Chapter 6 - Urû'baen

Eragon stared around the mainly barren room in Belatona's keep. In the chamber beyond, the various leaders of the Varden and other factions were crowded around a large table that Eragon knew Belatona's Generals would have studied too, only shortly before the battle which saw the Varden take Belatona at an immense cost.

The many elves present had wept for hours after the siege with Oromis' capture.

Eragon's eyes landed on a fairth which had been left behind on the bed when it's previous occupant had left. The image was simple, in the very fireplace across from him in that very room the final dragon egg had nestled in the flames. The image was also the only way the Varden had known that room to have been Vrael's.

"Little One, there was nothing we could have done," Saphira murmured to him. "Vrael planned well."

Eragon stared down at the fairth, but saw Glaedr crashing on the plains instead of the serene image spelled onto the slate. "How is he?"

Saphira's hesitation was understandable. Glaedr had just lost his Rider, whom had been torn from his back by Thorn and shortly thereafter flown off with Vrael and Murtagh likely to Urû'baen. "Grieving. If he were able to fly I don't doubt he would have followed."

"And you?" That was the only reason Eragon hadn't followed Thorn – the wound to Saphira's wing courtesy of Vrael had also grounded her until the elves had healed her. Unfortunately, Glaedr's wounds were more crippling than Saphira's. The lightning strike had caused Oromis to have a seizure, hence alongside the strike Glaedr had also been dealing with trying to keep his Rider awake and alive.

"I am fine," Saphira promised Eragon. "My pride… not so much."

"To think that Vrael has done this," a voice said from behind Eragon and Eragon turned to find Arya behind him. "Many of us are unable to believe he could have. I've been told Vrael and Oromis were always close friends until Vrael was thought to have been killed."

"Now not true," Eragon said tiredly. "How are we supposed to do this, Saphira? Now with Oromis gone…"

"We are not hopeless, Little One. We still have Glaedr, despite his injuries, and his help is invaluable."

"How is she?" Arya questioned, correctly interpreting his silence to mean he was conversing with Saphira.

"Saphira's fine," Eragon said. "Glaedr's the one to worry about for now… while he'll certainly recover, I don't think flying off to Urû'baen to fight his way through all of them will end up in his favour."

Arya nodded slightly, her gaze also on the fairth left untouched on the bed. "It's a warning," she said.

"What is?"

"The fairth," Arya murmured. "Vrael's warning us. Galbatorix is hunting for the Rider of the last egg. If he finds them…"

"All hope is lost," Eragon finished. "Especially now with no Oromis. How am I supposed to fight Murtagh, Vrael and Galbatorix by myself?"


Murtagh stood stiffly at the King's left hand. The King's right was still empty, as it had been for the past two days with Vrael's noticeable absence since their arrival back at the Capitol. Murtagh assumed Galbatorix had something to do with the ancient elf's behaviour.

While Vrael was never seen around the King's court and was confined to the layers of the keep where only Galbatorix's most loyal were permitted, Murtagh had come to realise that if Vrael was not in his own quarters – larger than Murtagh's own – then he could likely be found in the dragon hold or the library. This time seemed different, not that Murtagh was surprised. While the King had ensured meals were delivered to the elven Rider half of them went uneaten – most of which contained meat.

Galbatorix had sent Vrael out for tasks at various points over the past few decades, but never before had his orders involved taking one of his oldest friends captive and bringing them back to Urû'baen, likely for them to also become a name-slave. The game that had long been played between Vrael and Galbatorix was drawing to an end, and Murtagh wasn't sure he wanted to see it happen.

"Ebrithil is strong, Murtagh," Thorn said. "Stronger than us. If he's survived this long before us, he'll survive now."

"But he hasn't, remember?" Murtagh's mouth ran dry. While Vrael skipped over his experience with the Ra'zac, Murtagh had pieced together enough that he knew Galbatorix hadn't only entered his mind. Neither had explicitly said it, but Murtagh knew Vrael had been insane by the time Morzan retrieved him and the King had also had to piece Vrael's mind back together. It was understandable why the elf avoided the topic, and it was also understandable why he'd refused the King's initial offer for him to visit Oromis.

