The Red Rider — the tale of the other rider, the first son of Selena; mirror storyline avec missing pieces. MxN.
So haha, I realized in doing my research that I had been misspelling Galbatorix wrong since forever – I thought it was Gilbatorix for some reason, so I went back and corrected it everywhere.
Also, dw readers: I WILL FINISH THIS STORY IF IT IS THE LAST THING I DO! I will not abandon this story, it's my magnum opus.
xoxo —ei
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 2, Ambush
We continued to trespass on Galbatorix's generosity for a few more days, enthralled as I was by my new position as his ally. Finally, however, I had to accept that there was nothing I could do for him at the moment – that and Tornac insisted we return to run our own establishment.
There, I walked around with an air of superiority. I was now the ally, perhaps even the friend, of the unconquerable Galbatorix.
When I told Tornac about the specifics of our dinner, he was relieved almost to tears. "I feared the worst," he admitted to me. "That he had bound you with magic, that you were lost to his cause forever. There is still hope for us, Murtagh." He tried to discuss absconding with me, but it seemed so absurd.
Why leave Alagaësia for another imperfect settlement when I could reform this one with Galbatorix? With our power and wisdom, a new realm would rise, like a phoenix from the ashes of the old land, greater and more powerful than ever before. An upheaval would not be peaceful, but that was an unfortunate, unavoidable byproduct. Galbatorix of all people understood sacrifice.
Meanwhile, I had to prepare for the revolution.
Where I had before amused myself with the battle strategies of famous wars, suddenly the political moves of ancient leaders now gripped me. Together, Tornac and I poured over old tomes and volumes of wars, geographic disruptions, and the intrusion of elves and other creatures on our realms. As his vassal, surely I would have just as much to do with the new world order as he did.
The desire of conquest burned bright in me – the hot blood of Morzan would never let that flame go out, but it was tempered, if only slightly, by the gentler blood of my mother and the urgings of Tornac. I remembered, even if it was increasingly rarely that I would have to be the one to curb Galbatorix's rages and caprices.
It did not escape my pride and vanity that while I was of the Riders, I was also scion of the Foresworn. Even if it had, no one would have let me forget it – least of all Tornac. The burden of such a position did not frighten me. I had always known my life would not be easy. But I soothed my worries: no matter how the revolution ended (with the King at its forefront, it could only end one way) I would not let myself become Galbatorix, or Morzan.
For all that I would face, and that which I would endure but could not even imagine now, I had to remain myself. To suffer with the dignity of my rank.
I never considered death.
-x-
Finally, one calm morning, a message arrived by maiden who delivered it breathlessly that Galbatorix wished to see me immediately.
I sat down weakly, taken by surprise.
Tornac was pale with fear. "I did not think he might actually use you," he said grimly. "You are still a child, Murtagh. He knows this. But he has won your confidence. Galbatorix does not need magic to enslave you. He is more dangerous than I thought."
It should have occurred to me that what Tornac said was unnervingly true. It was indeed odd that Galbatorix had not, for a moment, tried to sway me with magic, or extract any sort of promise by coercion. In fact, he had left me with my free will intact. He rarely resorted to such mercy; why should he bother if he could control me with the merest effort?
Why had he left me to my own devices? To see if I was truly on his side perhaps?
I assuaged his anxiety. "He believes me to his servant, utterly devoted to him, Tornac. It is not suspicious; it is his sentiment that has blindsided him. This oversight has given us an advantage. Do not worry for me. I have my head."
As if Galbatorix had an emotion apart from avarice and entitlement.
"Perhaps he is testing you, Murtagh. This is another trial."
"He trusts me, Tornac. His gifts? Those were tests. The woman? She was a test. The dinner was a test – I passed successfully. He believes me to be entirely on his side." I assured Tornac. "I can use my influence to change him, Tornac. See the unique power his dependence gives us." I smiled in triumph.
Tornac still looked anxious, but I had soothed the worst of his concerns with my cool logic.
I set off alone for the castle.
The scene could not have been more different from my last visit there. Somehow the scene was uneasy; tense, as if the air itself was holding its breath.
