Murtagh felt his heart stop as a scream violently yanked him out of sleep. Confused he nearly fell out of his cot until he realized it was Halen. He stumbled to the door, grabbing his hand-and-a-half sword as he began to wake up, panicked and fearing the worst.
Denu was right on his heels as they burst into Halen's room. Murtagh froze in surprise, but Denu, apparently more familiar with her nightmares, passed him. "Help me hold her down."
Murtagh blinked, still trying to process the lack of danger. Denu firmly coaxed him into action however, and Murtagh propped his sword against the wall before doing as instructed. Denu told Murtagh where to pin her arms and legs, offering a not-so-subtle warning as he did so. "Brace yourself. Until she wakes up, she will fight even harder against you."
And fight him she did. Whatever she was seeing, whatever she was remembering, it terrified her. Tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes and into her hairline, whimpers of pain and fear leaving a haunting impression in his memory. She screamed again, crying as if she were being tortured by the Ra'zac once more. He felt queasy.
Holding her down was exhausting. She bucked and thrashed underneath him as Denu stroked her hair back from where it stuck to the beads of sweat on her forehead. In fact, her gown seemed to cling to her, and Murtagh realized she was covered in sweat. He frowned, listening to Denu talk about riding through the forest, describing scenery he never should've been able to see in vivid detail. It sounded rehearsed and strangely familiar, and Murtagh remembered waking up to Halen telling him a similar story when he suffered from his own fit.
It felt like ages before Halen began to grow still, her attacks fading into spasms which, in turn, faded into shivers. The crease between her brows began to lift as her body weakened. Denu moved, reaching blindly, quite literally, behind her cot and pulling a wastebasket to the side of the bed. Murtagh only had a moment to register what it was for and jumped off Halen so that she would be able to move.
When her eyes finally opened, they were distant, frightened. And then her body lurched forward and she rolled onto her side, heaving the contents of her dinner into the bin. Murtagh grimaced at the sight, empathetic, as Denu slowly rubbed her back, talking to her in a low voice. Halen was crying quietly, and she spit when she was finished before lying back on her side. She looked exhausted, weary. Murtagh watched as her hands, which had been destroyed by the Ra'zac, trembled worse than any other part of her, and she squeezed them together tightly. Only then did she notice he was even standing there, and when she saw where his eyes were, she tucked her arms underneath her as if to hide them from view.
"I'm okay," she groaned, looking and sounding anything but. "I'm okay, I just…"
Her voice broke and she covered her mouth with her hand, squeezing her eyes shut against an onslaught of emotions. Murtagh forced himself to look away as Denu sat beside her and pulled her head into his lap. Halen cried freely, and they both seemed to forget he was even there. He didn't know what to do, almost nervous to move in case that made his presence more known than it already was.
So, he stayed, keeping close to the door but standing just outside of her room so they had a bit of privacy. It was almost another hour before her sobs began to quiet, and when he finally looked in, she had fallen asleep.
She looked almost like a child, curled up with her head in Denu's lap. So…small. He felt horrible, knowing that part of her nightmares stemmed from the Ra'zac. The way she had been clutching her hands, as if they pained her. But he also could not help but wonder if speaking of her mother and what she had witnessed had instigated these violent dreams. And he felt his stomach roll with guilt yet again.
Murtagh watched Denu closely as well. The old man looked tired, not in body, but in mind and heart. And Murtagh could imagine dozens — no, hundreds — of nights like this. Denu just holding Halen until she fell asleep, staying awake to make sure she felt safe despite the demons that lurked where he could not protect her. Murtagh knew what it was like to watch someone you love suffer and feel nothing but helplessness. But these nightmares felt cruel to both Halen and Denu. No one had protected Halen then. No one could protect her now. And everyone felt weaker for it.
"You do not have to stay any longer, Murtagh," Denu said, looking at him but seeing nothing. "Please, get some rest."
