Categories > Books > Eragon > Ethgri Slytha
Ethgri Slytha
Eragon attempts a spell more then a little bit too powerful for him and forces both he and Thorn into a deep slumber. Eragon/Murtagh.
?Blocked
A/N: Hi, all. I'd just like you to know: I decided it was time for there to be more Eragon/Murtagh fics. Y'know, filled with violence, gore, sex, all that good stuff. I don't own Inheritance, nor do I own the song-- The song is 'A Stray Child' from the .Hack OST. It's a good, good song. But without further ado, the first chapter. Oh, and I haven't read Eldest yet, but I know a decent bit. Forgive me if anything is off.
---
If you are lost in your way
deep in an awesome story
don't be in doubt and stray
cling to your lonesome folly.
"Eragon!" The rider cried, clutching his /gedwey ignasia/-- "What did you do?" Crimson leaked from his palm, pooling around his fingered where he pressed down.
"I-- I don't know," came the startled reply, his younger brother's voice shaking. "I--" Murtagh could tell he was tired, exhausted, near to the point of losing consciousness-- "I don't know what I did." Behind him, Saphria snorted and nudged him gently with her nose-- they were conversing, but it didn't look like the conversation would last much longer.
Eragon's words echoed in his ears-- Ethgri slytha/. Invoke sleep. It had been directed at Thorn-- and he lay on the ground, now, eyes half lidded and massive wings outspread and laying haphazardly on the ground. /Thorn? Thorn, say something! Speak to me.
The scaled giant didn't reply. It was all too much like groping around in the dark when there wasn't anything there to begin with. Thorn!
And it was then that the younger of the two riders collapsed, Saphria letting out a long noise, arching her neck back and letting out a long burst of flame, lowering her head once more and gazing eye to eye with the older of the two brothers. And there they made a silent promise, a truce based on temporary circumstances only.
He needed to tend to Thorn, Saphria to Eragon. They'd destroy each other if they attacked now-- it would be a stupid thing to do, at best. At worst, a psychotic death wish.
But it wasn't the time to worry about Saphria at the moment. Thorn... A slender hand wrapped around a spike, the other ran across the red scales hesitantly. Not a mark on him, but he was still irresponsive, eyes unmoving. For a second, he worried if his dragon...
But no, it couldn't be that, it couldn't have happened. There was still warmth radiating from the dragon, there were no signs of death, only a paranoid worry. And that worry grew to encompass Eragon-- damn his brother. He cared about Eragon, but Thorn... his dragon, his dragon...
But was Eragon okay? His younger brother...
He turned from Thorn, hands reaching up, resting against Thorn's eyelids before bringing them down. Thorn would be fine, but Eragon... he'd used magic without knowing what it would do, without-- without having any idea of the consciences...
"Saphria," he muttered quietly, "let me see Eragon."
The dragon looked up, snarling at Murtagh-- and the message was clear, even without words: No.
The older look distressed for a second-- but lowered his sword and bow, resting them gently on the ground before removing his quiver-- "Please, Saphria."
And for a second, the two stood-- and for the second time that day, they reached a silent agreement. Eragon could need help, Murtagh could offer that help-- and find out exactly what shape his brother was in.
---
Both were asleep, as it turned out. Both in the same state. Both, asleep, unmoving, unresponsive to every attempt to wake them-- but alive. Lowering his head, the older dragon sighed, annoyance lacing his voice. "Eragon, what did you do?" He leaned over the blond, brushing a bit of hair from his eyes, a quiet hiss from Saphria accompanying the action. She was on edge-- more so then usual, he could tell. But he couldn't blame her. Why trust him? He was still under Galbatrox's...
He wouldn't trust himself, either.
"We need to set up camp," he murmured, standing up with another quick check on Thorn-- Thorn, wake up... No response. By this time, Murtagh was doubting they'd wake up by normal means, the sun was setting-- the entire day had passed and they needed to set up camp. There wasn't a town anywhere near, and even if there was, he couldn't take Saphria and Thorn.
He cursed as he snatched up Eragon's pack, searching for anything useful for camp when Saphria knocked him back, nudging him harshly with her nose. Apparently, she didn't want him going through her rider's pack.
"Fine, dragon," he snapped, "have it your way!"
He set about gathering dry wood, unhappily throwing them into a pile. "At least clear away the leaf litter." The blue dragon snorted, just as much in a foul mood as he-- but stretched out a wing and brushed away the leaves, being careful to avoid Eragon, giving the dark-haired rider a look that clearly said 'happy?'
---
The fire crackled lazily, the orange and red glow the only illumination in the night-- the stars were overcast, the crescent moon covered enough to hide most of it's light. And if to mock him, to make things all the worse for him, the night was far colder then it had been any of the days before and he had to sit near a still sleeping Thorn to stay warm, even with the fire.
Murtagh's hands ran over Thorn's scales, but he was staring rather intently at Eragon, a massive blue wing resting over the younger rider. He looked unhappy, his expression from the moment before sleep hit him lingering upon his face. His eyes had been open at the time, but Murtagh had closed them-- it was unnerving to see him laying there, eyes half lidded and unresponsive-- like a corpse. But now it only looked like the other was having a nightmare.