The main areas were no longer deserted. Soldiers littered the outside walls and walkways. Within, servants, maids, and the household staff scurried about, harried. The disturbance should have given the castle a more homely atmosphere; instead it made it purely terrifying.
These were not the casual movements of servants catering to a King. These were the panicked movements of a disturbed anthill, fleeing from intrusion. It was the flight of a herd of antelope from a lion. It was a flock of birds, set into flight by a predator's stray movements.
Chaos.
In one wild moment of confused alarm, I wondered if Shruikan had gotten loose. I hailed a man and instructed him on my arrival. When I told him I was here to meet with the King, a deadened pall came upon his face, as if telling him to bring me to the King was equivalent to a death sentence. But wordlessly, unhaltingly, he led me again down a series of still unfamiliar hallways.
Duress and distress were written on every face.
Somehow, the same journey seemed to take an eternity, with my heart pounding increasingly loudly that I thought it might wake the sleeping dragon.
He stopped before another gilded door. In the instant before he knocked, I saw further down the hall, clearly in a same position as this man but several, unlucky hours earlier the same maid who had brought me to dine that fateful night several weeks ago, lay motionless several yards away, corpse shoved aside like an afterthought.
The servant knocked.
My blood ran cold as I suddenly understood the panic and alarm of the servants as each tried to save themselves by bring their King some happy harbinger. I had never seen Galbatorix angry, but it did not go very far to understand that his fury was terrible to receive; that his wrath was deadly to those around him, and my share of it would be tempered only by my success. Another pang of terror incapacitated me as I reevaluated the tenuous status of my own life.
"Enter."
The King stood with his back to me in his study, leaning over a large piece of parchment. I could hear him breathing loudly, as if winded, like an enraged bull.
"Welcome back, Murtagh."
The words, however calm, sent shivers down my spine. And there were those whispers again.
I took slow steps toward the King.
He stood, hunched over what I realized was a map.
"I have been too lenient," he said, in a quiet voice that chilled me to the bone. "The rebels think I have grown soft. That I am just as passive as my Rider forebearers. They shall see that I never for a moment take my power for granted. I am absolute. Murtagh, your time has come."
"My time?"
He turned around to face and smiled. It was a taut leer, an evil thing, more threatening than a look of rage.
"Yes, Murtagh. My ally, my right hand, my…son." He was almost affectionate...To think that after all the time I had wasted in trying to endear Morzan, my true father, that the sentiment was readily available in Galbatorix of all people―I held back a laugh.
"Take a legion of my troops and go forth to Cantos."
"What has happened in Cantos?" I asked.
Galbatorix's hands shook slightly, trembling with repressed fury. "The rebels have grown complacent. I let them exist there untroubled under the understanding that they did not interfere with me. But the Varden has tried and tested my patience. I let them exist because they amuse me; their pathetic bids for freedom, like a lion toying with a mouse, but let their discontent fester for too long and the mouse will grow rabid."
His calmness terrified me.
"I could smite them out in one night. Shruikan could do it instantly if he so wished. I was too forgiving, too merciful and they indulged themselves. They believe they are actually a threat to me?" He laughed. "I look away for a moment and they destroyed three brigades of my troops, and they believe they will escape unscathed?"
"What would you have me do? Imprison them? Interrogate them?" Adrenaline was pumping through me; I could taste the sweet nectar of vengeance on my tongue. How long has it been since a good battle?
I was not bloodthirsty, but fighting for a cause, any excuse to hold my own allowed me to prove myself, even if it was only to Tornac. And distinguish myself from my dishonorable father and give myself distinction as Murtagh, not the spawn of Morzan. After all, the cause was just as, if not more so, important as the battle's outcome.
"Obliterate them all."
"What?" The word slipped out before I realized I was implying discontent.
I had previously heard of Cantos: soldiers were always being shipped there to quell some minor disturbance caused by the Varden's opposition, not all of the denizens could be sympathetic to the resistance. But in his eyes, all of them were guilty regardless of innocence. He wanted me to annihilate the city, irrespective of the guilt of its inhabitants. Galbatorix wanted to make an example of the city to put off any future insurgence, to frighten his kingdom into submission.
