Chapter Twenty-One

Master of Disguise

Galbatorix Taranisäii smiled thinly. 'Skandar. You look so much like me. But you have plenty of your mother in you as well.'

Sif backed away. 'No,' she said. 'No, no, no, no, no…'

Skandar had begun to tremble. 'No,' he echoed. 'This isn't possible. You're dead! You're dead, I buried you! I buried you!'

'No-one can kill the Shadow That Walks,' said Galbatorix. 'Didn't I ever tell you that, Skandar?'

'But,' said Skandar. 'But…'

Galbatorix came closer. 'Skandar,' he said softly. 'Please. I'm alive. I came looking for you. Don't you remember me?'

Sif, looking on, felt icy bewilderment fill her chest. Now she saw them together, the resemblance between them was striking. Nearly the same height, both pale-skinned with angular features and identical pointed beards. And while Skandar had silver hair and his father had black, both wore it long and curly. But Galbatorix was older – not that he had any grey in his hair or beard, but there was age in his expression; in the bitter set of his mouth and the tired lines on his forehead. But his eyes were cold and shrewd, shining with barely contained malice.

Very slowly, Skandar took a step forward. 'Father,' he said hoarsely. 'I never… I didn't…'

'You didn't what?' said Galbatorix. 'You didn't love me? Skandar?'

'No,' said Skandar. 'I loved you, Father. Always.'

'Well then come here,' said Galbatorix. 'Come to me, Skandar. I missed you so much; please don't stay away from me.'

Like one in a daze, Skandar moved toward him. 'Yes, Father,' he said. 'I…'

Galbatorix started toward him with a sudden motion, and then the two of them were embracing fiercely. One silver, one black, father and son alike.

Only Sif saw Galbatorix's hand move. 'Skandar,' she said. 'Skandar-!'

Skandar didn't hear her. 'Father,' he said. 'I'm sorry. I swear I never-,' he broke off abruptly.

Galbatorix let go of him. 'Call that a taste of what you gave me,' he said softly, and pushed him away.

Skandar staggered slightly, staring at him. 'Father…' one hand went to his chest, clutching ineffectually at the hilt of the dagger embedded in his body. 'I didn't mean,' he said, and fell.

Galbatorix ignored him completely. All his attention was on Sif now, standing with her back against the ladder. 'So, Bratspawn,' he said. 'Now the little prince is out of the way, it's just you and me. Will you fight, or would you prefer to surrender? I may decide to kill you quickly.'

Sif could feel the rungs of the ladder pressing into her back, and she fumbled for one and managed to grip it. 'Leave me alone,' she moaned. 'Please, I haven't done anything.'

Pure hatred burned in Galbatorix's eyes. 'I killed your father,' he said. 'Killed him in front of your mother. Killed him with my own hands. I stabbed him in the stomach and he died in agony on the floor, screaming for mercy. I saw his blood and heard his screams, and I laughed. And your mother… I killed her son first, so she could see it. I slashed his throat from ear to ear and heard her scream. And then I killed her too, with the child's blood on my hands. But you… I left you. Left you alive. I always meant to kill you last, so you would live to see the others die around you, just as I saw my friends die one by one. I made you feel my pain. My pain, all my pain, and my misery, oh yes…'

He seemed to grow as he spoke, looming over her like a nightmare made flesh, pitiless and all-consuming. Before it, Sif finally broke and tried to flee. She turned and started to drag herself up the ladder, her mind screaming out to Saphira all the while.

But there was no escape. An iron grip closed around her ankle and wrenched her off the ladder, and she fell back, smacking her jaw on one of the rungs so hard that her teeth slammed together and a flash of red pain went through her head. She hit the floor with a thud that sent a burst of more pain through her spine and her shoulder. But her head struck something soft, at least.

Semi-conscious now, nearly paralysed with terror, she struggled to get up. As her eyes refocused, she realised that she had landed close to Skandar. The weredragon was still alive. His eyes met hers as he slumped down, and she saw her own mortal pain and despair reflected back into her own. They were both dying now.

