A skewbald brown and white hatchling leapt to his shoulder and hissed at something on the floor. A small violet head popped in and out of frame, snapping its jaws at the other hatchling’s tail. His brother set the piebald hatchling on a high shelf, where they proceeded to smugly dangle their front paws at their playmate.
“It’s complicated!” he snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose and tipping his head back in a big show of irritation. Then he added in a softer tone, “I don’t know. We found another of Durza’s little surprises. I’m not even sure what we’re looking at. It could be a few days, could be weeks…”
Eragon shifted uncomfortably. “Do you want me to go out to help or…”
“We have it under control,” he said. “It’s not dangerous, at least not to us, just weird.”
“Alright, just be careful,” he said.
“Stop worrying,” he said. “We’ll be fine.”
Then Murtagh clicked the compact mirror shut and all but threw it into the saddle bag. He’d normally be more careful, but he didn’t want anybody to contact him. Or to know if anybody was trying to contact him. He still regretted listening to Eragon and putting a bell on the mirror.
Then he picked up his book, the coconut, and a bottle of spiced rum before wading over to where Thorn lounged in the shallow lagoon, the crystalline water lapping at his calves.
They’d had to fly off course on their way back to the academy to avoid a storm and taken refuge on a deserted island. When the weather cleared, they decided to explore a bit before moving on. So far, they’d discovered a lagoon, perfectly sized for a large dragon to have a nice swim, and a shipwreck with several casks of now very well aged rum.
“I’ve decided that they do not need know where we are,” he said, settling down on the soft sand beside his partner. “Or when we’ll be back.”
“If we’ll be back,” Thorn said, tearing into the side of another large tuna.
“I like if,” he said, swirling the drink again, before tapping it against the dragon’s own in cheers.
Then he tipped his head back, enjoying the warm afternoon sunlight and the salt breeze on his face while cooler water washed over his legs.
If anything, the experience was altogether too pleasant, but while they remain vigilant, he could let him relax a little. He’d already decided not to ask too many questions about where Thorn had found a dragon sized coconut. It didn’t appear poisoned, it hadn’t made him sick, and a fancy drink was the very least of what the dragon deserved.
Before he could pick up where he left off in his book, Thorn nudged at his mind to show him the reefs enclosing the lagoon. He’d spent the late morning watching the colorful fish flit in and out of the coral before flying further out after larger prey.
“I want to show you in person later,” he said.
“It’s beautiful, I can’t wait,” he said. A sunset swim seemed the perfect way to end the day.
“And I heard whales while I was fishing,” he said. “We should try to find them tomorrow. Not to eat, they’re too clever for that, but I want to watch and listen.”
“They’re clever?”
“Far more than we are,” Thorn said, tossing his head back and swallowing the rest of the tuna in a single gulp.
“When we get back, we should take a walk around the coast and see what else there is,” he said. “I think there were tide pools by the ship.”
And they had a whole island left to explore. Before they’d landed, they saw cliffs of shining volcanic glass along the mountain to the north. As much as they were enjoying the beach, he was curious about what was hidden further in the jungle.
He closed his eyes, listening to the waves and the strange, fringed trees rustling in the breeze. For once, entirely unconcerned. They had as much time as they wanted.
“Are you really sure you want me to do this?” For what must have been the fifth time, Alín cleaned the tapestry needle with strong smelling liquor.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” He would have done it himself, but he couldn’t get the angle quite right in the mirror.
The two of them sat on the grass in Thorn’s courtyard on a fine spring afternoon. Thorn lounged behind them, his head under a flowering dogwood.
“Are you sure you’re doing it right?” Thorn asked, trying very hard not to look nervous while he fidgeted with a broken branch.
“Lady Zosia said she did this for her sisters and cousins with a tapestry needle and a piece of cold potato,” he said, trying to block out the dragon’s anxiety. “How hard can it be?”
Perhaps it would have been more sensible to ask the eccentric libertine to do this, but Thorn could count the number of people he’d allow to stab his partner on one paw with claws to spare. No matter how much he appreciated her music collection. Even if it was just a needle and Murtagh asked her to do it.
Alín leaned a little closer, biting her lip and setting the needle against his ear. “This would be easier if you stopped squirming.”
“It’ll be fine,” he assured her, willing himself to stay still. He had the decency not to point out that her hands were also shaking. “Just like sewing.”
“Just like sewing.” She took a deep breath before holding the piece of potato behind his earlobe.
“On the count of three.” She nodded in agreement, her hands steadying on her needle. “One, two, thr…”
There was a quick, sharp pinch, then Alín leaned back and wiped her needle on her handkerchief.
“That was it?” Thorn said.
“I told you it would be fine,” he said, picking up one of the little ruby studs Nasuada helped him select. It was tasteful, not too ostentatious and the stone would hold enough power to maintain his wards or provide an emergency store of magical energy. “Gather and store energy from light. If at three quarters capacity, stop. If limit in previous command exceeded, grow cold as ice.”
Both the limit and alert had been Thorn’s idea. He didn’t like the thought of Murtagh putting something dangerous so close to his head, but he’d been brought around to it when Murtagh explained that he could maintain his wards without expending so much of his own energy and promised to take as many precautions as the dragon wanted.
“How do I look?” It hummed faintly as it took in power, but he was sure he could ignore that.
“Very modern.”
“Like a scholar playing at being a pirate,” Thorn snorted.
