Murtagh and Tornac - Image

Chapter XXII: Unwelcomed Guests

"This way," the bald man snapped. I was pulled along by the man holding the sword to my throat. Behind us, the horses were being led, and I was glad that Istal hadn't put up a fuss.

"There's an injured–" Eragon begun, before he was cut off by the robed man again, whom I was beginning to hate.

"Do not speak! It must wait until you have been tested." He shoved Murtagh over to one of the warriors, who pressed his sword against Murtagh's neck. "Remove your weapons and slide them over to me." Ren was removed from my side by one of the warriors, along with my quiver and bow. "Now, step away from your dragon and slowly approach me."

"Stop there!" The man commanded when Eragon was a metre away. "Now remove the defences from around your mind and prepare to let me inspect your thoughts and memories. If you try to hide anything from me, I will take what I want by force... which would drive you mad. If you don't submit, you companions will be killed."

"Why?" Eragon asked, aghast.

"To be sure you aren't in Galbatorix's service and to understand why hundreds of Urgals are banging on our front door," the man growled. "No one may enter Farthen Dûr without being tested."

"There isn't time. We need a healer!" Eragon protested.

"Silence!" roared the man, pressing down his robe with thin fingers. "Until you are examined, your words are meaningless!"

"But she's dying!" retorted Eragon angrily, pointing at Arya. They were in a precarious position, but he would let nothing else happen until Arya was cared for.

"It will have to wait! No one will leave this room until we have discovered the truth of this matter. Unless you wish—"

"Are you blind, Egraz Carn?" The dwarf next to Eragon said. "Can't you see that's an elf on the dragon? We cannot keep her here if she's in danger. Ajihad and the king will have our heads if she's allowed to die!"

The man's eyes tightened with anger. After a moment he relaxed and said smoothly, "Of course, Orik, we wouldn't want that to happen." He snapped his fingers and pointed at Arya. "Remove her from the dragon." Two human warriors sheathed their swords and hesitantly approached Saphira, who watched them steadily. "Quickly, quickly!"

The men unstrapped Arya from the saddle and lowered the elf to the floor. One of the men inspected her face, then said sharply, "It's the dragon-egg courier, Arya!"

"What?" exclaimed the bald man. The dwarf Orik's eyes widened with astonishment. The bald man fixed his steely gaze on Eragon and said flatly, "You have much explaining to do."

Eragon returned the intense stare with all the determination he could muster. "She was poisoned with the Skilna Bragh while in prison. Only Túnivor's Nectar can save her now."

The bald man's face became inscrutable. He stood motionless, except for his lips, which twitched occasionally. "Very well. Take her to the healers, and tell them what she needs. Guard her until the ceremony is completed. I will have new orders for you by then." The warriors nodded curtly and carried Arya out of the room. "Now, we have wasted too much time already. Prepare to be examined."

"I am ready," Eragon said.

"Good, then—"

He was interrupted as Orik said abruptly, "You'd better not harm him, Egraz Carn, else the king will have words for you."

The bald man looked at him irritably, then faced Eragon with a small smile. "Only if he resists."

Eragon gasped and I wondered what was happening, just as I felt another mind touch mine. It was the purple dragon's mind, I had almost forgotten about her in the rush to escape the Empire. Umaroth, I have not felt your mind for some time. I have feared you were in danger.

I am in danger, I responded grimly. Someone is going to go through my mind, I do not wish for them to know everything.

I can help, the dragon insisted, feeling nearby despite the fact I knew she was somewhere far from me. I believe Saphira is doing the same. What memories do we need to keep hidden?

About the book Gramarye abr Skulblaka, Murtagh's parentage, Istal's mind, all the ancient language I've learnt, about you, and a few other conversations.

I shall do it, make sure you do not fight the man, the dragon replied before withdrawing from my mind and focusing on hiding the memories.

I started paying attention to what was happening in front of me, just in time to see Eragon fall to the ground. "You went too far! He wasn't strong enough for this," Orik exclaimed.

"He'll live. That's all that is needed," the bald man answered curtly.

"What did you find? Is he to be trusted or not?"

The words came reluctantly. "He... is not your enemy." There were audible sighs of relief throughout the room, and the robed man turned to me, ignoring Eragon. "Are you ready?"

I lowered all my defences, focusing on keeping a clear mind. I nodded. The bald man lowered his head and chanted several inaudible words. I closed my eyes and jerked my head back, filled with pain as the mental probe clawed its way into my mind. I felt like throwing up barriers around my consciousness, but managed to stop myself just in time.

I was barely aware of what was happening outside of my head, as my memories were jerked from the back of my mind. My childhood was slowly examined, and the bald man lingered on the fire that had killed most of my family, paying special attention to my father. Eventually he moved on, seeming to pause whenever it was the most painful.

I winced as another wave of pain flooded my body. My eyes rolled back and I felt myself fighting the blackness that threatened to overtake my mind. In that moment, the mental probe removed and I felt myself throw up my strongest mental defence.

