They travelled through the night, alternating sleeping in their saddles, unwilling to let the Urgals' catch up with them.
"I saw that you slept with Lorena last night." Eragon whispered.
Lorena dozed in her saddle, but hearing her name, peaked her attention. Keeping her eyes closed, she pretended to still be asleep.
"What of it?" Murtagh asked shortly.
"Why would you do that? You're going to ruin her reputation."
"Her reputation?" Murtagh questioned, "This isn't a small village, no one is here. Unless you start telling everyone we run into, no one will know. It's not like I bedded her, we slept next to each other for warmth. Nothing happened."
"Nothing happened?"
"Even if we wanted to, how could anything happened with you and Saphira around? Besides, I have more respect for her than to proposition her, especially in these circumstances."
There was a lapse in conversation, and Lorena started to doze again before Murtagh spoke up.
"I've never met a woman like her before. She's smart, strong, and funny. She's stunning, even in her dirty travel clothes. And she's beaten Urgals in single combat, most men can't do that, yet this tiny woman made it look easy. She's incredible!"
"Careful, Murtagh," Eragon laughed, "you sound like you're falling in love."
Lorenas' heart leapt into her chest, and she held her breathe while Murtagh paused.
"I'm going to ask her to come with me." Murtagh said thoughtfully. "When we part ways, I'm going to ask her to come to Surda with me. We could have a fresh start together, maybe even start a family."
By morning they had outdistanced themselves from the Urgal troops, but none of them knew if their lead could be retained. Whether it would be enough to escape depended on how rested the monsters were... and if their horses survived.
They stopped at a pond to let the horses drink. Lorena jumped as Murtagh touched her arm, as she heard the steely rasp of a sword being unsheathed. Lorena grabbed her sword, and turned. Murtagh held his long sword ready. He pointed at a hill ahead of them, where a tall brown-cloaked man sat on a sorrel horse, mace in hand. Behind him was a group of twenty horsemen. No one moved. "Could it be the Varden?" asked Murtagh.
Eragon surreptitiously strung his bow. "According to Arya, they're still scores of leagues away. This might be one of their patrols or raiding groups."
"Assuming they're not bandits." Murtagh swung onto Tornac and readied his own bow.
"They might be slavers," Lorena commented, as she mounted Cadoc.
"Should we try to outrun them?" asked Eragon, draping a blanket over Arya, who lay draped over Snowfires' rump.
"It wouldn't do any good," said Murtagh, shaking his head. "Our mounts are fine war-horses, but they're tired, and they aren't sprinters. Look at the horses those men have; they're meant for running. They would catch us before we had gone a half-mile. Besides, they may have something important to say. You'd better tell Saphira to hurry back."
The band of men watched them from the hill.
"If they threaten us, I can frighten them away with magic. If that doesn't work, there's Saphira. I wonder how they'd react to a Rider? So many stories have been told about their powers... It might be enough to avoid a fight." Eragon said in a low voice.
"Don't count on it," said Murtagh flatly. "If there's a fight, we'll just have to kill enough of them to convince them we're not worth the effort." His face was controlled and unemotional.
The man on the sorrel horse signalled with his mace, sending the horsemen cantering toward them. The men shook javelins over their heads, whooping loudly as they neared. Battered sheaths hung from their sides. Their weapons were rusty and stained. Four of them trained arrows on the group.
Their leader swirled the mace in the air, and his men responded with yells as they wildly encircled Eragon, Murtagh, and Lorena. The moment they were thoroughly surrounded, the leader reined in his horse, then crossed his arms and examined them critically. When he spoke, a cold shiver ran down Lorenas' spine. "Well, these are better than the usual dregs we find! At least we got healthy ones this time. And we didn't even have to shoot them. Grieg will be pleased." The men chuckled.
"Now as for you three," said the leader, speaking to Eragon, Murtagh and Lorena, "if you would be so good as to drop your weapons, you'll avoid being turned into living quivers by my men." The archers grinned suggestively; the men laughed again.
Murtagh's only movement was to shift his sword. "Who are you and what do you want? We are free people travelling through this land. You have no right to stop us."
"Oh, I have every right," said the man contemptuously. "And as for my name, slaves do not address their masters in that manner, unless they want to be beaten."
"Wait a minute, I know her," One of the men pointed at Lorena, "Is she one of the women from Sifs' pub?"
"No," the leader drawled staring at her, then recognition spread across his face and he smiled. "She was from the house on the Az Ragni. You're my first return. You sold for a pretty price last time, we'll see if we can get more for you this time."
Lorena felt like she'd fallen into a frozen lake. She could feel an overwhelming fear clawing at her, something that she hadn't felt even when battling against Urgals, but she refused to show it.
"My swordsmanship has only gotten better, Torkenbrand." Lorena said firmly, "You'll lose more than one man today."
"Is she the one who killed my brother?" One man called out to the leader, Lorena didn't recognise his face.
There was a rustle from behind Eragon, then a loud curse.
Lorena looked to see that one of the slavers had pulled the blanket off Arya, revealing her face. He gaped in astonishment, then shouted, "Torkenbrand, this one's an elf!"
