Chapter 7: Parcel for the King

Two days had passed since Roran's capture and since then they group of four had traversed at least two hundred leagues. The sun stung Roran's eyes as he turned in the saddle to look at the long track of footprints the horses had left in the sand. The glare was excruciating as the harsh sunlight rebounded from the sand. The previous night, the group had been forced to take refuge beneath their blankets when a dust storm had struck, obscuring their vision for the best part of an hour.

"We will stop here, ten minutes then we move off again," said one of the men.

Roran welcomed the news, swinging his legs over in the saddle, Roran dropped onto the sun braked ground. One of the men with black hair held a wineskin to Roran's lips, allowing him to drink fervently before repossessing the skin. The towel wrapped around Roran's head blocked the majority of the sunlight, giving him little comfort from the elements. "Right, come on let's move," the short Black Hand member said "by this afternoon we will be upon the gate's of Uru'baen, and you before the king."

Roran nodded, it was inevitable that he should appear before Galbatorix.

Once again they moved off, traversing the terrain as fast as their steeds would carry them. The progress, as far as Roran was concerned was terribly slow. He let his mind wander into thoughts of the forest and how much he wished he was back there. None of the men spoke on the journey to Uru'baen, probably to save their throats from becoming scorched from the sun.

* * *

As the afternoon bore on, the sound of gushing water entered Roran's ears. It was the torrential waters of the Ramr River. They paused on the banks and watched the water flow over the rocks, winding around a corner and out of sight. To the north of them was the town of Bullridge and to the south, the Black City. They turned their backs to the Ramr and rode on into the fading sunlight. Roran's nerves grew stronger the closer that they got to Uru'baen. The road became more defined as they approached the town and rose steadily to a hilltop. Roran eagerly as anticipated the top of the hill as he had an inkling of what lay beyond. His hunched proved correct because the top of the hill brought with it a panoramic view of Uru'baen.

Roran gasped in shock, he had never seen the Black City, only heard it described. In the centre of the city was the towering spire of Galbatorix's citadel. Even from a distance Roran could make out the long blood red banners, their ends tapered, hanging from the top of the keep. Around it were rows and rows of charcoal coloured houses, all the same in size and shape. "Come on keep moving!" growled one of the men.

Roran reluctantly walked his horse forward, edging closer and closer toward the city.

The gates loomed before them, the sun disappearing behind the steel frame. "Open up!" called one of the men on the battlements as the group of four riders approached.

Roran looked up to see the men frantically running around the battlements. The gates slowly slid open, revealing a roughly cobbled road that led out of sight.

Roran passed beneath the fortifications, craning his neck upwards for a better look. As they entered the city, many faces of the residents watched them from their door ways, weary of any newcomers. He observed their pale and narrow faces, a pang of guilt racing through him. It was almost as though Galbatorix had forbidden happiness and sucked the very life out of the city.

Rounding the bend in the road, Roran could see the base of the pitch black citadel, beckoning them closer. He wanted to run as fast as he could but he knew that he had no hope, especially with the Black Hand's skill in magic. Instead, he sat there, transfixed on the banners that hung freely from the keep, allowing the Black Hand to lead him to his doom. The road was incredibly uneven but Roran had to admit that in a fighting situation, the city was very well equipped. The city was walled, the ramparts made of solid stone and iron spears protruding from the top. Each house had a flat roof providing perfect positions for archers to fire. Then he glanced up at the citadel, not to mention Galbatorix and his black dragon Shruikan, he thought.

The leading Black Hand member dismounted and approached the four door guards on foot. "We request access," said the man.

"On what grounds," said a guard, his helm studded with onyx.

"On the grounds that Galbatorix will profit from our visit!" said the man in frustration.

The guard eyed him wearily, his shift had been a long one and he wanted nothing more than to break and return to his family. "Fine, but any trouble and we'll no," he said reluctantly.

The guard rammed the haft of his axe against the stone floor and the doors slid open on well greased hinges. "Off your horse," said another member, forcing Roran down from his mount. His hands were still bound and the nylon rope was beginning to leave marks from where the chafing had burnt him.

Roran was pushed forward towards the door. "I can walk by myself," he growled.

The man withdrew his hands and stepped back. Roran followed the others forward, entering into the citadel.

He shivered as he entered, he was so close to Galbatorix. Roran felt as though his death was imminent, expecting Galbatorix to jump out and slay him at any moment. Before him in the entrance hall was a large circular room with two giant black marble staircases spiralling up to a hall. They climbed the stairs and entered the next room where they were met by more stairs. As they continued to climb, Roran supposed that they must have been nearing the summit when the party stopped outside a ruby clad door. Two heavily armed guards stood outside it, watching them suspiciously. "We are here to see King Galbatorix," said the bearded magician.

"What is it that you want?" said one of the guards.

