A/N: I am so sorry for taking so intolerably long to post new chapters for this story. I promise you I will finish the tale; it just make take me a little longer then I would like. Not because I'm losing interest, but because...well, other things are interfering recently. Let's just leave it at that. That being said, I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but I thought it needed to be. Sometimes long chapters take away from the intensity of the main point of the scene. I wanted to leave it simple and focus only on this one scene and nothing else. The next chapter will be longer. I hope you enjoy.

Also, I am sorry if I missed any reviews and didn't reply last chapter. I'll do better this time.

Disclaimer: If I owned it, I wouldn't be posting my stories on a fan site.

Warnings: Tissue warning here...I needed one...hopefully, if I did justice to the writing, you will too.

Oath Under Evil
Chapter 6
By: StriderX

In the heart-ripping scream pummeling through my ears, an alarming spear of worry jets into my heart. My eyes shoot open and neck twists to see the victim I know is suffering from the unforeseeable pain. As claws of unrelenting fear gash at our bond, my eyes widen when I catch sight of Murtagh thrashing in a tortured sleep. His skin is pallid and a sheen of freezing sweat is dripping off; hopelessly attempting to dim the violent fire blazing in his blood.

'Murtagh!' I call to him helplessly; knowing all too well how little a dragon can physically do for a human in need of care. Sending powerful waves of comfort and protection over the shaky existence of our bond drenched in pain, I call to him again. 'Murtagh! You must wake up! You are dreaming; wake up now!'

For a long while, I fear that I can do nothing but wait until the nightmare has run its course. I call over and over, but never does there seem to be any response. Hovering close to his convulsing form, I hold a gentle paw over his body; attempting in at least some form to prevent him from hurting himself.

After a long eternity of painful minutes, Murtagh's breath is coming up in short, unsteady gasps as cold sweat mixes with the salty heat of fresh tears on the pillow below. And then, suddenly—in a moment that feels to stop the very fabric of time—it is over. Nonetheless, the intensity of my fear escalates a thousand fold as I realize, it is not just the nightmare and the seizure to stop. When air grows still and screams abruptly fade, the pounding of my heartbeat bolts to my tail—Murtagh's breath has vanished.

Panic overtakes me; I can actually hear the blood slowing in his veins. In an instant so quick so as not even to be calculated, what little color left in my Rider's face drains away; replaced silently with the morbid tint of blue to his parted lips and closed eyes. Acting on nothing more then forgotten instinct now, I force all my strength to call back the life of my dear Rider. Eyes water, but tears do not fall.

The dank air of the room shakes with the strain as I draw on everything touchable for the power to coax back the soft, precious heartbeat lost in the depths of my young boy. 'Please…please, come back, Murtagh. Please, come back,' my mantra is repeated within the dying stream of our bond as I unconsciously taste the murderous prick of mutual death hanging in my soul.

My paw pounds as heavily as it dares over Murtagh's small chest. He cannot die…not now; not after everything we've fought through. Please, oh, please; I pray to all the life within me; all the life within every cell and depth on this breathing land: do not let him fade!

Seconds swim into minutes; high in the sky above the ravenous storm, the moon has shifted just so to the west. My prayers have turned into pleas; reasonless beggings for any relief to the gruesome agony shifting about my being. A sodden haze hangs low around us as the air weeps its own anguish for even a single beat of the life-giving organ.

A roar in desperate grief of endless depression rumbles through the foundation of Urû'bean's entirety as my hope gives in and paw beats on Mutagh's breathless chest one last time.

My Rider…is gone.

Tears fall freely now; not because I know my death will be soon to follow, but for the sudden, infinite loneliness that hacks mercilessly on any light or color of hope that once filled my life. Somehow, someway, I have failed to see the sign that would have, undoubtedly, led to the freedom that neither my Rider, nor myself, would now ever see.

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And then, nearly soundlessly inaudibly, a soft flicker flutters in the bond held so dear to my heart. Daring to carry even the slightest of hope, I open my eyes shut tight to the world and gaze at Murtagh's breathless figure. Every sound inside me hangs far behind comprehension as I listen for any sign of familiar life.

The time that passes by is unknown to me. Refusing to blink, I cling to possible hope with a bone-shattering grip.

'You can do it, Murtagh…just breathe,' I coax him softly; unknowing whether or not he can even hear.

A long moment more passed, and my hope again began to dwindle. But then, just as tears welled up and anguish took its root, a shaking, sputtering cough fills the mourning air about the room. He's alive! My eyes focus quickly through the watery haze as my paw shifts to turn Murtagh to his side; making breath easier from the strain of his rib's weight on weary lungs. The sudden beat of his renewed heart reverberates like a sweet song through my ears. Dear life, dear breath of magic surging through us, thank you for sparing my Rider's heart.

The rough coughs slowly dissipate; soon to be replaced with the shuttering breaths not unlike that of a newborn child. 'Thorn?' my tears can no longer be repressed when Murtagh's voice fills my mind and strengthens the bond I'd thought we had lost. He is really alive.

'Yes, young one, it is me,' even in my thoughts, my voice is choked and tainted with the lingering of deadly depression.

Without another word between us, Murtagh disregards his unceasingly trembling limbs and lunges off the couch; wrapping his arms around my neck and burying his pale face into the soft scales of the crook between my neck and shoulder. His sobs are silent, but the unnatural shaking of his lightly muscled shoulders is the only proof needed to give evidence to the tangled force of ardent emotion rushing over our bond.

Forgetting any other logic, my thought immediately morphs to the comfort and protection of a brother as I wrap a careful paw around his quaking back and lean to rest my cheek upon his hair. 'It's alright, Murtagh…it's over…I'm here,'

Oh, but how far we both know that is from the truth; it is not over. Instantly regretting my choice of words, my hold around him tightens in response to his own and I resign to let him cry out his fears in my arms. Even when his strength drops and legs weaken, I hold him up; I will never let him fall again.

And Galbatorix will pay.

TBC

A/N2: Thankx for the interest; please don't forget to review. Thank you.

Strider