Galbatorix stood over them, the sword pointed at Sif's throat. He was saying something but Sif couldn't hear it over the roaring in her ears. She could taste blood in her mouth, and her head was agony. She was losing consciousness.

'SIF!'

Saphira's voice came as if out of nowhere, breaking through into her mind and bringing with it a flood of terror. 'SIF! Sif, what's going on? Talk to me! SIF!'

Sif started to wake up. 'Saphira, he's here, he's come for me, he's-,'

BANG.

The roost shook. Galbatorix staggered and turned to look up, cursing. Then came another almighty thud, and another, until dust and fragments of stone poured down from the roof. Saphira was trying to break in.

It was as if the realisation tore away the haze of confusion and terror that had clouded Sif's mind. Without even thinking, she scrambled upright and raised her hand.

The word came to her in a split second. 'Brisingr!'

A blast of blue flame shot from her palm and hit Galbatorix in the back, hurling him violently across the room. The sword flew out of his hand, and Sif dived to grab it. Her fingers closed around the hilt and she turned to strike, but in that moment there was a deafening sound of breaking stone, and wind and water came pouring in. Saphira's talons ripped into the stone for a second time, demolishing half the top of the roost, and then reached through the hole. 'Sif! Sif, quickly, come closer, let me pull you out of there!'

Galbatorix was lying amid the rubble, groaning as he tried to get up. Sif's terror returned at the sight of it, and she thrust her sword into her belt and ran toward Saphira's groping talons.

Something grabbed at her leg, and she stopped and looked down. It was Skandar. He had pulled himself up on a chunk of stone and was reaching toward her, one hand clutching the dagger. 'Please,' he moaned. 'Sif, help me.'

Sif glanced over at Galbatorix. He was getting up, starting toward them, black and terrible. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, and that was enough to end it.

Saphira made one last thrust of her foreleg, and her talons closed around Sif's waist, tipping her forward. As she fell, her outflung hand caught hold of Skandar's arm.

Galbatorix raised his hand and hurled a spell at them, but too late. Saphira pulled, and Sif was dragged out into the open air and away as the blue dragon took flight. The magic hit the rubble at the edge of the gaping hole and created a vivid green explosion that sent fragments of stone hurtling out over the city.

Saphira flew upward. 'Sif! Sif, what should we do?'

'Fly!' Sif shouted back. 'Fly, Saphira! Get us away from here as fast as you can! NOW!'

Saphira asked no questions. She turned herself and fled away, heedless of the raging storm, Sif and Skandar dangling from her talons.

Skandar was a dead weight, but Sif didn't let go of his arm. She held on with both hands, urging Saphira to fly as fast as she could all the while. Panic had hold of her, and all she could think of now was to get away; away from Ilirea, away from the ghastly spectre that lived there now, and the death she had been about to die by Skandar's side.

They flew for a long time. Saphira could barely see where she was going; forced to navigate by the occasional flashes of lightning from overhead and constantly buffeted by the wind. But nothing came in pursuit, and after a time the storm began to die down a little. She finally came down to land somewhere well away from the city, in an isolated spot enclosed by trees, though she carefully deposited her burden on the ground before coming down to land.

She spread her wings over Sif to protect her from the rain. 'Sif, are you all right?'

Sif huddled on the wet ground, breathing heavily. She was tending to Skandar. The weredragon lay on his back, blood soaked into his robe along with water.

Saphira recoiled instantly. 'Him! Sif, what in the gods' names-?'

Sif looked up at her. 'He's hurt.' She muttered a word and summoned up a light which illuminated both of them. She touched Skandar's face. 'Skandar. Can you hear me?'

Skandar was as pale as death, but his eyes were open. 'Sif.' His voice was low and rasping, strangled by pain.

The dagger was still embedded in his chest. Sif took hold of the hilt and prepared to pull it out.

Skandar's hand came up and batted weakly at hers. 'No,' he said. 'No, don't. Don't take it out.'

'Skandar, I have to,' said Sif.