There was something politely dismissive in the man's tone. And Murtagh knew he was seeking privacy for Halen's sake. If she must suffer, let it be away from unfamiliar eyes. That was fair. And Murtagh felt more than useless just standing there anyway now that she was asleep again.
Lying back down in his cot, Murtagh suddenly felt haunted by his own memories. Memories of what had been done to him and what he had then done to others. A perpetuated cycle of hatred that he had not been capable of stopping. At least not on his own.
Then let us start anew, Thorn said gently. Let us teach the woman to wield her fear against her enemies rather than herself.
I don't think it will be that simple. The kind of torture she had to endure before we arrived…she is not a warrior or soldier like we were. And look how long it took us to even speak of what was done to us. This on top of whatever hell she has already survived. No, we will have to find another way.
Thorn sat in silence, thinking carefully for a moment. I haven't the faintest idea.
Murtagh snorted. Nor do I.
The next morning, breakfast was as stiff and uncomfortable as he had expected it to be. Denu was pleasant enough, but his gaze continuously strayed to Halen, who was melancholic and silent. She looked exhausted, her eyes red and her lids puffy from when she had cried. Her complexion seemed waxy and she barely touched her food.
Murtagh almost hesitated bringing up her lessons. He swallowed, finding her in the kitchen as she set dishes aside to be washed. Her back was to him as he approached, but she did not jump when he cleared his throat. Regardless of her state of mind, her senses were still sharp as ever.
"I thought perhaps we could start your lessons tonight," he said, jumping straight to the point. "Nothing too strenuous. Perhaps an overview of the language and a brief history of magic itself."
It seemed so boring, but it was the best he could do. And he knew she had to start somewhere. Halen did not stop working, and she was silent for so long he thought either she hadn't heard, was ignoring him, or was trying to find a way out of the lessons altogether.
"Is it okay if I take notes?"
Her voice was soft, filled with a despair that hung between them. Murtagh nodded. "Yes. I'd encourage it, actually."
She breathed. "We'll wait a few minutes after Denu goes to bed then. He's usually a pretty heavy sleeper so long as we keep quiet."
And that was that.
Murtagh felt that it had gone better than expected, and turned to leave when she suddenly called out to him. He paused, glancing over his shoulder to find her gaze riveted on him. His shoulders went slack as he took in the sight before him, her shoulders squared, her spine straight, and chin tilted out. He wanted to assure her that she had no reason to put on airs in front of him, then realized that perhaps it was more for her own well-being.
"Thank you," she said, her voice much more even-toned. "For assisting Denu last night. And for…being there. I apologize for disturbing you."
She dropped her gaze quickly, like she had exerted all of her energy into it and couldn't withstand it any longer. He was going to tell her she had nothing to be sorry for. In fact, was that not exactly what she had told him after coaxing him out of his own nightmare? But she turned away from him, continuing her chores as if he wasn't even there. And Murtagh could not find it in him to speak to her back.
…
Time would be of the essence: Murtagh would need to fit in her training as well as figure out if there were any more Ra'zac sneaking around, all the while helping to rebuild Amon's hut. While he couldn't train her every day, they decided on a schedule that worked for them both, giving her time to practice her lessons before she saw him next. And although they were both occupied during the daytime, their evenings and nights were still free.
At first, things were uncomfortable for the both of them. Murtagh still felt unsure of how to behave around her, no doubt still pressed for her wellbeing. And Hal was still self-conscious and reeling from her nightmare. She was ashamed, so she went the extra mile in being patient with him while he attempted to figure out his lessons.
He was clearly unaccustomed to teaching. The first few nights were confusing and, admittedly, frustrating as he began one part of his lesson, realized there was preluding information she needed to know, and then backtracked quickly to fill in the details. Hal, however, found his frustration rather endearing, but knew better than to tell him that. But he soon found a starting place that worked for them both. Hal suspected Thorn may have had a hand in it.