Alín cleaned the needle again, then replaced it in her kit. Then she tied her hair back, selected another and held it out to him. “Your turn.”
Im finally working on Secondary Objectives again and this chapter should not be so difficult, but this js probably thr third time I've decided that the best thing to do is restart from scratch.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Murtagh only just caught himself on the flank cinch. Chill wind whipped his hair loose while he twisted and flailed. In his desperate fight to keep his grip, something gave in his right shoulder. Thorn lurched in the air, his right wing and foreleg momentarily limp with shared pain.
He grit his teeth through the sudden stabbing pain and tried to hold fast, yet with every heartbeat, his bloodslick fingers slipped a little more.
“…And by poison you mean…” Murtagh still wasn’t sure he’d heard his brother correctly. He set aside his notes and watched his brother from across the desk.
Their discussion about possible curricula for new dragon riders led to Eragon reminiscing about his time in Ellesméra. Murtagh braced for annoyance at hearing about his brother and his dragon playing with elves while Thorn was being flayed and he was almost hoping that the twins would find an interesting way to torture him. He hadn’t expected this turn.
Eragon skidded around the corner and into a barely torchlit courtyard. The little yellow hatchling nipped at his heels in delight that it had caught up before abandoning him for a far more exciting playmate. It worried at a strap hanging from Thorn’s increasingly complex harness. The larger dragon shifted so that it had to chase after the leather.
“If you keep squirming, I’m going to pinch something,” Murtagh scolded, tightening a buckle.
“Were you going to leave without telling anyone?” Eragon panted. It was just barely before three in the morning and he would never have known if Saphira hadn’t told him.
“We’re leaving now so we don’t get caught over the ocean at night later,” Murtagh grumbled, checking another buckle on Thorn’s harness.
“As much as I would like to meet a sea serpent, I do not wish to do so in the dark, in their territory,” Thorn added.
“I still don’t understand why I have to do this.” His argument had no real venom behind it. Sometimes, he suspected that Murtagh was happiest when complaining. “He’s your cousin.”
“He’s your cousin too!” Eragon insisted, following close behind while he moved onto the next strap.
“And I’ve never met him.” Murtagh slid a hand under the harness, then made another adjustment. “Too tight?”
Thorn shook his head and Murtagh continued fiddling with his saddle. “And besides, you’re always complaining about how you’re so bored doing paperwork all day. How about we swap? Thorn, wouldn’t you love it if I spent a few weeks safe in an office, filing paperwork?”
“Like you didn’t spend months in Illeria causing problems on purpose with politics and paperwork.” Thorn rolled his eyes. “But if you would like to go instead, we are more than happy to rule over the dragon riders with an iron claw while you and Saphira are away.”
“Usher in our ten-thousand-year reign of darkness…” Sometimes, he forgot that Murtagh and Thorn shared a deeply unfortunate sense of humor.
“Demand herds of freshly slaughtered cows in tribute from our subjects…” Even more unfortunately, Saphira agreed with him with respect to cows as tribute and she was sure that if they asked Firnen or any of the wild hatchlings, they'd agree.
“Forbid three-day long operas about trees…” Thorn looked at his rider with unguarded affection.
“I’d go myself…” Eragon rubbed the back of his neck. He wanted to cut them off before they got morbid. “…but even if I had time I can’t.”
“Because some daft loon…”
“…probably smoking her own herbs…”
“…and some knucklebones told you so.”
“That's not...” But the attempted teasing was nearly welcome. Before he could get sidetracked any further, he shoved a small sack into Murtagh's hands containing squash, jam, and some other things that would travel well. "This is for Roran."
He took the bag and Thorn crouched so that he could put it into a saddle bag. Before Murtagh could figure out how to object, Eragon shoved a second one into his hands. "And that's for you."
He hated the now familiar flash of confusion on his brother's face any time someone other than Thorn did something to show they cared about him. At least he was a little less skeptical of his motivations than when they first reunited.
After the moment it took for his brain to start working again, he said, "Thank you."
Murtagh then shifted awkwardly and looked off to the side. "We should get going before it gets too late."
Murtagh rubbed his shoulder, muttering a quick charm for the pain. He’d have to bind it back up before they started their return journey. If it hadn’t improved by the time they got back, he might have to let his brother take a look at it.
“You should should stay with us for the evening,” Roran said. “Katrina would love to meet the both of you.”
As much as he wanted to accept, he also didn’t want to impose. He’d been decent enough the night before and Roran didn’t seem the sort to say something he didn’t mean, but Murtagh couldn’t help but feel like he was just being polite.
“Thank you for the offer, but we should be going,” he said. “We have a long way to go.”
Thorn gave him a pointed look, then laid down.
“Unless you would like to walk back to Mount Angor, which I do not doubt you would attempt, ocean be damned, you can come with me and have a nice evening with your family,” the dragon said, folding his wings with a huff, then he added in a gentler tone, “He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want you around.”
“At least stay for dinner,” Roran said. When Murtagh still hesitated, he sighed and rolled his eyes then said, “Thorn, you still haven’t had a chance to hunt. I’ll see what I can do about getting you a cow or a couple sheep.”
"Can we please? I am quite hungry." The dragon's voice had a smug note that indicated that he was perfectly fine, but knew that Murtagh would have a hard time saying no.
After only a day, his cousin understood that the best way to get him to do anything was through Thorn. And his traitorous partner was more than happy to play along.