No doubt this was another layer to the sick game the two played as Galbatorix attempted to have Vrael willingly serve him instead of forcefully, and Vrael sometimes purposefully misinterpreted his orders.

"He is far more cunning than us," Thorn replied, no doubt sensing where Murtagh's thoughts were heading. "He stopped defending us once I was mature and he wouldn't do so now for anything. You know that. The only reason he did so before was to protect me when I was younger, Murtagh."

"And here I thought you liked him."

"I do," Thorn retorted. "He's never hurt me and I doubt he ever will, but that doesn't mean he'll stand between the King and me for anything anymore. We are not hatchlings to be shielded any longer and he knows this. Now, I suggest you pay attention."

Murtagh dragged his attention away from Thorn upon realising he was missing half of the King's words in favour of talking to the ruby dragon. Murtagh's gaze flicked to Oromis, the elf shackled from the cell's ceiling in a set up that Murtagh knew intimately from his own days beneath Urû'baen. The whip rested carelessly against the wall next to Galbatorix.

From two days locked away from magic and stuck in his own mind without any food and only meagre amounts of water, the old elf was already looking rather beaten. A sharp glare from Galbatorix made Murtagh stiffen slightly before the King returned his attention to the elf. "Now that Murtagh is once again paying attention," Galbatorix said, his tone flat and displeased with Murtagh's wandering thoughts when it was obvious this was to be another lesson. "I was just informing our new friend of how exactly I broke Vrael's mind and took the time to help him piece it back together."

Murtagh resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing it wouldn't be appreciated. "Yes, sir," he said. Murtagh was glad that both Vrael and Galbatorix had taken the time to speak only the ancient language around him for several weeks, since the conversation between Oromis and Galbatorix was partly in the elven tongue.

"It's only a shame he can't make himself more useful for all the effort it took to break his mind. Without a dragon it can be difficult to find tasks for him that will have him return at dusk, but I've made do rather well with Vrael." Galbatorix smiled, his eyes dark with a savage glee that made Murtagh tense slightly.

"If you hadn't killed Umaroth at Doru Araeba, that wouldn't be a concern," Oromis said, his voice having the same lilting quality to it that Vrael's had. Murtagh was curious to know if that was a general quirk of all elves or something else, since Vrael and Oromis were really the only elves he'd met face-to-face. "Though I know Vrael would rather Umaroth be dead than sharing in his fate."

"You know Vrael?" Galbatorix echoed, merely looking rather amused with the elf's statement. "Once, yes. But no longer. I assure you, Oromis, he's very different to how he was when you knew him a century ago – his true name is evidence enough of that. No, he's all too happily spent many a day and night reaching out and trying to feel a glimmer of Umaroth's presence at my urging. Alas, it seems he truly was killed in the fighting for neither of us have sensed him." Galbatorix smiled. "Will Glaedr come to you if you were to ask him, Oromis? Him I know to live, unlike Umaroth."

"While you may eventually find your way past my shields," Oromis said, his voice surprisingly stable despite the threat to Glaedr. It was a stark contrast to Vrael, whom Murtagh knew to still react strongly whenever Galbatorix brought up Umaroth – perhaps because it had been Shruikan to kill Umaroth. "I will never place Glaedr in any position that will end with his enslavement, vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal."

Galbatorix twitched then, his eyes narrowing sharply at Oromis' oath and Murtagh shifted slightly as he felt the King's annoyance. "Vrael once thought the same," Galbatorix mused. "He told me he would never help me with my pointless subjugation, and yet here you are."

The King smiled, looking sincerely pleased with himself. Murtagh supposed it would, the knowledge that he was going to soon find the true name of Oromis of all Dragon Riders. Not only would he have Vrael, but now Oromis too. The thought made Murtagh shudder.

"I think perhaps you'll find me to be equally as disappointing as Vrael," Oromis said.