Soon, their lessons just became a regular part of their day. As soon as Denu went to sleep, they would give him a few more minutes to make sure he didn't wake up, forgetting something. Afterwards, huddled together at the table in Murtagh's temporary room, Hal would pull out her notes from the previous lesson and they would begin again from where they had left off last.
Studying the Ancient Language by flame with Murtagh and Thorn became something Hal actually began to look forward to. It was a gradual shift, requiring time to get past her initial impatience at the slower pace and her desire to, shamefully, master the lessons as quickly as possible, if only to prove she could. For she still couldn't shake the feeling that she would fail and only make matters worse for herself and the villagers. But Murtagh, perhaps to overcompensate for her lack of confidence, maintained faith in her. And despite the why of it all, she couldn't help but appreciate it. Not to mention it had been a while since she had something new to learn, and it was nice to have an actual teacher rather than learning it herself.
Barely three weeks in and Hal had an itch of a question she had been longing to scratch. Murtagh was talking, leaning over her work from the night before and pointing out a few of her mistakes. But Hal couldn't focus.
"What was he like? Galbatorix, when he was teaching you — what was he like?"
She realized after she spoke that she should've probably given him some kind of indication that she was going to drop such a heavy question on him. He froze, refusing to turn and look at her. She had a feeling that the answer was that he was terrible, but she wanted to hear him say it.
"Why ask?"
His tone was hard, and Hal relaxed her stance a bit. She had to remind herself that, just like her, he didn't freely hand out information about his past. She never meant to make him uncomfortable. She just…
"I want to understand you better," she admitted. "And if we're being honest here, Galbatorix was powerful, right? While it can't be…ideal to have had him as a teacher, I guess I couldn't help but wonder. That's all."
He straightened up, his face impassive. Hal watched him quietly, her head unconsciously tilting to the side as she studied the man before her. Eventually, Murtagh finally put his chin in his hand, resting his elbow on the table.
"The lessons were brutal, often back-breaking…"
Whenever Murtagh spoke of his past, even just for a moment, his entire demeanor shifted. It was often one of the few times he seemed truly unguarded. It's hard to have a wall up when talking about something that leaves you feeling so vulnerable. But she, admittedly, liked this Murtagh. The one with the sagging, broad shoulders instead of stiff and uptight. The Murtagh whose voice was hauntingly deep, a slow rumble as he recalled even the smallest of details, proving he missed very little. But his eyes pulled it all together. There were so many emotions in him, and his eyes hid nothing. Pain, sadness, humility, desperation, and love when he spoke of Thorn. He was like a completely different person. A completely different man.
Hal would occasionally ask questions, but mainly, she just wanted to sit back and listen. It was troubling, to hear of how he and Thorn were often tortured and tested by Galbatorix. Part of her regretted asking, making him speak of what had to be painful memories. Especially considering he never pushed Hal to talk of her past in such detail after she had revealed what she had. And she didn't. But when he was done, he let out a slow breath and looked at her. There was a teasing gleam in his eyes and Hal rolled back in surprise.
"Don't think you're getting out of conjugating these verbs that easily."
"Dammit. How did you know?"
He smiled, seeming much more at ease than before, and she smiled back. They returned to her work as if his story had never happened. But little by little, they developed an easygoing banter that mirrored what they had had before the Ra'zac had taken her. They were still distant. Cordial. But it lessened the tension and made the proximity somewhat more bearable in nature. Not quite friends, but not strangers anymore either. But there were some moments when Hal wished Murtagh had never stayed, that she had never asked to spend more time with him by asking for him to train her. Perhaps, if she hadn't, she wouldn't have to worry about whether or not she was getting too close. Too attached.
Not that it mattered. He would be gone in a few months.
…
"No."
"Halen."
"No, I refuse."
"You said you wanted my help."
"Yes, but I didn't realize you meant this. How could you ask such a thing of me?"
"You know I won't hurt you —"
"That's not the point! The point is I didn't like you in my mind the first time and now you think I'm just going to let you waltz back in?!"