I struggled to return to consciousness, but ended up falling towards the ground. Someone stopped my head from hitting the ground, but left me where I was. I tried to open my eyes, but it was like swimming against a strong current.

Umaroth, someone shouted in the distance, pulling my attention. I wavered, somewhere between conscious and unconscious. Umaroth! The voice called again, and I jerked myself awake through sheer will.

I jerked backwards, sending a surge of pain through my body as my head hit the wall behind me. I opened my eyes, and saw Eragon standing in front of me. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, and leant against the wall, feeling too weak to do much else.

"Are you alright?" Eragon asked. "You seemed pretty out of it, but they said you would survive."

My muscles trembled, "I'll... be fine," I got out from clenched teeth.

Across from me, Murtagh was leaning against the wall and holding up his sleeve against the cut on his neck. "What about you Murtagh? Did he get anything from you?"

"I'm fine and no."

"I didn't betray you," I blurted out, before reconsidering my words. "I mean, they don't know who you are from me. I managed to hide some of my memories."

"I did the same," Eragon said. "He was strong."

Murtagh seemed to hear the unasked question. "I've... I've been well trained."

"They didn't recognise you," Eragon commented.

"No."

"And you still say you are Morzan's son?"

"Yes," Murtagh sighed. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling exhausted. Murtagh and I watched as Eragon healed Saphira's wounds. When Eragon had completed his task, he slumped against Saphira, breathing hard.

"I hope they bring food soon," Murtagh said.

"Why are you here?" Eragon responded.

"What?"

"If you really are Morzan's son, Galbatorix wouldn't let you wander around Alagaësia freely. How is it that you managed to find the Ra'zac by yourself? Why is it I've never heard of any of the Forsworn having children? And what are you doing here?"

"It's a long story," Murtagh said, running a hand over his face.

"We're not going anywhere," Eragon rebutted.

"It's too late to talk."

"It's not as if we'll have time tomorrow," I said, causing both Murtagh and Eragon to look at me. I shrugged, "I'm curious.

Murtagh wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees, rocking back and forth, as he stared at the floor. "It's not a—" he said, then interrupted himself. "I don't want to stop . . . so make yourself comfortable. My story will take a while." I moved over so I could lean against Saphira, glad for the warmth she offered.

Murtagh's first sentence was halting, but his voice gained strength and confidence as he spoke. "As far as I know... I am the only child of the Thirteen Servants, or the Forsworn as they're called. There may be others, for the Thirteen had the skill to hide whatever they wanted, but I doubt it, for reasons I'll explain later.

"My parents met in a small village – I never learned where – while my father was traveling on the king's business. Morzan showed my mother some small kindness, no doubt a ploy to gain her confidence, and when he left, she accompanied him. They travelled together for a time, and as is the nature of these things, she fell deeply in love with him. Morzan was delighted to discover this not only because it gave him numerous opportunities to torment her but also because he recognized the advantage of having a servant who wouldn't betray him.

"Thus, when Morzan returned to Galbatorix's court, my mother became the tool he relied upon most. He used her to carry his secret messages, and he taught her rudimentary magic, which helped her remain undiscovered and, on occasion, extract information from people. He did his best to protect her from the rest of the Thirteen – not out of any feelings for her, but because they would have used her against him, given the chance... For three years things proceeded in this manner, until my mother became pregnant."

Murtagh paused for a moment, fingering a lock of his hair. He continued in a clipped tone, "My father was, if nothing else, a cunning man. He knew that the pregnancy put both him and my mother in danger, not to mention the baby – that is, me. So, in the dead of night, he spirited her away from the palace and took her to his castle. Once there, he laid down powerful spells that prevented anyone from entering his estate except for a few chosen servants. In this way, the pregnancy was kept secret from everyone but Galbatorix.

"Galbatorix knew the intimate details of the Thirteen's lives: their plots, their fights—and most importantly—their thoughts. He enjoyed watching them battle each other and often helped one or the other for his own amusement. But for some reason he never revealed my existence.

"I was born in due time and given to a wet nurse so my mother could return to Morzan's side. She had no choice in the matter. Morzan allowed her to visit me every few months, but otherwise we were kept apart. Another three years passed like this, during which time he gave me the... scar on my back." Murtagh brooded a minute before continuing.

"I would have grown to manhood in this fashion if Morzan hadn't been summoned away to hunt for Saphira's egg. As soon as he departed, my mother, who had been left behind, vanished. No one knows where she went, or why. The king tried to hunt her down, but his men couldn't find her trail—no doubt because of Morzan's training.

"At the time of my birth, only five of the Thirteen were still alive. By the time Morzan left, that number had been reduced to three; when he finally faced Brom in Gil'ead, he was the only one remaining. The Forsworn died through various means: suicide, ambush, overuse of magic... but it was mostly the work of the Varden. I'm told that the king was in a terrible rage because of those losses.

"However, before word of Morzan's and the others' deaths reached us, my mother returned. Many months had passed since she had disappeared. Her health was poor, as if she had suffered a great illness, and she grew steadily worse. Within a fortnight, she died."

"What happened then?" prompted Eragon.

