Chapter 13-Compromise
Thorn flew smoothly over the ceiling of clouds, Murtagh resting upon his back. The knowledge of leaving the castle was comforting to both of them as well as highly disconcerting. No longer would they be allowed to make a mistake. There was only one way to proceed, and that was by the King's orders. The thought of killing Lenora was so sickening to Murtagh that he had a hard time thinking about it. At the same time, even under the direct command of the king, he was not so sure he alone was physically capable. Galbatorix had trained her personally to create a deadly combatant. Cripple or not, she was a force to be reckoned with. He would have to enlist the aid of magic in order to complete the job.
I've been thinking, Thorn said to his rider, that Galbatorix never mentioned a time by which we would have to complete our task.
Murtagh closed his eyes sadly. Either way, he will check back with us in due time. One way or another he'll have us obey his orders. He's more cunning than the both of us and will find a way. There's no escaping it.
Oh Murtagh, those many years in the castle have done your emotional state no good. You must learn to see the silver lining. Murtagh grunted, remaining silent. What about the egg?
What about it? Murtagh asked, lying back against the smooth scales.
Lenora has it, Murtagh; you could have grasped that from how furious Galbatorix was. He even missed that one interaction between the two of you because of his ire. Little escapes the King's notice except when he is blind with rage. He knows that if it hatches for her, there will be a huge advantage to the Varden, for she would never choose to lay her loyalty with the Empire.
Do you think it would hatch for her as the daughter of the most tyrannical ruler in the history of Alagaësia? He asked his dragon genuinely.
Lenora is a good person, though she has an anger that runs deep into her being that would not benefit her in this situation, Thorn said. However, we do not see only the surface, as many humans do. A dragon knows when a person is true at heart, whether he lies within his egg or has been bonded with his rider for centuries. Whilst you and I know from our relations she is not the monster her father believes he has created, the dragon within the egg knows through a sense of comprehension of the very essence of those who touch its shell. The last of our race may choose Lenora for her strength of character and her will to survive the harshest of circumstances. She would make a good Shur'tugal.
Murtagh laughed to himself. Lenora, a rider. Now that would be a sight. Perhaps a dragon would level her temper. An overprotective young dragon would make our task a bit more difficult.
That would just depend on when we happened to find her, Thorn said, a dubious tone in his rumbling voice.
What are you suggesting? Murtagh sat up, suddenly interested.
Galbatorix gave us our assignment, yet no set date as to when we were to return, Thorn offered his scheme.
Didn't we already cover this? He will be watching our every move as soon as he knows we are close!
I do believe you need a break, Murtagh. Your mind whirls like that of a trapped buck. Let us take a little time off from our responsibilities and do whatever we please. The King will be none the wiser as long as we are gone.
You are such a bad influence on me, Murtagh grinned.
I do my best, Thorn replied. At the very least, we can use this time to think of a way to circumvent our mission. He angled down, descending through the mist. Fine water droplets reflected rainbows off his scales before blowing into the wind. Murtagh shook the water from his hair and face, feeling refreshed and ready for whatever Thorn might have in mind.
Look, Thorn said suddenly, eyes locked on the ground. Murtagh scanned below, noticing a long black line along the ground. His eyes were not as sharp as those of his dragon.
What is it? Murtagh asked.
The beginning of our plan. He dove, causing Murtagh to grasp the rider's pommel of the saddle tightly, trusting that Thorn knew what he was doing. As the neared, Murtagh saw the figures of humans lined neatly in two rows, separate figures in the front and back.
The prisoners, Murtagh realized. What are you going to do?
You'll see. There were shouts from the ground, the guards aiming bows and arrows toward them and the hostages shrinking back in fear.
Letta! Murtagh said mentally, stopping the arrows as they hurtled towards them both. Thorn landed roughly in front of the frightened crowd.
"Shur'tugal! Forgive us, we thought you were from the Varden," the lead guard said quickly. "What can we do for you, Red Rider?"
So what's this genius plan you've got? Murtagh asked Thorn as he dismounted.