"I told you, I'm not intentionally trying to invade your mind. I'm teaching you to shield it, and yes, while you're learning, I will be able to see —"
"Absolutely not."
Murtagh huffed irritably, staring at a disgruntled Halen with annoyance. He knew it wasn't ideal, but her resistance was infuriating.
I don't seem to recall a moment in your life when you wanted people wandering around in your head, Thorn said, lying down behind him in a moment of sheer laziness. The sun was especially high today, and the villagers had retired early from their work to avoid fainting spells and other heat-related illnesses. Halen and Murtagh had decided to take the extra time and snuck away to Hal's private spot in the woods. It was less than a mile or so from the village, but was nestled at the base of a wide, steep hill. There was a narrow opening in the side that she kept hidden with a "fence" of sticks tied together with twine and covered with vines.
"I feel honored," Murtagh had muttered dryly at the sight, noting her efforts to keep the place to herself.
"As you should," she'd responded. "And if you breathe a word of this place to anyone, I'll make you hard to find as well."
And after making sure to secure her faux cover back over the entryway, Murtagh moved to catch up with Hal who was nearing the other side. The tunnel was just big enough for them to crouch through, although Murtagh's shoulders were just broad enough that he would bump the sides more than Hal would. Fortunately, they weren't going very far, and the opening was a little bit wider on the opposite end.
There was a large bank of hard rock for them to walk on, big enough to hold Thorn, to practice fighting, and much more, without worry of anyone accidentally stumbling into their lessons. The spring was deep, the water quiet and calm here compared to the river that flowed through the island. And it was freshwater, so they could refill their flasks when necessary, especially during the hotter days. There were a few larger rocks, easy enough to jump from one to the other to reach the other side where part of the forest continued, providing plenty of shade and more a comfortable surface for them to sit, just like they were now.
It's not the same thing, Murtagh argued. I want to help. I have no intention of straying anywhere in her thoughts.
Well try to be more understanding of her reservations. Especially considering the painful memories she has carefully guarded and kept to herself.
Murtagh flinched inwardly. That little detail had, unfortunately, slipped his mind.
Be. Patient, Thorn added with finality.
Murtagh sighed, ducking his head down to compose himself. "Halen, I know you don't like this, and neither do I. But I must teach you how to protect yourself, and there will be risks involved."
"But there are things I don't want you to see. Things I'm not ready to reveal." Murtagh kept his face neutral as Thorn responded with a smug I told you so. "Can you promise me you won't look?"
"As long as you don't think about them, then yes. You have more control than you think. You can pick and choose which memories I see. But I'm not trying to go through your thoughts, I want you to be able to stop me. That's the point of this exercise."
"If I do this…I can keep people from reading my mind, right?"
He tried not to smile at how simply she put things. "I hope so."
She let out a groan of frustration, dropping her head into her hands. "Fine. Tell me what to do."
She was nervous, that much was obvious. He treaded carefully, sitting her down against a tree before situating himself in front of her. "First, so that I don't see anything you don't want me to, I want you to focus on a memory. Any one at all. And then I want you to picture a wall around that memory."
"That's it?"
"Trust me, it's harder than it sounds."
"Of course it is."
He gave her a wry smile. "One last thing. The process of someone being in your mind is never…pleasant. I will make my efforts as gentle as possible so as not to hurt you."
She gave him a confused look, as if the warning was unnecessary and his efforts obvious. "I know you will," she assured him, as if the roles were somehow reversed and she was the one making sure he was comfortable.
As she sat there, attempting to get relaxed and situated, Murtagh felt something warm blossom in his chest at her words. Although they were still treading lightly around one another, he was pleased that she trusted him enough for this. He knew what he was asking of her was much, especially considering his own experiences.
"I'm ready."
"All right. Let's begin." She gripped her skirt tightly. "Remember, just focus on one memory you don't mind me seeing."
"I've got it."