He wondered if the other was dreaming. It was possible, wasn't it? He was deep in sleep, right? Invoke sleep. That's all it was, sleep. He just had to keep telling himself that. Curled up against Thorn, warm and worried, the dragon rider found peace only in his own sleep.
"Saphria," he murmured, half lost in the thorough of sleep-- "you take watch."
---
If you are lost in your way
deep in an awesome story
don't be in doubt and stray
cling to your lonesome folly.
"Eragon!" The rider cried, clutching his /gedwey ignasia/-- "What did you do?" Crimson leaked from his palm, pooling around his fingered where he pressed down.
"I-- I don't know," came the startled reply, his younger brother's voice shaking. "I--" Murtagh could tell he was tired, exhausted, near to the point of losing consciousness-- "I don't know what I did." Behind him, Saphria snorted and nudged him gently with her nose-- they were conversing, but it didn't look like the conversation would last much longer.
Eragon's words echoed in his ears-- Ethgri slytha/. Invoke sleep. It had been directed at Thorn-- and he lay on the ground, now, eyes half lidded and massive wings outspread and laying haphazardly on the ground. /Thorn? Thorn, say something! Speak to me.
The scaled giant didn't reply. It was all too much like groping around in the dark when there wasn't anything there to begin with. Thorn!
And it was then that the younger of the two riders collapsed, Saphria letting out a long noise, arching her neck back and letting out a long burst of flame, lowering her head once more and gazing eye to eye with the older of the two brothers. And there they made a silent promise, a truce based on temporary circumstances only.
He needed to tend to Thorn, Saphria to Eragon. They'd destroy each other if they attacked now-- it would be a stupid thing to do, at best. At worst, a psychotic death wish.
But it wasn't the time to worry about Saphria at the moment. Thorn... A slender hand wrapped around a spike, the other ran across the red scales hesitantly. Not a mark on him, but he was still irresponsive, eyes unmoving. For a second, he worried if his dragon...
But no, it couldn't be that, it couldn't have happened. There was still warmth radiating from the dragon, there were no signs of death, only a paranoid worry. And that worry grew to encompass Eragon-- damn his brother. He cared about Eragon, but Thorn... his dragon, his dragon...
But was Eragon okay? His younger brother...
He turned from Thorn, hands reaching up, resting against Thorn's eyelids before bringing them down. Thorn would be fine, but Eragon... he'd used magic without knowing what it would do, without-- without having any idea of the consciences...
"Saphria," he muttered quietly, "let me see Eragon."
The dragon looked up, snarling at Murtagh-- and the message was clear, even without words: No.
The older look distressed for a second-- but lowered his sword and bow, resting them gently on the ground before removing his quiver-- "Please, Saphria."
And for a second, the two stood-- and for the second time that day, they reached a silent agreement. Eragon could need help, Murtagh could offer that help-- and find out exactly what shape his brother was in.
---
Both were asleep, as it turned out. Both in the same state. Both, asleep, unmoving, unresponsive to every attempt to wake them-- but alive. Lowering his head, the older dragon sighed, annoyance lacing his voice. "Eragon, what did you do?" He leaned over the blond, brushing a bit of hair from his eyes, a quiet hiss from Saphria accompanying the action. She was on edge-- more so then usual, he could tell. But he couldn't blame her. Why trust him? He was still under Galbatrox's...
He wouldn't trust himself, either.
"We need to set up camp," he murmured, standing up with another quick check on Thorn-- Thorn, wake up... No response. By this time, Murtagh was doubting they'd wake up by normal means, the sun was setting-- the entire day had passed and they needed to set up camp. There wasn't a town anywhere near, and even if there was, he couldn't take Saphria and Thorn.
He cursed as he snatched up Eragon's pack, searching for anything useful for camp when Saphria knocked him back, nudging him harshly with her nose. Apparently, she didn't want him going through her rider's pack.
"Fine, dragon," he snapped, "have it your way!"
He set about gathering dry wood, unhappily throwing them into a pile. "At least clear away the leaf litter." The blue dragon snorted, just as much in a foul mood as he-- but stretched out a wing and brushed away the leaves, being careful to avoid Eragon, giving the dark-haired rider a look that clearly said 'happy?'
---
The fire crackled lazily, the orange and red glow the only illumination in the night-- the stars were overcast, the crescent moon covered enough to hide most of it's light. And if to mock him, to make things all the worse for him, the night was far colder then it had been any of the days before and he had to sit near a still sleeping Thorn to stay warm, even with the fire.
Murtagh's hands ran over Thorn's scales, but he was staring rather intently at Eragon, a massive blue wing resting over the younger rider. He looked unhappy, his expression from the moment before sleep hit him lingering upon his face. His eyes had been open at the time, but Murtagh had closed them-- it was unnerving to see him laying there, eyes half lidded and unresponsive-- like a corpse. But now it only looked like the other was having a nightmare.
He wondered if the other was dreaming. It was possible, wasn't it? He was deep in sleep, right? Invoke sleep. That's all it was, sleep. He just had to keep telling himself that. Curled up against Thorn, warm and worried, the dragon rider found peace only in his own sleep.
"Saphria," he murmured, half lost in the thorough of sleep-- "you take watch."
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