Skandar's face contorted. 'No,' he said again. 'I'll bleed. Bleed to death.'

'But I can heal you,' said Sif.

'Stop this,' Saphira interrupted. 'Sif, what are you doing? This man killed your mother!'

'No.' Sif laid a hand on Skandar's forehead. 'I have to know, Saphira. Skandar… Skandar!'

Skandar's eyes had closed. 'Sif,' he mumbled.

'Skandar, listen,' said Sif. 'I have to know. Did you do it? Did you kill my mother? Or Carnoc, or Jarsha?'

His fingers curled, grasping at nothing. 'No. No. Never. I wouldn't. Couldn't.'

'Prove it,' said Sif. 'Say the words.'

'Don't know… words. Teach… teach me, Sif.'

Very quietly, Sif told him the words. I did not kill your mother. At first it seemed Skandar couldn't hear her; he was silent for a long time after she had said them, eyes closed.

Sif felt for his hand, and clasped it in hers. 'Skandar?'

Very gently, he squeezed her fingers in his own. 'Again,' he whispered. 'Say it again.'

She did, repeating them several times, and when she had done he nodded ever so slightly.

'I… did… not… k… did not… did not kill… your… did not kill your mother.'

Sif tightened her grip on his hand. 'Say it again!'

Skandar convulsed and shuddered. 'I did not… I did not kill your mother,' he said, his voice just audible now. But he had said the words, and she had heard him, and he had not faltered.

Sif let go of his hand and took hold of the dagger. 'Then you're innocent,' she said, and wrenched it out.

Skandar's eyes snapped open, and he screamed. Blood bubbled out of the terrible wound in his chest, and Sif nearly panicked, but Saphira was here now and she knew what to do.

'Waíse heill!'

Blue magic gathered around the edges of the wound, weakly at first but brighter and brighter. Sif kept it going, putting all her energies into it until the bleeding stopped. Her heart lifted as she saw the flesh begin to knit back together. She had never healed an injury this serious before, and it took more energy than she had imagined, but she continued to sustain it until it faded of its own accord and she sat back, gasping for breath.

Skandar stared up at her with glassy eyes. 'It hurts.'

Sif could feel herself trembling with exhaustion as she slumped down beside him. 'It's all right,' she said. 'It's all right. I've healed you. You're all right.'

Skandar made a brief attempt to sit up, but he soon fell back. His breathing was low and rasping and he suddenly started to cough; horrible, hacking coughs that shook him all over before he slumped, groaning.

Sif touched his face; his skin was cold, without the inner fire she had come to know so well. 'I don't understand,' she said, to Saphira. 'Why isn't he better? I healed him.'

Saphira brought her snout down to sniff at the motionless weredragon. 'You healed the wound on the outside,' she said gently. 'There may still be damage inside him.'

'Then what should I do?' said Sif.

'There's nothing you can do,' said Saphira. 'It would take someone with special training in healing magic to do anything more than you've already done.'

Sif shook Skandar by the shoulder. 'Skandar. Skandar, please, wake up.'

Skandar's eyes were closed, but he seemed to hear her. 'It hurts,' he said again. 'Can't… can't breathe.' He coughed again, harder, and his breathing became more laboured.

'Skandar, I don't understand,' said Sif. 'Why were you in the castle?'

Skandar opened his eyes. 'Hiding.'

'Yes, but why? If you weren't there to kill me…'

He shuddered. 'Came to… came to find you. Knew you were in… danger. Came to protect you.'

'Protect me?' said Sif.

Skandar had fallen silent, his eyes still half-open and watching her. Sif grasped his hand and held it. 'Please,' she said. 'Don't die. Don't die, Skandar.'

He made a harsh, hacking sound that might have been a laugh. 'Do my best,' he said.

Sif realised there were tears on her face. 'Don't die,' she said again. 'Please. I can't lose you too, Skandar.'

But Skandar did not reply.

'What happened to him?' said Saphira. 'If he didn't kill your mother, who did?'

'It was Galbatorix,' Sif sobbed. 'He's here. He's alive. He killed Mother, and the others, he told me so. And he stabbed Skandar… how could he do that? How could he kill his own son?'