He slid himself smoothly into her consciousness. He chuckled when he saw the memory she had chosen. It was the day she had rescued him from the Nïdhwal. But she hadn't been close to stopping him, and he removed himself despite his curiosity to see the events as they unfolded through her eyes.
She shivered, feeling his presence enter and exit her mind. "Outstanding. Even I'm amazed by how disappointing my defenses are."
He tried not to laugh at the sarcastic awe in her voice, but he did have to bite down on his lower lip to keep from smiling. "It's not meant to be easy. Trust me, it took me years to create a shield strong enough to keep others out. Only Galbatorix could break it and that's only after Thorn hatched for me, which he used to his advantage. After he discovered my true name my shields became meaningless to him anyway."
"I can't tell if you're trying to help or not-so-subtly bragging, rider."
He grinned.
"Let's go again," she said with a deep breath.
They must've spent hours alone in the woods, practicing. Halen would occasionally switch up the memory, just for them both to have something else to look at. Thorn would occasionally share his advice with Murtagh to give to her, but otherwise he remained a silent observer, napping lazily in the space behind them.
But no matter what they tried, she couldn't stop him. He had felt little to no resistance throughout their entire exercise. Halen was beyond exhausted, and he was afraid she was reaching her limit.
"Let's stop for today," he said standing. He held out his hand and she took it, unable to look him in the eyes, her disappointment obvious. He pulled her to her feet, but held her firmly by her shoulders when she tried to walk away. "It just takes time, Halen."
She was quiet on the walk back. Regardless of how she thought today went, Halen was undoubtedly smart. Murtagh found it endearing when he would catch her studying, trying to keep her notes secret from others. She would read if she could during her chores and more often than not, he would catch her mouthing the words of the Ancient Language she had learned so far, committing them to memory. He actually felt…proud. Not only was she taking her lessons seriously, but she took him seriously as her teacher.
She had no problems asking him questions, even challenging him on the theories of magic. More and more, they would get into debates, sometimes on topics that had nothing to do with the lesson — and half the time he could never remember how they had reached the subject to begin with — but the conversation was always stimulating and enjoyable, even when they disagreed. With his well-read background, he could usually enlighten her in details she would have no way of knowing, but Hal was always careful to process and understand before firing off either more questions or her own conclusion.
Their lessons became a continuation of the language, while also practicing shielding her mind more and more. And slowly but surely, he saw improvement in her comprehension and expected she would soon be ready for practical execution. It was also helpful for Murtagh's training as well, a reminder of the rules and what he himself had learned. Some things had been so engrained in his mind, that there were times that even he felt like he was learning them over again. Especially since his lessons had been rushed.
But his mind was not the only thing being pushed to its limits. Murtagh's body was steadily adjusting to the labor, the work no longer tiring him as it once did. His body felt stronger, growing more muscled and lean like it had been before Galbatorix's demise. His skin was tanned from the hours spent in the sun, no longer burning as easily as it grew accustomed to the heat. They were steadily making progress, the men able to move on to create the structure of the house laying down some of the bricks while others finished drying. It had taken weeks, Murtagh hadn't even been able to keep track after a while. But he was pleased, feeling accomplished as the villagers he worked with thanked him and Thorn constantly for their efforts and help.
Murtagh had hardly bothered to practice his sparring. He barely kept up with his magic. He had let himself become weak. But as Halen and the hut progressed, he felt more certain of himself and his abilities. And one day, during the day of rest while Hal practiced the Ancient Language, Murtagh interrupted her studies and asked, "Do you want to learn how to swordfight?"
Halen stared at him with a blank look, her mind processing what he had said. "Seriously? Right now?"
"Yes, right now." She watched him carefully as he found two decent branches and broke them off the tree. He used magic to shape them until they were smooth. He tossed one to Halen who caught it with ease, but she still seemed unsure.
"I don't know, rider."