Tell them to free their captives, Thorn said. Murtagh began to understand where Thorn's mind was headed.
"Change of plan. Guards, release your prisoners. They are no longer needed," he said evenly, staring the first one in the eyes. The other had come from around the back of the line.
"We were told to take them to Helgrind by the King," he said uncertainly. Murtagh unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the man's throat before he could so much as react.
I hope you know what you're getting us into, he commented to Thorn.
"Release them," he repeated pointedly. The other guard foolishly tried to attack Murtagh from the side.
Malthinae. The second guard stopped mid swing, frozen in place. His eyes swiveled, terrified.
"Did you really expect to win?" Murtagh asked without looking at his attacker. The guard could not reply, but Murtagh could feel his fear. He glanced at the man in front of him, raising his eyebrows in question. The man swallowed nervously and produced a set of keys from his pocket, handing it behind him. The prisoner took it doubtfully, then undid their chains and handed the keys to the next in line. The keys jangled and murmurs turned into excited conversations between those liberated.
"Are you the guards who regularly take the prisoners to Helgrind?" Murtagh asked amongst the commotion.
"N-nay, rider. The last two sent were found dead near the Ramr. Was that you?"
"I think I'll be asking the questions here," Murtagh asserted. The man nodded, drips of sweat running down his face. "From now on, you will continue to take these prisoners from the castle and release them at this point along the way. You will then report to the king that they have been successfully delivered to the fortress, do you understand?"
"Aye," he said, nodding vigorously. Murtagh released the magic constricting the movements of the second guard, Gath sem knífr un lam iet. The sword flew from the grasp of the guard and landed neatly in Murtagh's palm, where he pointed it at its owner.
Addressing the both of them, Murtagh commanded, "Repeat after me: Vel eïnradhin thu vera nethral dercen hil garantha." When one of them hesitated, he pressed the tip of the sword until a drop of blood ran down his neck. "Do you realize how quickly the claw of a dragon can penetrate the armor and rip out a heart? Or perhaps, when they are especially ravenous, they just might indulge themselves and start at the head and work their way down. Thorn has not eaten in several days…" The fear contorted the reluctant guard's face as he said the words carefully, his voice shaking.
"But what does it mean?" one of them asked as the prisoners dispersed behind them, heading to another chance at life.
Murtagh grinned sardonically. "If you wish to see these beautiful blue skies again men, I would recommend you curb your tongue on what has transpired here today." Murtagh lowered his own sword, tossing the other back. Their faces paled. "I wish you luck on your return to the castle. If I were you, I'd add a few days to the travel so the King will not take suspicion." He turned, mounting Thorn who waited patiently.
"And one more thing," he called, "don't even think of trying to recapture any of those people. It would result in a few…less than favorable circumstances."
With one powerful beat of wings, they could see the prisoners like ants below, the guards standing where they had left them, confused and shocked. Thorn's coughing laughter rocked Murtagh in the saddle.
We've left them like newborns. They haven't an idea what to do! Thorn exclaimed.
Clever Thorn, Murtagh remarked, now even if we do happen to run into Lenora, we might be able to give it our best effort and still she will live. And Galbatorix, ha! He will find one day that his strength is not as it was before. We should have done that so long ago. Murtagh could feel Thorn's satisfaction for his rider's happiness through their link.
This may spare many lives as well as give the Varden an opportunity for victory. Let us hope that Galbatorix does not discover this ruse as quickly as he did with Lenora, Thorn said.
Unfortunately, these prisoners are not the only source of power he has. He does not care where his power comes from. Plant, animal, human, what have you, as long as it sustains his energy and provides him with power. In this sense, we are given an advantage for he may overlook this factor…still, it almost seems like it may have been for naught.
Oh not nothing, dear friend. We have just rescued multitudes of innocent lives. And, if we happen to meet with Lenora in the Hadarac, we will be without magical sustenance. In doing so, we will allow her a fighting chance.