"Tell him that a certain Roran Stronghammer is here to see him," he smirked.

The guards exchanged confused looks before one of the shrugged and knocked twice on the door before entering. The door swung shot behind him, leaving the other guard fingering his axe and eyeing them wearily. After an anxious five minutes wait for Roran, the guard returned and nodded "Aye, you may enter, but beware, any trickery and we won't hesitate to kill you."

The man nodded, "You need not fear friend, we are loyal to your cause and your king."

As they entered through the door, Roran's blood turned to ice, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The door slammed shut behind them, plunging them into darkness.

From what Roran could gather, the room was long and narrow, a carpet leading to the end of the room. His vision was impaired by the darkness as he struggled to focus his eyes. Suddenly a voice boomed from the opposite end of the chamber.

"Roran Stronghammer...how long I have waited for this day," Galbatorix said in his cold drawl.

Roran flinched involuntarily, but he said nothing. "Come closer, let me see you," the king said.

One of the Black hand members shoved Roran forward. His moments of courage were gone, leaving him alone and afraid. However, continued to walk forward, his mind said no but his feet said yes. He estimated that he had walked about twenty feet when all of sudden, torches flared on either side of him, bathing his immediate area into a golden light. He jerked his head either way, intimidated by the torches sudden appearances. He refocused on the path ahead which re-entered into darkness. He walked forward another four steps only to have another two torches illuminate on either side of him. He took no notice and walked onwards, eager to lay eyes on the man that had spiked fear into the hearts of so many across Alagaesia. Six more sets of torches flared into existence until finally a raised platform became visible ahead. Roran paused at the platform, glancing upwards to see a large black throne. He could just make out the outline of its occupant but apart from that he knew not. "Come closer boy, my eyesight fails me in my old age," he said with his dead sense of humour.

Roran obeyed, stepping up onto the platform. As he did, the last two torches flared and light fell across the king's face, it was Galbatorix himself, smiling a wicked smile.

Roran could not take his eyes off Galbatorix, the man was as pale as a shade! His hair was none, a bald crown on his head. A speckled grey moustache lined his mouth and chin, hiding an evil grin. "Well, don't you know it's rude to stare!" shouted Galbatorix.

Roran recoiled slightly. The king laughed, a laugh devoid of mirth but replaced with iniquity. Roran dropped his gaze, instead inspecting the laces on his boots. "At last we meet, I have been looking forward to this day" Galbatorix drawled.

Roran did not know what to say, how do you address a man whom you know can kill you with a single thought, Roran thought to himself. "Unfortunately your majesty," spat Roran "those feelings cannot be returned."

At first he had thought it to be the wrong thing to say but when he noticed Galbatorix's lips turn into a thin smile. Roran sighed in relief. "Of course," the king said.

There was a silence as the king gazed past him, his gaze an endless black. "The Black Hand tells me they caught you on the fringe of Du Weldenvarden? What were you skulking around there for?" he asked strongly.

Roran snapped his head up, "I do not skulk, for I have no reason, unlike a treacherous fiend such as yourself who hides all day in his citadel!" Roran roared in anger.
He was not going to be insulted by a man who ruled the country by fear. Even at these words Galbatorix did not frown. "You have fighting spirit, that could be of a great use to us," he said, raising his eyebrows.

Roran sneered, "I shall never serve you!"

He nodded "But what of your love, surely you would wish to keep her safe would you not?"

Roran faltered. Katrina, he had not given her much thought. Ever since he had caught her and Eragon together he had pushed her from his mind. But despite his efforts, deep down he knew that he still loved her. "Well...yes, of course, but what has that got to do with her! She has never wronged the Empire!" he retorted "kill me if you must!"

Galbatorix shook his head and replied "I do not wish to kill you, however, I ask of you a favour."

"A favour!" Roran bellowed "why on earth would I do you a favour! You have taken everything from me! My home, my father and many of my friends, I have no reason to help you..."

"I did not expect you to, but what if I was to tell you by giving me your cousin's whereabouts, when this war is done, you and your betrothed may live in peace, free of my rule," he posed.

Roran's heart skipped a beat, Galbatorix was offering him friendship in return for his cousins whereabouts! Roran did not need to think twice, Eragon had taken his love from him and now he would pay. "I agree to your terms," Roran spluttered.

Galbatorix grinned. "Excellent, well in that case, have my guards escort you to your own private quarters, I shall summon you when the sun rises again," he said.

Roran nodded. "I will come then," he replied flatly, a deep pang of remorse already filling his stomach.

With that he turned on his heel and retraced his steps back along the corridor, the torches extinguishing behind him. As he reached the door Galbatorix called to him. "You will come to trust me Stronghammer," he said snidely.

With that Roran exited the chamber, the guards leading him back down the stairs to his quarters.