"Was I not unequivocal?" He asked me, his soft voice fraught with peril, almost a hiss. "Annihilate Cantos. Its smoldering remains shall become a memorial wasteland."
His manner was so different from what I had encountered before. I realized he didn't possess the mercy or foresight to gain the people's loyalty. He ruled only through brute force guided by his own passions. Any charge he lead, any new domain he conquered and revolutionized would only be more of the same suffering and unhappy ruin.
I had been blinded by the sinful lyricism of his words, the illusion he had created to enchant me. I had been a begging puppet, a delighted slave. Tornac had warned of his incorrigible evil, the unslakable lust that raged inside of him. It was too late to save Galbatorix from himself, but we still had time. It was at that moment I was determined to escape him and Urû'baen forever.
The King turned back to the map and pointed at the region that was the city of Cantos on the map. Suddenly tongues of flames leapt up from its epicenter of the insurgent city. They were confined to the paper representation. When they vanished, all that was left behind was a hole in paper and a heap of ashes.
-x-
I rode hard to find Tornac in the city's tavern. He had accompanied me, as always, until the castle whence he sought relief in spirits. He was in a merry mood when I found him, but I quickly nixed it by recalling the events that had just transpired.
"Murtagh," he said cautiously. "Surely you see the madness behind his method. You cannot possibly be considering his edict!"
"Of course not, Tornac," I murmured quietly, aware of the others in the tavern. I inconspicuously led Tornac from the tavern. "I informed him that I needed a night's time to construct my designs on the city. We would be leaving on the morrow at dusk."
"Murtagh!"
I interrupted him. "There is not much time. He will be watching me closely tomorrow for signs of weakness and indecision. Already perhaps, he suspects I do not agree. We must make haste and leave at this instant."
He sighed in relief.
"I will saddle my horse. We will meet at the city gates in one hour's time. Put your affair's in order, Murtagh. For if we run from the King, we can never return. Have you given thought to where we will seek refuge?"
"The Varden, perhaps Surda."
The answer came so readily it surprised the both of us.
I understood of myself what I been blind to before: I had never really believed the dream Galbatorix had illustrated for me. Beautiful and perfect though it had seemed, it had never been real. Never possible.
"The resistance? But you have never indicated any alliance with them and as the son of a Forsworn…" He trailed off delicately.
"It will not be easy to be sure, but when have I ever been unworthy of trust, Tornac? You know better than anyone that my word is inviolate."
He smiled, won, and met my hand in a tense shake. "The time has long passed when I could protect you from Morzan let alone Galbatorix, Murtagh," he said sadly. "You are no longer a son, but a comrade."
Immediately, I felt the weight of my youth. That he placed so much trust in me terrified me. Who was I but a mere child, new to adulthood and already weight was given to my opinions? Reluctantly, I released his hand, wishing fervently to return to days of my youth when I would follow Tornac around like a duckling, shielded from misfortune by his kind hand.
"Take up your arms, Tornac."
"Atra esterní ono thelduin." He said before briefly embracing me.
We both lingered for a moment, sharing an expression that said volumes more than words could ever have articulated. It spoke of contingency; the future; our peculiar bond of father and son, mentor and student, and fraternal friends; hope and desperation; and incontestable closeness.
-x-
Within an hour's time, I was leading my horse silently through the back alleys of Urû'baen. Every shadow was a soldier of the Imperial brigade, every gust of wind seemed like Shruikan's breath. When the city gates came into view, I touched my hip for my sword instinctively and settled in wait.
A few minutes later as the last rays of the sunset disappeared behind the royal stead, throwing it in a fiery brilliance, Tornac came cantering out of a side alley two streets. He caught my eye immediately. I clambered on to my steed and with a nod, we came lurching out of the darkness.
Even before the watchman could correctly identigy the approaching sounds as approaching horses we were upon him. Tornac slide a short blade along his throat and the man fell limply to the ground, still convulsing as he gasped silently for air.