'No.' Skandar's grip tightened on her hand. 'No,' he said again. 'It's n- it's not him. It can't be him. Can't.'

'But Skandar, you saw him,' said Sif. 'We both saw him. My mother said he was a master of disguise… how could it not be him?'

Skandar's head turned away. 'He's dead.'

'But he's come back before,' said Sif. 'When people thought he was dead. How can you be so sure? Skandar?'

Skandar moved slightly. To her dismay, she saw that there were tears on his face. She clasped his hand to her chest. 'Skandar? Say something. Please, stay awake. How do you know your father's dead?'

Skandar coughed, and cried out, convulsing. Sif tried to hold him still, but he convulsed again, more violently, legs jerking and kicking as if he were being strangled. Awful sounds came from his throat.

'Hold him still!' Saphira commanded. 'Do it! He has to lie still!'

Sif put her hands on Skandar's shoulders and held him down, putting her full weight into it, hating herself for doing it. He continued to thrash for a time, but then he stilled once again.

Sif patted his hand to try and soothe him. 'There,' she said. 'There. You're all right. Keep still. Just rest, and tell me why that wasn't your father.'

Skandar's eyes had opened more fully now. In the darkness they looked like a pair of black holes in his face. 'Because… because I killed him,' he whispered.

Sif let go of his hand. 'What?'

But Skandar said nothing more. He had become very still, and this time he did not react when Sif called to him, or when she tried to shake him awake. She searched for a pulse, but couldn't find one. Desperate, she slapped his face and shouted at him, trying to make him wake up, but nothing happened.

Sif backed away. 'Oh gods, I think he's dead.'

As if that was a signal, Skandar's eyes snapped open and he started to convulse again. Sif tried to restrain him, but this time he did not relax again. His back arched away from the ground and he started to thrash, mouth opening wide, though no sound came out. He broke out of Sif's grasp with a sudden twist and started to jerk, his entire body twisting and flailing. When Sif tried to interfere his claws caught her on the arm, cutting a line of deep slashes through her sleeve and into the flesh beneath. After that she backed away, clutching at the injury and watching as Skandar continued to move; his eyes wide open and staring in horror.

'What's happening? What's happening to him?'

Saphira drew her away with her paw. 'I don't know…'

'He's going to hurt himself,' said Sif. 'He's going to…'

Skandar gave one more almighty jerk and then suddenly went rigid. And then the noise began. It began with a muffled, gristly crack, coming from somewhere inside Skandar's body. Skandar twitched again, and the sounds increased – wet, tearing, ripping sounds, mingled with crackings and breakings that turned Sif's stomach. Skandar's eyes rolled back in his head, and he started to scream; awful, high, tortured screams.

'What-?' Sif began.

But after that she saw it start to happen. Skandar's pale skin darkened and then split, as a million tiny spikes burst through. His robe tore, and two long, bony shapes erupted from his shoulderblades as he continued to scream, though now his cries were beginning to take on a rough, distorted edge.

Saphira pulled away, shielding Sif with her tail. 'He's changing!' she exclaimed. 'Sif, don't look…'

But Sif had to look. She couldn't make herself look away. She watched in horrible fascination as Skandar's body began to warp and change. His limbs and torso thickened and lengthened, bones breaking and muscles tearing. The wings shaped themselves, sending out long fingers of bone and flesh with skin stretched between them. His skull became deformed, the top flattening and the face bulging forward into a snout while six long horns sprouted from the back. She saw his boots fall to pieces as his feet became paws, and his fingers merged into black talons. His screams turned into a howling roar, and finally it was complete and the great grey dragon rolled onto his side, jaws sagging open to show rows of bloodied fangs.

Sif hesitated a few moments and then ventured closer. 'Skandar…?'

The dragon lifted his head and looked groggily at her. 'Is that you, Sif?' Skandar's voice, a little shaky but perfectly alert.

Sif stopped. 'Yes.'

