Murtagh

Fingerling flames danced along Thorn’s tongue, and the inside of his mouth glowed like a bellowed forge. When has fate ever gone as we wish? Let this go.

“I can’t,” said Murtagh. A familiar grimness descended upon him. “I can’t sleep easy knowing there’s a wolf stalking around in the dark. Something so dangerous Umaroth won’t even give us its name.”

Some secrets are better left buried.

“No! No, no, no. Do you want to wake up one morning to find out that we’ve been outmatched, outmaneuvered, and outsmarted? Not me. Not ever again.” Murtagh stopped, hands clenched, and his nostrils flared as he steadied his breathing. He fixed Thorn with an iron gaze. “Never.”

The dragon released a long, snaking hiss and said, Isn’t what we have enough? All the earth and sky is ours to travel. We sleep when we want, eat as we will. We paid our price, we shed our blood.

“And we’re still not safe!” With a conscious effort, Murtagh lowered his voice, though his words remained as intense as before. “We never will be, but perhaps we can catch our enemies unaware. Umaroth is hiding something from us, and I won’t rest until I know what it is.”

Thorn breathed out a stream of black smoke that enveloped the stone and the bird-skull amulet. Were you to take those to Eragon or Arya—

“This has nothing to do with them!” Murtagh ran a hand through his hair. It was getting long again. “I want answers. And I want to be useful.”

Being yourself is use enough. We do not need to prove ourselves to anyone.

He laughed bitterly. “Maybe if you’re a dragon. But I’ve always had to prove myself, and I always will. There’s no easy path through life when you’re born as Morzan’s son.”

He went to Thorn and put his hands on either side of the dragon’s scaled snout. “Besides, you and I, we are Dragon and Rider. We swore no oaths to the Riders—”

Thorn arched his neck in a proud curve, though he left his head in Murtagh’s hands. And I will swear no more oaths of fealty. No words will bind me, nor shackles or fetters.

“No,” Murtagh agreed. “Nor me. But we owe a debt to those who came before. We wear their mantle, whether we wish it or not, and I find myself reluctant to dishonor their memory by ignoring this.”

Thorn snuffed. No one would know if we chose another path.

“We would know, and that is enough.” He gestured toward the rock and bird-skull amulet. “That there is work for a Rider and Dragon, as it was of old.”

The dragon turned his head then, to better see Murtagh. So shall we fly about fighting evil and righting wrongs wherever we find them? Is that how you wish to spend your days?

Murtagh’s lips quirked. “Not entirely, but perhaps we can do some good here and there while we attend to our own interests.”

As you did with the girl.

“As I did with the girl.” He put a hand on Thorn’s cheek then, and opened his mind as much as he could to the dragon’s inner eye. Look, he said, and let Thorn feel the fullness of his heart.

Finally, Thorn uttered a soft growl and pulled his head away. I understand.

“But you don’t agree.”

The last few feet of Thorn’s tail slapped the ground. Once. Twice. Three times. What you want isn’t what I want. A wave of his hot breath rolled over Murtagh. But where you go, I will go.

He nodded, grateful. Their relationship wasn’t as smooth as Eragon and Saphira’s, and Murtagh didn’t think it ever would be. But that was all right. A dull thorn was no thorn at all.

Besides, Murtagh knew that he wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, even for a dragon.

Thorn must have sensed his mood, because a faint hum of amusement came from the dragon, and he curled his neck and tail around Murtagh’s legs.

What then?

Kneeling, Murtagh touched the bird skull. “We need to find someone who can tell us about the witch-woman Bachel, and about this stone.”

Umaroth?

He shook his head. “Too far away, and he would just warn us off the stone again.”

Thorn snapped his jaws together, quick and sharp as a steel trap. Would he? I still think you should speak with Umaroth. He is wiser than most.