Murtagh

“…brothers.” It felt strange to say. The only brother—half brother, really—Murtagh had known was Eragon, and their relationship had hardly been fraternal. And though Murtagh still worried about the obligations his oath imposed, he found it…comforting in a way, to be joined as such with Uvek. The customs of Urgals differed from those of humans, but he felt sure that if he were to call upon Uvek for help, the Urgal would answer without hesitation.

First, of course, they had to escape Nal Gorgoth.

“Here, Murtagh-man. The healing charm. Perhaps it help you.”

“…perhaps,” Murtagh mumbled, accepting the blackstone pebble from Uvek. The stone was warm in his palm, and the knotted strip tied around it pleasantly textured. He tried two things then: First to draw any remaining power from the pebble. In that, he met with total failure. Uvek had spoken true. Not the slightest scrap of energy still lay in the charm. Second to imbue some of his own strength into the blackstone. Even if he couldn’t directly cast a spell, Murtagh hoped that he could at least use the energy in his body to fuel the charm.

The hope proved in vain. No matter how hard he tried, Murtagh could not break the dam in his mind that prevented him from loosing the power he contained.

Uvek noticed his frustration. “Does not it work, Murtagh-man?”

“…no…No!” Murtagh closed his eyes and felt tears leak from the corners. “…no…I need…strength for the charm, but…”

“You cannot give because of Breath.” Uvek nodded sagely, and he appeared troubled. “I had same problem. Is there no solution?…Murtagh-man, are you still awake?”

Murtagh forced his eyes open. “…yes…solution?…” He shook his head, miserable, and lowered himself to the floor. The flagstones were cold, so he dragged the cloak over him. “…need to…think…sleep…”

“Murtagh-man. Murtagh-man! Open your ears, Murtagh-man. You…”

But Murtagh heard no more, and for once he had respite from the livid nightmares of Nal Gorgoth.

***

When Murtagh woke, at first he did not know who or where he was. He stared at the arched ceiling for a long while before dim, blood-drenched memories of the creekside slaughter spiked his pulse, and guilt again filled him.

He rolled over, intending to sit up, and felt something hard beneath his right hip. He looked, thinking it must be the blackstone charm, but all he saw was the folded corner of his cloak.

He patted it.

Again he felt a hard lump the size of a hazelnut. He frowned.

“What is it, Murtagh-man?” Uvek was squatting in the same position he’d been in when Murtagh fell asleep. It didn’t look as if he’d moved the entire time.

At the question, Murtagh became aware of the throbbing in his left wrist. It felt as if he’d been branded. His shoulder hurt too, and that particular pain brought unwelcome memories.

He shook his head. He was getting distracted. He looked back at the cloak and felt the corner…worked his fingers into the hem…and pulled out a yellow, teardrop-shaped diamond that glittered like a bead of crystallized sunlight in the dim cell.

Uvek sucked in his lower lip and let out a low sound at the sight.

It took Murtagh a moment to remember what the diamond was…and where he’d gotten it…. Wren…the door of stone…Excitement began to form in him, and he held the jewel up to Uvek. “…energy,” he whispered.

The Urgal leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with fire to match the diamond. “Is enough, Murtagh-man?”

He nodded. “…should…be.”

Then Murtagh opened his mind and reached out with his thoughts toward the diamond. He could feel the knotted whirlpool of energy the gem contained: so close, so tantalizing. But no matter how he tried, he just…couldn’t…get a hold of it and funnel it through his body into the blackstone charm.

He groaned with frustration and again threw his mind against the diamond. It felt as if he were trying to grasp liquid ice; it kept slipping through his mental fingers, leaving him fumbling at emptiness.

“…it’s…no use,” he said, sitting back on his heels and shaking his head. “You want to…try?”

Uvek held out his paw of a hand, and Murtagh—trusting the oath they had sworn—passed him the gem.

For several minutes, Uvek sat staring at the diamond, his brow drawn, his breathing slow and heavy. The muscles in his arms tensed as if he were straining against a great weight. Then, finally, he said, “Guh. I cannot touch fire in gem. It keeps slipping away.”

He passed the diamond back to Murtagh, and Murtagh sat against the wall of the cell and stared at the gem. After a moment, he clenched it in his fist, shook his head, and rested his forehead against his arm. “…has to be a way.”

For a time, they sat in silence. The whole while, Murtagh battled against the ever-present haze that clogged his mind. If only he could think clearly…