Skandar struggled to his claws and staggered over to her. 'Are you all right?'

Sif couldn't stop herself from laughing. 'What? Am I all right?'

Skandar lay down heavily. 'Well… are you?'

'Yes, of course. Skandar, what in the gods' names happened?'

Skandar tried to bring his snout down level with her, but Saphira came forward, putting herself in the way. 'That's close enough,' she snapped. 'I don't trust you, weredragon.'

Skandar paused, staring at her, and then backed away and lay down in a resigned kind of way. 'Fine. Sif…' he lifted his head to look at her. 'Thankyou for helping me. I'll be fine now. You can leave me if you want to.'

'What happened?' said Sif. 'Why did…?'

'It's a reflex action,' said Skandar. 'I didn't mean to scare you, but I didn't have any control over it. The dragon shape knows when… it rises. When I'm weak or upset, or afraid. Or when I'm hurt. My body reshapes to try and protect itself. That wound would have killed me in my other shape, but in this one I can survive it.'

'Do you feel better now?' said Sif.

He nodded. 'I'll be all right.'

Sif smiled weakly. 'I'm glad.'

'You are?' he sounded genuinely surprised. 'Why?'

'I didn't want you to die,' said Sif. 'You didn't kill my mother.'

'No. Nor any of the others, I promise you. Sif, where's Murtagh? Is he all right? I thought he could fight back against that… thing, but…'

Sif looked away. 'He's dead.'

'What? How?'

'He killed himself,' Saphira interrupted. 'Only a few hours before you came. Sif, I want to know what's going on. Who killed the others?' She glared at Skandar. 'Or do you know, maybe?'

'No,' said Skandar. 'I swear, I don't. But it's not my father. That man was not my father.'

'But then who was he?' said Sif.

'I don't know. An impostor of some kind. He pretended to be me, and then he pretended to be my father.'

'Is this true?' said Saphira.

'Yes,' said Sif. 'I thought he was Skandar, but… his teeth. I saw his teeth. He had both of his… fangs? But Skandar only has one now. The other one's broken. But I thought it was him until-,'

'I came,' said Skandar. 'I was hiding in my father's old bedroom, under the roost, and I heard you out there. I'd sworn not to show myself, but I knew you were in danger…'

'And when I saw him,' said Sif, 'I didn't understand what was going on. But Skandar told… him… to show his real face, and he turned into Galbatorix. And Skandar believed it was him, and he stabbed him and then tried to kill me.'

'Yes,' said Skandar. 'He fooled me. But it can't have been him. Even if my father were alive, he wasn't like that. He'd never…'

'You killed him,' said Sif. 'You said you killed him. Why?'

Skandar closed his eyes. 'He's gone. That's all you need to know. He's gone and he's not coming back, and that man in Ilirea was not him any more than he was me. But whoever he is, he killed the other riders and he wants to kill us too.'

'But what about you?' said Saphira. 'Where have you been all this time?'

'Hiding,' Skandar said briefly. 'Trying to survive. It wasn't easy. Everywhere I went, people were after me. I knew if I was captured again I was doomed.' He growled under his breath. 'When I found out why I had been arrested, it was clear to me that someone had framed me. I vowed that I would find out who had done it and kill them, no matter who they were. But it was difficult. Your friend, Carnoc, came looking for me in the Spine. I saw him and lured him into a trap. Once I had him, I forced him to tell me everything he knew. I didn't hurt him,' he added hastily. 'But I threatened to. In the end he was glad enough to help me, but his information was useless. I let him go and fled. A few days later one of the wild dragons told me he had been killed only a few hours later. I went to Dras-Leona and hid there near the lake… I slipped into the city in human form, hoping to get to Jarsha, but I overheard that he had been murdered – supposedly by me. Someone was killing riders, and I knew that they were probably going to come for you and Murtagh next, so I flew back here as fast as I could, to warn you before it was too late.' Skandar sighed. 'For a while, I believed it was Murtagh. But he wasn't in Dras-Leona, or the Spine when it happened. And now he's dead… I'm sorry, Sif. I came too late. And I didn't manage to rescue you either. But Saphira did a fine job of rescuing both of us. I owe you my thanks too, Saphira.'