"We'll discuss this later," he said to the brother.
"I demand satisfaction!" he retorted, but Torkenbrand had spurred his horse over to Snowfire. The brother stared at Lorena, and she kept her eye on him, tightening her grip on her sword.
"Well, 'ow much is she worth?" someone asked.
Torkenbrand was quiet for a moment, then spread his hands and said, "At the very least? Fortunes upon fortunes. They Empire will pay a mountain of gold for her!"
The slavers yelled with excitement and pounded each other on the back. Lorena saw Eragon give a sharp signal. Murtagh took the cue. He smashed his elbow into the brothers' face, knocking the man out of his saddle, and jabbed his heels into Tornac.
With a toss of his mane, the war-horse jumped forward, twirled around, and reared. Murtagh brandished his sword as Tornac plunged back down, driving his forehooves into the back of the dismounted slaver. The man screamed. Cursing herself for her hesitation, Lorena kicked Cadoc, sending the horse at the closest slaver. She struck him in the chest with her sword, spraying his blood and sending the man flying through the air.
Eragon scrambled out of the commotion and raised his hands, invoking words in the ancient language. A globule of indigo fire struck the ground in the midst of the fray, bursting into a fountain of molten drops that dissipated like sun-warmed dew. A second later, Saphira dropped from the sky and landed next to him. She parted her jaws, displaying her massive fangs, and bellowed. "Behold!" cried Eragon over the furore, "I am a Rider!" He raised Zar'roc over his head, the red blade dazzling in the sunlight, the pointed it at the slavers. "Flee if you wish to live!"
The men shouted incoherently and scrambled over each other in their haste to escape. In their confusion, Torkenbrand was struck in the temple with a javelin. He tumbled to the ground, stunned. The men ignored their fallen leader and raced away in a ragged mass, casting fearful looks at Saphira.
Torkenbrand struggled to his knees. Blood ran from his temple, branching across his cheek with crimson tendrils. Murtagh dismounted and strode over to him, sword in hand. Torkenbrand weakly raised his arm as if to ward off a blow. Murtagh gazed at him coldly, then swung his blade at Torkenbrand's neck. "No!" shouted Eragon, but he was too late.
Torkenbrand's decapitated trunk crumpled to the ground in a puff of dirt. His head landed with a hard thump. Eragon rushed to Murtagh, his jaw working furiously. "Is your brain rotted?" he yelled, enraged. "Why did you kill him?"
Murtagh wiped his sword on the back of Torkenbrand's jerkin. Lorena dismounted, staring at the body. "I don't see why you're so upset—"
"Upset!" exploded Eragon. "I'm well past that! Did it ever occur to you that we could just leave him here and continue on our way? No! Instead you turn into an executioner and chop off his head. He was defenceless!"
Murtagh seemed perplexed by Eragon's wrath. "Well, we couldn't keep him around—he was dangerous. The others ran off... without a horse he wouldn't have made it far. I didn't want the Urgals to find him and learn about Arya. So I thought it would—"
"But to kill him?" interrupted Eragon. Saphira sniffed Torkenbrand's head curiously. She opened her mouth slightly, as if to snap it up, then appeared to decide better of it and prowled to Eragon's side.
"I'm only trying to stay alive," stated Murtagh. "No stranger's life is more important than my own, nor hers." Murtagh pointed at Lorena.
"But you can't indulge in wanton violence. Where is your empathy?" growled Eragon, pointing at the head.
"Empathy? Empathy? What empathy can I afford my enemies? Shall I dither about whether to defend myself because it will cause someone pain? If that had been the case, I would have died years ago! You must be willing to protect yourself and what you cherish, no matter what the cost."
Eragon slammed Zar'roc back into its sheath, shaking his head savagely. "You can justify any atrocity with that reasoning. What do you think?" He called to Lorena.
She turned, hot tears streaming down her face. "Have you forgotten how we met? I was in irons! Those men ransacked my home, and burnt it to the ground. They sold my parents and me into slavery, but my brother…" she shook her head and pointed venomously at Torkenbrands' body. "That monster grabbed my fourteen year old brother and cut his throat!"
She sheathed her blade with trembling hands.
"My only regret is that I didn't swing the sword myself. He deserved a thousand times worse."
"It was still the wrong thing to do." Eragon retorted.
"Because you would never kill for revenge?" Lorena spat, knowing he would think of the Ra'zac.
Eragon glared at her, but stayed silent. He lashed Arya to Saphira then climbed onto Snowfire. "Let's go."
Lorena mounted Cadoc, and Murtagh guided Tornac around Torkenbrand's prone form in the bloodstained dust.
They rode at a faster rate than they had in days; leagues melted away before them as if wings were attached to their feet. They turned south, between two outstretched arms of the Beor Mountains. When they stopped for the day, they ate dinner in silence, refusing to look up from their food. Afterward, Eragon said tersely, "I'll take the first watch."
Lorena lay on her bedding, staring at the fire when Murtagh approached her.
"Are you still cold?" he asked.
Lorena couldn't help the flicker of a smile, and she gently tapped the blanket beside her.