Galbatorix's expression momentarily twisted, before his lips twitched. "Yes, Kialandí and Formora mentioned what they had done to you," he said. "No matter. I'm sure between us we will be able to discover a spell to solve that little problem. But first," he said, finally retrieving the whip. "I will convince you to serve me willingly. If that fails… breaking through your shields can easily be arranged." Murtagh knew the King could simply gather his Eldunarí together and smash straight through the elf's shielding, but he much preferred without when he had the luxury of time.

Oromis opened his mouth, perhaps to reply, but he paused when the door to his cell swung open. Galbatorix' gaze drifted past Oromis, a cruel smile playing across his lips as his dark eyes locked with pale blue.

Murtagh tensed slightly as he set eyes on Vrael for the first time in days. While the elf had always been a far cry from the rest of his race, with the knowledge that he'd been the one to fail the Dragon Riders weighing him down over the century Vrael had lost the exuberance for life that seemed common amongst elves. His gaze was hollow as his eyes flicked towards Oromis before returning to Galbatorix.

"You summoned me, my King," Vrael said, his tone entirely flat as he knelt before Galbatorix. Murtagh was amazed the elf managed to make it seem to be an accusation and he could see from the flicker of amusement that crossed the King's expression that he hadn't missed it.

"I did." Galbatorix smiled. "You may rise," he added and Vrael was quick to do so. Murtagh had been astounded the first time he'd seen Vrael kneel before Galbatorix, but had quickly realised it was one of the many oaths that Galbatorix had painstakingly forced out of him – solely for the purpose of holding Vrael's defeat over his head. He held the whip out to Vrael, eyes gleaming. "I know you've wanted the opportunity to speak with Oromis, so I will grant it to you. Fifty lashes, to begin with." Galbatorix said. "But for every third word that leaves Oromis' mouth, he will be lashed once more. If it seems he is to pass out or die, then you will heal him and continue and you will not stop until all lashes have been given."

Vrael didn't so much a twitch a finger to take the whip from Galbatorix's hand, and the King narrowed his eyes slightly. He said a phrase in the Ancient Language that made Vrael stiffen as he shivered, angled jaw clenching as Galbatorix repeated his command. Murtagh watched, Vrael's true name one that he'd heard often yet his name seemed to stun Oromis even as Vrael took the whip from the King without a single emotion showing – though both Galbatorix and Murtagh knew the hatred and self-loathing that the old elf was hiding.

"Murtagh," Galbatorix said, immediately causing Murtagh to stiffen nearly so much as Vrael. "You will count the additional lashes Oromis receives and report to me after."

"Yes, sir," Murtagh said.

Galbatorix smiled, no doubt the thought of Vrael dolling out Oromis' torture would have him squirming in satisfaction. Murtagh watched as Galbatorix left, closing and locking the door behind him with magic and an obvious message that none of them were to leave until the lashes were finished.

Vrael tightened his hand around the whip, knuckles turning white. Usually so firm and stoic, this was the first time Murtagh had seem him hesitate over an order despite the futility of such thoughts.

"Vrael-elda-"

"No," Vrael said, expression firm before Oromis could continue. "I will not allow you to be whipped more than I must. If needs be I will spell you into silence, Oromis."

Murtagh turned his attention back towards Thorn as Vrael circled around Oromis until he reached his back. "Thorn?"

"I am here," Thorn responded swiftly. This was a punishment for all involved, including Murtagh.

Murtagh was quick to reply in an attempt at blocking out the sound of the first lash.


And here I thought last chapter would get some horrified reviews, but I guess I just stunned everyone into silence instead? XD So I'll be honest, I still haven't read the series all the way through for a few years. So... characterisation may be off, especially for Oromis. If so, constructive criticism could be useful for him at least. And maybe Murtagh.

I have a vague idea for where this is going to go, and I hope that if anyone is reading this it's worth it as the plot develops. So maybe let me know what you guys think? And yes, that's a shameless request for some reviews, especially since this is my re-entry into the world of Alagaësia and I hope I'm doing it justice.