I rode to the gates and nudged my horse forward as Tornac slowly unraveled the length of chain used to meld them shut.
They gave slowly and infuriatingly, inch by inch.
Suddenly, I heard a telltale swish by my shoulder, the slight, almost imperceptible noise made from a narrowly missed arrow.
I gave a cry that immediately made Tornac start and look around. We barely had time to come together and stand with our backs facing to view our foes properly.
A small troop of soldiers were galloping towards us on horseback while their slower infantrymen slowly crept toward us on all sides.
"The pulley!" I hissed to Tornac. I stayed his arm as he made a quick movement. I took a breath as I watched them near. "…NOW! I'll cover you!" I thrust my shield at him so he could stave off any arrows.
He raced back to the pulley as I guarded him closely. The foot soldiers all rushed me all at once as I unsheathed my longsword and whipped it through the air in a half circle so that it narrowly missed their jugulars. My horse reared in fright as the soldiers crowded us, hitting the fore man with its hooves.
He fell and did not rise.
"But how did he know?" I cried to Tornac as I lashed out with my sword and exchanged blows with several soldiers. Galbatorix surely had ordered these soldiers – but how had he anticipated my flight?
Tornac had he been fighting with me could easily have torn them to pieces. Between us this would have been child's play. But between the cavalry whose advances kept forcing my horse to shy back and the foot soldiers who had already found shallow sheaths for their hand-and-half blades in my skin, we were losing ground.
And yet, they did not seek to kill us. Maim us, perhaps, wound us into submission surely. However if the advantage shifted to us I didn't doubt Galbatorix had ordered them to slay us without thought.
Little was more dangerous than a man with nothing to lose and Galbatorix was the most dangerous of all.
"Ha!" Tornac cried as he released the last of the chain. The gate fell with a CRASH that caused some stirring in the houses nearest. My horse shied in surprise, rearing up on its hind legs. As I fell from my horse, I found myself next to the watchman Tornac had slain earlier. The slit at his throat like a bright red sneer. It seemed to mock me.
Out of the mass of soldiers, a spear came flying toward me. I rolled, throwing my body recklessly to the side onto another dead body and seized the fallen man's shield. The footsoldiers chased the horse into the courtyard so I was left fighting on foot. I could see Tornac fighting to reach me in the sea of men, but our progress was slow.
I could see him fighting two horsemen, parrying each of thrusts expertly almost effortlessly. I swiped at the men in front of me, catching one in the shoulder and forcing him back. But another simply fell into his place. I was tiring and their numbers were only increasing.
"Murtagh!"
Tornac was riding toward me, hard. His horse forced the men aside and he continue to parry the blows sent at him. As he drew level with me, I renewed my vigor and fought lashed out so viciously with my sword that several men lent back. Before they could renew, I neatly slipped between two waves of soldiers, running and pulling myself onto the rear of the horse.
Tornac wheeled around and his steed nudged the gates, rearing up on two legs. The gates opened with the metallic groan of aging metal and the two of us jolted as the horse regained its footing.
Out of the darkness, I could hear more men approaching, drawn by the battle and as we left Urû'baen I heard the familiar whoosh narrowly missed me.
Relief flooded through me.
I spurred the horse onward.
Before me, Tornac slumped to the side and before I could drop my shield, he fell from the horse to the ground.
I wheeled my steed around. I could see where Tornac lay several feet away. His eyes were wide and staring, an arrow protruding from his neck. His lips were pursed, as if he'd paused in speaking, a silt opening his throat—a terrible, bright red smile.
I grabbed the reins and an instantly before I could nip the horse to a standstill with my burs, I remembered the look we had exchanged.
We were both soldiers and strategists at heart so we knew the odds. Before we had parted ways, he had given me a look, full of meaning but ineffable nevertheless. If I had been wounded in battle, I knew he would stay to fight until the very end and he expected no less from me.
But if the other died…?
Emotions and sentiment had no place in a battle.
I hesitated for a moment and then, cursing my fate, I rode the few feet to the castle's exit and entered the dark wilderness beyond the citadel.
I never looked back.
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