Murtagh considered the prospect. Galbatorix's curse binds us to our word. I must scry her tonight and see what has become of her since her escape. Then we may know where she is. But you are right; we do not necessarily need to complete the task immediately upon discovering her. When we meet, it will be in the desert.
Then we shall reside there until Galbatorix discovers our adjournment or Lenora runs into us.
And what if he does? We may be sent directly after her, Murtagh said, concerned.
We will tell him we have scryed her and determined her location. In order to use the element of surprise, we cannot attack so quickly. We let her come to us. The only catch is that the King will not know we have siphoned off our last source of power, leaving us much more vulnerable. He will see only the subtle brilliance of the plan and allow it to take its course, like the dragon that stalks his prey. In his mind, he will see his power over us as so overpowering that we have given up hope and simply succumb to his control.
What would I do without you?
Walk, I presume. Murtagh laughed aloud. A deep rumbling hum resounded through him. Thorn folded his wings closer to his body and tilted to the left sharply, an air current pulling them to warmer territory.
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Murtagh shivered beneath three layers of thick clothing. While the Hadarac was almost unbearably oppressive during the day, it was as cold at night. Hunched against Thorn's warm scales, a fire crackling before him, still the chill felt like it reached into his bones.
For Lenora, he thought. Thorn seemed unaffected by the low temperatures, though his steaming gusts of breath blew as frost into the air. Grasping one of two waterskins, he squeezed a few drops into one palm. Thorn watched over his shoulder.
"Draumr Kópa," he said clearly. The water swirled black before materializing into a vague picture. In the middle of the white image was the same Lenora Murtagh had known for years. He smiled, knowing she was alright. She sat awkwardly, her right leg stretched out uncomfortably in front of her, the other drawn up close. She appeared to be talking and Murtagh extended his magic to hear.
"…her? It's a fitting name for such a striking dragon," Lenora was saying.
"It was chosen from an assorted list of historical names. Saphira was the one that I saw as beautiful yet strong at the same time, the epitome of my little hatchling at the time." The rough voice of his brother surprised Murtagh at first. Their discussion could mean only one thing: Lenora was the new rider. Eragon came into the picture, sitting next to Lenora on the invisible ground. "He deserves a name of honor, fit for his rider."
"Why would it be an honor to be my dragon? What have I got that others do not? I do not deserve this dragon or this responsibility. I am not proud of who I am or where I came from," Lenora admitted. "I cannot even fight as I had before. He did not choose correctly, I should not be his rider. What can a cripple do to change the fate of this land?"
Eragon gently brought his hand to her chin and drew her eyes up to meet his. A pang of jealousy caused Murtagh to look up from the image. He used to be the one who could comfort Lenora whenever she was in doubt or pain. He was like the big brother, the confidant, the one who she could rely on. The voices drew his eyes back.
"I may not know you very well Lenora, but I do know you hold a strength greater than even my own inside of you. You may be hindered by your leg, but that gives you a determination unlike anyone I have ever met. I'm sure you were a great fighter, but you have not lost everything. As part elf, even I was overwhelmed with your abilities when we fought," she smiled slightly. She reached out and scooped up an unseen object that Murtagh knew was the hatchling.
Dragons do not choose foolishly, young one, Saphira added. That hatchling chose you for who you are and what you can do for Alagaësia, no matter how you feel about it. You were destined to become a rider. Murtagh could see Lenora didn't agree with them as she changed the subject.
"We'll reach Dras-Leona tomorrow. Along with the horses, I must buy new clothes; this tunic has seen better days," Lenora said. Murtagh let the image fade.
You must let go Murtagh. There can be no greater torture than having to cause pain to the one that you love.
He sighed, letting the water drip through his fingers onto the sand. I wish it were that simple Thorn.
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Hope you liked it! I made up a bunch of the words that Murtagh makes the guards say, but I don't take credit for the words created by Paolini. It meant, Upon my life will I never tell of this encounter. All types of reviews are welcome, so please leave a review and you will be rewarded with another chapter probably by next Friday! Happy Holidays to everyone!