Murtagh shrugged. "I grew up. The king brought me to the palace and arranged for my upbringing. Aside from that, he left me alone."

"Then why did you leave?" I asked.

A hard laugh broke from Murtagh. "Escaped is more like it. At my last birthday, when I turned eighteen, the king summoned me to his quarters for a private dinner. The message surprised me because I had always distanced myself from the court and had rarely met him. We'd talked before, but always within earshot of eavesdropping nobles.

"I accepted the offer, of course, aware that it would be unwise to refuse. The meal was sumptuous, but throughout it, his black eyes never left me. His gaze was disconcerting; it seemed that he was searching for something hidden in my face. I didn't know what to make of it and did my best to provide polite conversation, but he refused to talk, and I soon ceased my efforts.

"When the meal was finished, he finally began to speak. You've never heard his voice, so it's hard for me to make you understand what it was like. His words were entrancing, like a snake whispering gilded lies into my ears. A more convincing and frightening man I've never heard. He wove a vision: a fantasy of the Empire as he imagined it. There would be beautiful cities built across the country, filled with the greatest warriors, artisans, musicians, and philosophers. The Urgals would finally be eradicated. And the Empire would expand in every direction until it reached the four corners of Alagaësia. Peace and prosperity would flourish, but more wondrous yet, the Riders would be brought back to gently govern over Galbatorix's fiefdoms.

"Entranced, I listened to him for what must have been hours. When he stopped, I eagerly asked how the Riders would be reinstated, for everyone knew there were no dragon eggs left. Galbatorix grew still then and stared at me thoughtfully. For a long time he was silent, but then he extended his hand and asked, 'Will you, O son of my friend, serve me as I labour to bring about this paradise?'

"Though I knew the history behind his and my father's rise to power, the dream he had painted for me was too compelling, too seductive to ignore. Ardor for this mission filled me, and I fervently pledged myself to him. Obviously pleased, Galbatorix gave me his blessing then dismissed me, saying, 'I shall call upon you when the need arises.'

"Several months passed before he did. When the summons came, I felt all of my old excitement return. We met in private as before, but this time he was not pleasant or charming. The Varden had just destroyed three brigades in the south, and his wrath was out in full force. He charged me in a terrible voice to take a detachment of troops and destroy Cantos, where rebels were known to hide occasionally. When I asked what we should do with the people there and how we would know if they were guilty, he shouted, 'They're all traitors! Burn them at the stake and bury their ashes with dung!' He continued to rant, cursing his enemies, and describing how he would scourge the land of everyone who bore him ill will.

"His tone was so different from what I had encountered before; it made me realize he didn't possess the mercy or foresight to gain the people's loyalty, and he ruled only through brute force guided by his own passions. It was at that moment I determined to escape him and Urû'baen forever.

"As soon as I was free of his presence, I and my faithful servant, Tornac, made ready for flight. We left that very night, but somehow Galbatorix anticipated my actions, for there were soldiers waiting for us outside the gates. Ah, my sword was bloody, flashing in the dim lantern glow. We defeated the men... but in the process, Tornac was killed.

"Alone and filled with grief, I fled to an old friend who sheltered me in his estate. While I hid, I listened carefully to every rumour, trying to predict Galbatorix's actions and plan my future. During that time, talk reached me that the Ra'zac had been sent to capture or kill someone. Remembering the king's plans for the Riders, I decided to find and follow the Ra'zac, just in case they did discover a dragon. And that's how I found you... I have no more secrets."

"So why don't you join the Varden? They'll distrust you for some time, but once you prove your loyalty they'll treat you with respect. And aren't they – in a sense – your allies? They strive to end the king's reign. Isn't that what you want?"

"Must I spell everything out for you?" Murtagh demanded. "I don't want Galbatorix to learn where I am, which is inevitable if people start saying that I've sided with his enemies, which I've never done. These," he paused, and then said with distaste, "rebels are trying not only to overthrow the king but to destroy the Empire... and I don't want that to happen. It would sow mayhem and anarchy. The king is flawed, yes, but the system itself is sound. As for earning the Varden's respect: Ha! Once I am exposed, they'll treat me like a criminal or worse. Not only that, but suspicion will fall upon you because we travelled together!"

"It isn't that bad," Eragon started.

"Eragon," I called softly, and shook my head. He fell silent, just in time for food to be pushed through. Murtagh handed out the bowls of stew, before tearing the loaf into thirds and handing us each a piece. I threw the hunk of raw meat to Saphira, who snapped it out of the air and ate it whole.

We ate in silence. Murtagh jabbed at his food. "I'm going to sleep," he announced, putting down his bowl without another word.

I licked my lips nervously, wondering what there was to be said, before placing my bowl near the door. "Good night," I responded, before retreating to a corner to sleep. 

Please note that from now on, as my time grows more limited, I will be starting to publish chapter every two months from now on. This is so that I have more time to write the next book and get ahead with that, but also focus on everything else going on in my life including my studies, final exams (in November), other extra circular activities, and writing.

I apologise if this annoys anyone, but this is how it's going to work.