Sif listened carefully. 'So… gods. We wasted all that time hunting you, when it was someone else all along.'

'Yes. One thing is obvious; he hates me as much as he hates you.' He looked upward and flexed his claws. 'It wouldn't surprise me if he's looking for us now… the rain probably delayed him, though.'

Sif drew her sword. 'I'm going back. I'll kill him.'

'Oh? Like you did just now?'

'That was different,' Sif snapped. 'Saphira wasn't there to help. This time I'll be ready. I can't let him hunt me down like some kind of animal. If he killed the others, I'll kill him.'

Skandar nodded slightly. 'Yes. It's your right; more so than it is mine.'

'I'll go, then,' said Sif, and turned away toward Saphira.

'Sif, wait.' Skandar had stood up and took a few steps closer to them, limping in one foreleg. When Sif turned around, she could see a ragged scar among his chest scales.

'What is it?' she demanded.

'I'll come with you,' said Skandar. 'If you're going to do this, you'll need my help.'

Sif watched him for a few moments. 'No,' she said at last. 'I'll do this myself. I don't need you.'

'Sif, you shouldn't-,'

But Sif turned away. 'I mean it. Leave me alone.'

Skandar growled. 'Don't be childish. Look, just trust me-,'

'Trust you?' said Sif, turning back suddenly. 'Like I trusted you in Gil'ead? Like I trusted you in the King's Wood? How can I trust you? All you've ever done is lie to me, and I'm tired of you treating me like an idiot. I'm not an idiot, understand? I'm Lady Sif, I'm the Mistress of the Riders now, and you're nothing. You're just a bastard weredragon with a foreign accent; you don't rule anything.'

'Sif, stop it. Gods damn ye, stop it.'

'No,' Sif shouted. 'I'm the rider, and I say we go. Without you. Go away, Skandar. I never want to see you again.'

Skandar had pulled away from her during her tirade, and when it ended he stood still for a moment. His jaws opened and his hackles rose; she could see his talons tearing at the ground and his tail lashing. The very beginnings of a growl started to rumble in his chest, and Saphira shifted her position ever so slightly, bracing herself for an attack. But Skandar abruptly relaxed and sat back on his haunches. 'Go then, rider,' he said in icy tones. 'And good luck.'

'Don't you be sarcastic at me,' said Sif.

'I'm not,' said Skandar. He paused and raised a forepaw, holding his palm out toward her in the manner of a rider before he closed his eyes and started to chant softly. 'Callineb chan Sarff bod eiddo. Callineb chan Reibia bod eiddo. Callineb chan 'n bybyr Eryr. Lais chan Alarch bod eiddo. Lais chan fêl bod eiddo. Lais chan 'r Heula chan 'r Sêr.'

'What does that mean?' Saphira asked sharply.

'I was blessing you,' said Skandar. 'Now go. And Sif…'

'Yes?' said Sif.

Skandar had opened his eyes and was watching her impassively. 'When I was arrested. When they were taking me to the dungeon and you tried to stop them…'

Sif felt her heart beat faster. 'Yes?'

'I told you I loved you,' said Skandar. 'You remember that, don't you?'

'Of course I do,' said Sif. 'Skandar, if you're trying…'

'It was a lie,' Skandar said softly. 'I was desperate. I thought that if you believed it you might help me. I never felt anything for you, understand? Not at Gil'ead, not in the King's Wood, not at any of the times we were together. And I was never going to make you my Queen.' He snorted. 'You, ruling the Empire? My father would have been horrified.'

Sif felt as if she had been kicked in the guts. 'Skandar, don't. Stop it.'

But Skandar only bared his teeth at her. 'You're a little fool, Sif. You're your father's daughter, every inch of you. Go and get yourself killed if you want to, but I'll have nothing more to do with it. Goodbye.' He turned and limped away, rain slicking his scales. His wings unfurled, and he flew off without another word, vanishing into the night.