. "We can continue this council later. They all look tired."

Melikir laughed grimly. "Aren't we all? Very well. We shall talk tomorrow, once we have rested and recuperated enough. There is a lot for us to take care of today, anyway, without worrying for the unforeseeable future. Besides, the rest of us here must discuss the proper rites for the dead, and how to better assist the villagers aboard the Dragon Wing."

Clearly dismissed, the Riders followed Garrow out of the tent. "Please excuse me," Garrow began. "I have to return to the Dragon Wing and bring news."

Roran nodded. "Of course, Father. We can talk and catch up later."

Murtagh watched Garrow depart with sad eyes. "Do you think we could be close to our father too, Eragon?" he asked.

Eragon grinned. "Let's take that as a challenge."

"So, we have our action plan now?" Katrina asked with a smile. "Meet your father, get new swords, save the last dragon egg from Galbatorix, maybe defeat the Forsworn after finding a way to grow as strong as them."

Vanir nodded seriously. "Well, that might be as concrete as a plan these days could be." He smiled a particularly un-elflike smile. "Well then, let us go and rest for now. Three of our friends have a big day ahead tomorrow."

An ending with no foreshadowing? Sorry, that's so not me! But I was having so much fun working on this chapter, and haven't realized that I've finished Eldest! Seriously, I haven't even realized that Bloodlines is ending until about thirty minutes ago.

Anyway, I've decided on the title of the next book, which is Bloodforge. And yes, we'll have a forging scene with Rhunon. It's not going to follow Brisingr as closely as Bloodkin and Bloodlines followed Eragon and Eldest, and it's also going to be shorter than this, which almost took me a year to finish! Whew. But it was fun, and I got a lot of rage and hurt out of my system by writing this. Besides, you guys and your support is simply amazing. Everyone who stood with me from beginning (and Bloodkin) to this point are so awesome! And of course, I also have a lot of love for everyone else who stumbled upon and gave my fics a chance. I don't know where you are or what you really look like, so I'm sending out virtual hugs instead. (hugs you all tight!) I don't know how I'd survive without you guys.

Isilude is kind of a shoutout to Final Fantasy Tactics. The original one. You might remember Izlude/Isilud. And just a fun fact: his dad is Tornac, Murtagh's teacher from the original series. And Kifain, with his garishly painted face is actually based on Kefka Palazzo of Final Fantasy VI. Giving him a pink dragon was random though.

And a cliffie ending? NOT GUILTY. XD

Please stay tuned for Bloodforge! It's going to be uploaded soon. Like, within five to six days, hopefully.

Read and review, my amazing awesome readers!

Lots of love,

C