He grew embarrassed at her hesitation, misinterpreting it for a lack of interest that clashed with what had been, moments before, eagerness on his part to teach her more of what he knew. "Oh. I thought, perhaps…"
"Don't get me wrong, I do want to learn!" she said quickly. "But you're just going to embarrass me."
"I'll go easy on you."
She gave him a pointed look. "That's not comforting, you idiot."
But she got to her feet nonetheless. He walked her through the basics — how to grip the staff, where to place her feet, and find her balance. He mainly wanted to teach her defensive skills and techniques. She had a sharp eye and was quick on her feet, but it was obvious that she still lacked the proper training and confidence.
He disarmed her with ease. Repeatedly. And while he could see her embarrassment each time she lost her makeshift weapon, or was tripped up and landed on her back, her eyes grew the usual determination he had become accustomed to. Or perhaps she was just growing increasingly irritated and was eager to hit him back.
But with the extra physical exercise for Halen, he felt her defenses in shielding her mind grow stronger too. It still seemed to take more out of her then he thought it should, but whenever he commented on how weary she seemed, she brushed him off with a few quips and an easy-going smile that, each time he saw it, disarmed him more and more as he momentarily forgot himself. Only a few weeks after they had begun to spar, Murtagh tried to break into her mind. He couldn't, so he slowly began to increase his efforts. He was grinning with pride as Halen sat there like she always did, eyes closed and cross-legged. Focused.
"I'm going to increase my attack tenfold, Halen. Brace yourself and continue to try and keep me out."
He could see her throat bob nervously, but she nodded, keeping her eyes closed so as to keep her concentration. He could see the strain in her face as she fought him, her jaw tightly clenched, her eyes squeezed shut as her hands clutched the material of her skirt. He had a sudden, dizzying inclination to take her hand and let her know she would be fine, regardless of whether or not she succeeded today in keeping him out. Thankfully, the feeling disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. But her shields held true, and eventually he ceased his mental assault before he exhausted them both to the point that they could not make it back to the village.
"I can't do it. I can't get in."
Her face fell as she opened her eyes, her body sagging now that she could release her efforts. "What?" Her voice was breathless.
Murtagh was smiling from ear to ear. "You did it."
"I did it?"
"You did it!" he repeated, laughing as her disbelief transformed into pure excitement.
"I did it!" she shouted. "I did it!" And then she caught him completely by surprise: she unfurled and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Murtagh grunted as she hit him harder than either of them had expected, almost knocking him over. But when she squeezed him tightly, he could not help but celebrate with her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"Congratulations, Hal. I'm proud of you."
Her grip on him tightened and she made a low sound, like she was trying not to cry. Sure enough, she began to sniff incessantly, as if trying to keep her emotions in check. When she finally pulled back, Murtagh felt the physical loss of her against him and struggled to keep his face composed as Hal beamed at him. But whatever she was about to say died in her throat when their eyes met. She was close enough that Murtagh could see himself in her gaze. She was still, transfixed between his legs.
"I just realized you called me 'Hal'," she whispered, surprised.
He blinked. Had he? "I'm sorry. I can call you Halen. It must've just slipped out —"
"No," she said quickly. She gave him a shy smile. "You can call me 'Hal'."
He nodded, unsure as to why he felt like he had somehow earned this, but pleased, happy even, with this development. "Hal it is then."
She beamed then remembered she still had her arms around his neck. "Sorry," she whispered, moving back until she returned to her spot against the tree. "I got carried away."
"It's fine. Besides, I'm happy for you. You've worked hard for this."
She smiled again. Heavens, her smile made him feel as though he had given her the secret to everlasting life. It filled her face, lighting her eyes and putting him at such ease that he could get lost in it. "Thank you. But I couldn't have done this without you. I feel like…like I finally made a step towards reclaiming my life, you know?" He nodded and she gave him a softer smile. "You're an incredible teacher, rider."
He felt the tip of his ear redden, humbled by her words.
"Thank you, Hal."