A Childhood Ended

The main hall was warmly light from the multiple, flameless lanterns that adorned the walls and a crackling fire filled it with a pleasant aroma of pine and juniper wood. It was slowly getting dark outside and soon the sun would set.

Murtagh noticed several things at once when he walked in: the silence… Sabrina's red, teary eyes… Tornac, staring into the fire with a somber expression and Tarrion, the somewhat peculiar healer that Murtagh had grown to like over the last few years, who never came unless his service was desperately needed.

Murtagh stopped. Something was not right. He had been out in the woods making sure his cave was still intact, just in case his mother did somehow get better. He just couldn't bring himself to believe what she had told him two days ago. She just had to be alright.

"Murtagh, why don't you sit down?" Tornac's voice was calm and serious.

A terrible realization dawned on the five year old as he slowly walked over to the empty space in the couch, across from Tornac. It can't be, he thought desperately.

One look from Sabrina, with her sorrow-filled eyes confirmed that he was right.

Murtagh suddenly turned and ran as fast as he could. Behind him he heard Tornac call his name. He didn't slow down. He couldn't hear what they were going to tell him. Not wanting to believe it, but believing all the same.

He ran out the door, into the rose garden where he and his mother had spent so many happy moments together before Tornac caught him from behind.

Murtagh thrashed his arms, trying to writhe out of his friends hold, trying to push him away with all his might.

Tornac didn't loosen his gentle but firm embrace. "Murtagh," he said quietly, "stop, just listen to me."

"No," Murtagh screamed. "Don't say it! It's not true! It can't be true."

"Murtagh, listen to me." Tornac pulled the boy closer. "Listen to me, your mother is safe now. She's safe and happy, forever, do you understand?"

A sob escaped the five-year-old. He nodded and pressed himself into his friends embrace.

"I know it's hard. You have no idea how well I know how hard it is," Tornac continued soothingly. "We all loved your mother and she will be missed so much, but you have to be strong now. You can be; I know it. I believe in you. You can't change anything, Murtagh, there's nothing you can do but be strong and brave like your mother was. Just remember how much she loved you and that she's alright now and we'll all get through this together."

An expression of pure hatred suddenly transformed the boy's features. "My father did this to her," he exclaimed. "He killed her; it's all his fault!"

"Murtagh," Tornac said steadily, hoping to calm the boy down.

He didn't let him continue. "I hate him! Someday I'll kill him."

"Murtagh!" Tornac tried again. "Don't try anything foolish or you might end up dead too."

"No," Murtagh yelled into the empty garden. "I'll be stronger than him. I'll be a better warrior than him. Someday I'll be better!"

Tornac let him go enough to look straight into his eyes. "Murtagh, do not become what he is. Don't forget who you are."

‡

The message arrived not a week later: Morzan was dead! Killed in battle by an old enemy. That was all they were told. Tornac couldn't say he was sorry. The rider had never been liked by any of his servants. He was a cruel master and Tornac resented that there had been nothing he could do to stop the Rider from mistreating those he owned, especially Selena and sometimes even Sabrina or Murtagh. More than once Tornac had felt the bite of the lash on his own back when he spoke out in the defense of one of the people he loved.

All that was over now! His Master was dead, at last. The only thing that worried him now was Murtagh. The boy was in constant turmoil. One minute he was grinning with savage satisfaction that his father was no longer alive and that someone had defeated him. Next, he was on the brink of tears with rage at whoever had taken his chance of revenge, and that he would never be the one to make Morzan pay for all his wrongdoings.

Then, only days later, another message arrived, this time from the capital, from Galbatorix himself, informing them that everything and everyone that had once belonged to Morzan was now in the personal ownership of the king. The letter ended with:

… the deepest condolences to the son and heir of our advisor and friend, the lord Morzan, over the loss of his parents. It is our wish that he be placed under our personal protection that we may oversee his upbringing and education to ensure that he receives all the privileges and responsibilities he is entitled to by his birthright. To that end we summon him to Urû'baen, the shining capital of this proud nation and it is our desire that we may welcome him here, at our royal court, within the next few weeks.

‡

Two weeks later the wagon rolled up the streets of the capital, overshadowed by the huge rock ledge. Murtagh looked around, frightened but curious and pressed closer against Tornac who had his arm protectively around the boy. So this is my new home, he thought with such mixed emotions it exhausted him. It had all been so confusing since their almost immediate departure following the arrival of the letter.

This was such a massive change from the small, confined world he had lived in so far and the change had been somewhat welcome when they had left Morzan's estate. But the long days of traveling, with no time to run and play and no warm familiar room to go to sleep in had soon consumed all his excitement and he still fell asleep crying for his lost home and his mother whom he had failed to avenge.

Now he examined is new surrounding with fear and bitter resentment at the fact that there were no trees to climb and no forest to escape to.

"Tornac," he asked quietly, looking up at his friend.

"Yes."

"When is Sabrina coming?"

"In a few weeks, when everything has been taken care of back home, alright?" The letter from the king, saying they had two weeks to get to Urû'baen had left them no time to pack. Although Tornac hated the thought of being separated from his wife, they had both come to the conclusion that it was necessary for Sabrina to stay behind and take care of the final details.

Tornac refrained from mentioning that when Sabrina did come it would probably only be temporarily, to say good-bye to Murtagh and him and to drop off the boy's personal belongings. He doubted that Galbatorix would allow her to stay and he wasn't even sure that he would be allowed to stay. The king had summoned Murtagh to the court, not his caretakers. Perhaps he would let Tornac stay with the five-year-old as a servant, but Sabrina would most likely be sent back to Morzan's estate. Whichever way the king decided, he and Sabrina would have to obey. They belonged to him now; they were his property.

"Does it have to be so long?" Murtagh's question interrupted his thoughts.

"You want her to bring your things, don't you?"

"Yes, but…" He trailed off as something colourful in a side street caught his attention. Unfortunately they passed too quickly for him to make out what it was, though.

"Then you're just going to have to be patient."

"Alright."

Tornac looked down at the boy, a dull ache in his chest as he knew that soon he would have to say farewell to either his wife or the boy he had come to love as his son. Deep inside, though, he knew that if he was ever given a choice in the matter, he would stay with Murtagh. He couldn't leave the boy, ever, to be corrupted by the twisted ways of the capital and the court, and he couldn't think of how Murtagh would deal with another loss like that.

Tornac had already spoken to his wife about this, and she agreed with him: Murtagh had to be put before everything they wanted for themselves. They owed it to Selena, who had become a part of their family, like a sister, and to the boy whom they considered to be their son. Who stood in the place of the daughter they had lost so long ago at the hands of Morzan.

It needn't be a farewell forever, he thought hopefully, then pushed the thought out of his mind as they approached the wide gates that lead into the very heart of Urû'baen; to the palace itself.